#his murder suit should make a comeback

[arkarti]

Can you lock the fuck in? 🔪🔪🔪

[lovverletters]

ILLUSION˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

❝IN WHICH ㅡ Your husband seems to have change for the better. Although is it really him? Or somebody else masquerading as your husband ❞

A/N : Unofficial comeback hihi !! I made this in 3 hours please don't judge my word vomit

T/W : bad relationship, mentioned of murder, not edited, yandere theme, twist at the end

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[name] sighed for ninth time of the day, everything is going horribly for them.

Early this morning, they had accidentally burnt the breakfast they were cooking for you and their husband, Mauve. He did not take kindly to it and yelled at them before leaving for his work.

It only worsen as they had forgotten their lunch and had to work on an empty stomach while their less than pleasant boss chewed them up for their failing performances.

Then, their car broke down and had to be towed away while they went home on a cab with the world most unpleasant driver ever.

It felt as if the world was against them. Pinning them against the corner like a bully demanding for their lunch money.

Now, they sat at the dinner table staring at the food that's slowly growing colder as they waited for Mauve to come home. As the clock struck 10 and their husband was still not home, [name] sighed once more before cleaning up the table.

Despite their very best effort to avoid addressing the glaring issue of their crumbling marriage, [name] couldn't ignore it anymore.

Mauve and them hardly resembled a married couple, they don't spend time with each other due to clashing schedule and even if they were free, they'd much rather be alone than with each other. The two of them would bicker and argue over unnecessary stuff, don't even mention being physically intimate with each other. They're practically practicing abstinence.

[name] has been the only party making effort to keep the relationship going but Mauve was not doing the same.

It is clear as day that the spark and love they have had simply dried up.

" I should just divorce him at this point .. " [name] muttered before falling into a deep slumber.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

The next morning, they awoke to a delicious aroma coming from the kitchen. [name] sat up in surprise at the smell and walking to the source of the wonderful aroma.

To their surprise for the second time, they sees Mauve flipping pancakes in his suit and ties. Upon hearing their approaching footsteps, Mauve turned over and greetes them with a smile.

" Good morning honeybun, I made pancakes for breakfast. Come take a seat " He plated the freshly made pancakes and placing it on the table.

Huh? Honeybun? Where did that come from?

[name] were puzzled at Mauve's odd behaviour. He glanced at them worriedly when he realised they had not yet taken a seat and had been standing at the doorway with a gaping mouth.

" What's wrong honeybun? Why are you standing there like you've seen a ghost " Mauve placed a gentle hand on their shoulder.

" Whㅡ what's the special occasion, Mauve? " they dumbly said.

" Hm? Don't I always makes us breakfast everyday? " He said, albeit a bit confused.

[name] blinked. Once. Twice.

" No? I'd always do the cooking " They replied with an equally confused face.

Mauve went silent before rubbing the back of his neck nervously with a sheepish smile.

" Ah, I don't? I was just messing with you honeybun~ "

They squinted their eyes at their ' husband ', feeling suspicious of his change of behaviour. Just yesterday he was yelling at them for burning his toast and today he's done a complete 180.

" You don't usually call me petnames either. What is up with you today? " They sat down on the chair and begun cutting up the pancakes.

Mauve closed his mouth once again and stayed silent, [name] could almost hear the cogwheels in his brain turning to form a response. After a while, he finally spoke with a deep sigh.

" Look. [name], baby. I've realised all these years I've been a dick to you and not treating your right " His voice quivered.

" Yesterday, I had an epiphany of sort and I don't want to lose someone as amazing as you, [name]. Will you give me a second chance in loving you? " He held their hand in a gentle grasp, his eyes reflecting his sincerity.

[name] was at a loss for word. They genuinely didn't expect to hear that from their husband. They were ashamed of the tiny flame that sparked within them at his words.

They were conflicted, however after contemplating for some time in their head. They finally made up their mind. [name] placed their own hand atop of Mauve's and gave him a gentle smile.

" I honestly don't know what happened to you yesterday but .. I'm willing to give us a second try to make it work " They said softly.

A grin broke out on Mauve's faceㅡ something they had not seen in years. He then pull them into an embrace and littered kisses all over their faces.

" Thank you, baby. Thank you so much " He happiky hummed onto their skin.

[name] couldn't help but grew flustered at his onslaught of affection. They were not used to it but it wasn't unwelcomed. They slowly reciprocated Mauve's hug and buried their face onto his shoulder.

Finally, something's going right for them.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

He almost felt bad for fooling [name] on thinking that their pathetic excuse of a husband could ever change.

For someone as successful as Mauve was, he is incredibly stupid for neglecting the most amazing spouse a person could ever wish for. Honestly, he felt his blood boils seeing [name]'s astonished reaction to him performing simple husbandry dutiesㅡ it shows that the bastard never treats his spouse right.

It disgust him greatly to be Mauve's döppleganger, to share the same likeness as him. But without it, he wouldn't be able to intervene and replaces him.

Nonetheless, he'd already removed Mauve's out of the picture. If there's one thing he doesn't regret is watching the light slowly dimmed from Mauve's eyes as he kills him.

Now, he shall fulfill his position as [name]'s husband, 'Mauve'.

THE END˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Fourteen: Mr. Pinstripe Suit Pt. 7

 “Envy, just how fast can you run?” Freddy looked at Envy as they made a massive progress on the monster proportioned parfait.

 “Oh Face Fur, I can easily outrun you if you tried to run from me with plenty more of asskicking in store should that be the case.” Envy glared at Freddy, thinking Freddy was about to dine and dash on them.

 “Bitch that’s not it, I’m asking cause when you have to pose as me, you are going to want to run fast when my rage filled Lobster Man Father comes to town, he’s going to break out the damn pinchers.” Freddy's voice shook in fear for Envy’s own wellbeing at this point as he tried to convey JUST how bad the situation was. 

 “What exactly do you mean the pinchers are coming out?” Envy for a change didn’t attempt to attack Freddy for calling them a ‘bitch’ as they monitored their favorite Face Fur to torment.

 “Fun fact, Joel can break a tree in half with his bare hands alone, that’s why we call them Joel’s pinchers. Thankfully you’ll be disguised as Freddy, so it’ll likely be a shrill screaming fit and possibly getting cut off from the family account for a few months. However, if you’re in this disguise or come in front of him as yourself, you’re going to want to run. He’ll come at you with something worse than the lamp post.” Dolly explained calmly as she shared her peppermint stick sundae with Dorian.

 “The hell did you do to these humans to make them so insane?” Envy nearly choked on their parfait after being given that explanation of what to expect should Joel show up. “The Witch Hunts back in the day traumatized everyone, so I think that was the main culprit. Though, it would be very KIND of you if you’d just tell my Dad you were the one to order that travesty of a dessert so I won’t lose my access to the family account.” Freddy chimed in as he ate his strawberry ice cream slowly as he hoped Envy would be in their horrid gremlin form just so he can see Envy run from a Lobster Man.

 “Okay Face Fur, have it your way, I’ll be myself and tell your mutant father that I ordered the parfait. I’m not afraid of some little human that happens to turn red when angry.” Envy glowered from their half way devoured parfait. 

 “Lust, I’m hungry, when can I go get something to eat?” Gluttony asked before resorting to his coping mechanism of chewing on his knuckles.

 “Aww don’t fret buddy, I’ll be taking you to the morgue after this. It’ll be like an all you can eat buffet there!” Envy had a smug look to their face after fully recovering from their moment of shock. 

 “I’ll be sure to distract Joel then to give you a proper running head start then Envy.” Dolly offered as she enjoyed her sundae with Dorian. “Whatever, at least my blood isn’t going to be the flavor of marzipan from the sugar intake you’re having.” Envy smirked as they finished the parfait of forlorn and sat back to relax. “I dunno, I think I’ve flown past the marzipan flavoring and straight into the buttercream instead.” Dolly mused a bit, causing Envy to chuckle at the comeback that was given.

 “Envy, you’re one to talk with that beastly sized parfait you demolished in one sitting.” Freddy rolled his eyes a bit at Envy’s little commentary.

 “Shapeshifting burns a lot of calories, you really need to keep up with the details there Face Fur.”  Envy retorted with a snort before just relaxing, not even taking the horrors of Joel seriously.

 Sitting smugly and content, Envy felt like they had won. Sure they didn’t get to murder their bastard father and would have to face some supposed lobster-human hybrid, but that didn’t matter to Envy. They got Dolly and Dorian back without having to spend a lot of energy or man power, that was the two only things that mattered to Envy. Around the table, Lust had been comforting a hungry Gluttony while Hughes had returned to his normal skin tone, enjoying some ice cream to cool his body down. Freddy, smug about throwing Envy under the tracks, was giving concern looks from Dolly, still very much worried about the potential fallout that’ll likely come after the parfait. It was just a silly little matter in Envy’s eyes, a human couldn’t possibly be a threat to a mighty homunculus like Envy, so why even worry? Though Envy wouldn’t admit it, at that moment, they wondered if this was what it was like having a family to call their own. Though, Freddy was basically the annoying family pet in the whole hierarchy in Envy’s mind for this family dynamic. The good feeling didn’t last though as the odd yet painful feeling returned when they looked at Hughes who had joined Lust in comforting Gluttony. If having a group to call their family was supposed to feel good, then why did it hurt so badly when Hughes was there? 

=======================================================================

 It had been a week since the survivors of Tir Na Nog had settled living in a cave after arriving in Xing. To them, the thought of having to pay to live in a house was an absolutely dystopian nightmare in their eyes after being brought up in a free housing society. The soft hums and twirls of the salvaged equipment sang inside of the cave as Tinne clanked his forging hammer against the heated metal. They were orders by Cuilleann, who sat by the campfire with Muin as a bodyguard outside of the cave, displeased with the entire scenario that had befallen her kind. Victoria, Gef, and Ngetal had gone to scavenge for food sources since like the housing, these madmen humans had too expected payment for it as well. Duir and Ruis had been at work maintaining the equipment and monitoring for any signatures from the lost Gort. Cuilleann let out a soft growl of annoyance as there were no signatures of Gort whatsoever and she was growing tired of this waiting game. What sort of queen goes about existing without using magic at all? It angered Cuilleann as she gripped her sword tightly, tempted to heat the metal up to go slash at the waters close by. Muin quietly watched the designated leader with caution, mentally preparing herself to take down Cuilleann if she posed a threat to everyone in the group. 

 “Cuilleann, I’m almost done with the forging the claymore. I don’t understand why that was even necessary in the first place.” Tinne held the in process claymore for Cuilleann to inspect.

 “Any Queen let alone another Dullahan isn’t worth their weight in salt if she can’t fight me in Queen’s combat. I will accept Gort as our Queen if she can best me in combat.” Cuilleann snarled as she twisted her sword in the ground.

“Wait, you think Gort is a Dullahan because of Victoria? Gort’s a Dobhar Chu like Duir and I.” Tinne raised an eyebrow as he checked the sword for the length.

 “Damn it! Is that sword even going to be big enough for Gort to handle then?” Cuilleann looked at the claymore to make sure it’ll be of massive size suitable for a Dobhar Chu.

“This should be the right size, Gort was always on the small side for a Dobhar Chu.” Tinne felt satisfied with the length of the claymore as he went back to the makeshift forge.

 “So I’ll be expecting a six foot tall Dobhar Chu, close to my height then.” Cuilleann felt a bit relieved that the fight will be evenly matched now that the claymore was confirmed to be the correct height for the intended wielder. 

 Tinne shook his head a bit at the response as he went back to work on the claymore. A part of Tinne had hoped that Gort had reached at least the normal short height of six feet rather than the strongly possible fact of Gort being smaller than that. Gort was after all the runt of the entire batch for the Autumn Mist District and was an abnormality for a Dobhar Chu to be so small. Muin lifted her head up as she saw movement in the distance, standing up to get a better view of the returning food scavenging party. Cuilleann let loose a soured face when she noticed that the protein they were to have was just a mere small rabbit. It was completely pitiful to be dining on berries and a small rabbit when Muin took up arms when she noticed a small figure following behind the party. Gef, Victoria, and Ngetal stood still when they saw Muin come charging with the intent of apprehending the threat. It wasn’t much of a fight as Muin, disappointedly lifted up a small human child who was flailing about at suddenly being picked up like that. 

 “Great, we got a larval stage human.” Muin grimaced at the sight of the child who had stopped flailing and started trying to get kicks in before getting held arms length away.

 “Woah, so that’s what a mini human looks like?” Ngetal asked as they looked at the small apprehended human.

 “Muin, we don’t have to hold the human like that, it's rude.” Gef went to take over handling the child from Muin who was more than happy to hand over the little bundle of adolescent rage. 

 “So…Gef you’re better at language, you talk to the little larval human.” Muin decided to leave the handling of the human to Gef, heading back to the campfire, a very alarmed Cuilleann being present at the sudden human intrusion.

 “Fine, but my Xingese is rather rusty.” Gef went to attempt to speak to the child who scrunched his nose up at the really old Xingese being used.

“Do you speak Amestrian? I’m fluent in the Amestrian language.” The child responded, catching everyone off guard with the surprisingly adult vocabulary that came out of his mouth.

 “How delightful, yes, we can speak Amestrian.” Gef switched over to Amestrian, glad that one thing was going to be made easy for him.

 “Gef, I thought it was called English?” Victoria whispered, being caught off guard.

 “Not in this plane of existence it is.” Gef whispered right back.

 “So..are you like the secret band of cannibals that live in the cave?” The child began to ask, eying the cave home situation everyone was living in.

 “No? What gave you the idea about us being cannibals?” Ngetal gave a bit of a perplexed look upon hearing the little accusation. 

 “Cause you have a scary looking lady by the fire.” The child pointed out Cuilleann who was now making her way over to the group.

 “Who is the little meat bag larva you brought into the Liberation Cave of Freedom?” Cuilleann interrogated right away.

 “Lady, that’s a really lame name for a cave.” The child responded, earning an offended gasp by Cuilleann.

 “I’ll have you know that the Liberation Cave of Freedom is a very suitable name compared to your weird human custom of paying to live in a house. We don’t have to pay a dime to exist here and we’re proud of our arrangements.” Cuilleann held her nose up proudly at her supposedly better living situation over the humans.

“If you say so lady, but you do realize that the cave gets flooded during this time of year, right?” The child gives the group of weirdos a look of pity of living in the very easily flooded cave of forlorn.

 “You’re lying, right? All you humans ever do is lie…right?” Cuilleann was taken aback by the revelation that floods were indeed a very real thing and not some boogeyman story told to young aslings into behaving better.

 “Fine by me if you want to live in the cave, but my entire clan has lived here for many centuries and knows what the rain cycle is like here. I can promise you as a fact that the cave is going to flood and it’ll be a spectacularly flooded disaster if you don’t move to higher grounds. If you don’t want to be flooded, I can offer you a place at my home, but you’ll have to serve my family from now on and be part of the Yao Clan.” The child gave off a smile that resembled a smug cat after eating the beloved pet goldfish.

 “Cuilleann, we need the equipment to be undamaged by flood water if we’re to find Gort.” Muin said in a harsh whisper to Cuilleann who was getting hot with anger.

 “You expect me, your acting queen, to lower my standards to serve humans? Are you breathing in the gas fumes?!” Cuilleann shouted in their native language, not thrilled with that prospect.

“Damn it Cuilleann, we are getting offered a proper shelter and better quality food.” Tinne finally put his foot down from within the cave after working at the forge all day.

 “You know what Cuilleann, since you named this stupid cave the Liberation Cave of Freedom, we’re gonna act on that one. Everyone, let’s take a vote!” Ruis threw her arms up after having to listen to Cuilleann’s nonsense for far too long in the week. 

 “I’ll have you know I’ll consider this a mutiny!” Cuilleann protested as the others started to cast their votes.

 “Right, everyone, for leaving the cave to live in a proper house, raise your hands now!” Ruis yelled as she along with the seven others raised their hands to cast their vote.

“Now for Anyone who wants to live in an easily floodable cave, raise your hand!” Ruis smirked as the only hand to be raised was Cuilleann who had a look of displeasure.

 “Alright Cuilleann, the votes are clearly in favor of moving out of the cave. Let’s get the equipment out and ready to move into the new location.” Gef sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

 “Damn it, where is your pride in being a Fae?! We’re going to be serving this meatbag larva rather than the other way around! This is indignity and disgrace!” Cuilleann protested, but the others brushed her off as they started getting set up for the move.

 “That’s enough Cuilleann! We can’t go back to living like we once used to, we’re going to have to adapt and change accordingly to our new situation. Now, are you going to come with us or stubbornly stay at this cave?” Duir pinched between the bridge of his nose as he felt the migraine coming in from the rather stressful week he had living in a cave.

 “Duir, just so you know, I will be considering this an act of mutiny for a long time, but fine, I’ll come along since you’re my mutinous crew and I have a responsibility for all of you now.” Cuilleann grumbled in frustration from everyone betraying her perceived notion of what dignity they had left.

 “Then I take it you’re all going to join the Yao clan?” The child smiled at the small victory he made that very day and the bettering odds for his clan.

 “Yes my precocious little meat bag larva, we are going to join this clan of yours, HOWEVER, this contract agreement will be terminated once we are able to locate our Queen. Then your clan will be on their own, do we have a contract?” Cuilleann held her hand out to shake upon the arrangement, taking some control back from this unprecedented situation.

 “That’s fine by me, it just means my clan has service for the foreseeable future. However, I’ll be requiring everyone to study the current Xingese language, yours was incredibly outdated.” The child shrugged as they got what he had wanted beforehand and felt rather proud of himself. “You certainly have a lot of cheek from someone so young.” Cuilleann remarked as she glowered at the smug child. “Thanks, I have a very expensive education and private tutors, I get to lay my rights to be as cheeky as I want to be.” The young child just simply grinned as he started leading everyone off to his home.

[nerdyenby]

Orange time :D I’m watching Callum

Pregame

HBomb94 now wanted for murder, good for him ig

“That’s it, I’m taking matters into my own hands” terrifying, thanks Pete

Why is Callum talking about the availability of drugs in the United Kingdom???

