#how much more will I accomplish before I fall back into the pit

[mashupofmylife]

Taking advantage of a day when the depression has lifted to fold and put away all the clean clothing that has been on the floor of my bedroom since June and the summer camping equipment that has been on my floor since June, and finally attach the bicycle rack that I've also had on my bedroom floor since early July

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part ten

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, sad rafe, idk i might be forgetting something

author's note: this chapter is both long and not entirely proof read so bear with me lol. i also wrote this at like 4 am so please. anyways, i want to start making the chapters a bit longer for you guys since i've been away for so long. enjoy!

"Y/n, what's wrong? What's going on?" You could feel Rafe's tangible consternation right through the phone. Your chest felt like it was caving in, accompanied by the growing, nausea-inducing pit in your stomach formulated from your feelings of guilt. The way his typically baritone voice was strained and quiet, presumably from the unexpected "emergency"phone call you had presented him with.

"I-I got into a huge fight with JJ," you fibbed with the help of the crack in your voice and a sorrowing tone that could only make Rafe crumble right in your hands, "it's a long story, but I need to get out of here. I can't be in this place any longer, Rafe." You fraudulently sobbed.

"Okay, okay.. Just breathe, yeah? I can come and get you in a second I just really have to finish this thing with my dad fir-"

"Rafe, please. I need you now." You pleaded as though your life depended on it, which in a way, it did. You realized that had your attempt to lure Rafe into your arms failed, your friends would be in a heap of danger.

An audible sigh was heard from the other sign of the phone, along with muffled chatter that you assumed was Rafe and Ward talking. The conversation, or what you heard of it, sounded like back-and-forth bickering for the most part, which caused a wave of anxiety to wash over you as you began to pick at your nails. Seconds felt like hours as you waited to hear Rafe's voice again on the other side, but it sounded as though the conversation continued. You stayed on the other side of the line in complete silence, not wanting to interrupt the matter, but the longer it took your nerves ensued.

"I'm on my way." Rafe suddenly responded, taking you off guard after not hearing him address you within a period of time.

"Thank you." You whispered, a small smile of satisfaction present on your face at what you had managed to accomplish. Perhaps Rafe was more infatuated than you imagined, you thought.

*NEW MESSAGE FROM Y/N to KIARA CARRERA: done.*

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Time passed by quickly whilst you waited for Rafe's arrival. You paced the living room back and forth a few times, wondering how you were going to pull off such a stunt despite the pit in your stomach growing and your hands trembling with unease. Your mind became your worst enemy as you thought through everything that could go wrong as you anxiously waited for the time to come, replaying every bad scenario through your head over and over again - until you were practically sick.

Your pessimistic thoughts were cut to a halt by a loud knock at the door, one that sounded more like someone was pounding on the other side. The noise made your body jump as you immediately turned a heel towards the door. You approached hesitantly, trying to kill as much time as possible before you'd open the door, but as time progressed the knocking became quicker and louder thuds that raddled the chateau.

"Y/n. Are you hurt? Did he do something to you cause I'll kick that son of a bitch to a pul-"

"No, Rafe, I'm not hurt. Not physically, at least." You shook your head, forcing out your voice in the most pathetic tone you could possible mimic. Rafe frowned in response as he noticed the way your head hung low and eyes stayed glued to the ground.

"What did he say to you?" Rafe softly asked, approaching you with caution and ease as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, causing a familiar sense of butterflies to errupt and flutter around in your stomach.

"He just brought up a bunch of stuff about my family and called me a traitor for spending time with you. For being with you, basically." Your vision became blurry as tears clouded your view, unsure of how they got there, but you mentally applauded yourself for such a performance.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. C'mere." Rafe cooed sympathetically as he pulled you into his arms tightly, possibly the tightest embrace you've felt in your life, but in a sense it felt good to be held like that. Like nothing in the world could hurt you while you were wrapped up in Rafe Cameron's arms, as insane as it sounded to you.

Your body relaxed in his arms, eyes closing as you soaked up every bit of his warmth. You nearly hummed in such delight before stopping yourself, not wanting to feed into Rafe's ego more than you already were just by calling him over for help. But it did feel nice, a feeling that came as a shock to you.

"I wanna get out of here, Rafe. Please." You sniffled, looking up at the brooding figure with those sad puppy-dog eyes that could make any man melt in your hands.

"Of course. Do you want to come back to my place? You can spend the night with me if you don't feel like going home."

You shook your head, "I don't wanna go home, especially not like this. Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah 'course it is. Besides, my dad probably wont be back tonight and Rose and Wheezie are with him so I'll need the company. I'd prefer yours over theirs anyways." Rafe flashed you a small smile, hoping to diminish the frown that clouded your features as he rubbed your forearms gently.

You trailed behind Rafe on the walk to the car, watching as he held the door open and gestured your inside. You gave him a weak simper and a head nod as a symbolism of your gratitude at his sentiment. You'd be a liar if you said it didn't make your heart flutter at how caring and gentle he was being towards you, but you cursed yourself for the fact that it was all because of a lie.

"Y/n?" Rafe asked, snapping you out of your trance while you gazed out of the window.

"Yeah?"

"You aren't upset with me for earlier, are you?" He inquired, biting the inside of his cheek.

"No, why would I be?" You tilted your head, brows furrowed as you made eye contact with the blue-eyed Kook.

"I don't know. I guess I just thought you seemed a little dry when I was dropping you off earlier, s'all." Rafe coughed out, noticing how he scratched the back of his head as he spoke feebly.

"Oh, I see." You blinked, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come off that way. I've just been a little tired I guess."

"No, don't apologize. It's okay." He turned his head, taking his eyes off the road for a split second to reassure you with a thin-lipped smile. You observed as he clutched the steering wheel, veins ostensibly poking through along his arms and hands in a way that made your thighs clench together tightly. You gulped silently in an attempt to restrain yourself and regain composure - this was Rafe Cameron you were talking about. Yet on the other hand, despite his vainglorious ways and haughty sense-of-self, inhis eyes, a flicker of mischief dances amidst shadows, a daring tale waiting to unfold. He was the embodiment of defiance, a canvas of contradictions where danger and allure converge in captivating disarray. You found yourself ensnared by the gravity of his presence, a force that pulled your world into his magnetic orbit. You could keep reminding yourself to run away from him, but where would you go to hide? He was everywhere, from the depths of your mind, to every turning corner of Figure 8.

You made it back to the Cameron's residence before you knew it, perhaps too caught up in the thought of Rafe to realize what was happening around you. However, once the car came to a halt and your surroundings stopped moving, reality soon greeted you once again.

You hopped out of the car, following behind Rafe like a lost puppy who didn't know where it was. You felt out of place, and a bit on edge. You wondered if your friends were okay, praying that your decoy tactics were doing them good. The other half of your nerves came from the fact that you were doing something that went against your moral code, and challenged your ability to lie to the face of someone you.. Care about?

"Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea, a soda?" Rafe asked, making his way to the kitchen with you in close pursuit.

"I'm good." You passed off his offer with a half-hearted laugh and a weak smile. As you watched him, the ambient light of the fridge casted a soft glow on his silhouette. His movements were casual, effortless, as he navigated the contents in search of a drink. The way he tilted his head slightly, the lines of his profile against the cool light—it’s a fleeting portrait etched into your memory. You found yourself caught in the simplicity of the moment, the way his fingers grazed the chilled bottles, his easy familiarity with the space. There was something mesmerizing about the way he handled the mundane, turning the ordinary into a scene worth cherishing. It was as though time slowed, encapsulating this small interaction, making it feel like an eternity. A smile tugged at your lips as you observed, captivated by his presence. The faint hum of the fridge was a backdrop to the symphony of your thoughts, all centered around this magnetic figure before you. In that unguarded moment, as he stood there unaware, he became the focal point of your world, drawing you deeper into the allure of his ordinary yet enchanting actions.

"Didn't realize I had an audience," he chuckled, catching you watching him with an amused glint in his eye. There was a playful energy in his tone, a sense that he knew he had inadvertently drawn your attention.

Leaning casually against the kitchen counter, he exuded a relaxed confidence. "If watching me rummage through the fridge becomes a regular show, I might have to start selling tickets," he teased, trying to lighten the moment but also displaying a subtle curiosity about what had captured your interest. His ego slowly peaking through, as usual.

"Oh, absolutely riveting," you retorted, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words as you met his amused gaze. "Your fridge exploration was the highlight of my day, truly." Your lips curved into a wry smile, eyes dancing with playful mockery.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes softening as he met your gaze. "You know, watching you watch me... it's kind of different," he began, his voice a touch softer, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usual ease.

"I mean, it's not every day someone looks at me like... well, like that," he admitted, the words stumbling out with a hint of uncertainty. His gaze briefly faltered, a struggle evident within him as if battling between speaking his mind and holding back.