I don’t even know how many people are in this call but all of them are bullying Callum lmao

“Habomba!!!” “It wasn’t me” “It says it was you!” “It’s a lie” “oh, sorry” them <333

Tubbo showing up and causing chaos is just as funny the second time

Tubbo realizing it’s May is even funnier the second time, I’m losing it

“Tubbo’s gone now” he’s freaking dead

Scott is such a guy, he has the intimidation factor while still being irrevocably likable

“That was the most eventful pre-MCC I’ve ever had” fr, I loved it so much

Tubbo gave Callum his stream key 😭😭😭

“Gotta be honest, I need your friendship more than I need $5k” and everyone going ‘um actually…’ 😂

Sausage asking to be sand daddy just because he wants to be called “daddy” 😂😂😂

WHAT is Shane and Callum’s dynamic here /pos

Rocket Spleef

Sausage’s explanation of his understanding isn’t wrong but it just sounds so off lol

Them just slandering all the other Minecraft events is so real, I’m sure they’re great but they’ll never be MCC <333

Everything Kara says gives Callum a flashback lol

Callum popped off!!

The MCC meta of alcohol 😂😂😂

The way the “reafy” predicting who won the game was actualy accurate

The way I didn’t think of Sausage and Callum as being in the same sphere but they have nearly the same friend group

We love them appreciating the lore :))

TGTTOSAWAF

Callum throwing his chicken in the middle being the deciding vote lmao

“I got 7th, thanks Shane” so true

Callum did so good for having never seen the map before

Yo Sausage!!!!

Tgttosawaf worst game real, it’s still good but comparatively it’s the least enjoyable

Sausage improving every round my beloved <333

Kara plotting revenge, as she should

Shane top three every time??? He’s inshane!!

When you put on the suit (purpled skin) you take on a burden greater than yourself (getting targeted)

Kara and Sausage noooooo

Your vote matters, Shane, cmon

Parkour Warrior

Graphic appreciation is so based <333

Shane’s keyboard 😭😭😭

The Hannah Montana movie reference lol

Whatever the heck Shane and Callum’s dynamic is, it’s everything

I know I’ve heard Sausage’s normal voice before but it caught me so off guard there lmao

It’s disgusting how easy this is for Callum

Finally, someone talking about the bees

HES DISGUSTING!!! /pos

HES TOO GOOD AT THE GAME!!!!

Kara 😂

The points are a lil silly, we move

Grid runners is not skippable, how dare you

Parkour Tag

Callum chickening out 😂😂😂

Sausage is giving such good comms!!

Nevermind lol

It sure is… going!!

Gosh darn it, when you see a “biggest comeback” breakdown blame Shane and Callum

I will NOT stand for this gr slander

Grid Runners

It’s not pronounced “boy,” there’s a u there for a reason lol

They’re killing it!!!

Kara accidentally cheating is killing me 😂

Those prison comms!!!!

First in Uppies!!!

“We’re so smart and big brain and maybe handsome” “We’re so handsome” so true sausage :))

One of my favorite things coming out of this MCC is everyone counting on the builders to know how to use scaffolding and them just saying “no, it SUCKS”

Consistency pog

Ok yeah, I just do not understand grid scoring

Callum’s predictions only take Ls

Kara and Shane having banger opinions

Meltdown

Shane leaking the script, rip

They played that so well!!

Callum jumping right into the lava lol

Head pat exchange at Vidcon Paris fr

Blue just appearing behind them was terrifying

Kara popping off!!!

Shane’s Kermit impression my beloved

Stay with the team Callum 😭😭😭

Purpled popping off

Survival Games

They just be makin’ sounds, so based of them tbh

“Your choice, you know I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth” Callum and Shane sure are dudes, pals even

HOW did Callum make it out of that alive lmao

“We were tenth and we’re not tenth anymore” “There’s still time, king!!” so true

Sands of Time

Shane stopping everything to say hi HBomb, so based

Callum they/them truthing Kara??

Callum “All Things MCC” PK didn’t know there’s a grace period with the sand timer? L /lh

How is he so bad at sot

I love Callum, I swear, he’s just so easy to make fun of

Sausage has such good comms for a first time sand keeper :))

They have so much sand what the heck

It is physically painful how many times Callum has looked directly at that one piece of sand

I love all the field trips this MCC, so many groups traveling together :D

The carpet trails in this blu path are insane, I’d love to study it under a microscope /pos

“Scott about to have to pay all the shipping to Spain” that’s such a good point actually, though I think shipping to America is probably more lol

Sausage did amazing!!! We love his team hyping him up :)))

Dodgebolt

I love seeing everyone rooting for red :D

That is just… not true, Kara 😂😂😂

So true Callum, the void hole in the merch store was peak mcm energy

Sausage for mcc spanish team 2k23

TIL Sausage was Cuban, though tbf I’ve never watched him before and I thought he was from Spain for some reason

This team was so fun :)))

Capitan is a menace /pos

Sausage’s Oli impression 😂

The game ended and they all collectively lost their minds, as they should

CALLUM SMACKTALKING GRID RUNNERS?!??

Shane and Callum sending Tubbo their stream keys and asking Scott if he’d do the same and his response being “God no”

[privateanxieties]

the nearness of you (in my imagination) P.3

Summary: Working at a coffee shop is the simple choice. The safe choice. For a while, it even seemed like the promotion and the cute new coworker would make for a content life. But when you leave a mess behind, new ones tend to find you. And they don’t like complications. Peter Parker’s entire vibe is that of a complication.

Pairing: tasm!Peter Parker x Reader (she/her)

Words: 4.2K

Part 1: some people run on coffee... I run on borrowed time

Part 2: a last chance at... friendship?

Part 3: not until you ask me

Part 4: this really isn’t my year

----------------------------------

When Monday dawns, the facts are settled: it really isn't easy being around Peter Parker, and spending all Sunday texting back and forth was a bad idea. Looking at him now is harder than it was just a day or two ago, because she keeps remembering all the times she's smiled at her phone. He's been cuter than cute - he's been covering all bases for an unfortunate outcome.

She may have a tiny crush. Teensy, tiny. Nothing to worry about. That's why she wears her prettiest clothes to work, because there's no desire to impress him. None.

She wore heeled boots to a service job. It is a new level of desperation.

If she's honest, it isn't just to look pretty for him. There's also a degree of insanity involved - however it may sound, she really doesn't want to die looking the way she normally does for work. If she's going to get murdered, the morgue will receive her body in mint condition. That is, if they receive her body.

"Are you taller today?"

One look at his shit-eating grin and she realizes two things: he noticed her appearance, and something made him remark on it. However, she'd hoped that that something would be intrigue, not amusement.

"I got hooked by your crime show. Chloe Decker is a style inspiration," she sasses, trying her best to appear unbothered. Lying is still not very easy, and bound to get harder the more she sinks into her newfound crush.

"And Lucifer isn't?" Peter asks, brow raised.

"I don't see you wearing a suit, so clearly, you weren't inspired enough."

She doesn't think her comeback was that funny, but Peter laughs like she's a budding comedian.

"I don't think three buttons is the ideal crime-fighting outfit," he says while wiping down the already clean counter.

"No? What would be your pick for investigating crimes?"

He appears to think on it some, tilting his head this way and that with a small pout. She tries not to let her eyes dwell on the lower half of his face.

"Something comfortable that I can move around in," is the answer he settles on, prompting her to inquire further.

"So, athleisure? Not sure it'd be very intimidating to criminals. Then again, Spidey runs around in a leotard and primary colors, and crime rates have gone down some…" she muses, not catching Peter's lip twitching.

"Not sure he'd refer to it as a leotard."

Curious, she looks away from her task again, almost finished stocking the shelves with the supplies that arrived that morning. Peter is trying a new coffee recipe he kept going on about last night.

"I mean, I saw the thing up close. It's bright. It's tight. It's thin. You can see everything." She pauses. "His ass looks incredible."

Peter laughs loudly, folding his arms over his chest as he waits for the espresso to finish dripping into the cup.

"You think so?"

She stands to full height, momentarily cursing how uncomfortable the boots feel. Something about his expression makes her wonder if perhaps she should continue talking up the local superhero. Maybe get a reaction out of him that she can analyze later for little details. Such inane concerns for the infatuated.

"Yeah. Solid booty. It must be if he's lifting cars, right?"

"Mm. Not sure that's how it works."

"You're right. His arms must be pretty nice too. Probably gives really good hugs."

"Hmm."

His face tells her nothing. Like the last time she mentioned him, Peter doesn't really seem to care much for Spider-Man, and despite wanting to ask why, she keeps it to herself. Was she hoping for some kind of reaction? Yes. Will she be annoying and press a matter that could ruin his impression of her? Not a chance.

"How'd your special concoction turn out?" she asks instead, peeking over at the cup he placed next to the coffee machine.

"First rule of science: never experiment on yourself. Would you do the honors?" he smirks.

Her breath catches. It's such a small, insignificant thing, but it's the catalyst for a series of moment-ruining thoughts. Never experiment on yourself.

We don't really… need volunteers for this.

I'm sorry?

Well, you know that saying: for the greater good? We're trying to do great things here. Science can't be stopped by something as petty as arbitrary rules.

"You alright?"

Peter's questions snaps her back to reality, blinking up at him like she wasn't just lost in memories. Her face probably looked concerning enough to warrant the deep-set frown on his features.

"Uhh… yeah. Yeah, I just - I'm not sure if I locked my door this morning. Just popped into my head."

It's a terrible excuse, but she isn't a particularly smooth talker.

"Do you have a neighbor you can ask to check for you? Someone you trust?" Peter asks.

Surprised, it takes her a few seconds to shake her head. It's nice of him to not dismiss her worry, pretend as it may be.

"Alright. Then I guess there's no choice."

"Huh?"

"I gotta walk you home." Peter smiles.

"What? For a silly thing like that? No, it's ok. Don't worry about it."

He might just be too nice for his own good. She doesn't let him protest like he seems to want to, motioning instead to the drink laid out on the counter. Peter nods in encouragement, and she takes a tentative sip from the foamy top, a note of star anise immediately infusing the coffee with warmth that reminds her of a soft winter day. It's good, but the holidays are over and January is rapidly disappearing too. Any comfort she might've gotten from the sugary invention is dulled by the knowledge of the threat looming, so she just smiles in approval and tries to busy herself with tasks that put a little distance between them.

The day sees a new low of customers, likely courtesy of the unending snowfall. Peter suggests they order lunch from a place nearby instead of leaving the café, and she acquiesces upon seeing how much the wind has picked up in the last few hours. They end up ordering enough food for five people, and Peter demonstrates an appetite worthy of at least three. The gyoza dumplings keep disappearing whenever she looks away, and there used to be a whole bucket of family pack noodles that is now on its way out. She has a hard time figuring out where he puts all the food. The fitted green sweater leaves no room for hiding his real physique, and the evidence that he eats like this all the time is nonexistent. His metabolism must be insane.

Closing time approaches before they know it, and she says nothing when he takes the same path he did on Saturday, walking with her to the subway station thirty blocks away without ever asking why she does it. She enjoys his company enough to allow it gladly, and when they part at 33rd St., he reminds her to be careful when she gets home. She's mildly embarrassed to have to go along with the lie one more time, but the way he's so serious endears him to her. She doesn't sigh pathetically on the way back to her apartment in an attempt to hold on to her dignity, but in her mind, it's all hazy rainbows and heart eyes.

She's so distracted that the only thing to bring her back to earth is the key. The key that doesn't turn in the lock. Or rather, that turns only one way, and it isn't the correct one. Her door is unlocked.

Swallowed up by the thoughts that invade her, the ping from her phone makes her jump and drop her bag. She quickly pulls the device from her coat pocket and checks it with unsteady hands, seeing Peter's name at the top of the screen.

Everything good? You get home ok?

She presses 'call' before she can even register what she's doing.

“Hey! Everything alright?”

She can't find the words to respond, and the more seconds go by in silence, the weirder she feels for having called.

“Who is this?”

His question startles her. The way he said it was downright threatening, and the words themselves sent her mind into overdrive. Why did he think it would be someone else calling?

"It's me! It's uh… I'm sorry I called. I'm just…"

“What's going on? You can tell me.”

The words flow without a filter.

"I'm outside my door, but it's unlocked and I'm scared to go in. Can you stay on the phone with me while I check?" she asks, voice not entirely confident.

“Absolutely not.”

Her lungs deflate on a shaky exhale, or maybe that was her heart. She hears prominent rustling on the other end of the line and is about to tell him goodbye and apologize for calling when his voice suddenly hurts her ear with how loud it is.

“Listen to me: do not go inside. Tell me your address and I'll come over right now. And get away from the door, yeah?”

Overwhelming. That's the attribute she would bestow upon the amalgamation of thoughts and feelings swirling around her brain.

Reassuring. That's what she'd call the gravity with which he's treating her fear. It's nice, being taken seriously. It's so enticing she doesn't even protest. She just backs away from the door like he said, heading downstairs where she can breathe a little easier. She gives him her address, feeling lighter as soon as she hears that he's ten minutes away.

It's only when she can see him round the corner of her building that it dawns on her she shouldn't have called him here, but something about the look on his face keeps her from going back on everything. His cheeks are bitten red and his eyes are wide and bright, alive in a way she hasn't seen them yet. Breathing somewhat labored, Peter stops in front of her with a huff that blows some snowflakes her way. They keep falling in alluring density.

"Peter, listen. Maybe I should've called the police or something. You shouldn't have - "

"If you called them they would've hung up on you."

He's not wrong. Police don't come because you have a suspicion someone might've broken in, especially with no evidence. They also don't take you seriously when you go to them with evidence, as she's learned.

"Yeah. You're probably right," she relents, but when Peter motions for her to step aside so he can enter the building first, she hesitates.

"Just… I wasn't expecting guests, so, things might not be super orderly and everything," she fumbles.

Peter looks just short of incredulous.

"Someone might've broken into your apartment and you're worried about that?"

"First impressions are important."

Jesus. What a lame reply. And his little smile feels mocking, but isn't. It's just the embarrassment in her head.

"You already got that down pat, don't worry."

She manages not to worry for two minutes, but then they reach her apartment door and the worry returns, albeit this time in a different form. What is she about to see? What if her home is wrecked? What if there is no excuse or story she can sell him about what's in there?

"Stay behind me."

He pushes the door open with surprising nonchalance. Peeking over his shoulder, she sees nothing out of order. So far.

Nothing in the living room and adjacent kitchen. Nothing in the bathroom. Nothing in the small bedroom except two bras she threw on the back of a chair in frustration, and she hopes Peter didn't see those - unlikely, since one is bright purple and the other a stark white against mostly dark colors.

There's nothing at all, and she sighs in relief once they get back to the living room. She's happy nothing overtly terrifying has happened, but the fact remains that her door was unlocked when that was just a lie she came up with to deflect an awkward moment, and especially when she was certain she did lock her door this morning. She's been triple checking every lock for days. Someone came here, but they left no evidence of their presence behind. The only reason she can think of is that they wanted to scare her, as if the threat Powell himself posed by showing up at her workplace wasn't enough.

It occurs to her that maybe they just want to fuck around for a while, maybe to get off on the idea that she can do nothing while she waits for them to move.

Another sigh leaves her tired and defeated, and she realizes just how tense she's been throughout this whole nonsense. However, when she glances back at Peter, she might just look the picture of relaxation in comparison. He hasn't said a word yet, even now that things are clearly in order. His shoulders are pulled tight, and he looks around as if waiting for a Halloween monster to pop out of an unexpected place.

"You ok?" she asks.

The question almost instantly changes his entire posture, like flicking a switch on an animatronic puppet. He inhales deeply before meeting her eyes.

"Yeah. I guess everything's fine."

A bout of silence falls over them both, and she isn't sure what to say now. Thank him for coming? Apologize for making something out of nothing? Apologize for the unwashed dishes in the sink? Apolo -

"Nice place."

"Oh… um, thank you?"

No, not like that, you idiot!

"I mean, actually thank you. You didn't have to come, but I'm… glad that you did," she says with the semblance of a smile.

She tries to think fast on her feet, but with a malfunctioning brain it proves a challenging task. This feels weird. Now that he's done what he came to do, it's strange to ask him to leave, and she doesn't even want him to. But how does she ask a guy already in her house if he wants to stay without sounding extremely inappropriate or making him uncomfortable? She doesn't do this. This isn't something that just happens to her.

Looking at him standing in her living room, hair disheveled as it often is and the red of his cheeks fading into pink, a thought pops into her head that may or may not work out.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?"

"That'd be really nice," he answers before she's finished talking.

She blinks in surprise, and hopes that the smile lighting up her face isn't too obviously infatuated.

"Yeah?"

Peter nods with a smile of his own, and she releases a pent up breath that relaxes her spine and unclenches her left hand.

"Make yourself comfortable then," she says, gesturing to the sofa. It's then that she notices the trail of mud and melted snow they brought in. His footprints and hers wind around each other, looking comically like maybe they were doing something other than checking for intruders. He notices her looking as he takes off his jacket.

"Do you have a mop?" Peter asks.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I mop, you make the hot chocolate."

"No."

"C'mon, it makes sense. Team effort. Like at work."

"Well, this isn't work. This is my house and you're a guest. Under no circumstances will you be touching cleaning supplies."

"Uh-oh. You got your manager voice on," he teases.

It should be funny, but isn't. That one sentence reminds her of an aspect she's been neglecting completely without even realizing it. They are coworkers, and she is his manager. His direct superior. Maybe she can't fire him, but the power scales are tipped in her direction. This is crossing a line she can now see clearly. It pours a bucket of ice cold water over the entire situation, and she freezes in her spot by the kitchen counter.

"What's wrong?"

Is she really that transparent?

She takes a deep breath, already deflated and wallowing in disappointment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was wrong of me to ask. Not just coming here, but asking you to stay. I'm your manager. This is a weird situation. I appreciate that you helped me tonight, but I don't know if this is…" she trails off, unsure of what word to use.

"Appropriate?" Peter supplies, studying her curiously.

She nods hesitantly.

"Did you ask me to stay as my manager?"

"What? No!" She balks.

"Then why are you so worried?"

"Because…"

He waits with a raised brow. She's got nothing.

"Alright. Let's look at it this way: if we weren't working together, would you be hanging out with me?"

The question cuts right to the point of the matter, and for a moment she resents the fact that he's so perceptive. Not to mention, willing to dissect any confusion and problem solve. Peter Parker doesn't seem to shy away from confrontation - an admirable skill, were he not using it on her so frequently.

"Just be honest. It's easy. You won't hurt my feelings, I promise."

His eyes are sparkling with mirth. It's impossible to do anything but what he asked.

"If we weren't working together, I'd want to hang out with you." She pauses. "But I'd probably be too chicken to ask, so you'd have to take initiative."

With another easy smile, Peter comes closer until he's just an arm's length away, and she watches him wide eyed and expectant.

"Hi. I'm Peter. Hope you don't mind me asking, but I've seen you around a few times and something tells me we'd make good friends. What do you say?"

Her heart says he's endearing beyond words. Her brain is mush, so there isn't much input from that side. He's doing something he probably doesn't even intend to do just by being himself, having her spun around his gestures like cotton candy around that too-splintery stick of wood she used to get at carnivals. She should be careful with him, lest she end up pricked by misread intentions.

"I mop, you make the hot chocolate?" she asks in an almost-whisper.

"I don't know where anything is," Peter replies softly.

It's ok if he doesn't, she decides, because she can show him. Today and tomorrow and maybe next week also, she can ease up a little more and let him find his way around without worrying about what's out of her control.

"I trust you."

And so they go their separate ways, and when she returns with the mop she sees that his sleeves have been rolled up (dangerous) and he's pondering her kitchen cabinets like prize doors on a TV show.

"Are you trying to divine their contents?" she asks from the doorway.

"Shhh… I have a sixth sense about these things."

She laughs quietly at his determination, trying not to stare too long when she realizes how nice he really looks in just jeans, that dark green sweater and his - oh my god.

"Are those raccoon socks?"

Peter looks at her over his shoulder, and the little stammer he lets out has her biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"That is what they are."

With a grin that can't be contained, she leaves the room for a minute and returns with mischievous crinkles at the corners of her eyes. Peter has gone interestingly quiet, and she taps him on the shoulder with light fingers as he mixes the cocoa powder in a bowl. He hums quietly but barely turns around, catching her eye only briefly before turning back to his task.

Oh no. Did he think she was laughing at him?

Before she can change her mind, she nudges his right foot with her own, and that's when he finally looks down. It takes him a second or two to finally have the reaction she was hoping for. His soft 'no' is very precious.

Her feet are clad in the exact same pair of dull yellow raccoon socks, little rodents with an arched back and scheming hands strewn about in a haphazard pattern.

"Look at that. Little criminals," Peter says.

"Us or the raccoons?" she returns.

"Uh-oh. Do you have anything to confess?"

"That's very Lucifer of you," she points out with a quirk of her lip.

"No no no… that's not how he says it."

Peter leans away from the counter to face her fully, a waft of cinnamon infusing the air. A subtle change takes place that captures her attention and winds it tightly - trapped entirely by his sultry eyes and slightly parted lips, she almost misses the whispered question.

"Tell me, what do you desire?"

Whatever the answer may be in her head, her expression indicates only one possible want in that moment. With chocolate brown eyes, a smattering of freckles right above his cheek, Adam's apple bobbing enticingly, Peter Parker looks a dream. Her own lips part slightly, but no sound leaves them - not until he's leaned in and her breath stutters, a soft gasp consumed by plush lips that capture hers gently and too briefly for her liking.

She blinks up at him in a daze, and gives the unspoken question in his eyes a definitive answer by leaning in herself this time. Unsure what to do with her hands and unable to figure it out with a scrambled brain, she's happy when she feels Peter's own take hold of her, one on the side of her neck and the other resting at her hip. They're so warm she melts into him, leaning into the kiss a little more and letting instinct guide her. Romantic conquests not really being her thing, it's difficult to relax and not wonder if she's doing a good job. She's been insecure enough in the past that her thoughts have ruined otherwise nice moments. She refuses to let this turn out the same.

Whatever emboldens her now is welcomed with open arms, and she figures she can't be that bad a kisser if Peter keeps seeking more pecks each time she pulls away. A small laugh is shared between them, and the endorphins may or may not be responsible for the lack of care the following moments. It sizzles out quickly, and in its place, a dull ache settles.

It's nice, she thinks, but this crosses a line that really can't be uncrossed. Friendship is one thing, but what they're doing right now has the potential to blow up in their faces. And as if he can endlessly grasp her thoughts before they've even taken shape, Peter dispels her worry in a way that colors him with even rosier glasses.

"I know what you're gonna say… and if it makes you feel better, we can forget this happened. But I've been thinking about kissing you for a while and if it wasn't a problem before, it's definitely a problem now, 'cause I really can't stop thinking about it when I know what it feels like."

"I - That's really sweet, Peter. And I don't know what to say. I like you, but this is so - "

"Wonderful -"

"Weird, and we don't just work together. I'm technically your boss, which is beyond inappro-"

"Insanely hot - "

"Stop it," she laughs.

"What can I say, I love a woman in charge." He shrugs innocently.

"The point is, for this - " She motions between them, "to happen, one of us needs to quit their job, and I get the feeling that's not the right thing to do now."

"Are you putting your foot down?" he jokes.

"I'm serious. You're cute, and you're a good kisser, but you're not 'workplace misconduct' good."

"Ouch! I take offense to that. I am definitely ‘workplace misconduct' good. Maybe even 'might commit a crime' good."

Her eyes widen and she slaps his bicep with a gasp, hating how his boisterous laughter manages to coax one out of her also.

"I'm joking. I get what you're saying, and I respect that. This can stay between us, and we can just be friends. I won't kiss you again until you ask me to," he promises, making a tiny cross over his heart.

"You're so sure I'll ask you to?" she challenges.

His eyes sparkle with a mix of confidence and amusement.

"I think you'll ask me before the month is up."

And there it is again, another moment ruined by the knowledge of time and how it keeps moving forward. She tries not to let it show by agreeing to an unofficial bet, and quickly excuses herself to the bathroom, where disappointment can wash over her unrestrained.

Maybe she should've kept kissing Peter, because there's no telling if she'll get to ask him, even if she changes her mind. She doesn't know if she'll live through February. She could be selfish and go back out there, pull him by his ridiculously pretty sweater and mold her lips to his until she learns their shape by heart, but that would mean putting them both in an awkward position. If she dies, she won't have to deal with any of the repercussions and she gets to say she didn't die single, which is a plus. But if she dies, how weird would that be for him? He might show up to work one morning only to find a vacancy in her old post. Maybe a cop asking questions, if they care enough, or if they haven't all been bought off already.

No, she isn't doing that to anyone, but least of all to Peter. She'll play nice, be friendly, try not to look at his mouth too much and get through the rest of January without incident. And without kisses.

Only two weeks to go.

- to be continued -

A/N: Thank you for reading. Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated. Feedback is crucial for writers and if you like a story, don’t hesitate to let us know :)  

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

[sukiglycerin]

birds (not) of a feather || keigo takami.

* pairing: hawks x fem pro-hero!reader

* genre: canonverse(???), terribly indulgent smut, pwp, enemies w benefits

* words: 3,111

* warnings: i just packed a shitload of kinks into this, dom!hawks, sub!reader, daddy kink, dirty talk, semi-public sex (a bathroom), quirk play aka feather play (not tickling), reader is kiNda a brat, fingering, orgasm denial, cum eating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pls.,., wrap it before you tap it irl), degradation, breeding kink, humiliation, dumbification, creampie, aftercare (duh), i’m so sorry for this i’ll finish my sfw angst thing now

* a/n: inspired by this text post... oh god, this is filthy. apologies for the slightly late update, but here it finally is!! @toishi is an absolute angel for proofreading this at like 1 in the morning. i hope you enjoy this! if you liked this, feel free to request anything you’d like to see from me <3

there was something about hawks that was infuriating. you couldn't tell exactly what was the breaking point; his messy hair, his plush smirk, or his eyes. his eyes, typically glazed over with a mixture of cockiness and devil-may-care hawtiness, were perhaps the most charming part to him, if you asked any fangirl. the markings around them only made him prettier, but infuriatingly so; and when you put together the entire package of 'hawks,' you got an extremely punchable person. 

yet sometimes, during extremely rare instances - perhaps when the light hits him just right or when one of his feathers is placed just perfectly - the word 'punchable' is replaced with 'fuckable.' and when you say fuckable, you mean him fucking you. it only aggravates you more.

you can't recall exactly when you started hating him or exactly when you became fuckbuddies (well, more like fuckenemies), but what you can recall is that the closets at hawks' agency are unreasonably large. not that they can't be used to your advantage, on multiple occasions (especially when hawks ruts). you're sitting next to hawks as some entrepreneur attempts to sell his ideas to market heroes and gain more profit. none of the pro-heroes sitting in the room seem particularly engaged. you're practically falling asleep; hawks' doodles on your notepad keeping you awake. you can't exactly complain, though the doodles take up space on an otherwise blank page, it's entertaining. you're far past gone being alert, however; your eyelids droop one last time before you see an oddly phallic shaped doodle behind your eyelashes. goddamn hawks.

"really?" you hiss at him, pushing his hand away.

he shrugged, lazily smiling. "you like it."

"like what? lewd imagery in my work notepad?"

"no." his voice drops an octave, fatally gravelly, "my cock."

you flush at his obscene language. "don't-" you whisper, but you're cut off by hawks' muffled giggles as he points to another one of his doodles. a rooster. you purse your lips. ever-so immature, hawks.

"yeah, but i bet you like the first one a lot more, don'tcha, chickadee?" his pet name has your brain stuttering. "you like my cock so much, hm?"

"fuck you, hawks," you breathe.

"you can try, feather." his voice is dripping with cockiness. "i bet, even in professional times like these, you think about my cock. in business meetings, you look so professional, so serious, but little does everyone know - you're dreaming about my cock stretching your tight little cunt out, making you scream my goddamn name. i bet you salivate just thinking about my cock fucking you good, hm? isn't that right, chickadee?"

you huff, not meeting his eyes as you search for a witty comeback. your silence gives hawks' ego a boost; he smirks wider.

"you know it's true, huh?" he purrs. "you think of me wherever you go. in public, filing paperwork, when you touch yourself in bed... you just like it so much, you're my slut. who knew the nation's favorite pro-hero would drop to her knees to the sight of anyone's cock?"

"yeah, i touch myself whenever i think of you," you mutter saltily under your breath. you ignore the growing arousal in your panties at his provocative words. hawks goes quiet, eyes wide.

"more specifically, i rub my temples because i get a headache because you're so damn awful."

"well fuck, dove," he chuckles. he leans in close to your ear. "maybe i'll give you something to think about."

a shiver curls itself down your spine. "hawks-"

he hushes you, jotting something in your notepad. he excuses himself from the room, leaving a feather laying on his seat in place of him. you read the note. "women's bathroom, down the hall to the left. no one uses it."

a pump of adrenaline fills you; your heart skips a beat.

once you slip out, your heart plays a game of jump rope, the rhythm filling your ears. down the hall, to the left... you wonder what hawks has in store for you. your brain recreates images of past escapades you engaged in with the man; a quickie in his office, another in an alley, and once, him fucking you just before a meeting. your panties grow damper, unable to mask the anticipation you feel within yourself.

"hi, sweetpea," hawks cooes as soon as you enter the restroom. "fancy seeing you here."

"you invited-"

"hush, i didn't give you permission to speak, did i?" he snaps. "good girls who behave are rewarded."

a whimper slips out of you, and you nod.

"safeword, birdie?"

"sunflower."

"good girl." he hums. "so obedient, once disciplined... maybe i should do this more. i bet you'd like that... being such a slut when anyone could walk in." "hawks..." you start, but he doesn't have it.

the hero stalks toward you. if eyes could kill, you'd be murdered within seconds; his irises are dark, pupils blown, and a shadow has fallen over his face. he looks predatory like this - truly living up to his name. it's graceful, the self-control he assumes whence walking toward you. 

said self-control is completely abandoned as soon as your bodies meet. you're completely enraptured in his shadow as the man loomed over you, his wings contributing greatly to the effect. he's the predator, and you're the prey. 

his arm separates your neck from the wall, his hand clutching the back of your head. the free hand moves itself to caress your jaw in a strangely gentle manner, while his knee pushes its way in between your legs, making your upper thighs into a home. his hand nudges your head forward towards his, and then you're kissing him with such ferocity it's animalistic. tongues clash and you're no longer sure whose spit is whose; it dribbles down your chin the way blood drips from the thirsty lips of a vampire.

hawks growls - he actually growls - while he hastily unbuttons your top and slips his tongue into your mouth. you shamelessly grind down against his clothed pant leg, careless that your wetness will leave a stain. 

he pulls away, a string of saliva snapping between you and leaving you two gasping for breath. 

"fuck, fuck, baby bird," hawks wipes his mouth with his sleeve. his lips are swollen, their colour resembling a cherry lollipop with a sheen of gloss. damn, he's pretty. you never realized how good-looking a guy in a suit could be. his eyes are darker than a raven's, and it looks as though he'll devour you whole. 

"come." hawks gestures for you, walking towards the sinks and large mirror above them. as soon as you near a foot from hawks, he grabs you, one hand on your waist and the other on your throat. 

"look at you..." he tsks, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. you're completely disheveled, hair a mess and eyes blown dark. your top is wrinkled slightly, your breasts peaking out through the unbuttoned gap and your skirt pushed up.

"so messy already..." the hand on your waist moves up and squeezes your breast, tweaking a nipple through your bra.

"you just fucking melt for me, like a good whore," he says.

oh, how you hate how easily hawks can win you over.

"fuck you," you scoff half-heartedly. "are you gonna fuck me, or not? we don't have all day."

"won't be a problem, lovebird," he says breezily. "judging by how much you fucking soaked my pant leg, i could have you coming undone without my cock even touching your dirty cunt.

you glance at his thigh, which has a blatant dark spot on it, and feel your heart race in humiliation. you can only stay silent, knowing he's right. the sensation in your core is painfully obvious to you, as if taunting you more.

"obeying now?" he teases, a wicked smile gracing his face. "bend over the counter, sweetpea."

you huff, obliging. hawks deftly moves his fingers, unbuttoning your shirt. you shiver, your hot skin colliding with the cold, unforgiving marble. 

"spread your legs - good, good, like that..." his breath tickles your ear, "you like how the air touches your sopping pussy? how exposed you fucking feel, all spread out for me when anyone could walk in? me, the number 2 pro-hero..." god, he was so cocky it was infuriating.

"shut up," you grumble.

"what?" his voice is sharp, cutting clean through the air. "is that anyway to treat your daddy?"

you fucking hate the title. you hate how hawks harnesses it as his own, how he so personifies the word - how good it fits him, sounding like sugar off his lips.

two of his fingers meet your clothed folds. "answer me, birdie."

"n-no," you squeak out. 

"no, who?" he spits.

"no, daddy." 

you inch your head up to look in the mirror, and hawks is smiling. 

"what to do with you, what to do with you..." he sounds gleeful, sadistic undertones tinting his words with a faded rose red. so pretty, yet so painful. your head goes back down onto the counter, your cheek pressed against it.

"naughty birds deserve punishment, don'tcha think?" 

you can't find it in yourself to form a coherent word; instead, a clumsy moan falls from your lips. hawks' fingers press harder against your cunt; you're sure they've gotten at least a little damp.

compromised in such a position, your senses make you suddenly aware of your surroundings; the way the counter digs into your hips, how the coolness is starting to fade under your body. you're aware of your every breath, the fluttering in your stomach every time hawks presses your clit. you're aware of the inherent eroticism of your acts, and how you don't really hate hawks; no, no, no - how he just infuriates you.

he's the ideal hero, in your eyes - laidback, charming, and yet so skilled at his work. it amazes you. one can only strive to be so multifaceted, and it explains his status as number 2 hero. you work so hard, yet he can achieve all the things you dream in half a heartbeat.

"let's get these out of the way." hawks, hooking a digit into the band of your panties, forces them down in an instant. you instinctively clench at the air which meets your nether lips, your juices leaking out of them like a honeyed nectar.

"so messy," hawks comments. "can't even control yourself without your panties. you like being such a slut for daddy, huh?"

you grumble in protest.

"huh?" his index and ring finger plunge into your pussy, making a loud squelching sound.

"d-daddy," you blurt a moan out, falling apart on his fingers.

"that's more like it, feather." hawks sets a moderate pace on your pussy, curling to hit your sweet spot. the noises from your cunt and mouth fail to cease, and you throw a hand over the latter to muffle your whimpers.

you start to feel a burning sensation rise in your stomach; a toe-curling, warm feeling like sunlight shining in the morning.

"daddy, daddy, hngg- i'm so close."

you're so close to the sunlight, to being showered in the blissful heat. just one more stroke and-

you're suddenly empty, and the light starts to slowly recede.

"daddy!" you complain, shifting your legs and rubbing your thighs together. "bad birds get punishment," he shrugs. "though i must say... you like it when i bend you over the counter, huh? your little pussy is dripping all over it for me, and i've barely touched you... i bet you're getting off to this right now; when anyone could walk in, huh? filthy slut. you're already begging for more... hm, maybe i should make you lick up the mess you've made..."

"d-addy, no, i've taken my punishment, please let me cum..."

hawks sounded indifferent, as if he were merely studying his nails. "beg for it."

"wh-" you clench your hands in your skirt. you do not particularly enjoy begging - for anything or anyone. despite the pulsing in your cunt, and how hard it is not to give in, you don't want to give hawks the satisfaction of winning. "p-psh, didn't really need your cock anyway..." you grumble. you exhale quietly, calming the adrenaline pumping in your blood from the loss of your orgasm.

something in him changes, and a scarlet feather tickles your lips. you're confused; what does hawks want you to do?

"suck."

you exhale in confusion, blowing the feather away. "suck?"

you crane your neck up at the mirror to catch a glimpse of hawks. he looks deadly - there's no other way to put it. his eyes are sharply trained on you, his wings buff and towering over him. you think you see a bulge in his pants, straining for freedom.

"well?" the feather dusts your lips once again, teasing you to trap it in between your lips. your head drops, falling against the counter. you open your mouth, and the tip of the feather rests on your tongue. your lips close around it, and you hesitantly suck. you're not sure what you were expecting; it's a feather, soft and flimsy in your mouth.

you jolt at an indistinct tickling feeling against your clit. you look back, feather hanging out of your mouth, to see hawks leaning back on a stall. he's not within reach to touch you, so...

"hng!" the foreign object presses your clit. the pressure strengthens against your tight bundle of nerves, and you can feel your slick drip out of you even more. a feather; though hawks made the consistency a bit more solid. the feather pushes against your pussy like a seesaw, making you reach for your high. you shut your eyes tight, lost in the feeling and desperate for release. the feather drags up and down your cunt, eliciting lewd noises, while your lips are clamped shut around the feather in your mouth. saliva pools in your mouth the more the feather teases your wet sex, and the familiar build of tension starts in your stomach. you yearn for the heat returned in full, to be so fulfilled in pleasure, and you rut against the feather in an attempt to reach your climax faster. the stimulation is suddenly gone, leaving you crying out.