But before he could continue, he stopped himself abruptly, a shadow of hesitation crossing his features. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make things weird. Forget I said anything," he deflected, a faint tinge of regret coloring his words as he tried to backtrack, a sudden unease settling over him.

As he hesitated, you caught the shift in his demeanor, a glimpse of something vulnerable beneath his usual confidence. "No, don't," you interjected softly, reaching out to gently touch his hand, your eyes imploring him to continue. "Please, whatever you were going to say... I want to hear it."

In that suspended moment of vulnerability, he gathered the courage to speak what had been on his mind for far too long. "I... I've always felt something different around you," he confessed, his voice softer than a whisper, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

"It's not just the way you look at me, but... how you make me feel," he continued, his gaze locking with yours, each word chosen with care, as if he was navigating uncharted territory. "There's this warmth, this comfort that settles in whenever you're near." He paused, the air thick with anticipation, his heart pounding against the cage of his chest. He struggled to find the right words to express the depth of what he felt, a mixture of fear and longing flickering in his eyes.

But as the moment hung between them, poised on the edge of revelation, he stopped himself once more, the weight of his unspoken feelings heavy upon him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," he murmured, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his features as he withdrew, fearing he might have crossed a line.

You were stunned, his words piercing through the air, carrying a weight you hadn't expected. Your heart fluttered in response, a mix of surprise and a tinge of something deeper stirring within you.

"I never realized," you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly, trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside. His confession had caught you off guard, unraveling a part of your own feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

"There's always been this... something," you confessed, your words coming out in a rush, a newfound realization taking hold. "A connection, a pull towards you that I couldn't quite define."

Yet, before you could explore this uncharted territory further, you sensed his hesitation, his retreat from the vulnerable moment you had both stepped into. The abruptness left you reeling, an unspoken ache lingering in the charged air between you.

"I didn't mean to make it awkward," you murmured, regret coloring your tone as you witnessed his uncertainty. The unspoken sentiments hung heavy, a silent conversation begging to be continued, the depth of emotions left unexplored.

In the hush of that moment, you found yourselves locked in a silent exchange. His gaze, an ocean of depths, met yours with an unwavering intensity, drawing you in like a force. You perched on the kitchen counter, feeling the cool surface beneath you, as he closed the distance, a dance of proximity that felt almost orchestrated by fate.

Closer, step by deliberate step, until the air crackled with an unspoken tension. Rafe's presence enveloped you, a shield from the outside world, as if the space around you had collapsed into a world of its own. You felt his warmth seep through the inches that separated you, a silent harmony of shared breaths.

In that suspended moment, time seemed to stand still. Your breaths mingled, creating a delicate rhythm of anticipation. His hand moved with a tenderness that spoke volumes, gently enclosing you within the confines of that intimate space.

And as his closeness eclipsed the distance between you, your eyes locked in a silent conversation, saying things that mere words couldn't articulate. The world outside faded into insignificance as the universe shrank to just the two of you, suspended in a timeless embrace of unspoken longing.

Your breath hitched, Rafe's minty-breath fanning over your skin as his lips lingered a few inches from your face. You felt a flutter in your chest as his eyes bore into yours, each glance a revelation, unraveling layers of unspoken emotions. In the depth of his stare, you sensed a vulnerability, a longing that mirrored your own.

Before you had time to think, his lips connected with yours, passionately but with a delicacy that made it seem like if he pushed too far, you would break. You took in his affection, pulling him in by the back of his neck as he hungrily devoured the cherry lip balm off of your glossy lips. Rafe kept the pace slow, but his movements were eager and greedy for more of you. His large hands trailing up your open thighs, stopping at your hips as he gripped them and squeezed at them lightly.

You moaned into his mouth as you longed for more of him, a testimate you figured you'd regret doing later, but in that moment, you needed him, and he knew it.

Rafe responded with a smirk against your lips, letting out a deep, low chuckle from the bottom of his throat that sent tingles down your spine. You arched your body towards his, caving into his touch and practically begging for more. You weren't exactly sure why you were so taken over by such feeling of lust, but you wouldn't dare brush it off.

"God, I love you." Rafe groaned, murmuring his words against your neck yet they came out plain as day. Your eyes, previously shut as you took in the bliss of what you were experiencing, now shot wide open and you stared ahead.

"You.. What?" You stammered on your words as your throat seemingly went dry.

In the wake of his sudden admission, you were left speechless, the air heavy with the unexpected weight of his confession. His words lingered in the space between you, a revelation that seemed to have shifted the very ground beneath your feet.

You looked at him, shock etched in your features, mirrored in the stunned expression on his face. In that suspended moment, an unspoken understanding passed between you, a shared astonishment at the sudden revelation.

Time seemed to halt, the air thick with a mix of emotions, leaving you both stranded in an uncomfortable silence. His confession hung in the air, and you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings, trying to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

The shock of his abrupt admission left you reeling, unsure of how to respond, as if the ground beneath your feet had shifted. The air crackled with a charged tension, a profound moment that had unexpectedly unfolded between you, leaving you both standing at the precipice of an uncertain new chapter.

"Y/n-I... It was the heat of the moment." He was lying right through his teeth.

"Rafe you don't say those things because of 'the heat of the moment'." You stated, face still covered in shock.

"I know, I know," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and sincerity, attempting to backpedal. "But sometimes... things just spill out, you know?"

You looked at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and uncertainty, the shock still painted across your features. "You don't say those things because of 'the heat of the moment'," you stated firmly, your voice carrying a weight of conviction.

He met your gaze, his eyes searching for a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of emotions. "I guess... I might have gotten carried away," he admitted, a hint of remorse coloring his words. "But that doesn't mean I don't mean it, Y/n."

His attempt to retract his words faltered in the face of your unwavering response, leaving an uncomfortable tension hanging between you, the unspoken truth lingering in the air, too palpable to be ignored.

"I messed up, saying it like that," Rafe sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone as he struggled to express himself. "But the truth is, I've been feeling this way for a while now."

You watched him, the shock slowly morphing into a mix of confusion and a glimmer of curiosity. "Rafe, why now? Why like this?" you questioned, seeking clarity in the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed both of you.

He hesitated, searching for the right words, a turbulent storm brewing in his thoughts. "I didn't plan it, it just happened," he confessed, a sense of urgency in his voice. "But... being around you, it's like discovering something I didn't know I needed. And I don't want to pretend otherwise."

The vulnerability in his admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and a hint of desperation to convey what he truly felt. The intensity of the moment lingered, a raw and unfiltered exchange leaving you both exposed, suspended in a realm of unresolved emotions.

The sudden confession left you reeling, a storm of conflicting thoughts raging within. His words echoed in your mind, but beneath the shock, a sense of unease crept in. You couldn't ignore the inconvenient truth—you had approached him under false pretenses, a lie woven into the fabric of your interactions.

As his feelings spilled out, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the right time. Guilt tugged at your conscience, reminding you that your connection with him was built on a shaky foundation. How could you entertain the possibility of reciprocating his feelings when the truth had been veiled behind a facade?

His sincerity clashed with the dishonesty looming over your encounters. The weight of regret settled heavy on your shoulders, wishing for an alternate reality where honesty could pave the way for genuine emotions to blossom.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, you grappled with the turmoil of regret, longing for a different circumstance where the truth could guide the course of your connection with him.

"Rafe.. you don't know what you're saying." You shook your head, voice quiet as your head hung low while guilt proceeded you.

"But I know how I feel, Y/n."

He watched you, a sense of helplessness clouding his features as he realized the weight of his confession. "I get it if this is too much, too soon," he murmured, a mix of sincerity and a hint of pleading in his voice. "I just needed you to know."

There was a pang of regret in his chest, knowing that his impulsive admission might have pushed things too far, too quickly. He hoped for understanding, for a chance to rectify the situation, but the gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving an uncertain tension between you both.

"Rafe, please.. Don't do this." You continued shaking your head at him, your body deterring his words away from you.

Rafe’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mix of remorse and a longing to make things right. "I didn't mean to make things complicated," he said, his voice laced with regret as he recognized the distress in your plea.

"I'll back off, I promise," he assured, a sense of resignation coloring his words. "I'll give you space, whatever you need."

He took a step back, giving you a gentle nod as if to affirm his commitment to respecting your wishes. Though the weight of his unspoken feelings lingered, he understood the importance of honoring your request, his regret palpable in the ache of the unspoken words he left hanging in the air.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Rafe. I just - I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into."

Rafe's features softened once more, a glint of understanding in his eyes as he absorbed your words. "I hear you," he replied softly, a tinge of regret lacing his voice. "Maybe I jumped the gun."

He took a step closer, a reassuring gesture without encroaching on your space. "I get it, Y/n. I don't want to complicate things for you," he acknowledged, a sense of empathy coloring his words. "I'll... figure it out."

There was a lingering sadness in his eyes, a realization that the depth of his feelings might have inadvertently disrupted the delicate balance. He offered a faint, understanding smile, silently conveying his acceptance of your decision while grappling with the weight of unspoken sentiments swirling within him.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, the turmoil of emotions swirling within you as you watched Rafe navigate the complexities of the moment. There was a pang of empathy mixed with a tinge of regret, knowing that his heartfelt confession had collided with a reality too intricate to unravel.

His genuine vulnerability struck a chord within you, the sincerity in his eyes a poignant reminder of the depth of his feelings. Despite the complexities, there was an undeniable longing in his gaze, a silent plea for understanding.

Yet, amidst the ache, you held firm, knowing that conceding to the whirlwind of emotions might only deepen the intricate web you both found yourselves entangled in. The ache in your chest was a silent testament to the conflicting desires to both embrace and pull away from the vulnerability that lay bare between you.

With a gentle resolve in your voice, you offered a solution to diffuse the tension hanging in the air. "I'm going to go to bed. I'll sleep in the guest room if you'd like for me to," you softly stated, your gaze fixed on Rafe, awaiting his response.

Rafe met your gaze, a mix of gratitude and regret flickering in his eyes. "I appreciate that," he replied quietly, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "But you don't have to do that. You can take my room; I'll take the guest."

There was a sense of mutual understanding in his response, a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken boundaries between you. As you turned to leave, a bittersweet atmosphere lingered, the weight of unresolved emotions hanging in the air, leaving both of you to navigate the uncharted territories of unspoken sentiments.

Your heart urged you to offer more, to say something that could alleviate the heaviness in the room, yet words eluded you. You wished to ease the ache in Rafe's eyes, to erase the tension that had woven its way between you both.

But the weight of the moment held you captive, words caught in the tangled threads of conflicting emotions. You longed to express understanding, to mend the rift caused by the unexpected turn of events, but the complexity of the situation left you grappling with the silence.

With a heavy sigh and a lingering gaze, you retreated, knowing that sometimes the silence spoke louder than any words you could muster, and hoping that time might offer a balm to heal the unspoken wounds that lingered between you and Rafe.

As you made your way to Rafe's room, guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders, each step a reminder of the tangled web of emotions you found yourself entwined in. The faint echo of your own footsteps seemed to resonate with the uncertainty that clouded your mind.

Slipping under the covers, the warmth of the room offered little comfort against the turmoil within. You couldn't shake off the guilt, a relentless companion that followed you into the darkness. The sheets felt colder than usual, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

Lying there, your thoughts tangled in a maze of regret, you replayed the events of the evening, questioning the choices that led to this poignant moment. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, leaving you feeling adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions.

Sleep remained elusive, your mind restless, grappling with the repercussions of your actions. The guilt lingered as a constant reminder of the complexities that now defined the fragile dynamics between you and Rafe.

As the night ebbed away, the soft hues of dawn painted the sky, signaling the arrival of a new day. You descended the stairs, a faint unease lingering from the events of the previous evening, unsure of what the morning would bring.

At the foot of the staircase, you were met with Rafe, his presence an unexpected yet anticipated encounter. There was an awkward tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unresolved emotions that hung between you both.

"Morning," Rafe greeted, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, the weight of the unspoken words from the night before lingering in the air.

"Morning," you replied softly, the air heavy with an unspoken understanding, a palpable sense of discomfort threading through the atmosphere.

There was an unspoken agreement to navigate the morning with cautious steps, each movement tinged with the residue of the unresolved emotions that lingered between you. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, leaving both of you searching for a semblance of normalcy in the midst of the palpable awkwardness.

"I'm gonna head back to the chateau in a few, JJ said he wants to talk to me," you mentioned, trying to break the palpable tension hanging in the air.

Rafe's laughter was dry, a strained sound that echoed in the room, a stark contrast to the ease that once defined your interactions. "Seems like he's got a lot to talk about these days," he remarked, a hint of bitterness seeping into his words.

You sensed the unease in his tone, a reflection of the awkwardness that enveloped the space between you. The weight of the unresolved emotions lingered, casting a shadow over the interaction, leaving the air heavy with unspoken sentiments.

The apology hung in the air, a quiet admission laden with the weight of remorse. "Rafe... I'm sorry, okay?" you uttered softly, the words an attempt to ease the strain that enveloped the space between you.

"Sure," Rafe replied, his tone notably drier, a touch of guardedness in his response. The weight of the situation lingered in the air, his words carrying a subtle hint of distance as he navigated the delicate balance between acceptance and reservation.

The conversation seemed to falter, leaving an uncomfortable silence that underscored the unspoken tension. Despite the attempt at reconciliation, there was a palpable hesitance in his demeanor, a reluctance to fully embrace the offered apology, adding another layer of complexity to the already strained atmosphere.

"I didn't say it because I don't care about you, Rafe," you asserted, hoping to clarify the sincerity behind your actions.

Rafe's response was more confrontational, his confusion apparent in his tone. "Then why?" he questioned, a hint of frustration seeping into his words. "It's just... it feels like nothing's adding up."

There was an edge to his demeanor, a palpable frustration stemming from the unresolved tension between you. The attempt at explanation seemed to only complicate matters further, leaving both of you grappling with the tangled web of emotions that refused to find resolution.

"Because I don't want you to get hurt," you explained, your voice soft yet firm, hoping to convey the underlying concern that had guided your actions.

Rafe's demeanor softened slightly, a flicker of surprise mingled with a trace of understanding in his expression. "Hurt?" he echoed, a hint of confusion still present but tempered by the sincerity in your words.

"Yeah," you continued, trying to articulate the protective instinct that fueled your choices. "Things are... complicated, and I didn't want to add to that."

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, an attempt to bridge the gap with honesty and concern, hoping to offer a glimpse into the complexities that had led to your decisions. The air, though still charged with tension, held a trace of empathy as you navigated the fragile balance between candor and reservation.

"Do you think I care if things are a little complicated, Y/n? My whole life has been complicated," Rafe responded, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and a hint of frustration, a glimpse into the complexities he had grown accustomed to.

His words held a weight, a testament to the tumultuous experiences that had shaped his life. Despite the tension, there was a raw honesty in his admission, revealing the layers of complexities that had become intrinsic to his existence.

"Yeah, but it's me, Rafe. I'm a Pogue from the Cut, do you really want that? Your family probably has this whole plan set out for you to end up with a Kook, anyways," you expressed, a tinge of vulnerability woven into your words. "This, I, am way too complicated for your lifestyle. That's more weight than you could bear."

Your words carried the weight of societal expectations and the stark contrast between your worlds. The lines drawn by society's standards seemed insurmountable, adding layers of complexity to an already intricate situation. You highlighted the disparity between your backgrounds, emphasizing the potential burden it might pose for Rafe, intertwining concern for his well-being with an understanding of the societal barriers dividing you.

"I don't care, Y/n. I don't care what they have to say because I care about you. Why can't you just accept that?" Rafe's voice carried a raw honesty, his words cutting through the barriers of societal expectations.

Your heart skipped a beat at his unwavering declaration. "Because it's not that simple, Rafe," you replied softly, your voice laced with a mix of emotions. "There's so much more at stake than just us. Just trust me on this. Please."

"Y/n, please just listen to me. It doesn't have to be this way. We can make it work, whatever I have to do, I'll do it," Rafe pleaded, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency and determination.

You met his earnest gaze, torn between the desire to believe in his words and the weight of the obstacles you both faced. "Rafe, it's not that simple," you murmured, the turmoil evident in your tone. "There are things beyond our control, things that won't just change because we want them to."

The ache in your chest mirrored the conflict in your mind, the yearning to embrace his offer battling against the harsh realities that seemed to impose barriers between you.

The scene unfolded before you, and you witnessed the subtle tremble in Rafe's lip, a poignant display of the emotions he struggled to contain. Sorrow etched into the depths of his eyes, a vulnerable expression that laid bare the depth of his feelings.

Your heart wrenched at the sight, a surge of empathy flooding through you as you recognized the pain reflected in his gaze. The weight of the situation bore heavily on him, and the turmoil within him was palpable, painting a picture of raw vulnerability and unspoken longing.

Despite the complexities that stood between you both, the silent plea in his eyes tugged at your own emotions, evoking a whirlwind of conflicting sentiments that left you grappling with the ache of shared sorrow and the unyielding barriers that seemed to divide you.

"I need you, Y/n," Rafe's voice was tinged with desperation, a raw plea that echoed in the room, laying bare the depth of his emotions.

"I've got to go, Rafe," you whispered, your voice laden with sorrow, each word a painful admission of the necessity to part ways despite the shared longing.

Walking out of Rafe's house, tears blurred your vision, emotions swirling within as you grappled with the weight of the encounter. As you stepped outside, your friend Kiara awaited in the car, a knowing look in her eyes that spoke volumes without a single word exchanged.

Kiara observed your tear-stained cheeks and pained expression, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and understanding. Without needing to speak, she unlocked the car doors, a silent invitation for you to seek solace in the comfort of her presence.