"look at this," hawks sneers. a single, wet feather, dripping in a substance far thicker than water hovers in front of you. "open your mouth."

the feather slips out, and is replaced with a salty tasting one.

the taste of your arousal fills your tongue, and before you're given time to dwell on it, you feel warmth pressing against the back of your thighs. there's a clanking of metal, a shuffle of fabric, and you feel the tip of hawks' cock pressing against you.

"look at you, baby, so desperate for a fuckin' feather," he rasps in your ear. "should i show you how much better my cock is? hmm?"

you nod dumbly, the feather bobbing with you. 

"fuck," he groans, pushing himself into your depths. "so wet, so- slick- goddamn baby bird, you like it when i stuff you full of this cock?"

you hum a noise against the feather in your mouth, agreeing. he slipped into your pussy smoothly, lubricated by the abundance of your slick. once in, snuggled in deep, something in the man's composure snaps; he thrusts mercilessly, pounding deep in you. his fingers hold your hips, bruising them, you're sure - and the pain is sweet, a sick lolly against your tongue. 

"fuck, fuck, daddy's gonna fuck his babies into you, betcha'd like that, huh?"  you can't articulate your words properly with the feather in your mouth, but you attempt to agree. he doesn't care, continuing with his degradation.

"you're gonna give me my chicks, huh? be my bitch," he pants heavily. god, you can just imagine how he looks; hair falling onto his sweat-matted forehead, his eyes completely lascivious. a wanton moan spills from your mouth, and the feather falls, but hawks doesn't make notice of this. he continues to slam into you, pace unforgiving, burying himself to the hilt inside of you. squelching noises fill the bathroom, echoing off the walls.

you can only moan and clench around him unintelligently. 

"look at you... all fuckin' stupid and obedient, all for daddy, hm? so willing to let daddy use you as a cumdump, daddy's personal- fucking- cumslut- but you like that, huh? your pretty pussy's clenching around me. you like being talked down to, don'tcha? such a dirty slut. look at that, you're drooling."

two of hawks' fingers shove themselves into your mouth, and you salivate around them. it's messy, you know, and spit trails down your chin.

"look at me, chickadee," he commands. you crane your neck to look at him, eyes wide. "fuck, so slutty," he grunts. "you really like this, don't you? fuck- exposing your fucking cunt to every guy, huh? being used as nothing but a filthy fucktoy?"

you shake your head rapidly in disagreement, cheeks heating up. 

"no?" he chuckles darkly. "just my fucktoy, then?"

you reluctantly nod. 

"my stupid lil baby... so pretty with daddy's fingers shoved in her mouth..." he coos, and a surprising, fuzzy feeling emerges from the praise.

his unoccupied hand reaches down in between your thighs to stimulate your clit, rubbing fast circles against the bud. warmth pools and ties a knot in your stomach. the sugared indulgence of release that you'd so craved comes into view; the knot tightening and tightening and you feel fit to burst.

"c-cum for me, baby bird, cum for me, y/n," he stutters, making a guttural sound in the back of his throat. the fingers in your mouth pull out, falling onto your hips. the tight knot bursts into violent fireworks of ecstasy; your cunt gushes around hawks' cock, convulsing madly. the pleasure shatters you, and everything becomes a haze. you go limp against the counter, thighs shaking. you're not sure how much time has passed - hawks had been fucking you through orgasm, and, at one point, came as well.

"hey, feather," he whispers gently to you. "you did so well for me..." he strokes your back, making a plethora of calming coos and humming sounds

"did so well," you mumble. 

"don't worry about anything, dove, i've got it all handled."

your thoughts are all fog, and you allow yourself to lean into hawks. this is one of the rare times you're vulnerable completely to him; at his mercy, after a particularly hard session. rather, it's one of the rare moments that your true feelings are revealed; how your hatred is baseless, built on jealousy and attraction you deny.

not that you'll admit it.

[lils-in-space]

Notes on The Batman (2022) pt. 2

Here’s the link to part one, if you haven’t gone through it already :) 

(Sidenote: it’s been a while since I last posted on Tumblr so my notes organization is kinda messy. Please excuse the chaos)

Pt. 2 begins with the introduction of Selina Kyle in Bruce’s life and whewwww between Pattinson’s jawline and Kravitz’s cheekbones, I was a melting mess. 

When Bats shoves the Penguin against the glass to threaten him, the Penguin threatens him back, “Do you know my reputation?” Bats responds, “Yeah, I do. Do you?” Though the wording was a tad ambiguous, I think he meant “do you know mine?” Again, we’re back at it again with questions that Bruce Wayne really should be asking himself. Bruce, sweets, we really need to step up the introspection game. 

Selina’s apartment scene:

When we see Bats looking into Selina’s apartment with the binoculars, we flashback to an uncomfortable reminder of how the Riddler was looking into Mitchell’s apartment at the beginning of the film. This serves the purpose of blurring the line between hero and villain--can we justify violations into one’s privacy? Even for heroes? (namely, when Bruce watches Selina change into the jumpsuit). 

Bat meets Cat scene to tentative alliance at the 44 Below: 

I like how Kravitz really leans into cat-like mannerisms when she fights and interacts-- she huffs into Bats’ face in indignation, hissing when he covers her mouth and pulls her against him to prevent her from moving.  

We see some Marxism enter the room when Bats notes not only her name from the eviction notice, but also the fact that she probably doesn’t have much to go off of (this plays into a fight they get into later on in the movie). 

Social media returns with the video that the Riddler posts, announcing his claim on his murder of Commissioner Savage.

In this video, the Riddler says he wants to “unmask” the city. This wording will come back repeatedly. More to come on this significance. 

44 Below--apparently propane boils at (approx.) -44 degrees Fahrenheit. It turns into flammable steam. Kinda reminds of the “powder keg” comment that Gordon makes later when talking with Bats. It’s the vapor of depravity that will bring the city to its knees. 

“I can take care of myself” -- Selina repeats this on other occasions. This comes into play at the end. 

Red motif makes a comeback with Selina’s wig. What this means, still have yet to connect the clues. I feel like there’s more beyond the simple “red equals this emotion” but my sleep-deprived brain is slacking.

It also shows up when we see Selina’s perspective (through the contact lens) which is also red-tinted. Makes me wonder if this is what Bats sees every day or if this is just how it shows up on his screens. Red-tinted vision. Anger? 

Screw you Falcone. 

I wonder if this was intentional, but the lights on the bomb that the Riddler put around Gil’s neck looked like police sirens, which perhaps, was a good disguise for the car, and naturally, people would avoid it. 

Bruce, you’re such a loser sometimes, re-watching the footage of Selina saying “I don’t have a relationship with him.” You really need a better hobby. 

During this part though, we can see different parts of Bruce’s workshop--it looks like he’s working on developing part of the Bat-mobile. 

Alfred sounds almost happy? when he notices Bruce is dressed up in a suit and actually combed up. And then, Bruce just has to go and ruin it by saying he’s staking out Mitchell’s funeral as a civvie because serial killers like being at their victim’s funerals. What a loser, pt. 2

Alfred also notes the absence of Bruce’s Wayne cufflinks (”I can’t find them”--literally and metaphorically) and gives him his own, saying that he needs to keep up appearances. Thomas Wayne gave Alfred his, so in a sense, Alfred is passing the cufflinks along to Bruce, as if it’s his inheritance from his father. 

Honestly tho, Bruce, “How about you? Are you a Wayne?” What a dick thing to say to Alfred. Ask your reflection, yeesh. 

Funeral Scene

It seems rather natural for there to be civil unrest after political corruption is unearthed. Here, we see the economic gap between the protesters and those who are arriving at the funerals in their schmancy cars with valets to park their cars. We also see some police men patrolling on horses.. they’re literally on “high horses”.. sorry. bad pun. 

We also see how differently people treat Bruce vs. the Batman, which may because of Bruce’s status as a “rich person”. The policeman directs him to the valet area with a smile and recognizes him right off the bat.. I’m sorry (again) for the bad pun. Even criminals like Falcone and Oz treat him differently (aka, they don’t blast his brains out for a smart comment). Officer Martinez (he’s back!) treats him differently by greeting him with a smile. 

Nice detail of how Bruce is looking around at possible places the Riddler might be hiding around the building, and maybe scouting for exit points? 

Funeral guy that I mentioned in part one shows up with his line “What good is a safety net that doesn’t catch anyone?” and proceeds to share with Bruce how it failed his daughter. “Do I know you?”funeral guy asks, which again points to the identity question. Embarrassing for him, he doesn’t and Bruce Wayne just happens to be included among those “rich scum-suckers” that the man accused of ripping off his daughter. This guy comes back later, which I didn’t realize until my third watch-through. 

Mayor Elect Bella Reál addresses Bruce and says, ironically, “Mr. Wayne, you really could be doing more for this city.” Oh, sweet lady, if only you knew. He’s doing what he can, just not in the way that many would hope. This reminds us of the voice-over Bruce did at the beginning of the movie. “I wish I could say I’m making a difference.. but I don’t know.” 

Bomb to Jumping off a Building

Whoever played Gil actually had me feeling sorry for the guy. He’s rather realistic-- hysterically scared, willing to play along with a psychopath’s game for a chance to not die (even though, chances are he would’ve been murked anyhow), and stupid/wise enough not to spill in order to protect his family (again, with no guarantee that he and his family wouldn’t be killed by Falcone even if he didn’t spill the beans). 

The head puns in this scene were too much, I almost laughed at the deadpan delivery. “Not if you want to keep your head.” 

The video call with the Riddler reveals some things: (1) The Riddler says he is “nobody” but later on, we see he develops...almost an ego? and reacts negatively when Bats calls him a nobody in the cell scene. (2) “Unmask” makes another guest appearance. Further analysis on the word to come. (3) Social media commentary is back babyyyyy. Disturbing how there were so many likes on a serial killer’s video. Probably some of his 500 followers. (4) “No one ever gave me a chance.” This actually seemed like a genuine comment, showing how the Riddler is actually affected deep down by the traumas of his childhood.

I love, love, loveeee the fact that Bats actually got knocked out by the bomb. Again, this shows his vulnerability and maybe naivety in thinking Gil would rat out the rat. 

“Now I have you for assaulting an officer.” “You have me for assaulting three.” Bats, you’re really not helping, sweets. 

The small detail that Bruce actually hesitates before considering jumping off a building and that it takes him time to assemble the flying Bat suit is so human, I love it. This is amplified when he pulls the chute but miscalculates and ends up getting it caught in the railing and falling rather haphazardly onto the bus and then through a bunch of trash. He limps home. 

Part One // Part Three // Part Four (to be linked)

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 12)

<<Previous part Masterlist   Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx)

Warnings: alcohol.

Disclaimer: pic not mine.

After the sun came completely down and the night bathed the city, making the flashing lights of the buildings and cars look like the sky had spat all of its stars, you gathered all your work and called it a day. Thor, Steve and Bucky were able to go through everything you told them to, and everything was in control. You had managed to solve a chaotic situation from the distance, and the pleasant feeling of doing things right gave you the last push to close your laptop and join Peter and Loki.

Opening one of the windows, you let the fresh wind hit your face and unfurrow your brows, releasing all the tensions you had been accumulating all week long. Peter sneaked up from outside the building and hung upside down from the frame. You gasped, forgetting for a brief moment he was sticky and not completely out of his mind.

“Are you joining us, older?”.

“Yes, little. I’m going”, you laughed at the comeback of the nicknames. Standing for older sibling and little sibling Tony had baptized you with, years ago. Loki chuckled.

“You two are the epitome of adorability, sometimes”.

“Oh, we can get worse”, you laughed.

You had ordered some food in, without wanting to ever touch the mess of that kitchen again, and a bottle of wine. Nobody was there, else than you three; might as well have fun. As you waited for dinner to arrive, you decided on a slide presentation night. You gave each other no more than twenty minutes to arrange it all, so the chaos would be absolute and uncontrollable.

Peter presented first, with a long powerpoint ranking things the Avengers did in “vine-vibes” ascending order. You two tried (and failed miserably) to explain to Loki what a vine was and why something would have its vibes without being actually a video.

Loki’s presentation was titled “Seven hundred reasons why you shouldn’t worship the God of Sparkly hands”. There were actually only six reasons; two of them were about mass murders he was about to commit, and most of them talked about annoying things he did as a child. There was an extra one where it was just a white background and tiny letters in the middle saying “he dyes his hair blonde, he’s actually a redhead”.

Your presentation was titled “Seven hundred and one reasons why you should worship me instead”. No need to elaborate. They all differed except for Friday; she clapped with her electronic hands.

Two board games and some chess later, the food had already arrived. Peter was famished and ate more than you could’ve imagined a boy was capable of. He got so full, so quickly, that he instantly got sleepy. Loki could not bite his tongue and had to say “just like a baby”. It did not help that you snorted, and Peter shot his webs at you two; Loki avoided them and you couldn’t, so you ended up stuck to the roof. Peter started to walk to his room, leaving you up there.

“Hey, hey! Don’t leave, I’m still here!”, you called him. But he was gone. What an avenger. Loki chuckled, and raised his hand to free you with magic, and you instantly realized you were six meters away from the floor. “Wait! I’ll fall!!”.

He didn’t stop, and dissolved the net with a simple spell. As you fell down, you closed your eyes and tried to cover your head, knowing you’d have at least a broken bone. Peter has done this before, you knew there was no way to actually leave unharmed. Loki’s arms tightened around your body, avoiding you to fall flat against the floor.

As you looked up, you met his face, closer than ever. Closer than it ever has been. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew you had to think about something else than the feeling of his chest against yours, his hands in your back, how he was holding you so gently, how he was looking at you so dearly. You knew you had to think about something else; for he could be reading your mind. He surely was. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop focusing on his peach lips and how soft his cheeks looked from up close. You couldn’t see anything else than the movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed hard, and how his hand trembled a little in your back.

He let you down slowly, still holding eye contact, still with his arms around you. Not the threatening gaze he would hold against everyone else on the compound. Not the lustful gaze he would sometimes draw while stealing some glances at you changing on your suit (he thought you didn’t notice, you certainly did). Not the concentrated gaze he would hold still on his face while reading one of those books he always carried around.

It wasn’t any of those. You had studied them thoroughly, meticulously, every inch of his facial expressions, every inch of his being while he wasn’t aware of your eyes on him. God, how you hated to look at him this way, but how much you couldn’t avoid it. Your brain knew you shouldn’t get attached. You had no chance at all to be with him; he was a God, a criminal, and he’d go back to Asgard. And, foremost, he didn’t feel the same. He had a lover, and his mind was still there, stuck in that person, undeletable.

And, as much as you could have read him like a children’s book the entirety of the past week, right now, you had no clue what those green eyes on you meant. You had no idea why the blush on his cheeks was in there, and why he let out a tiny (the tiniest, ever so subtle) gasp. Parted lips that shone, looked so…

You shook your head, closing your eyes. He didn’t let go of his grip around you, but your feet were already on the floor. You could’ve walked away if you wanted to. And you wanted to, you definitely did not want to stay there, and sink your nose in his neck. You certainly did not want to play with his hair while staring at those pair of emeralds he couldn’t keep away from you. You couldn’t read him. He looked at you in a way you’ve never seen him before. Yet it felt so… right.

No, it wasn’t right. God, what were you thinking?

He pulled away, and the cold breeze from the window surrounded your body. You didn’t realize how much body heat he was warming you with until he left. Or maybe it was your own. Your face was still burning. You visibly cringed at your reaction, and could not play it cool at all. He chuckled, again, and walked to the kitchen.

You didn’t say anything. Your face still burned, and your chest was tight. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, why now? Why in the middle of an important mission? Why just now, that he specifically told you he would not stay, and that once he left he would not come back? Why now, that he was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and pouring it in two glasses?

Opening the balcony’s doors, there were two metal chairs (those with delicate designs, that would usually belong to a grandma’s garden) and a round and tiny glass table, just waiting for you two to sit there. You needed fresh air, so you did, sinking in all the city, the active flashlights of the cars, the minute people running around, or walking.

Two glasses of wine clicked against the glass table, and Loki sat in front of you with his eyes fixed on the city, too. You observed him from the corner of your eye, and he did the same. A subtle smile drew across his tightened lips.

After a glass of wine, a refill and about an hour of small talk, he uncrossed his legs and stretched his arms and back with a yawn. The blush still remained intact on his cheeks, and it couldn’t be because of the wine. If you weren’t drunk, much less him. He looked back at you, and chuckled uncomfortably.

“What?”, he asked.

“What what?”.

“You’re staring”.

“Oh, sorry”.

“No, it’s fine”, he said, and you furrowed your brows. He specified, “I don’t mind. I wonder what you’re thinking while you stare, nothing more”.

“So you’re not reading my mind?”.

“No. You said you didn’t like that”.

“Ah”, you gave your glass of wine one last sip and emptied it. It was such a simple gesture, yet you didn’t expect him to actually have listened. Of course he would, he wasn’t actually as bad as he was portrayed by Stark, or so you have seen so far of him. “I just… I wonder about you”.

“About what?”.

“You’re difficult to read. My job here is mainly knowing how to read people”, you explained, and he nodded. “It’s almost like you’re purposely hiding. Like you’re shifting your microexpressions into whatever they are now, so nobody can see what you actually think or feel”. He let out a short chest laugh. Probably sarcastic, but how would you know.

“Who would actually want to know what goes through my mind?”.

“I do, just told you”.

He looked down and played with the empty glass in between his fingers. It looked small in comparison.

“You don’t want to, believe me”.

“Are you afraid of letting people in?”.

“No, it’s not that”, he said, trying to let you know he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You ignored it and opened your mouth, but the words died in your tongue as he added, “please, don’t”.

“I wish I knew you better”, you said after a few more minutes of silence. You swore you heard a creaking foot on the stairs, peeping in the conversation. You ignored it; if Loki was to talk to you, he would also say it in front of Peter. Not like you had some sort of special bond, or even friendship. You kind of wished for it, though.

“Why?”. His knitted eyebrows showed how actually curious he was about that. He believed you. He was certain you were telling the truth, but he simply couldn’t put his head around it. Why would anyone want to know me better? What is it about me that you care? And you wished to know the reason, too. If you knew why you were so drawn to him, maybe you could’ve stopped yourself.

“I feel like I’m missing out on something”.

“Something like what?”.

“Something great”.

“There is no greatness in me, it’s all an act”.

“I know it’s all an act”, you said, referring to his whole I’m a God and you’ll kneel before me and I’m superior. “I don't mean that kind of greatness. You’re hiding the wrong things”.

“You’re not missing out on anything”, he insisted, and not for humility, but because he wanted to brush you off. Keep you away from him.