With a heavy heart, you slid into the passenger seat beside Kiara, the warmth of her presence offering a sense of solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions. The unspoken understanding between friends enveloped the space, allowing for a moment of silent companionship amid the storm of feelings that surged within.

"I did what you guys asked me," you stated flatly, the weight of your actions hanging heavily in the air, your voice tinged with resignation.

Kiara glanced at you, her expression a mix of concern and apprehension, recognizing the strain in your voice. "Are you okay?" she inquired softly, her tone laced with a gentle concern, understanding the difficulty of the task you'd undertaken for the sake of your friends.

You remained silent for a moment, the weight of the recent events settling heavily on your shoulders. "I will be," you finally replied, the words carrying a hint of uncertainty, as if unsure of the aftermath of your actions and the impact they might have on the intricate balance of your relationships.

The journey to the chateau was enveloped in silence, a heavy curtain of unspoken thoughts that draped the car's interior. Each passing moment seemed to stretch in the weight of the quiet, the air thick with unexpressed emotions that lingered between you and Kiara.

You fought to hold back the tears, a silent war raging within, the ache in your chest a testament to the depth of the emotions that surged beneath the surface. The weight of recent events bore heavily on you, and the silent car ride provided a fleeting refuge where tears threatened to breach the dam of your composure.

Despite your efforts, a lone tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek, a silent testament to the emotional storm that raged within. You discreetly wiped it away, hoping to shield your vulnerability, the weight of unspoken words and unshed tears weaving an intricate tapestry of inner turmoil.

The car rolled to a halt near the chateau's entrance, the engine's hum fading into the quiet ambiance of the estate. Kiara cast a glance your way, a wordless assurance conveyed through her eyes, a silent understanding that transcended the unspoken.

As you stepped out, the familiar sight of the chateau greeted you, its grandeur contrasting sharply with the weight of emotions carried within. The walk to the entrance felt longer than usual, each step echoing the turmoil within, the unspoken conversation hanging heavily between you and Kiara.

Approaching the door, the details of the chateau seemed to blur, your focus consumed by the emotional tempest raging within. With a deep breath, you turned the doorknob, the heavy wooden door creaking softly as it opened to welcome you inside.

Stepping into the foyer, the chateau enveloped you, the coolness of the air offering a stark contrast to the warmth of the emotional turmoil within.

As your friends turned to greet you, their expectant smiles faltered into a puzzled expression as they registered the turmoil etched on your face. Their eyes mirrored a blend of confusion and concern, a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere that typically enveloped their gatherings.

A fleeting moment passed, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken as your friends exchanged glances, a silent communication that conveyed their awareness of the unspoken turmoil lingering beneath the surface. The chapter's end was marked by the unspoken tension, leaving an uncertain ambiance that hung between you, hinting at the complexities awaiting their reckoning.

taglist:  @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrapap, @ilovesteveharrngton, @ijustwanttoreadlols

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Dressing for revenge [K. B]

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

word count: 7k

summary: when Kaz and his crows return from Ravka they run into trouble, and to solve it, he looks for a childhood friend who is too resentful and too in love with him

warnings: trauma, PTSD, spoilers for S&B season 2, no physical contact, here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej

A/N: I LOVE Kanej, but I wanted to write something with Kazzle Dazzle because I love him too, lol. I hope you like it!

taglist (who I thought might be interested): @rustyyyyspoonz

The rumor had already spread throughout the Barrel: “Kaz Brekker and his crows are back” How long had it been since they had embarked into the Fold? Just a couple of months? They had felt like years, if you were being honest.

If it was true that they were back, you felt sorry for the trouble they were going to run into. The change of ownership of their club, the strengthening of the other gangs, and mainly the fact that they were being tried for murder thanks to the fact that Pekka Rollins had awarded it to them... all these problems were going to fall on them like a bucket of water cold. It had already fallen on them, in fact, since the rumor was accompanied that they had escaped from the stadwatch once they were captured.

You didn't know how much of what everyone was saying was true and how much was false, trying to stay as calm as possible when the name Kaz came from someone's lips for fear that Pekka had some magical ability and could read your mind or sense the fear in your eyes every time you met him. Afraid of him and afraid of what he might do to you if he knew you knew the black-haired man.

Things had changed a lot since the last time you saw the boy and that was more than noticeable. Your story goes back long before he made his reputation when you were just a couple of neighbor kids playing on the farms. You two arrived in Ketterdam together, with nothing but hopes for a better future and Jordie as your protector (or an attempt at that, at least), after your father and Mr. Rietveld died in the same accident, reuniting with Kaz’s mother and later to be matched by your mother, who had died of sadness, if that was possible. Three helpless children thrown into the cruel world were what came of that and the rest is history.

Crime, robbery, gangs, and a life of hardship were what you had to adjust to as a child, but you doubted very much that a single person living in The Barrel would be in a different situation. You weren't fully involved in the disgraced jobs of the majority, but if there was one true thing, it was that when it came to obtaining information you were, to say the least, excellent. You and Kaz had to fend for yourselves, and you learned what you could from the streets. In this way he and you became a team, so to speak, for a few teenage years, and for that period of your lives having each other was the only thing in the world. Over time he became ruthless, rude, a great fighter and earned the nickname 'dirtyhands' thanks to his gambling skills, from which he obtained most of the things you had. You learned to move quickly, to go unnoticed, and to defend yourself from those who tried to harm you, always supporting the boy’s plans.

Less than a year was enough for his name to become known and he began to think big. Sometimes he would tell you about the plans he had: to run Fifth Harbor, to establish the crow club, to become the best of The Barrel. All of that sounded like crazy ideas at first, but looking back you realized that he had accomplished too much in that pit for your relatively young age.

You never knew what made you and Kaz go their separate ways, but somehow it had happened. It was gradual, maybe that's why it was hard for you to notice, but one day you woke up and realized the distance that existed between him, who previously was practically the only family you knew, and you. It didn't take much for him to decide to break the bond that had held you together from a very early age; he never gave reasons for this and you never asked him.

You lived under some protection from the leader of The Crows, of course, but very few people could link you to The Bastard of the Barrel. Sometimes you still provided him with information, but when he found someone else, the inquiries became less and less frequent until one day they turned into none. You managed to eat and have a roof over your head pretty well (and mostly honestly) and you tried to stay out of trouble for a long time.

Until one day he flew away from Ketterdam without warning and order in the Barrel was disturbed in every possible way. With his team gone, it didn't take long for Pekka to seize control and anyone who didn't work for him was inevitably against him. It was only a matter of time before he found out the talent you had tried to hide and forced you to carry his lion shield... figuratively speaking.

If he ever knew that you used to work with Kaz he never mentioned it or maybe your relationship with him had been severed so long that no one remembered it anymore. Now you were just a little girl, as he used to call you, slippery enough that she seemed so harmless that, in his eyes, that became a benefit. You were never one to look rude, unfortunately for you, and that allowed men like him to feel entitled to take advantage of you. You thanked the saints that Rollins didn't find you attractive or who knows what other services he would have requested from you. It was always better to provide him with the information he needed than for him to force you to be his lover.

You weren't a part of the meetings that the Dime Lions had and you weren't considered a member either, which kept you calm every night. You were just another piece in the enormous chess game that Pekka moved at his convenience, the same game that was threatened by the mere existence of Kaz Brekker and much more so now that he had returned.

In the middle of the night it was logical to ask yourself, what kind of strange plans would he have in mind now?

One, two, and three knocks surprised you at the rickety wooden door and made you jump out of your chair, where you were already asleep. An old lamp was on the even older table and it illuminated the little space that your provisional home had so you took it to approach to open the door. It was raining outside (quite unusual for that time of year) and by the time it was you figured it was one of Rollins' idiots coming to do a job for you. What would he want now? Harbor information? Talk to a policeman? He was supposed to control everything, sometimes you kept wondering why he asked for your help.

When you opened the door, the air slipped in and almost extinguished the flame of the fire, but the temperature of the night wasn’t what left you freezing, but the presence that was in front of you. With his hat, a completely black outfit, and his cane in hand, but above all soaked from head to toe, there was him; Kaz. You almost feared you were imagining it, but you knew it was him by the clear, penetrating eyes that were watching you, even though you admitted that he had changed so much that in other circumstances you would have had trouble recognizing him.

“Did I arrive at a bad time?” he asked. No warm greetings, no smiles, no explanations. Just a cold, serious question, just the way he was.

“Someone followed you? If this place is horrible by itself, I don't want blood staining the floor” you replied with the same tone. You wanted to tell him that you had missed him, ask him if he was okay, and give him a huge hug, but those actions should be reserved for your nocturnal fantasies, because as soon as you took a step forward he would be able to hit you with his cane. Or at least that's what the Kaz you knew would do, but you doubted very much that the passing of the years would have softened his heart.

"Nobody followed me" was all he said and you stepped aside at the door so he could go inside. Even with his words, you felt the need to look out on both sides of the street in search of someone, but with the level of rain, you doubted very much that someone would want to stay and spy because he would probably die of pneumonia.

When you closed the door and turned around he didn't say anything, he just stood in front of you while the water drained from his coat. During that moment of silence, you allowed yourself to admire it under the warm light of the candle; his eyes definitely hadn't changed one bit, but now there was a tinge of contempt more noticeable than before. His features had hardened and he was thinner, barely resembling the boy you remembered, perhaps as a reminder of just that... that he was now a man.

“So the rumors are true…” you started to say “You are back”

"I think that's more than obvious," he exclaimed. For a second you forgot that it was he who had knocked on your door and you felt uncomfortable as if you were an intruder who had to get out of there.

There was silence again and you two just looked at each other. Kaz had made his own mental list of changes he noticed in you and was reflecting on when was the last time he had looked at you in such detail. You were wearing light clothes, because before he arrived you were about to go to sleep, and your face, although as childish as always, looked more tired than before. You had also cut your hair, which was messy around your shoulders and a bit darker in tone.

“And may I know to what I owe your visit? I guess you don't want to have tea” you said to break the silence. The dryness of your words in a certain way was to protect yourself because you never knew how much a sharp tongue like his could hurt you.

"I'm in a job and I need people"

Of course it was going to be due to a job, and of course that was why he had sought you out after so many years. A part of you, tremendously stupid, to tell you the truth, was hoping that during the time your friend was away from Ketterdam some divine clarity would have illuminated him so that he would realize that he had to look for you to repair your relationship and offer at least apologies. But you would have to pay him every kruge in the country for him to do something like that.

"I'm glad you considered me, but I'm sorry I have to decline."

"Why?" he asked immediately, his raspy voice showing annoyance at the refusal.

“Because it happens that you can’t work for opposing sides. At least not at the same time” you replied. Maybe it was due to fatigue, but you swore you saw a slight look of surprise on the man's face when you answered that. Most likely, he had assumed that you would be one of the few people who wouldn’t be on Pekka’s side and therefore a safe option.

“Do you work for Pekka?” he muttered. You knew him well enough to know that he was hurt, you could see it in his posture, in his voice, and especially in his look “After all he did to us?”

"And what did you want him to do?" you said, trying to ignore the fact that he had spoken in the plural. Us “You practically handed us over to him. My options were that or receive a bullet in the forehead."

"I didn’t hand you over to anyone"

"You abandoned us and left us in his hands, it's the same thing" you replied, shrugging. There was so much resentment and pain from never-closed wounds floating in the air that it was hard for him and you to think clearly. “Your vacation in Ravka may have been nice, but things only just went to hell here. So don't you dare judge me by the choices I made” you exclaimed defensively.

You didn't imagine that your first conversation with him after so long would be like this, but unfortunately, things never turned out the way you expected. After all, they were a crook and a spy talking in the dead of night.

"You could get information from him more easily," Kaz concluded, shrugging the same way you did. "And so we sink him from the inside."

"And risk him finding out and killing me?"

“You know that would never happen,” he said firmly “The thing about killing you. I wouldn't allow him” his eyes stared at you almost offended by the lack of trust you had towards him. There was silence for the third time and this time your gaze moved away to focus on anything but him.

"Plus you have this girl you took out of The Menagerie, don't you?" you said in your defense. The one you replaced me with, you wanted to add, but held back "So I don't know what you might need me for" 

"With so many problems going on, I thought it would be better to have as many alliances as possible," he explained to you. You continued without looking at him, with your head still full of worries and sorrows, and when he didn’t receive an answer, he spoke again "You know that it is your best option"

"I don't know that, but I do know that I would have liked you to at least ask how I am before asking me to join the team you never wanted me in and from which you separated me as soon as you had the chance" you exhaled, in an attempt to lighten the weight on your chest. 

It was no secret that you had always felt betrayed by Kaz’s treatment of you, even though he treated dozens of others the same way, because you somehow thought that your backstory was enough to deserve at least the sympathy or some consideration on the part of the crow. And of course you wanted to run from Pekka's clutches and plunge him into the deepest muck, but the resentment for what you considered your friend’s abandonment was stronger. You didn't even know if it was correct to call him ‘friend’.

"You would be a good ace up my sleeve" was all he replied, in an attempt to convince you. Kaz begged absolutely no one, but if there was one thing he had decided before coming to find you, it was that he wouldn't leave until you agreed to help him. Although the nature of your current job made things a bit difficult for him, "Pekka never knew you worked for me, did he?"

"With you" you corrected him "I didn't work for you but with you. We got to The Barrel at the same time”

"Y/N" he murmured. Your name sounded strange coming from his lips after so long without hearing it and that caught you off guard “I'm trying to help you so you don't end up hurt or dead. If you work for… with me, I can tell you where not to be. Otherwise I could find you in the rubble of some confrontation or with a knife from Inej or a bullet from Jesper through your chest”

"Always so thoughtful," you replied with a smirk, but as much as it pained you to admit it, he had a point. You knew what he was capable of and what Pekka was capable of… which side was more convenient to be on? "How much are you going to pay me?" you asked and Kaz smiled, but it wasn't a sign of happiness but mockery “You've always said that's what's really important, haven't you?”

He took something out of his coat and tossed it on the table. They were bills. 

"An advance, when I recover the crow club, I will pay you the rest"

“So my pay depends on whether we win or not. That doesn't sound so convenient to me,” you muttered, clicking your tongue, as you fought the urge to say yes just to be near him. It was cold outside, the rain was making a lot of noise and you just wanted to sleep at once, but you knew that you could have been arguing with him all night and neither of you would back down. Kaz was stubborn, one way or another he would get what he wanted. "This isn't just about the club, is it?" you said, with your voice noticeably lower and you would even say with a touch of softness. You and Kaz never talked about what had happened, but each of you was dealing with the weight of the trauma in your own way. He didn't say anything and this time you saw something in him that was different from his usual behavior, knowing that it was those ghosts from the past tormenting him.

"If someone should make him pay, it's us"

Us, again. 

"I'll think about it" was what you answered, after reflecting on what would be the appropriate response. The speechless moment gave you something else to think about, and you knew that a huge flaw of yours was how easily you let your heart take over. Because even with all the other feelings on top, you still worried about him "Now that the crow club isn't yours..." you started to say, afraid of what he might say "do you have a place to stay?"

You would have offered to sleep there if he said no, but instead he said he’d manage. That didn't completely reassure you, but you decided not to insist.

“First thing tomorrow, send a reply to this address,” he asked you, holding out a piece of paper that had a few drops on it “Don't go there personally or you'll screw everything up, just send me a note. A yes or a no will suffice”

“What if someone tracks down the note?” you asked, which was a totally valid concern.

Kaz was silent while he thought of an alternative, and then spoke again.

“Just write crows of a feather, murder together. I'll understand” he murmured and you nodded. You knew the poem he was quoting from, had read it many times from the worn-out book he had gotten for you. Kaz didn't wait for anything else and took long steps to the door, which he opened as soon as he could. "Good night, Y/N."

And then he left.

That night you thought a lot about the solution you would give him in the morning, thinking about the pros and cons of each possible answer, until you decided that it was best to say yes. You needed to do it if you wanted to live peacefully (as much as the place allowed) but the main reason was to support him. If he had been about any stupid dispute you would have said no, but you knew this was something else. Kaz missed Jordie every day of his life and his way of honoring him was by planning revenge against the one who led him to that fate, so it was kind of an obligation for you to help him with that too.

You wrote the note on a piece of paper and carefully folded it to put it in an envelope. You signed the outside with his name, written in the best handwriting you had, and although you were hesitant to do so, at the end you wrote a little ‘from a friend’ in the hope of making it clear to him, and perhaps even encouraging him that, if he was willing, you could recover a little of what you had lost. And you weren’t referring to physical things, but to what existed between you.

All your life you had lived with almost opposite feelings when it came to Kaz. Somehow you were upset with him for only seeing you as an instrument that he could dispose of for his interests, but this was linked to the feeling of affection that you wanted him to experience for you and that apparently didn’t exist. It was difficult to decipher anything he was thinking, not just about you, since he had taken it upon himself to build such a convincing facade that it made it complicated to see beyond. Added to that was his aversion to touch of any kind, which, while quite understandable and justified, still made you feel sad. More than once you tried, in vain, to be able to touch him in some way, even if it was something tiny, but he always pushed you away. He pushed you away physically and eventually emotionally, and yet with all this background you wanted to help him.

You knew you couldn't expect a reply to your note, but you were confident that he had received it, and your suspicions were confirmed when another letter came back a couple of days later. It contained a day, a time, and a place, which you assumed was a meeting with him.