“Don’t you think we could ever get along? Friends, even?”, you pressured. You knew you shouldn’t have, but Loki didn’t take it badly. Instead, he finally looked at you, drawing a sad smile.

“I’m going back to Asgard after the mission. I don’t intend to make new friends”, he said, but a softness in his voice hinted he wasn’t being mean; simply stating the facts. Exactly as it should be.

“Why did you come only for this mission?”, you asked. You actually wanted to ask do you even have friends back there?, but you knew better.

“I owe Stark. I messed up and wanted to fix at least something with him. He’s not taking it too kindly, but I think he understands the intentions”, he explained, sitting back up on his chair and getting his eyes back on the city.

“A peace offering?”.

“More like an apology. Redemption, even”.

“Redemption? Do you see yourself as a villain to him?”.

He didn’t answer right away. Took his time to find the words.

“I wronged. I did things I shouldn’t have”, and then you realized, he wasn’t apologizing for the New York incident. It was personal. You even wondered, maybe… was he…? Was Tony actually the...? No, imposible. “I know helping out on a mission won’t cut it, but if I can at least be a little bit of help to his planet…”.

“May I ask what did you wrong him in?”.

“I tried to take over Midgard once”, he said, and you didn’t believe him.

“If you ask me, it’s not Stark’s place to accept that apology. He doesn’t own the planet, even though he thinks that”.

“Does he?”.

“He acts like such, at least. He has a big ego, but also a big heart. He’s the closest thing I have to a father”.

“I know”, and you weren’t sure what he had said I know to.

The night was kept awake with more small talk you wouldn’t remember the next day. You saw the sun rising from behind the buildings in silence, with a bad aftertaste of wine, takeout food and unspoken words that would stay just like that.

[willykappymarnsmatts]

Angels Like You (Can't Fly Down Here With Me)(Chapter 4)(A. Matthews/M. Marner)

Mitch and Auston roll into practice together and park next to the same entrance they do every single practice. Business as usual, even though all Mitch wants to do is crawl back into bed and cry or actually murder someone with all the conflicted feelings he has. Auston being at his place this morning has made it slightly more bearable though. Just his presence makes everything seem kind of okay, and as they get out of the car, it’s almost as if he reads Mitch’s mind and puts his hand on his thigh and squeezes gently, in an effort to comfort him enough to stop him from actually vibrating with nerves. “You gonna be okay? I can always tell Keefe you’re too hungover, or sick, or whatever you want the story to be.”

Mitch’s breath catches, which he blames on Auston forcing him out of his head so suddenly, not on his touch, and smiles a bit, but shakes his head. “I’m okay. Honestly. I think this is the best thing for me right now, to just continue life as usual.”

Auston knows he’s lying, knows Mitch well enough to tell when he’s not being totally honest, but he smiles at him anyways and nods. “If you need anything just tell me, alright? Anything.” Auston actually might jump in front of a bus with how overly affectionate he knows he sounds, but Mitch smiles slightly and glances at Auston before looking back down at his lap, and he forgets to be disgusted with himself. They drag themselves out of the car and as they grab their bags, Will comes up from behind them and pushes himself between the two of them, an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Morning, boys,” Will starts, all too energetic and bubbly for the tense air around them. It breaks the grey cloud looming over Mitch’s head a bit, though, but when he visibly perks up Auston’s heart clenches. He’s happy, of course, but almost jealous it wasn’t him to snap him out of it.

Why couldn’t it be him?

“Morning, Will. How ya doing, bud?”

“Great, actually.” The two of them trail off into a conversation about Will’s exciting morning, leaving Auston to berate himself. He wants so badly to be William at this moment. The jealousy he feels makes him want to vomit. He actually might be sick, because what the fuck. It’s his two best friends. It’s not like Mitch even likes him back, never mind loves him the way Auston does. He has no fucking right to be jealous, but he can’t help it. Mitch is his entire world, and he’d kill to just put a smile on his pretty face, and Will is able to do it in the first two seconds of them seeing each other. He doesn’t want anyone to make Mitch as happy as he does, and it's gross and disgusting and toxic but he can’t help it because it’s how he feels. He hates it, but it’s the truth.

Mitch notices his silence and when they sit down next to each other in their stalls, he tries to ask him what’s up by knocking their knees together. Auston just shakes his head and bites his tongue, swallowing down the three words he wants to say more than anything to save himself from the embarrassment and disappointment he knows he would feel for the rest of time if he was actually honest about this. It’s the one thing he knows he can’t share with Mitch, and it’s the one thing he wants to the most. Mitch just nods, pauses for a second, then starts without looking up at Auston right away.

“Will invited us over to his place for dinner tonight. Said his apartment’s been empty with Kap gone, and I haven’t been over there in a while…” The guilt that displays itself all over Mitch’s face is more than enough to have Auston nodding his head in agreement, even though he knows exactly what Will is planning to do as soon as he has the two of them in a room together with him and no fans or teammates or staff to see. He just does not have the energy for it today, but who could say no to Mitch. “Cool! Awesome, I’ll, uh, I’ll tell him we can go, then. What time do you want me to pick you up?”

It has to stop, Auston knows that. The two of them have been driving each other around since rookie year, and it’s probably part of what led to all of his messed up feelings. Spending so much time with each other, it’s bound to happen to at least one of them, and the one ended up being Auston. So it has to stop. “I can drive myself, you know.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as snide as it does, because when would he ever purposely try to hurt Mitch, but the second the words leave his mouth he regrets all of it.

“Oh,” Mitch nods, looking like someone just sucker-punched him in the gut. “Uhm, yeah, I know. I just thought that, since I usually pick you up to go to things, I would. But if you don’t want to, that's fine. Yeah.” He shoots his gaze to the floor, unsure of what to do now. He wasn’t expecting it to be that big of a deal, but now he feels like he’s suffocating.

Auston’s chest hurts so bad he could scream, and even though his heart is saying to lighten up and back off, when he opens his mouth, his tone stays the same as before. “I just think we should give each other some space sometimes. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything.” He spits the last word and actually cannot physically remove the disgust from his face. What the fuck is wrong with you?! Relax!

Mitch doesn’t look up right away, but nods and bites his lip. Auston gets up and starts putting his stuff from his bag into his cubby, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Mitch unsure of what to do with himself, playing with his watch absentmindedly while he chews the living hell out of the inside of his cheek. He continues to watch him while he gets up from his place and stands up next to Auston.

“What is up with you lately, man?” Mitch suddenly bursts, his voice raised a level louder than anyone else in the room. The entire team falls silent, and Auston knows for a fact that usually that would make Mitch calm down, chill out, because despite the fact that he has an A on his chest and has the centre of attention in most rooms he walks into, he still forgets what he wants to say as soon as he has the room’s attention. He continues right on, though, without a second thought about who’s listening. “You’re on and you’re off. You show up to my place all ‘I love you I care about you you don’t need her’ and now you’re snappy and rude. What the fuck have I done to you to hate me so fucking much that when I’m already down, you act like I’m fucking stupid and don’t notice you look miserable when you’re around me?!”

Auston turns towards Mitch, but when he sees the look on his face, any comeback that was on his lips dies right there. He’s seen that look on him, pointed towards the opposing player on a faceoff, or towards a ref after a stupid call against his team, and heartbreakingly towards himself in the mirror after a game he feels like he lost. Auston’s always been the one to wipe that look away, to tell him everythings going to be okay, to calm him down and remind him there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him. That look has never been pointed towards him. Never.

Will stands up then and starts towards Mitch, looking frantically back and forth between Mitch and Auston, looking for Auston to tell him what to do. Auston just stares at Mitch, tongue in cheek, so Will tries to butt in. “Hey, Mitch, I think we should chill out a bit, eh?” “Get the fuck away from me Will. I need to know what his fucking problem is.” Mitch shoves Will to the side, and even though he could’ve easily stood his ground, he backs away a step, not leaving his side completely. Will looks up at Auston, completely unsure of how he’s supposed to help in this situation. Auston thinks his lungs might have actually collapsed because he suddenly can't get a breath in. John makes his way over to the three of them from the other side of the locker room and puts his arms on Auston’s biceps, knowing his tells for when he needs right there, in his space, to calm him down before he implodes. He turns him away from Mitch and forces Auston to make eye contact with him, to look away from Mitch. “Shower, Aus?”

He doesn’t respond, but numbly follows his captain to the showers without looking back to see Will push Mitch into his seat and sit next to him with an arm around his shoulder, all the fight evidently escaping Mitch’s body. “Suit up and ice in two minutes, boys,” John announces to the team before leaving the room.

The door to the showers swings shut and John walks over to where Auston is leaning against a stall door. “What just happened?”

He didn’t even feel like crying two seconds ago, but with his captain so close to him, looking at him like he’s a wounded puppy, he can’t keep it together anymore. John stays right in front of him, doesn’t flinch when Auston’s shoulders start to shake and the tears start to stream down his face.

“I love him, John,” Auston admits, defeated. His shoulders slump and he doesn’t really look at John, instead staring at his hands, his slides, John’s shoulder. “I love him, and he doesn’t love me, he’ll never love me the way I love him, and I think I might die. I actually think it might kill me, how much I love him.” John just shakes his head, looking sadder than Auston has ever seen him, and pulls him into a tight hug. He holds him there for a couple seconds, until Auston grunts a little and steps back. “Yeah, I, uh, I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. Love isn’t even a big enough word to describe the feelings I have for him. But he, uh, he doesn’t love me, and I don’t really know how to get over it.”

“Oh, kid, you don’t.”

“What?” Auston was expecting some sort of advice, maybe an ‘I know’, not a fucking death sentence.

“You don’t just ‘get over it’, kid. It doesn’t work that way. I’m sure you’ve had girlfriends you’ve ‘loved’, and you ‘love’ your dog, and your team, but this is a totally different thing. I believe that once in your life, you meet someone who changes the way you see the world. They take everything you think you know, throw it in the garbage, and reteach it to you. They show you what true, unconditional, absolute love is. You feel like you can’t breathe when you’re without them, and you only feel truly complete when they’re next to you. You can’t imagine your life without them. That’s your soulmate, and if you don’t end up with them, you might ‘move on’, you might meet someone and get married and have kids and have your dream life, but you’ll never truly forget them. They’re your one big, true, epic love.”

“Is that you and Aryne?”

John nods, smiling a little, but remaining somber. “Yeah, it is.”

“Is that, uh, is that me and Mitch?” “I think so, buddy. And if he doesn’t feel the same, it’ll feel like it’ll kill you, but I promise you you’ll survive. It’ll be hell, but you will get through it, and you will be happy again. Maybe never as happy as you are when you’re around him, but close. And if he does feel the same, you’ll be happy as long as you’re with him. Even when the entire world feels like it’s crumbling down around you, he’ll be there, and it’ll make everything kind of okay.”

Auston is unsure how to respond, how to say something even close to as emotionally intelligent as John. “What should I do?” he asks.

“I can’t tell you that, bud. All I can tell you is he is your one true, epic love, and if you let him slip away before ever telling him how you feel, you will never, ever forgive yourself.”

Auston nods and leans in to briefly hug his captain, then shakes his entire body out, takes a breath, and goes to strap on his skates. Mitch is his soulmate. It’s something he’s always had an idea of, something he always thought might possibly be true, but to hear someone else say it out loud, to hear the actual words spoken by his captain of all people, it convinces whatever part of him was holding out on the thought.

Mitch is his soulmate.

Mitch is his soulmate.

He doesn’t know if Mitch feels the same. In fact, he’s almost sure he doesn’t. But if he doesn’t say anything, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life. He pauses where he is, bent over, tying his skate laces. He sits up with his hands on his knees and looks at John, who’s across the room, tying his own laces. “I have to go.”

“And do what?” John doesn’t look up, but Auston knows he has his full attention.

“I just have to do something. I have to tell him, I think, but it has to be perfect, because he’s perfect. I have to, uh, I have to go,” Auston trails off and starts taking off his skates at lightning speed. John look up at him briefly, a small smile on his face.

“Don’t worry about anything, Aus. I’ll take care of Keefe.” Auston nods without looking at his captain, his mind spinning, but completely and utterly focused on the one thing he knows is true.

Mitch is my soulmate. I am utterly in love with Mitch Marner.

And I’m gonna teach him what real love is.

[patricksmusicblog]

DMX Discography Overview

It's Dark and Hell is Hot(1998): DMX's distinctive growl, aggression, and arresting flow is fully formed and at its highest potency here on It's Dark and Hell Is Hot. It's Dark and Hell is Hot is, for the most part, a dark menacing and street-orientated album. Some tracks even lean toward a horror-core vibe, "X is Coming" being the bleakest and most unsettling of the bunch. Still, there are deeply emotive tracks like Let Me Fly, Look Through My Eyes, and Convo, where DMX gets introspective and lets us in on his struggles internally and morally/spiritually. There are also hits here, like the hard but catchy "Ruff Ryders Anthem" and the chill summer jam "How's It Going Down." The album's production is handled by PK and Dame Grease, with the album's calling card produced by Swizz Beatz. On a broader level, DMX was a presence in the rap game filled some of the space that had been vacant since Tupac Shakur was murdered, passionate, aggressive, and visceral only specifically representative of the east coast. He also was the answer to the shiny suit luxury rap era Puffy was dominating with in 1997. The album is pure classic and certainly a top-tier album of 1998. Rating: 9.0/10

Favorite Tracks: Rough Rydahs Anthem, How's It Going Down, Intro, Crime Story, Look Thru My Eyes, Let Me Fly

Flesh of my Flesh Blood of my Blood(1998): Flesh of My Flesh Blood of my Blood was released in late December of 1998 cemented DMX as the biggest rapper of that year and late 90s in general(Jay-Z notwithstanding). Aside from the Beastie Boys, the album had the highest first-week sales in a highly competitive year. As for the quality of this one, It's more of DMX's burst of rough and jagged rhymes. When he's not menacing(which is most of the time), he's as introspective and pain-stricken as he was on It's Dark, and Hell Is Hot. The apex of that would be "Slippin," an iconic song that is amongst the saddest tracks in hip-hop history as DMX open shares the trauma of his upbringing, being an addict and struggling to get out of it only to find its way back in it and everything that surrounds that in his past. It's really the fight in the song that makes the song his willingness not to quit and keep trying that makes the song "I got to get up, get back on my feet so I can tear sh*t up." What keeps the album from being the classic his debut was is that Swizz Beats takes the helm on most of the production here, which is hit or miss. DJ Shok, PK, and Dame Grease have a lot of the best beats here. They bring out that dark energy and tone that makes for X's best work. All in all, it's still a great project and amongst his best work. Rating: 8.0/10

Favorite Tracks: Slippin', Dogs For Life, Coming From, Black Out,

...And Then There Was X(1999): ...And Then There Was X picks up were DMX previously left out brutal, pummeling bone-crushing violence come is to be expected. "One More Road to Cross" and "The Professional"(one of the albums hardest tracks) are early highlights. Then there's the heartfelt but mature writing of "Here We Go Again," one X's best tracks, and "More 2 a Song," the ladder of which speaks to DMX's avoidance when it comes to rapping about the flashy materialistic side of things. While this is DMX's third full length album, it sounds more like a full-fledged sophomore effort to It's Dark and Hell is Hot while Flesh of my Flesh' plays more as an extension, too, or a very good b-side to its predecessor. This album contains some of DMX most well-known hits it including his biggest "Party Up"(Up in Here), a high energy track produced by Swizz Beatz that finds DMX being peak DMX, the chorus is both funny and little corny, there's a good touch of humor in DMX's bars on the track that give it charm. Another well-known X track is "What these B*tches Want" ft Sisqo, a silly and misogynistic track that has its charm and humor but is a bit lacking as far as the chorus in my opinion. "What's My Name?" however, is a banger that's one of DMX's better singles and meant to be played at a high volume out of your car. ...And Then There Was X is another strong album from DMX, and its more consistent than Flesh of my Flesh' less visceral and hungry than It's Dark. 8.5/10 

Favorite tracks: Party Up(Up in Here) Here We Go Again, What's My Name, The Professional, Angel, More 2 a Song

The Great Depression(2001): DMX's fourth straight #1 album finds him trying new things. There are the rap-rock efforts like Bloodline Efforts, and I'ma Bang which will always be hit or miss depending on the kind of music listener you are. To me, they're listenable but amongst the corniest of DMX records in his catalog. The worst is the silly/sad "She Was Da Bomb" where X writes a track about basically impregnating a woman and threatening to be a deadbeat. Yeah, the lows here are amongst the lowest of his career. Transversely, "Who We Be," a socially conscious record, is one of DMX's best tracks ever, and "We Right Here" has a great beat and is amongst the best on the album. Aside from the hits, you get the heartfelt "I'm Missing You" and the thoughtful "When I'm Nothing". There are also more R&B sounds here which I think is a nice change of pace. The Great Depression is solid; it's less aggressive and consistent than any of the three albums before it; some songs really work, and a few don't. I think it's worth listening to; there are essential DMX tracks here, but I wouldn't consider the LP quintessential as a whole. 7.5/10

Favorite Tracks: Who We Be, We Right Here, When I”m Nothing, I”m Missing You,

Grand Champ(2003): DMX's fifth straight #1 album is even more boom or bust than The Great Depression is. Where The Great Depression had weird moments and tracks that didn't quite work. Here X doesn't sound quite as passionate as he does early in his career. In an interview he did on 106 n Park around the time of the album's release, he'd spoken about not making what he should off his music, and I wonder how much that put a damper on writing and recording for this album. When it comes to what's here, the menacing brutality and growl is here, but it isn't as consistently visceral as it was early on. At 24 tracks, it's also a long, over-bloated album but even shorting it; I don't think the bulk of the music here holds up through time. "Get it On the Floor," has a terrible chorus, and most tracks between 13-23 are forgettable. As for the best of what's here "Where the Hood At" Produced by Swizz is a classic DMX track it's hard and has a great beat and hook. "Dogs Out" Which features Kanye on production. Then you have "We're Back" ft Eve and Jadakiss, another highlight and features pretty good verses from all three, but I believe Jada had the best performance. The international version of the album features the track "X Gon Give It To Ya" another very good single from X. This is an interesting listen, and depending how die-hard an X fan you are you may still enjoy this. I think there are tracks worth salvaging, but it isn't an essential listen. 6.5/10

Favorite Tracks: Dogs Out, Where The Hood At, X Gon Give it to Ya

The Year of the Dog(2006):This is the point where the bottom really fell out on DMX's music. The highs here aren't amongst the highest of X's career, and the lows are certainly amongst the lowest—tons of generic and lackluster production, mediocre choruses. A weird rap/rock crossover. DMX's tenacity isn't as urgent or visceral, and a lot of what's here (tracks 2-10) sounds, sadly, like a caricature of himself(with "It's personal" as the exception). The best tracks on the album are sneak in at the end where you find songs like "Blown Away" and "Goodbye"; those are the most soul-bearing tracks on the album. As a whole, it's a below-average album that, aside from a few moments, The down turn reflected itself culturally and sells wise it was his first album not to go #1 and only to go gold, and by the mid 00s DMX wasn’t in most conversations when comes to being amongst the best . 4.0/10

Favorite Tracks: It’s Personal, Blown Away, Goodbye, Life Be My Song

Undisputed(2012): Undisputed was a well-intentioned, admirable comeback album for DMX.  There are some solid moments here "Cold World" Speaks on what he perceives as the rap game getting weak.  "I'm back" is one of the better tracks on the album. You can hear the pain coming through on "Have You Eva."  I like "Y'all Don't Really Know" because it comes close to some of his early work. Still, it just isn't enough; there are quite a few missteps on this album, whether it'd be the awful "Sucker for Love" or "I Get Scared" X sounds weaker vocally, and the production is lacking. There's some charm to "I Don't Dance" with MGK but it's somewhat awkward and not among his strongest singles.  It's better than Year Of The Dog but still far from the level of X's heyday.  5.5/10

Favorite Tracks: I‘m Back, Have You Eva, Ya’ll Don’t Really Know

DMX is an undeniable legend and quintessential to late 90s-early 00s hip-hop. His music and voice, and passion transcends its era and is easily felt now. His apex from 98-00' is highly recommended. Past that, it's a lot more hit and miss, but both the Great Depression and Grand Champ have some gems worth grabbing. Past that, it's even spottier but given X's internal struggles it was great we were even able to get those LPs. Fortunately, DMX seemed to be doing well and had finished an album before passing away, so I'm eager to hear what he'd been working on.