You were very careful when you headed there, because you thought that the fewer people saw you together, the better, or else Pekka might suspect something. You covered yourself with a long black cloak for this task and when you arrived you noticed that it wasn't Kaz who was there, but a couple of boys.

"Who are you?"

"And you?" you asked, with the same defensive tone. The place seemed to be an experiment workshop and looking at it in more detail you noticed that there was a bed, so it could even be some kind of apartment. The two men, one brown-skinned and the other pale as snow, wore simple brown suits and were looking at you warily.

“She is Y/N,” said a voice behind you. By the sound of the cane accompanied by the footsteps you knew it was Kaz, “she will work with us”

"Oh," said the dark-haired boy, looking happier with the answer, as he walked in your direction "Welcome, in that case" he muttered flirtatiously, as he held out his hand for you to greet him "Jesper Fahey, at your service”

"I am Wylan" intervened the other, from his place, timidly and quickly.

"You arrived" Kaz spoke again. You turned and a couple of women appeared, you guessed that the shorter one with Suli features was the famous wraith of Kaz. And she was beautiful, you couldn't help but notice.

There was a brief conversation with the six of you there and then Kaz asked you to walk him up to the roof of the place. Once there you instinctively stood next to the only one you knew and he just looked at you out of the corner of his eye while he adopted the typical position of him leaning on the cane.

“Brick by brick” whispered the man’s raspy voice and you were about to ask what you were supposed to do there when an explosion went off in the distance so impressively that you stepped back a bit. It didn't take you more than a few seconds to locate the space and realize the place it was.

"The crow club" you said in a low voice, only for the black-haired man to hear you, while you watched him in profile. But he didn't look at you, just exchanged words with the others and talked about how Pekka's apparent reign was coming to an end.

You'd always known that Kaz Brekker was a little unhinged, and that night you proved it for sure, but you weren't even the least bit afraid. Rather, it was some strange hope that this madness would allow you to go far. Even freedom, perhaps.

After that clear declaration of war, things got considerably complicated, especially when you were summoned before Pekka and he asked you to investigate someone in particular and it turned out to be none other than the man you were now secretly working with. You assumed it was something logical, but even so you feared that Rollins had noticed the slight tremor in your hands when he asked you to complete the task.

You summoned Kaz to Black Veil Cemetery, late at night, and there you confessed to him everything that had happened. He of course found something good in this and devised a way to use it to your advantage, which put you at ease. It still amazed you a little at how nervous you became around him as if you knew nothing of what you were doing, but when you regained your composure you thought it was an excellent plan.

Meetings with Kaz were regular, but always in secret and alone, and they worked to exchange information that you considered useful for him with what he would allow Pekka to know.

You didn't know the full plans and you weren't part of them in any way, or you would be found out, but you knew about almost everything that was going on. The attacks, the fights, the traps, the injuries... you had to look at everything from the outside without being able to intervene. It was frustrating for you, more than anything in the world, and you had to admit that you had taken a liking to crows, even if you had seen them only a couple of times, so you also looked after their safety.

One day you received a note and went to a meeting with all the members of his group present, to finally hear the full version of what Kaz intended to do to finish off your boss. It was a brilliant idea, but you were a little worried about your position in all of this.

“You mean I'm going to be there watching everything Pekka and his thugs do?”

"It will be the best" he answered you. His face still had a bruise on his cheek, a memory from the last fight he had, and he looked exhausted "Jesper and Nina will be there, plus you'll be in disguise" he added and you nodded at that.

When the moment came you thought it would be an easy task, but when Kaz started to get brutally beaten you had to muster all your willpower not to throw yourself into trying to face Pekka, even with your zero skill. He sounded so convincing when he said about Alby that even you believed it, feeling suddenly awed by the cynical smile on Kaz's blood-smeared face. And he also mentioned you in the story, although not directly, saying that it was all about revenge for having abandoned you two when you were children.

You were able to breathe again until Pekka and his entire gang left the place in search of a son who wasn't really buried and you four were left alone. Under other circumstances you would have run to Kaz, cupped his face in your hands, sobbed, and told him it was over. But instead, you just stood in front of him and watched him; his eyes were wild with fury and a thirst for revenge that had already been quenched, but you sensed a hint of calm when he became aware of your presence.

"Breathe," you said in a whisper. Jesper and Nina were dismayed by the closeness with which you spoke to him, as they knew little of your history together “You're fine. We all are,” you assured him. That situation took you back to multiple panic attacks in the past where, given the impossibility of physical contact, all you could do for him was talk to calm him down. It always worked and Kaz had forgotten how soft your voice was and the way you brought him back to the real world. You decided to risk trying to do something else to comfort him and cautiously stretched out your hand towards him, instantly seeing his eyes widen in terror. But your hand ended up landing, more like a touch than a squeeze, on the man's bicep, which was covered by his coat; it wasn't intrusive, or abrupt, and Kaz was surprised that he didn't feel anything negative about it. He looked at your hand and then he looked at you with that usual serious expression, but he didn't push you away and allowed you to stay that way for just a few seconds, after which you decided to move your limb back.

You didn’t receive a verbal response at any time, but you did see him exhale shakily (so softly that you barely noticed) and nod his head while still looking at you, as if he were letting go of a huge weight that was stuck in his chest and at the same time assure you that it felt like a victory. Victory for beating Pekka, victory because he wasn't engulfed by an attack when you touched him, and victory because somehow you were there. You were with him, again.

“Now can we go back to normal?” Jesper asked, to break the silence, and you felt like laughing. Have they ever had a normal life? you asked yourself, but you didn't say.

"Yes" was all Kaz said and taking one last look at you he began to walk in the direction of the exit.

Both of them were curious about the type of relationship you had with Kaz but neither thought it wise to ask at the time, although Nina was getting an idea of things thanks to your racing heartbeat and his that it was impossible not to hear a moment ago. You stayed there just long enough to have a drink with Jesper and then you left the Emerald Palace. You didn't want to go back home, but going with one of them didn't seem like an option either, and once you were on the street you felt worried about remembering the state the black-haired man had left. You trusted that by that time he would be calmer and as if they thought for themselves your legs began to walk to look for him.

It was cold again and you feared you would meet someone dangerous on the road, but you only saw a couple of drunks and a girl looking for clients. Until you were in front of the door, you wondered if it was a good idea to go in, thinking that you would probably be crossing a line that Kaz was not going to allow you to, and wondering if you were going to put up with his refusal, which was a pretty good chance.

With trembling hands you opened the door, which luckily was unlocked, and as if some unknown instinct were guiding you, you found Kaz's room; it was the only one from which light came out through the crack in the door and something told you that he was there. You knocked twice, fearing you had knocked so low that he hadn't heard, and even considered walking back the way you came, but didn't have time to as the door opened a few seconds later. He had already taken off his coat and vest, probably because they were stained with blood, and his black shirt was open at the top buttons, with the suspenders that held up his pants hanging on his thighs. But what caught your attention the most were his pale, gloveless hands.

"What do you need?" he asked you directly. His face looked worse now that the bruises had swollen and the blood was dry. He'd probably have them for a couple of days, and he was definitely going to have a scar over his eyebrow.

"I wanted to see you" you replied, instantly regretting not having considered your sincere words better "I mean... to see how you were" you tried to correct. You thought he would slam the door in your face, but instead he scooted to the side to let you in, then closed the door behind you with a soft click.

Again you felt alien to the place for a moment, thanks to the fact that he looked at you from head to toe as if your presence bothered him. You had to mentally remind yourself that he saw most of them that way.

“Your pay will be ready soon”

"That doesn't matter," you said softly. Several things had changed since the first conversation you had with him, because now that you knew why Kaz had done everything he had done and the traumatic memories returned to both of you, the money had taken a backseat.

You didn't say anything for a moment and you looked for a place where you could sit later. Kaz’s room, once painted green but now just damp walls, had a small bed by the window, a desk littered with papers and a lamp facing another window, with a simple bookcase placed on the top of the side wall; a nightstand, a place to wash your hands with a mirror above it, a circular table in the middle of the free space, and a single armchair that at least looked comfortable. It wasn't the prettiest place, but at least it was cozy.

"Your girl, did she leave?"

“Inej is not my girl. Or from anyone, she is free now” he answered you. He still wasn't looking at you and you noticed that he was having a hard time staying on his feet.

"I'm glad to hear it. She deserves it” you murmured sincerely. You thought that she would be important to Kaz, like all his partners, and you decided to venture out to see if he revealed something else to you. "She's very smart."

"She is"

"And she's pretty too" you added and without moving his head he looked out at yours. You felt as if he was reading your intentions through your eyes, a quality he had always had.

"I think so," he said without much interest.

"Are you very hurt?" you asked, changing the subject, as you took a step towards him. By inertia he took the same step, in the opposite direction, and that made you stop abruptly.

"Nothing to worry about" he exclaimed and though he thought, you couldn't have known, of course, get close to you, you decided to take that step back before he did anything else. 

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mhm"

"What did I do to make you walk away?" you exclaimed, finally expressing a question that had been eating away at your chest and tormenting you for many nights in a row. And since there was silence, you spoke again: “Not like right now, but a long time ago. It's just… I never understood it. Before we were friends and for me… you were even like a family. I loved your brother too and I know losing him never affected us the same, but I was glad you were there for me after that. Then we got older and things got more difficult, but I still had you and that calmed me down. And then… we just drifted apart,” you muttered, shrugging, as you avoided his gaze. Kaz still didn't answer anything and you felt the obligation to fill the silence “Sometimes I remember the things we went through when we were young. The good ones, of course. Like that time we stole a cake to celebrate your birthday and it was probably the best sweet I've ever eaten” you commented, smiling at the memory "And when I made you laugh with my bad jokes, no matter how angry or sad you were... I haven't seen you smile for a long time and I don't know if you celebrate your birthday anymore” you reflected wistfully, almost as if you were talking to yourself. And well, in the face of Kaz's inexpressiveness, that's practically what you were doing.

He hadn't said anything yet and you concluded that all your effort was useless. It had been a mistake to go looking for him, as well as trying to get even the slightest proof that he had ever missed you and you wished you had never opened your mouth. You sighed to contain the urge to cry and without saying anything else you turned towards the exit, intending to leave and return only for your money, but Kaz's voice echoed. 

"Do you remember what I told Pekka?"

You stopped.

“You told him many things, you will have to be more specific”

"About not loving anything" he replied. Your hand trembled on the doorknob at the mere thought of what he was implying and I was able to hear your racing heart pounding in your chest. You heard footsteps and, still without moving, you heard him speak again "That's why I drifted apart”

You never, even in your wildest dreams, imagined that he would say something like that to you and perhaps you were just deluding yourself with the implication of the words, but it was enough to make you freeze in place.

"I still don't understand how that relates to me” you expressed in a low voice. Kaz took a few more steps towards you until you could see his shadow mingling with yours and you felt it was time to turn. He was watching you from above, seriously.

"I didn't want…" he trailed off. You would almost say he was nervous “I didn't want you to be…”

"A weak spot," you said without thinking, followed by a sigh that sounded almost amused "That's your problem, Kaz," you continued, your gaze far across the room, "You think love is a person's greatest weakness, when it's not like that"

"It is not?"

"No" you exclaimed with determination "I believe that... many times love is what keeps us alive. Struggling"

You were speaking for yourself when you said this. What was your motivation every day? In the past, the love for Kaz. Now, it was love for yourself and the hope that one day someone could love you with the intensity with which you loved others.

“I had already lost Jordie. I didn't want to lose you too,” he finally said and that's when your eyes locked with his. You never thought he would verbally express something like that.

“And did you prefer that I lose you?" you whispered in pain. You wanted him to be aware of things, because it seemed like it had never crossed his mind to stop thinking about your well-being and start thinking about your feelings. “You don't just lose someone when they die, Kaz. You can also lose those who are fully alive”

He didn't say anything, because he clearly didn't know what to answer to that, and while he reflected on your words, you caught a glimpse of a certain vulnerability in his blue eyes that you had rarely seen. I couldn't say that you knew the man in front of you better than anyone, but you had a considerable advantage thanks to the years you had lived with him.

“Okay, just… listen” you started to say, knowing he most likely wouldn't give you an answer “I know it's hard to live as we do— as all of us at The Barrel live, but the risks I decide or don't take. They are my decision, not yours. These years you have sought to keep me out of danger and I appreciate it, but you have to learn to trust me”

"I do. I trust you"

"Then show me," you replied. You couldn't help noticing that, even with his stained face, Kaz was still the most handsome man you'd ever seen “Friends do not avoid each other, nor do they move away and despite that, during all these years I have trusted you as from the first moment we were left alone”

You didn't know if you were saying the right thing, but at least you were saying something.

"And if it's too late?"

It was too late? Kaz wondered. He wondered if it was too late to open up to someone, to try to get over his trauma, to let go and finally love you the way he wanted to.

But all this remained as a thought, phrases that couldn’t leave his throat.

“It's not for me,” you assured him. “But my patience won't last forever. I think you should know that”

You couldn't even imagine how many emotions Kaz was trying to process at that moment, but even he himself didn't understand what a mess you'd made of him with that conversation. From his perception, he had admitted that he loved you, but from his eyes, you didn't seem affected by it. And you, contrary to what he thought, felt like you were going to faint.

You were about to leave, for the second time, but he spoke:

“Stay,” he said, sounding more desperate than he would have liked. “I don't know what to say, but… just stay here. I don't want us to be alone tonight”

Us. That fucking habit of Kaz's to speak in the plural and make you a nervous wreck.

You looked at the bed and found that it was too small for both of you, to which we had to add his refusal to be close to others. Proof of this was the unconscious movement of sticking your hands as close as possible to his body during the entire time you were talking.

"Use the bed, obviously you need it more than me" you muttered and went directly to the armchair. Fortunately your first impression wasn’t wrong, it was very comfortable.

The room was so small that the apparent distance between the pieces of furniture didn't mean much, so when he sat on the bed you could see him perfectly.

The memory of one of the times when both of you were in similar situations came to your mind. That night you had been woken by frightened screams from the next room, in that abandoned house where you and Kaz found shelter, forcing you out of bed to investigate.

It was hard to comfort a person without physically touching them, especially when he had nightmares, and over the months you'd had to get used to it. The boy hated waking you up, it made him feel guilty and stupid, but you always kept him company. You never spoke, never asked questions, you just stayed there so he knew he wasn't alone.

Maybe something like that was what Kaz needed tonight. 

"Rest" you exclaimed. His head turned to look at you and you detected a different and special glow in his eyes; as if it were a mixture of fear, softness, and gentleness. You appreciated that look for a few more seconds, which you feared you would never see again in your life, and then you reached out your hand to turn off the light on the desk.

Silence reigned in the darkness.

You settled in the chair, trying to figure out what would be the best sleeping position, and at the same time you heard Kaz slide between the sheets on the bed. After a while, your eyelids felt heavy, a consequence of the fatigue that the hustle and bustle of the day had left you, and when you were about to fall asleep, a voice pulled you out of your reverie.

"Thank you. For everything”

The phrase was a whisper, a delicate caress in your ear, but you understood it clearly. And you decided to think that when Kaz said 'for everything' he meant literally everything you had selflessly done for him during his life; like he just realized you were important. But it's not that he had just noticed it, but that he had just accepted it.

You wanted to stretch out the moment as long as you could because, even if you weren't looking at him, you knew he was awake thanks to the sound of his breathing, but at some point sleep overcame you and you fell fast asleep.

Kaz had nightmares that night, like always, but the difference was that when he woke up in shock in the morning, you were in the same room. So seeing you there, keeping him company, was reason enough to calm him down.

And like every time this had happened, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

[fandaniel]

okkk posting a draft of cherry and fandaniel thing. its not nsfw but like. leading to it. its a scene before sex probably. ive posted a few things from it already.

He prodded at the roasted beef on the plate with his fork, the flesh was overly tender, falling apart at the softest press of his fork. There was an unfamiliar hunger growing in the pit of his stomach that felt misplaced. Things once dead shouldn’t be so tempting.

“I spent the day preparing it for us,” Fandaniel gave him a knowing look across the table, as if tempting him with his eyes. “Please, don’t hurt my feelings by not giving it a honest try. You might come to like it, my dear.”

Cherry gave him a glare for a moment, before straightening his back, he wasn’t here to pick a fight when there was information he could gain, and so much to lose if he didn’t play politics with this ascian. Clearing his throat, “I don’t eat meat is all, sorry to offend.” He twirled the goblet of wine the host across from him had poured for him, fainting interest in the alcohol. “Is this imported?” There was a role to be played before he could pry on intent.

There was a small bit of sourness on the hosts face as he leaned into the velvet backing of the chair, a theatrical sigh left his mouth, all the time with the dramatics. He was the worst ascian Cherry had the displeasure of talking to, nothing seemed genuine, it was hard to tell where he began and where he ended with his acting. “I am a terrible host for not asking a preference for dinner, but it was so hard to get you alone, completely alone.” His voice lowered to a sonorous tone. “Grateful though, the savior of humanity, the hero of this tale, could indulge me with a night. I will hold this memory dearly.”

“Mhm,” Cherry mumbled during a cursory sip after inspecting the wine for any poisons or other methods of foul play. “Why did you invite this get together, again?”

That seemed to spark his interest as he leaned forward and rested his arms on the wood table. “We both want something with this arrangement, Warrior of Light. You want, no, need to know more about me, isn’t that correct? To get an idea of how to stop me?” He smiled like a fox with a rabbit in his teeth. “You were special to a man I share the memories of. Disgustingly special. You don’t remember him, but I remember you, of all your qualities and accomplishments.” Something was mixed in his words there, something bitter, despite the praise. His eyes briefly flickered downwards. “Surely, you want to know more, your mind is magnificently curious, it is simple to see.”