[darkromanceblackburn]

I really love your writing and I'm really happy that requests are open again!! 😭 Could you maybe write a part 2 to Strip Yourself (Hacker x reader fic) where the hacker and reader somehow meet again (like maybe the reader surprisingly tracks him down) and get together? Thank you!!

The Hacker x Reader- Strip Yourself Part 2

Part 1 HERE

Drinks were being passed on tables along with the money that flew on the stage by high heeled shoes, the girls dancing and twirling on the poles, music blasting accompanied by neon lights, creating the perfect nightlife atmosphere.

Night in New York never changed and neither did the masked man's life as he leaned on the bar, observing a brunette dressed in leopard lingerie. The Hacker bite his lower lip behind the mask as he ogled the woman, she had nice assets and eyes that he would love to see roll inside her head; by sex or murder, he could care less.

It was another Friday night, spending money on drinks and women because the next day he will get the cashback. Tonight he just finished another deal with a pretentious prick who wanted certain films.

The sick freak had some weird fetishes, but who was the Hacker to judge, after all, he wasn't any better.

"I see you looking at her. Gonna taker her in the back later?" the bartender, who the Hacker got pretty aquatinted with spoke with a chuckle.

"Maybe." The Hacker hummed, swirling the liquor in his glass.

He debated if he should just take her for a quick blowjob, when a happy cheer caught his attention, gaze moving from where the sound came. It was one of the veteran strippers, Vivian and she was hugging someone.

When she pulled away, grey eyes widened behind the blue neon lightened mask, gulping down as he took in your form.

It's been what? One year?

He had to admit you changed, but in a good way, hair and clothes are all nicely done and clean put together like a doll in his opinion. The bartender noticed the Hacker stare and nudged his shoulder.

"I never pictured you the type to go for business woman." the male snickered, but the Hacker didn't mind him that much, because all his attention was to you.

It's been a year since you left, quit the job as a stripper, and crawled your way up to be a respectable female in society, although you didn't saw yourself as some prize, never one to judge someone, because you knew what it meant to swallow your pride to get to where you were now.

Vivian felt like someone was starring at you two, so she turned around seeing the masked male, then moved her gaze back to you.

"You wanna talk to him?" she asked in your ear and you swallowed down.

You decided to visit Vivian since you two haven't talked for a long time, but you never pictured that you would meet him, after one year. The man who helped you the most.

"I kind of want to." you muttered, a little nervous, but you weren't going to act like you didn't notice him.

You weren't a coward and since you worked into the financial business you learned that cowardice is seen as a prime weakness and if the sharks in black suits notice, you will be most likely eaten alive.

So, take a deep breath you walked with her to the bar, ordering yourself a drink, while Vivian began to chat with the bartender.

"Hey." you finally said, your eyes looking at the Hacker, who has his mask turned to you.

"Hey, doll."

His voice was bitter like definitely not excited to see you after you left without a word or goodbye.

"Back again?" he broke the silence.

"More like visiting. I worked here almost all my life in college." you answered, taking a sip of your drink as it arrived.

"I know."

Of course, he knew, he was your top client, always tipping you the most, buying you gifts and attentions, showering you in compliments, and the only one who got privates shows with finalization, not that you were proud of it.

"I see you wormed yourself up on the scale in society. I guess all the hard work in college paid well." he spoke again, his tone arrogant and aggressive like.

"You want to talk about this now?" you spoke with confidence, not letting him get to you.

"What's the point? You left one year ago without a word, doll." he shot back, making you feel like you were the culprit here.

"You act like we were together. I told you from the beginning that when college is over so is this place." you clarified him, brows pushed into a frown.

He snorted behind the mask, then got up, walking away from you and towards the back door of the club where the alleyway was.

Before you would have let it go, forget about it, but you ended up being someone who wasn't going to take silence and walking away as an answer. You got up from the barstool and stalked after the male, getting out and catching his wrists before he could take another step.

"Will you stop acting so childish?" you snarked, making him stop.

"I am? Look who's talking. At last, you could have to say goodbye!" he shot back, tugging his wrist away, taking a step towards you, making you take one back.

Silence.

You had no comeback to that. Indeed, you had left, disappearing like a ghost, not even bothering to leave a message.

"That's what I thought. You know....You are no different from the sluts inside. You just have more clothes on, but you are all the same. Choking on my cock." he said in a calm and deadly voice, you could hear the smirk in his tone.

"I-I...Never..." you shuttered over your words, blushing at what he said.

"You never what?" he asked, backing you into the wall of an alleyway.

His masked face inched closer, the plastic brushing against your cheek and ear.

"Do I need to remind you of everything? That time you sucked my cock? When I fingered you? When I pounded you from behind like bitch? Each time I made you squirt?"

He was humiliating you, reminding you that you were no prude, you couldn't stick your nose in the air, because you were no better.

"It was the past." your replied, making him chuckle in amusement.

"That's your comeback?" he asked, grey eyes moving from your wide eyes and trembling lips down to your neck, noticing something underneath the white button-up blouse.

Gloved fingers moved to unbutton the first ones at the collar and you were ready to push him away, but his other hand pushed your shoulder roughly back against the wall.

"Don't fucking move." he snarled into your ear, now that your cleavage was exposed his eyes ranked over the pink diamond.

He recognized it, the one he gave you during your times together and he snickered, making you gulp down.

"You couldn't forget about me, huh....Dollface." he whispered, gloved hands moving over your collarbone.

"T-That's not-" you were interrupted by a finger on your lips.

"I'm not stupid. Can I ask you something and be honest with me, because I hate liars. How many men made you squirt?"

You wanted so badly to punch him in the mask, crack that plastic. He was so obscene and how dare he ask something like that.

"Come on. Answer." he growled into your ear.

You were so ready to throw a fist, but you were cut off as a hand grasped the waistband of your panties underneath the black skirt, tugging the cotton material up between your pussy-lips.

A squeak left your lips, a deep blush crossing your cheeks as you looked up at him.

"Heh...That's what I thought." he snorted, then just like that he left, leaving you to slump down against the brick wall behind you, the sound of the engine of his car could be heard in the distance.

------------------------------

"You should forget about him, girl." Vivian said, the two of you having coffee and breakfast.

You twirled the spoon into your cold coffee, looking lost in your thoughts.

"Are you even listening to me?!" Vivian said with an exasperated face, making you look up at her lazily.

"Yeah..." your reply was as empty as you looked.

"You can literally have any man you want and you are mourning over a hooligan....a criminal must I remind you?" your friend said, but her words went deaf for you.

"Don't tell me that you haven't been with anyone since him...." she assumed with an unbelievable look in her eyes.

"Oh God, [Name]...." she rubbed the bridge of her nose.

----------------------------

After one month, things didn't get better for you, hearing from Vivian how many gets the Hacker got in a year, and even after the incident in the alleyway he wasn't any subtle, coming to the strip-club as nothing happened.

One time you were there and seeing him with a redhead going into the back, you had a pretty good idea what happened, especially when the girl came out with money in her panties.

He had no shame!

Vivian told you like a mother would: 'Told you.'

She suggested that you should let it go and enjoy yourself, don't let someone get you down. That's how she managed to get you into a black cocktail-dress that reminded you of your types working as a stripper, black and silver heels, make-up done perfectly, and your usual ponytail hair now in wild curls.

Tonight, Vivian was off work, but you were hanging out at the club, full of people drinking and dancing. You were having a good time, joking with Vivian and some of the other girls, men coming and leaving to talk with you.

"Girl. Look at that piece of cake." Vivian whispered into your ear, pointing to a man who was giving you a look-over, his eyes ranking over your body and lips pulled into a cheeky smile.

You had to admit he was good-looking and just like the stars were aligned, he moved off the red couch and waltzed to you.

"Hey, sweetcheeks. Couldn't help but saw you looking at me. Care to dance?" well he sure was bold and you smiled.

Why not?

Taking his hand you two walked to the dancefloor, Vivian giving you thumbs up. A new song started and you began to move along, hips swaying to the beat, back turned towards him, his hands running up and down your waist.

"You look absolutely delectable." the man whispered into your ear, making you giggle.

Although you were having a good time, someone across the room wasn't on the same page, because the glass of vodka he was holding cracked lightly a little as he squeezed around it.

The Hacker was fuming behind the mask at the scenario and if he had a gun at him he would have shot the asshole who was holding you, brain splattering onto the dancefloor.

He should be there dancing with you, grinding against your body and making you giggle like a school-girl.

The last straw was when the jerks hand moved to brush his fingers onto the pink necklace that HE gave you, said jerk-fingers brushing against your breast.

That's when the bomb exploded because he took big steps towards the two of you, gloved hand grasping your wrist and tugging you away from the man's embrace. You were ready to give a piece of your mind to whoever it was, but a scream of pain torn through the music and a satisfying crack resounded.

The Hacker punched the man straight in the nose, breaking it, but the guy had to fight and just as that hell broke loose, glasses been thrown, chairs flying by and people fighting.

You were moving along the bodies fighting, going for the exit. The cold air of the night hit your sweaty face. Eyes wide open you couldn't believe what happened. Vivian came after you, making sure you weren't injured.

After one hour everything calmed down, but the mess was irremediable. You were leaning against Vivian's car when a masked face caught your attention.

Normally you would have gone and given him a piece of your mind, about how stupid he can be, but his dislocated shoulder, blood-covered clothes, and the cracked mask made you pity him.

You took a step towards him, but Vivian stopped you.

"I will be fine. You go home." you told her, making her sigh, telling you to be careful.

You walked towards him with your arms crossed, observing him.

"Give me your car keys." you told him, snatching the keys out of his pocket and helping him move towards his car.

He didn't say anything as you got him into the passager seat and you into the driver one. The ride towards your house was quiet, no comments have been exchanged. Getting in, you laid him on the couch and got a first-aid kit.

"Get your hoodie off." you told him and he chuckled dryly.

"So straight-forward, doll." he joked, making you roll your eyes, but alas you helped him get the piece of clothing off, noticing the bruises forming. You managed to put his shoulder back into place, with a deep groan of pain from him.

You noticed blood coming from underneath his mask and you grasped to pull it off, but he stopped you.

"You're hurt and bleeding." you told him and he sighed, leaving your wrists.

You didn't expect him to look so....Devilish like? Maybe a bit too young for his age. You could swear that if he didn't have the stubble on he would look like in his middle 20s.

"Like what ya see, sugar?" He asked with a smug smirk, his busted lip bleeding more, but you stopped him, whipping it away.

"You are an idiot, you know? What were you thinking?" you asked with a glare, still continuing to patch him up.

"That scumbag was touching you." he whispered, grey eyes looking at you with a slight glare.

"It was consensual. Don't tell me you're jealous....God....We are not together." you explained, exasperated.

"I don't like it when people touch what's mine." he responded, making your heart flutter a little.

"You heard me, doll.....Don't tell me the feelings aren't the same." he spoke with a bitter voice, coughing a little.

Yup, his ribs were bruised.

"Erron....I-I do care about you. I cannot lie, I mean you helped me through the bad for almost 3 years and I never once thanked you." you admitted, your eyes moving from his torso, noticing for the first time the dragon tattoo on one of his peeks, meeting his grey eyes.

He smiled a real genuine smile.

"Then why do we act like we're enemies because I sure don't see you that way." he whispered, his bruised lips inching closer to yours until they slightly touched.

He hissed at the pain, hating that he couldn't kiss you deeply, taking your breath away.

"You're hurt." you said, pulling away.

"Hey...I've been stabbed and shot in the past and still could get a hard-on after." he augmented with a smirk.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes.

"You're so despicable." you said with a smirk.

"That's why you love me." he winked, groaning at how sore his muscles were.

"Rest now. You look like shit....I'm gonna make you something to eat." you told him, walking to the kitchen.

"Well, aren't you the sweetest, [Name]? I didn't know we were married."

"I hate you!" you yelled from the kitchen and he laughed.

"Love ya too, sugar!"

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 8 - About Sawajiri Erika's early comeback. (*Treatment of drug addicts*)

K: Hi, This is Dir en grey's Kaoru. Joe san, Tasai san, once again.

J, T: Please. Thank you very much.

Kami: Me too.

J: Oh, kami too, right?

K: Unlike on the radio show, he's always around now, isnt he? There were times when he wasn't around before.

J: I think he descended to us about once a month on the radio show.

T: *laughs*

K: In that show, he just flitted in sometimes, and that was it.

J: Yes, yes, yes.

K: Now he's everywhere.

J: He's a regular commentator now.

K: *laughs*

T: This time we have some news from Tokyo Sports.

J: Ah! From the celebrity world

T: Lets start.... Do you know the Japanese comedy duo 'Nihon Elekitel Rengo', famous for the 'Dameyo, damedame' sketch?

J: I didn't, but I learned about them from Tokyo Sports.

T: What about you, Kaoru?

K: I know them.

T: They are a female duo, but one of them, Nakano san, got married to an older man working at the same agency, but it was a marriage with zero prior social interaction.

J: What does that mean? They got married on the same day they met?

T: Well, she was approched by the man, Matsuo Atom san, but she continuously turned him down. Then she suddenly decided last year to marry him. So, its kinda being debated online whether it is or it isn't *1. I really want to ask them.

J: Ahh, surely it is.

K: You can't say it isn't.

J: You can't.. But if you think its isn't...what isn't?!

T: People who think that it isn't, say that because they've never dated, they don't know each other well, and they might divorce quickly.

K: Oh, thats about afterwards.

T: Some concern was raised about that.

J: But I dated my wife for twenty years before marriage, and ended up getting divorced after two years. So just because you've been together for a while, it doesn't mean you won't get divorced.

T: Ahh, I see.

J: This type of thing can't be helped.

K: But thats normal, dating for a long time, getting married, and then ending up separating. It happens to a lot of people, right?

J: Yes.

T: But this Nakano san says, they've never held hands, they don't know each other's address, they don't live together..

J: But they got married?

T: Yes

K: The possibility of them separating seems high, but...

J: Right?

T: Yeah

K:..but, they can do what they want.

J: Yes, i think so. It sounds weird, but this also works as publicity.

T: Yeah

J: Almost like a risky stunt. Personally, I think its possible. But if one of them had the idea, and the other agreed to it, isnt it something to be thankful for?

T: Yeah, but apparently thier boss was really worried about it, he said they should have told him first. He booked a hotel suit room and shoved the two of them in there, but apparently nothing ended up happening.

J: Nothing happened?! People hearing this will want to know if they love each other.

Kami: I want to meet thier boss.

J: Oh, that? *laughs* A suite room is expensive right?

Kami: Yeh, I want to stay in a suite room.

*everyone laughs*

K: What would you do if you did stay in one?

Kami: If I did? Hmm, use the internet.

*laughing*

J: You can do that anyway! What about something more extravagant?

K: Like ordering room service or something.

Kami: I would order room service.

K: What would you order?

J: What would you eat, Kami?

Kami: Ramen

*laughing*

J: I don't think there are many people who would order ramen in a suite room.

K: It might actually be good though. Eating that kind of common food in that kind of place.

J: Eating something...

K: and just looking at the internet.

J: Just looking at the internet *laughs*

K: Its luxurious, right?

J: Exactly. Isn't it wasting the suite though?

T: Okay, lets look at another story. Its this story, it caused quite a stir. Sawajiri Erika...she was found to be in possession of drugs and had her first court appearance at the end of January. The entertainment world is in uproar concerning her early comeback, should she, shouldn't she?

Kami: She should.

J: I think so too.

T: Why? I'll ask you first, Joe.

J: Well, this is her first crime, so she probably won't get a prison sentence. I think it will be a suspended sentence. So, the idea behind a suspended sentence is to give you preparation time to get back to your normal life. Its important get back to your original life as much as possible.

T: I see

J: So, with a suspended sentence she will lose all of her tv sponsers and stuff, but its important for her to gain a platform back, for example, online or such. Now, if we talk about the situation in America, drug addicts are seen as ill people, not criminals, so they embark on a process of revovery, in order to quickly return to regular life. There's a feeling of, 'you're ill, so lets get you better'. Its felt that the worst thing to do, is to be alone with it. Leaving people in these situations is seen as bad. Getting people re-immersed in the community, and returned to normality as much as possible through social interaction, is how America deals with this. As to why America does this, its mainly cost, it costs money to treat people. They want to get people back out into the world quickly. Unlike the idea of severe punishments in Japan, America generally thinks in that way. My own view is very similar to that... We'll have to wait for the verdict. If she gets prison, theres nothing to be done, but if she gets a suspended sentence, she should try to return to her normal life as much as possible. On the other hand, once you've used drugs, you must be able to continue in a clean state, so you must also have the support around you to be able to stay clean.

T: I see, I see.

J: I think thats important.

T: Kami, what are your thoughts?

Kami: The same as Joe. There were no victims.

J: Yes, thats right. No one else was hurt by this.

T: An opposing opinion might be that, as a tv star, she might have a bad influence on young people. What would you say to that?

J: In that case,..well, i don't watch tv much, so I don't really know, but there are loads of scenes of people injecting stuff on talk shows or such, aren't there? Thats got to be more of a bad influence. I think people need to consider that more. Just because she appears on tv, it doesn't mean people are gonna start doing drugs.

K: Yeh, she isn't gonna do drugs on screen.

J: Yeah, rather, those scenes of syringes and stuff..

K: Yeh, the stuff on talk shows is more of a bad influence.

J: I think so.

T: So, in connection with this, what do you think about stopping the screening of movies etc which the person has starred in, which tends to happen at lot in the entertainment world..Joe san?

J: I can only describe it as nonsense. In the music world, it would be the withdrawal of records..., there is no meaning to it. Its totally separate from what they are expressing. As for music, no one ever talks about The Beatles' or The Rolling Stones' drug use. Thats a totally different issue...In relation to drugs, I think eradicating them is important, so for example, we could have a portion of that artist's sales being donated to organisations like DARC  (Drug Addiction Rehabilitation Center) in Japan, for example, which would be a good way to use them. I can't see any merit in just withdrawing thier works. If an artist returns to thier life, but is unable to be musically active, well, Tashio san is a good example of this *2, the places they can exist disappear gradually, and they become isolated. This is really sad. There's a possibility that leaving people in that isolated state can have a further negative influence, so there is no point in limiting the places people can work, or withdrawing thier works. I think Japan's management of this issue is problematic. In America, they don't arrest people for using drugs, they arrest the buyers and such, and thats what makes the news. But in Japan, you can see who's using drugs just by checking your phone. In particluar, famous people who use drugs are made into targets, to scare people, and to show how much your life will be ruined if you use drugs. It seems like its a kind of boosting of the zero tolerance policy which the Ministry of Health and Welfare introduced in the 1990s. It seems like that to me anyway.

Kami: Couldn't they make some kind of isolated place available, where its ok to do drugs?

T: Thats new.

J: Another novel idea from Kami.

K: Well, but yeah.

Kami: Because people who like drugs, will just like them.

J: I think so.

Kami: Yeh, so if you do that...because there are people who feel happier after taking medicine right?

J, T: Yeh.

Kami: Couldn't those type of people go to some place and be allowed to do it?

K: Without any crime occurring, right?

J: Right

T: Yeh, thats it.

Kami: No crime.

J: Well, i don't know if this is the appropriate way to express this, but in the case of drug dependence, its clear that the number one drug which causes mental and physical dependence is alcohol, rather than 'drugs'. You won't get arrested for alchol dependence, and the reason for that is because alcohol is legal. But incidents or fatal accidents cause by alcohol are ceaseless. There are a few incidents annually where someone murders after using drugs but, for example, as for people at the station falling onto to train lines, sixty percent of those are drunk, and many more people are killed by drunk drivers than drug addicts.

K: Well, its because there are many more people who drink alcohol.

J: Yes, the proportion is bigger. So if you consider these incidents in this way, they are certainly happening. In relation to drugs, there isn't really any logical explanation for them being illegal, but they are still strictly controled. Its a bit strange, but in America...well, it might be strange to always talk only about America, but the ban on cannabis, or medical cannabis has been lifted in America. In Japan, we have a situation where we can't even discuss such a thing, so I feel like it may be a bit of Galapagos syndrome....What do you think, Tasai san, about (Sawajiri's return)?

T: Well, she won't be able to eat, if she can't do tv work. From the viewers perspective, as long as its done appropriately..

K: Don't you need sponsers for tv though? So its not something she can really decide herself. But..on the stage or theater, if there are people who want to see her, I don't think it should be a problem.

T: Yeah

K: If there are people who say they don't want to see her on the airwaves, well, they are going to say that.

J: What do you think about her comeback, Kaoru?

K: Its completey fine to do it. Well, I mean she was doing a bad thing, but she has to carry on living. She could also find a different job, thats fine too.  As for returning to the entertainment world, well, i dont really know, but she should return to some kind of work as soon as she can.

J: Yes, thats it...It might be difficult in the entertainment world.

T: Right..Especially with sponsers.

Kami: Isn't that ok though?

K: Yeah, they'll use who they want.

Kami: Its only whether the sponser will use her or not, right? On tv?

J: On tv, yes.

Kami: If they have a reason to use her, they will.

J: But as Kaoru said, she might have more freedom on the stage or something. There must be something that only she can do, so it seems at waste to just kill off her talent.

Kami: If she herself decides to lay low for a while and self reflect on what she did, thats ok too. No one needs to tell her to. Now, i mention it, its the same with alcohol. If you drink too much and end up being late, you can self reflect and show remorse. If it was me i would deduct it from thier salary though.

J: *laughs* How fresh.

Kami: Its just a problem of whether or not they self reflect on it.

T: I see

K: Well, it depends on the circumstances of the person.

Kami: Yeh, in the end. Of course, drugs, but alcohol and cigarettes etc are all bad too, right? I really want to emphasise that. But at the same time, there are people who like them, who will use them anyway. As a result they will be punished by the law, and that will be enough. I think that should be a salary deduction, and then be finished with it. But your boss or someone might be mad at you *3

T: I see

J: Its like, I've had a deduction, so forget about it already.

T: So, that was Tokyo Sports' news.

J: Ahh, Oh! I wanted to ask you, who is it? Celebrity 'X', who is about to be arrested?

K: *laughs*

T: We'll put the news out to the whole world, so..

J: You'll find this if you search for Tokyo sports news, 'X'.

T: Oh, i can't tell you.

J: You can't? Damn

K: Kami might know.

J: He might.

K: But he's only a god for us three.

J:Yeh

K: Maybe he doesn't know.

J: He's not a worldly god.

Kami: I know who it is.

J: Oh, you know?

Kami: I know.

J: Kami, who is it?

T: Joe, don't ask that!

J, K: *laugh*

T: It'll be announced to the world...my account will be banned.

K: We need people to subscribe, right.

J: Yes yes yes yes.

K: Thank you very much, see you next time. Thank you.

J, T: Thank you

*1 It is or it isn't/they are or they aren't, or that type of thing.

*2 No idea who this is.

*3 Not 100% about what he means here.

[taliel-strykidz]

Difficult

A little Huannie x manager moment :)

Jaemin sucked in a breath as another sharp pain shot up his back for the fourth time in the past ten minutes, he really wanted to ask someone for help but that would result in the older members smothering him. He threw his phone beside him and attempted to get up, but ended up back in his original spot holding his lower back almost instantly. “Come on, just get up.” He grumbled, wishing the pain to disappear, like right then and there. 

He laid back down onto his side for a couple of silent moments, before holding his breath and launching himself up off the bed slowly, using the bedside cabinet as support. “And off we go.” He mumbled to himself before biting his lip and he wobbled out of the room and into the kitchen to find some painkillers. The walk was painfully slow but he reached the destination in the end. He tried to reach for a glass but the sickening pain in his back almost made him crumble onto the floor. He ignored Ai-Huan who was watching him with raised eyebrows and got the cup anyway. 

“NaNa, are you okay?” Lucas spoke up from the kitchen door, his hand on the door frame as they watched Jaemin double over in pain.

Jaemin glared at him. “I really want to hit anyone who’s taller than me today.” He truthfully told him as he gestured to the glass, sliding into the seat on the island as he took the painkillers. Lucas wavered a moment before backing away with his hands up- if it wasn’t for the fact that Huannie had violently gestured for him to get out he would have stayed to taunt the Dream member some more. “Have fun.” 

Once it was just Huannie and Jaemin in the room she turned to him with an expecting glance. “What’s wrong?” 

He ignored her and put a thumbs up, he didn’t feel a pain at the moment, but he knew the painkillers hadn’t kicked in yet. He could fool her long enough to get back to his room and lay down, it shouldn’t be that hard. 

Donghyuk entered the kitchen and took one glance at Jaemin’s murderous face, seeing that he was still in the same mood he had that morning: he elected to leave still salty about early hours this morning being assaulted for waking his friend up.  Huannie put her phone down on the counter and opened her mouth “Are you-” 

“If you about to ask if i’m okay I will throw something heavy at you Noona. No offence.” He pointed to the toaster on the side as reference and the woman shrunk back down in the seat. 

Huannie slowly moved the toaster out of his reach and leaned closer. “Yeah, but why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, my back is slowly killing me.” He looked at her with a blank look quickly diverting his eyes when the look of realisation crossed her face. 

“Why haven’t you told anyone it’s still hurting? Jaemin-ah this is something important, forget your pride for a moment this is your health.” 

Jaemin sighed and stood up slowly, it was bad enough he’d had so many months off work, but it felt like if he was to take anymore time off he’d have no job to go back to, which Jaemin’s pride wouldn’t allow him. 

“If you think i’m going to smother you I’m not Jaeminnie, i’m just making sure you’re safe and healthy ok?” 

And with that she left him with something to think about. 

== 

NCT127′s manager had allowed Jaemin to join the dance for Black on Black, and Huannie and Taeyong were the least happy to hear the news. Of course they were happy that he was making a comeback but now knowing his back wasn’t in perfect condition really shook the two. 

It was clear that some of the members that were debuting with Black on Black were nervous, sat fidgeting in the back of the practice room as they waited for the choreographer to teach the dance break. Huannie sharply elbowed Taeyong   to show him that Jaemin was holding his lower back discreetly. 

The choreographer stood in front of the group quickly introducing himself again to the camera shooting Huannie’s Youtube channel, but as soon as he began talking about a lift involving standing on members back there was quiet murmurs. 

“Huannie-ssi is something wrong.” He asked quickly seeing the look of disgust on her face as she read the blueprint type paper of where each member will be. 

“I’ll make it brief sir, I will switch places with Jaemin.”  The choreographer nodded, stopping himself from impatiently snapping on the woman. 

“Huannie-ssi it’s already been decided. Recently people have been asking for harder choreography.” The choreographer sighed, “And though I admire that you would like to take the difficult part off Jaemin but holding Mark up is a difficult job.” She swallowed, getting worked up at his tone. She didn’t like how he was insinuating that A) she wasn’t strong enough and B) That Jaemin’s back could handle the weight of the boy. 

“And you’re willing to damage his back even further sir? I’m sure you’ve been briefed on his condition?” She asked in her best intimidating voice, it would really come down to if he would give up on his pride at this point, and they only had a limited amount of time until the performance so they needed to get moving. 

The choreographer nodded. “I know of his condition yes, but I was also told that it’s made a recovery. But this is something i’ve already blocked and it’s going to take too long to block again.” His tone told her that he’d already made up his mind and wasn’t going to give up that easily.  She clenched her jaw and shook her head. 

“Once you teach it i’ll reblock it for you if it’s such a difficult task sir, if you still go ahead and put Jaemin on the bottom of that pyramid I hope you’re ready for the law suit to follow it and-”

“Noona, stop now. I can do it.” Jaemin mumbled from beside her, tugging on her hoodie to get her to walk away. 

But Huannie wasn’t about to let the man live this down. 

--

As she began to warm up, Huannie’s manager walked in to gather her attention. “I have heard back from the choreographer,” he told her strictly. “I expected you to treat him wit respect Huan, he’s taking time out of his tour for you guys.” His eyes burned into her own and she felt like she was going to burn under his gaze.

She gulped, wow he took time out of his busy busy schedule, she felt her stomach twist in discomfort. She was barely happy with the fact that he came to scold her for something that everyone knew was the right decision. Jaemin was going to hurt himself, she was positive. Huannie and Jae-geun had a close relationship, she had the kind of brutal honesty that tested most friendships, but he appreciated it majority of the time. They always knew where they stood with eachother. He’s usually stand up for her in front of others, even when he knew she was at fault. Then privately let her know what his thoughts of the situation was and how she should have behaved differently, who she should apologise to and how to avoid making the mistake again. She listened to him because he listened to her. 

Sometimes he could loose his temper and be a right prat like now, then it would be her turn to guide him on how he should look at the problem differently. they were family after all. 

“Why must you argue with everyone? Seriously you need to keep your mouth shut.” 

“I’ll keep my mouth shut when you stop hiring idiots Oppa.” 

“I bet you’ll stop when you’re the one that has to choreograph everything because no one wants to listen to you complain.” 

“Oh I hope that will happen, because then I don’t have to hold Jaemin whilst he cries because his back hurts.” 

Suddenly the noise of the two arguing died in an instant. Huannie attempted to look for what he was thinking, but his face was calculative as he thought about their next move. 

“Do you know the choreography?” 

Feeling nauseated, she nodded slightly. As Jae-geun gave her a hard look, she explained quietly. “I learnt it yesterday, it just needed to be re blocked to keep Jaemin’s back from getting worse.” Her insides writhed. He’s considering it.

As Geun placed his hand on her shoulder she huffed. “I’m sorry i’m being difficult.” She whispered trying to keep an even tone. “I can’t wrap my head why these choreographers can’t maintain the safety of my group.” 

“Hey I didn’t say I don’t agree with you Huannie,” Came the soft tone Huannie was used to, the complete opposite of what had came out of his mouth earlier. Though there was still a hint of irritation in his tone. “I know how you’re feeling it’s the same feeling I get when you perform on a slippy stage.” He continued. “It sets your anxiety through the roof. But you tell me you can do it- so why can’t you let Jaemin say he can?” 

She straightened up. “Because i’m a stubborn bitch, but honestly should I re block it privately or not Geun?” 

“No let him prove that he can do this Huannie, you can’t baby him forever- I learnt that lesson the hard way.” 

“You’re annoying Geunnie.” 

“But you wouldn’t have me any other way. “

[youarejesting]

BTS Seoul mates: Dream couple.5

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Rating: A little angst

Warning: None

Summary: You saw him every night in your dreams since you were a child. He was funny, a great dancer, really close with his friends. The only problem was you couldn’t see his face. In dreams, every face you see is one you have seen in real life, so you knew you had never met him. That is until your friend shows you her favourite band.

You had finally done it. Working hard every night and day trying to earn money and finish your degree as quickly as possible. Doubling your course workload, taking up extra shifts at the cafe and working your butt off on the dance floor every night. Reminding yourself that this was what Hoseok must have gone through as a trainee. If your love could do it so could you. And you did. It had taken two and a half months but you were ready to go.

Checking your carry on bag for your headphones for the flight. You hoped you could sleep the flight away. This wasn’t the case as a newborn three aisles ahead was crying. The parents looked exhausted. “Excuse me?”

“We are sorry if we are bothering you, we are really trying?” they said looking very upset.

“No I was, wondering if you would like a break, you both look really tired and I can sit in this empty spot and try to put the baby to sleep if that’s not weird of course” “At this point we are desperate,” the mother said gently handing over the baby, you looked down at the baby in your arms and began humming trying to cause a distraction. The baby settled from your constant gaze their eyes began to droop and close. The parents had both fallen asleep and the attendant brought you some complimentary juice.

Alison and Kwang-sun were visiting relatives in South Korea and were thankful for the help with their boy Cheol. The landing was smooth and you were dying to get off the plane feeling claustrophobic from the number of people in one cabin. Stepping off the plane and passing through the gate you saw a group of people with signs. 

You were told someone from bighit would collect you, you had been in contact with the company, asking Hoseok for the number many weeks ago. A man in a suit was there holding a sign with your name on it. It was spelt wrong, it didn’t seem too easy to mess up, granted they had all the right letters just two out of order.

Your things had been shipped over a few weeks prior and had arrived at ‘The Hill’. Rolling your suitcase behind you approached the man, he introduced himself, showing his ID with Bighit and you showed yours. “Right this way ma’am”

“Of course” “As you know the boys are in America at the moment shooting the new music video, and won’t be back until March, which means you have time to attend your new university and get settled before they come back.

Taking the opportunity to do just that you moved into the Soulmate apartment and set up a spare room you decorated and started attending your classes.

Hoseok was working hard the boys were about to drop their new album and were shooting their music video in America. He hadn’t spoken with her in days. With all the preparation and press for the upcoming album, there was no time to so much as sit, let alone match another time zone for an appropriate time to call his soulmate. 

March came around and Hoseok was in South Korea once more for their comeback in Dongchon-dong on SBS Inkigayo. After that, the boys would be free to relax from interviews and the public whilst still practising gruelling hours until mid-April, when they would go on tour. The Bangtan boys and their soulmates were thrilled to be heading home. Hoseok walked straight into his room and took a nap.

The girls, however, had a sneaking suspicion someone was in their house. They brushed off as there were no obvious signs that anyone had been there except a few dishes. Which they couldn’t guarantee Iris hadn’t used them before they left. It wasn’t until that night that the girls ran into the boy’s apartment spooked.

“What’s going on?”  “Is it a spider?” Jungkook joked earning a slap on the shoulder from Beau who seemed angry from the suggestion. “No you idiot, there is someone in our house?” they said “we heard moving around.”

The boys all looked at one another Hoseok was too tired to deal with strangers trying to take a sneak peeks of their lives.  “You probably just heard something else, the pipes settling or the heating kicking in” Namjoon being ever rational and trying to calm down his friend’s soulmates. “No, we heard footsteps movement in one of the empty room”

“Fine we will go look and if it isn’t you can make dinner?”

You heard footsteps running from the apartment and the front door shut, your heart raced. Someone had been in the apartment with you and you hoped it was the other soulmates and not like a burglar. Looking for a weapon you lifted your textbook and nodded it would definitely cause some damage it had six authors and was a hardcover. 

Standing behind the door textbook raised above your head you waited silently the sound of your heartbeat and breathing seemed to become deafeningly loud. You heard the front door open and a collective number of footsteps travelling down the hall opening doors. You heard whispering but couldn’t make it out.

“Where did you hear this spooky noise?” Seokjin tried to break the tension “That bedroom?” Aster pointed and the door swung open. Seokjin walked in just past the door, the bed wasn’t made. As he walked in deeper starting to think that perhaps someone really had been there. Yet he came up empty. It was probably one of the girls or any of the boys who liked to drink had stumbled into the wrong room and disturbed the sheets.  “There is no one in he-”

“There is no one in heeEEEEEEEEEEEE!” He had turned midsentence and the two of you screamed in unison and you threw the book clipping his shoulder and he fell to the floor clutching his heart. “I just had a heart attack”

“Oh my gosh, Seokjin, I am so sorry, I thought you were a murderer or something?” You spoke leaning down to help him noticing the group looking alarmed from the doorway.

“Imogen!” Hoseok pushed past the others until he engulfed you in a hug. He pulled back only for a moment before crashing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Seokjin frowned pulling himself up off the floor. “We should go they will be busy for a while”

If you want to join the tags just send an ask:@latina-nerd​

[sweetlangdon]

Steal Into My Melancholy Heart (Michael Langdon x Reader Beauty and the Beast AU)

Notes: Here it is (finally), the start of the AHS: Apocalypse Beauty and the Beast AU. There’s going to be a lot of changes to canon. Some characters have been left out, others have a different backstory and purpose to suit this AU ‘verse. Hopefully everything makes sense as the story goes on! The title comes from the song “Evermore” in the 2017 version of Beauty and the Beast, because I can’t help myself.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Some violence, mentions of gore and blood. 

 {Prologue}

A thin veil of moonlight fell across the obsidian spiral, a monolith shrouded in a layer of dense fog. It parted around Cordelia Goode’s shoes, chilly and damp, clouding an otherwise clear night. The Hawthorne School looked abandoned. That was for a purpose, for protection, but a feeling clawed its way deep into her gut that suggested maybe they were already too late.

That the warlocks had suffered the same fate as her girls.

She could still hear their screams, their agony echoing in her ears. The shadow of their blood still clung to her hands. Even in the dark, she saw the trails it had leached under her nails and how it sat in the creases between her knuckles. The house had reeked of it, the blood and carnage heavy in the air, bright red pooling on the immaculate floors. She’d sat there for the longest time, minutes turning to an hour she didn’t have, hollow with grief. That house was now their tomb. Cordelia had left their bodies where they’d fallen, cold and still and pale. Fingers and lips turning blue. The halls of her school silenced.

Four had survived. It was enough, for now, to hold together Cordelia’s shattered heart.

Madison, Mallory, Coco, and Emily trailed in her wake, footsteps whispering across the dry, desert earth. She could hear their quiet weeping, their sniffling and heartache so palpable it settled on her chest like stones. They hadn’t spoken on the plane ride here, too stricken with heartache and shock and anger that words didn’t seem enough. The march up to the doors of Hawthorne felt like a funeral procession. Somber. Bleak. Their black clothes, still holding the scent of their fallen sisters’ blood, a sign of mourning rather than tradition.

Cordelia steeled herself, wiping the last of her tears from the corner of her swollen eye with the edge of her thumb, as she came to a halt at the doors. Where they were still coming from, she didn’t know. How could she have any left to cry? What would she do if they found the warlocks slaughtered inside their school?

The quiet unnerved her. The hum of crickets, the distant sway of leaves in a nocturnal wind. The strange, dark cylinder towering over them stood resolute and still as a grave. If it had become one, then she couldn’t see a way out of this. She couldn’t see a light beyond the hurt and despair. Not right now. Not when they’d already lost so much.

Every muscle in Cordelia’s body tensed when the door slid open. The surviving witches, gathered at her sides, looked up once warm, flickering light spilled over the threshold and broke the chill of the night. Golden candle light illuminated the tears that glistened on their faces.

John Henry Moore leaned against the doorway, a pale wisp of smoke coiling up from the cigarette between his fingers. Cordelia’s knees almost buckled from relief.

“Oh, thank god,” she exhaled. “Are you all right? The students—are they all okay?”

One of John Henry’s dark eyebrows rose. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Why?”

“Michael Langdon isn’t here, is he?” Her tone had turned dangerous, the hate dripping from her curt question.

“Haven’t seen him since he fucked off into the woods, Cordelia.” He pushed off the wall and moved to let her and the girls through, then took a drag from his cigarette. He sounded annoyed. “What is it? Kind of late to be making unannounced house calls. It’s past curfew.”

“We’re not here for your witty comebacks, asshole,” Madison countered.

Before John Henry could take offense, Cordelia started down the hall toward the elevator, the girls following close behind, a cacophony of heels ricocheting across marble and stone.

“We don’t have a lot of time.”

“You want to explain what’s going on?”

They took the elevator down beneath the earth. John Henry leaned against the wall, taking long drags from his cigarette and eyeing the group of young witches congregated tightly opposite him. Madison was silently furious, arms crossed over her chest, her sharp glare fixed on the closed doors. Mallory sniffled, drabbing at her eyes with the edge of a long, black sleeve. Emily found solace in Coco, her head pressed to Coco’s shoulder. Cordelia looked beside herself, her gaze distant, restless as they waited for the elevator doors to hiss open.

“You were right.” Cordelia’s voice broke, frayed with the tears that still trickled down her cheeks. “About everything. You were right.”

“Now what’s all this?” Behold Chablis joined them as they filed into the cavernous heart of The Hawthorne School, a labyrinth of candle lit staircases and hallways. His question, rising sharply at the end, filled up the quiet. The students were locked away in their dormitories for the night. Safe and oblivious to the danger heading their way, for now.

“Miss Goode was just about to tell me.”

“Langdon,” her voice cut deeply into the name as her eyes fluttered closed to stave off more tears, “Michael Langdon…murdered my girls. We were lucky to escape when we did. And if we don’t act now, then this school—you and your students are next. I don’t know how much time we have.”

“Jesus.” John Henry muttered. He turned away, scratching at an eyebrow with the edge of his thumbnail.

Behold’s dark eyes widened. “I’ll evacuate the school.”

“No,” Cordelia said. “We might need them.”

“For what?” Behold asked. “I’m not leaving our boys to be some Antichrist’s cannon fodder, Miss Supreme. Not after he slaughtered your girls.”

“Coming here wasn’t about just warning you. We need a curse,” she explained. Madison and Mallory exchanged looks of surprise before they caught her eye. She’d kept her plans to herself, an impulsive decision on the flight to California. “And if memory serves, the reigning expert on curses is you.” She turned to John Henry.

At her pointed look, he scoffed. “We need a firing squad, not a curse.”

“Shockingly, I agree,” Coco said softly.

“You never said shit about that,” Madison said. “I mean, what the fuck, Cordelia?”

“We have to fight him,” Emily agreed. “I don’t care what it takes.”

Mallory’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of curse?”

John Henry held up a hand. “Forget it.”

“He has too much power now,” Cordelia reasoned. “We can’t kill him…we can’t even stop him if we tried. I felt that power when he broke past the defenses at Robichaux—Langdon’s the Devil’s son, and that makes him invincible. Our only choice is to play the long game. Survive the impossible, together, and create something that tears him down, bit by bit. Make him his own demise.”

“So your solution is,” Behold drawled, “to…sit back and watch the world go up in flames? Let him win?”

“He’ll think he’s won,” Cordelia said, a determined grin curving one side of her mouth despite the tears that welled in her eyes. “And then he’ll get what he deserves for all the chaos he’s wrought, slowly, until his death sets things right again. A hard reset. Everything back to the way it was.”

She’d had a lot of time to think on the plane.

John Henry laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “That’s a tall order.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Madison rolled her eyes.

“Wait,” Coco interrupted. “Can we…really do that?”

“No,” Behold answered at the same time John Henry deadpanned a halfhearted, “Definitely not.”

“Yes,” Cordelia insisted, her voice shaking. Her gaze flittered to Mallory, who hadn’t spoken a word of dissent or skepticism. “There’s enough power in this room—in this school. If we combine that magic, I know we can. I have to believe it, otherwise what else do we have left?”

“Curses are stubborn. Delicate,” John Henry said. “They have to be precise, not to mention the amount of magic they require. You can’t engineer a curse in a single night, Cordelia, it can’t be done. Not for what you’re asking.”

“We have to find a way.”

“It’s just not possible,” seemed to be John Henry’s final answer. Resolved to defeat.

“I’m sorry,” Behold offered. “Wish we could—”

“I think we should do it,” Mallory said. “I know…I know Cordelia’s right. We have enough magic right here in this room. We have to try.”

“What the hell, right?” Madison flicked her long hair behind her shoulder. “Mallory’s magic could power the whole curse by itself. I’ve seen it.”

The witches murmured their agreement.

“It’s not the magic I’m worried about,” John Henry replied. “Curses are unwieldy. I’ve never designed one this complex.”

“Well,” Coco said brightly. “First time for everything.”

***

They settled into the central hub of The Hawthorne School, their work lit by roaring fires and sconces on the walls. John Henry gave each of them a task based on their skill level, some facet of the curse that was theirs to render with their magic. By that time, he and Behold determined that they’d only need a few of the students lend their talents, and the rest would be sent in groups to scatter themselves in different directions across the state. To escape and survive the impossible, as Cordelia said.

Three Hawthorne students had joined the witches and John Henry, chosen by Behold’s own meticulous eye. He knew those boys well enough, saw their magic at work in his classes. They’d proven to be the most proficient with the incantations and sigils needed to design their curse.

Timothy, Andre, and Gallant circled around John Henry like a trio of baby ducklings, a force of habit that couldn’t be broken even under the unusual circumstances. The boys cast wary glances at the witches in their midst, unused to working alongside them. They were half-dressed in their Hawthorne uniforms, not quite so polished, the dress codes forgotten. Sleep still clouded their vision as they struggled with whatever archaic texts John Henry shoved at them.

The room was a mess—papers littered with John Henry’s inelegant scrawl, more discarded on the floor than kept for revision; old books heavy with a musty scent in careless piles for reference. Most were in Latin, others almost unreadable even to Cordelia’s rather astute magical knowledge.

She hoped these archaic words and symbols would be enough. There had been more than one argument ricocheting off the vaulted ceilings in the long hours they’d spent working on this. Cordelia knew what it would take, how she wanted the curse to evolve as time wore on, but translating that to magic had John Henry at his wit’s end.

There were variables to consider. And layers upon layers of incantations, each with a specific purpose. Not to mention, they had to put the entire world back together—and billions of lives—once the curse had slowly withered Langdon away. One wrong link in that chain and everything else would crumble. So, of course, there had been shouting matches and a litany of swearing and one instance of John Henry walking the fuck out of the room for another cigarette as tensions ran high.

“We need a failsafe,” John Henry decided.

Cordelia reached over the table of papers and books to reach her wine glass. “Like what?”

John Henry sighed, ink-stained fingers splayed on the tabletop. He slumped forward a little and stifled a yawn. “You said it yourself. Kid’s got the protection of fucking Satan. If this isn’t enough to wear that down and kill him over time, we’re gonna need backup. Another way to take the shot. So to speak.”

“Well, he’s still half-human.”

“I think that ship has sailed,” Behold mused. He refilled Cordelia’s wine glass with a languid sweep of his fingers.

“I’m talking about emotionally,” she explained. “He’s…sensitive. You saw his reaction when we retaliated. The way he cried over that woman. I don’t have much hope for whatever humanity is left in him, but if we can use it to bring him down, that might be our only shot. If the evil in him doesn’t break him, then maybe his heart will.”

“You think the Antichrist is capable of love?” Behold raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “That human heart of his—Michael’s heart—might.”

John Henry heaved another long-suffering sigh. “That’s a gamble.”  

Cordelia took a sip of wine, her gaze downcast to the scattering of notes. “It’s all we have.”

They chose the main foyer to lay their trap.

Right below where the two central staircases converged, there was ample floor space. Langdon would have to set foot there when he arrived at Hawthorne, and by the time he recognized the power that surrounded him, it would be too late. For that to work, they needed the curse to soak into every single fiber of the room, to make the space itself alive with the full force of their magic.

And piece by piece, it did.

Sigils were burned into the floor, where they disappeared out of sight. That was Mallory’s doing, her strong, unwavering magic building the foundations of the curse. She had the most work of all, though she didn’t complain about it. Not once. Not even when she and Cordelia and Behold had to figure out the complex magic involved in restoring the entire Earth. The hard reset Cordelia insisted on seemed to be beyond anyone’s capabilities. But she was the exception.

More sigils were inlaid in the walls. John Henry oversaw the precise order and placement of each one from the notes that no one could read because he’d written them. The incantations were the most important—and required every single witch and warlock to chant the ancient words as one. That was the trickiest part. John Henry, Behold, and Cordelia went over the exact pronunciation beforehand until their students were tired of it; archaic Latin wasn’t everyone’s best subject at either school of magic, and one wrong syllable would topple all their hard work.

Designing a curse was fucking exhausting.

Emily slumped onto the staircase. Through a yawn, she asked, “So, what happens now?”

“This is going to get ugly,” John Henry said, running a palm across his face. “He’s coming here for revenge. He’ll want blood.”

“Which means you all need to get yourselves out of here,” Behold agreed.

“The three of us will stay behind,” Cordelia said. She studied the weary faces in front of her, so young, trying to hide their fear. “We’ll get out once we know Langdon’s activated the curse. But if this works—”

“And it should,” John Henry grumbled.

“We’ll have to stick close,” Cordelia told them. “We have to see this through to the end.”

***

A midday sun blazed scorching hot across the dry desert earth. Michael Langdon inhaled the scent of dust and heat, pausing to consider the gruesome scene in front of him. Three large birds, their pitch black feathers fluttering, beady eyes reflecting the bright sky, poked at an animal carcass. He couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe a rabbit or a squirrel; tufts of brown fur were lost in the gore, dark scarlet staining the cracked earth. Two of the birds fought over the animal’s innards, pulling at them with their sharp beaks. Michael turned away, slightly unsettled, the edge of his cape rustling in the wind. He had no reason to fear the blackbirds—they were harbingers of his father’s presence, they kept a watchful eye from above.

And they wouldn’t be the only ones to spill blood today.

Michael drew in another deep breath, his fingers curling into light fists at his sides. He wasn’t so blinded by his own rage and vengeance that he couldn’t sense the magic inside Hawthorne. It was almost oppressive. It had never been that way before, not when he was a student. Maybe then he hadn’t been so sensitive to it. The power inside him was far stronger than it had been when he turned the library into a furious snowstorm. But now Hawthorne’s magic felt different to him, seeping out of the strange building to coil at his shoes like a fine mist.

It was strong. Defensive, he thought, if he had to give it a particular quality. But it wouldn’t give him any trouble. No witch or warlock had the power to rival Satan’s own son.

Hawthorne was quiet. Michael noticed an unusual tension in the air, a breath away from snapping. He could still remember the meticulous class schedules and customs, how the halls were always buzzing with noise and footsteps and voices chanting. Lessons took up every odd corner and room. The only time he’d ever seen it this quiet had been long after curfew, when he’d slip away to visit Ms. Mead, memorize the layout of the school, or try and contact his father.

It was just after twelve thirty in the afternoon. And yet, the halls were abandoned.

No, Michael thought, a snarl on his lips. Evacuated.

Someone told them he was coming.

“Cordelia,” Michael growled.

“Hello, Michael.” The voice was a gruff, familiar one that hadn’t so much said his name as it had spat it back at his feet.

Michael found John Henry Moore sitting in the middle of one of the main staircases. A single, flickering flame from a lighter—which he appeared to have some trouble igniting—illuminated the purple shadows beneath his eyes and his jaw shadowed by stubble. His gaze was dark, sharp as a razor.

“I thought you would have been smart enough to leave,” Michael said. His voice carried, bouncing off the cavernous walls as he approached. “After all, you were the one to see past the bullshit. You had me all figured out.”

John Henry’s gaze didn’t break from him, not when he took a long drag from his cigarette. Michael tilted his head a little, a provocation for whatever sarcastic comment John Henry had to offer him. The school’s magic still pressed in on him at all sides, in relentless waves, though there was no one else in sight. He listened, fingers flexing at nothing, stirring up the air. Testing it.

With a rough flick of his wrist, Michael sent John Henry flying backward up the staircase. His lighter clattered onto the steps at the same time his body landed with a crack, his neck twisted at a sickening, abnormal angle. A thin ribbon of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth onto the floorboards. His open, sightless eyes reminded Michael of the blackbirds feasting on their gory prey.

Michael lifted his chin in approval. But when he stepped forward to admire his grim handiwork, the magic in the room seemed to shift. Michael staggered back from the intensity of it, the crushing weight he felt from all sides. It immobilized him, kept him rooted to the spot where he stood. His hands curled into fists so tight that his nails bit into the skin of his palms. He tried to push against it, break it down like he’d torn through the defenses at the witches’ school. A hoarse, mournful, frustrated cry ripped free from his throat as the magic overpowered him and forced his knees to collapse.

And when he looked up, beneath the curls that had fallen into his eyes, he saw how the room itself had changed. He watched the markings surface on the walls. Symbols that meant nothing to him, scored into the stone and wood and tile as if they’d been etched there by fire. He lifted his palm when they appeared under him like they’d scorch his flesh. The complicated patterns arranged one by one, circle by circle. There was no one else in the room with him, not that he could see, but the air echoed with voices. They chanted as one, their ghostly chorus filling up the silence. Words he’d never heard before.

Words, he realized, that were meant to harm him.

“You’re not used to weakness, are you?” another voice asked.

“Cordelia,” Michael spat.

The ground trembled under the influence of magic. Some of the fires in the sconces on the walls flickered out. Michael let out a sob when the suffocating weight of the magic surrounding him turned into a sudden flash of pain. He fought again, pushing a hand toward Cordelia, fingers rigid with agony and a surge of pure hatred. Cordelia didn’t even flinch.

“You’re just a sad, scared little boy,” she told him. “And if you want to embrace that evil, then fine. You do that. You can tear apart the world until there’s nothing left. But now…it will cost you, Michael.”

“It already has,” Michael sobbed through gritted teeth.

“No.” Cordelia shook her head. “Not like this. If you want to become a monster, then who are we to deny you that? Your actions will have consequences, now; ones you won’t have any control over. The further you descend into darkness, you’ll have to live with what your choices have done to you. Every time you look at your reflection—when you see all that beauty withering away, you’ll think of the lives you’ve stolen and all the times you could’ve stopped. But no amount of regret will help you. It’s too late, Michael.”

A pain Michael couldn’t find the words for took hold of him, forcing another strangled cry from his lips. He was sprawled on the floor, muscles tense, tears streaming down the swell of his cheekbones. He felt the magic seeping into him, latching onto his bones, branding itself onto his very soul.

“Enjoy your apocalypse.”

The air went still and silent. Michael sensed the remnants of the magic as it receded and let go of him. There was nothing left except the sound of his ragged breathing. When he pushed himself off the floor onto his elbows, ignoring the deep, lingering ache in his body, Cordelia had disappeared. Her escape, and the warlocks’ covert plan to destroy him, renewed the flicker of rage in his heart.

Michael staggered back into the daylight with a curse sitting in his veins like poison.

***

Tagging my usual list + people I think might enjoy this fic (I hope you don’t mind)! And as always, if you want to be tagged, just let me know!

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