For what little he knew of Fandaniel, this was off kilter for his tightly knitted mask of personality, causing Cherry to stare at him temporarily, scrutinizing every detail. “You seem genuine.” “Oh, you hurt my heart with your words! I have only been genuine.” “Liar.”

There was a pause in Fandaniel’s wit as he let out a cold chuckle, “I am reaching my hand out, Warrior of Light, can’t you see it in your heart to catch me and embrace me?”

That feeling in the pit of his stomach again stirred, Cherry reached for his glass of wine to find it empty, must’ve finished it without thinking. The gnawing sensation that he was going to do something uncharacteristic of a heroic man, to behave on self interest, something he had tried to work out of him over the years.

“At least tell more information than that, I’m not rejecting anything. It’s unfair for you to say such things without explaining.” Not that you have ever explained yourself in a manner that is rational. Cherry reached for the wine bottle in the center, only to be met with Fandaniel’s hand meeting his own.

“No need to drink so hurriedly.” His hand was soft against Cherry’s scarred and battle worn hands, his voice was more off putting to him than usual, it was all too soft. “I want you to remember as well, all the details.” Fingers interlocking each other. “His name was Hermes. You would have liked him, I believe. But he was a dour man, despite living in paradise, but he had you, well, a unsundered you, at his side to ease his disposition.”

He was too fascinated at his tale to take care of their hands interlocking, or that his heart seemed to pick up speed, to pick at his hosts brain was of the most importance. I have heard from other ascians’ something of my soul being familiar. Confirms my suspicions. “Why would you hate living in something you’ve described as a paradise?” “To everyone else, but everyone is blind to truth, suffering, that the only way to remove pain is to remove it at the start.” Fascinating.

“I’ve come to my conclusion.” He chimed in, reassuring his self appointed truth, in that there was no changing.

“I didn’t think I had any foothold to change your mind on the matter so easily.” And Cherry was not a fool to mistake a crack in the door as an opening. “And that, my darling, is why I’ve always liked you so much.” Fandaniel cooed, rubbing his thumb against the back of Cherry’s hand, paying attention to running over healed scars.

“I think I’ve given you a good taste, something to ease some of your endless hunger of knowledge.” Fandaniel lifted Cherry’s hand to hover over his lips with an impish expression. “While I don’t feel a connection to that man, I do feel something special with you, and I know you feel a draw between us. If there was someone I would want to experience pleasure with before ending the world, it would be you.”

A hero shouldn’t act in such a manner, so many of those look at me for guidance in this world, but I never agreed to be looked towards for morals or to be an idealistic person to be. Yet, the hunger he spoke of was identical.

“Don’t muddy my feelings with talking about the world ending.” “My apologies, my prince. I wanted to make my vision clear, a night of pleasure for us both, and then we continue on our paths.”

Fandaniel kissed the knuckle of Cherry’s hand, gesturing for forgiveness. He needed to decide, quickly, either to run away with the information he has gained or to confront his own feelings of neediness. Just a taste. “Then, it’s agreed upon.” Impassively speaking, as if it was business as usual.

[matt0044]

Disney's Wish: A Simple Meal Well Made.

As somebody who enjoys all sorts of animation that hits that sweet spot for me, I agree with the general consensus of fellow cartoon fans that animation is NOT just for kids nor should it only enjoyable to kids.

I also agree that while some are made with kids in mind, that doesn't mean that they are bereft of thought put into them. Avatar might be overdone as the go-to example but that it is does speak to its quality and all those it had inspired.

Even so, even wacky comedies like Billy & Mandy have a lot of thought put into them in terms of what the creators think will bust a gut. They don't just settle for wacky comedies because it's what the kids want but more what they wanna show. Even if some are strongarmed into being more comical, most will at least roll up their sleeves and have bit of fun.

However, I feel like this need to highlight animation's appeal across generations can often have a lot of fans put pressure on certain projects from certain studios of significant recognition. That is to say, there's little room to be just "mid" as the kids call it.

Like... we all know the Oscars are bull, right? Like many even admit as much. However, this dismissal of animation each year gets to use largely because there are those who by their hype. We feel our medium has a lot to prove so each movie has to be go big or go home.

Especially after big name companies put out projects that go GIANT between Spider-Verse and The Last Wish.

Of course, as it pertains to Wish, many would consider Disney not going big was unbefitting of their centenary film. I'm not here to advocate for expecting less or that one can't feel more meat could've been added to what they feel is a bit bare bones. I mean, 100 years of movie making is nothing to sneeze at.

But baring that and all else I've discussed above, it can be REALLY easy to fall into the pit trap of seeing Wish far less for what it is and a lot more for what it isn't.

For me?

I found the pacing fairly brisk from start to finish with the songs rarely ever feeling like non sequiturs. Rarely did any moment truly drag out with or was there just because of marketing or comic relief.

I love how we had less of a mystery around King Magnifico being a very selfish behind the scene from Act 1 and only getting worse when he perceives a threat to his power. It very much reads like a fantastical take on Walt Disney's rise in power and shadiness behind the charming facade.

While the heroine was archetypical, I found Asha's story and her friends getting swept up in facing the king more true to life than you think. Especially when viewed through the lens of being analogous to Disney:

King Magnifico as this benevolent ruler who harbors many wishes he promised he might grant. Many of which either come down to how they may not serve him or even threaten him like Saba's. That is, anything new or off-beat that could undermine what he's accomplished or feels entitled to.

Asha being this castle worker who tries to get the position of working with the big man himself and does... only to learn his shady side. Much like how Disney fans find any position in the company to not be the dream job they thought it'd be before learning how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Asha finds another source of magic that grants wishes and unintentionally threatens Magnifico. Given the indie animation boom, it's hard to not see this as creators taking IPs into their own hands without the backing of big megacorps.

Magnifico delves into dark magic that depreive him more and more of whatever scruples he had left in order to quash this rebellion. I think we've seen too many examples of bigger companies trying to outdo the little guys via unethical means of increasing production for money.

The King utilizes the wishes to get more power. Gee, where have I heard the creation of others being stolen/locked away for personal greed? Know anything, Davey-boy?

Asha rounds up her friend to expose the truth. Many of them organize a way to stop this injustice while the King buy out one of their own to try and undermine them. Hmmmm. Anybody hear of any strikes that went on recently?

The climax involves the king's people collectively embracing their inner stars to stand up to the tyrant he's become. Again, strikes?

Hell, I can't help but feel like the Easter Eggs were as lowkey as they could if only so these elements could be highlighted. Surprising considering how nostalgia baiting has been en vogue lately.

But that's a grand chunk of my disorganized thoughts on a movie that I feel many will get worked up now but look back on with a touch more of appreciation. It's hardly the best movie ever and maybe a "Go Giant" ambitious film would have been a crowd pleaser.

But the movie is what it is. And I like it for what it is.

[blxckchxrrybxby]

FaceTime: No Violets in November [Pt. 1]

summary: Wilhemina despises her birthday. Each year is a reminder of her inadequacies. However, this is the year that she deals with her demons head-on. (The intimate chaos of being in a relationship included).

pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Cordelia Goode x Reader

warning(s): Cursing, perhaps.

a/n: @abeillesurlalunerose inspired the sweet tea part. Also, reader is she/they. More Mina in the next chapter. This was supposed to be a simple one shot, idk what happened.

wordcount: 3,581

“Ready, Babydoll?” Billie questioned as she sprayed herself in perfume—trying to get rid of the smell of smoke. Her hand delicately grasped yours and held it above your head; guiding you to spin, so the falling fragrance would cover as much of you as possible. You were never the floral type, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

“As ready as I’ll ever be...” You mumbled, trying to focus on not tripping over your own two feet. Billie smirked knowingly, watching your nose scrunch up from the last spritz of perfume. It was clear that you were trying to hold your breath so the overbearing scent wouldn’t choke you.

She let out a chuckle and decided to give your nose a quick peck, “Such a cutie, you are.” Your cheeks burned—causing you to shy away and no longer scrunch your nose. Holding eye contact was by far one of the hardest things to accomplish at the moment. Despite your obvious timidity, Billie absolutely loved when you became flustered. “Babydoll, you have no idea what being shy like this does to me.” She stated in a lower voice, bringing her hand up to caress your warm cheek; instantly igniting a fire in the pit of your belly.

You could feel the warmth radiating from her touch and basked in it. Her thumb grazed across your flushed cheek, gradually moving across textured skin and acne. Naturally, you’d fall insecure, but you knew how much she admired every last bit of you. Her gentle touches no longer frightened you.

“B-Billie…” You whimpered, trying to find your voice.

A wicked grin spread across her plump lips at your demeanor. “My, my... I could just eat you up, kitten. Would you like that?” No matter how much perfume she sprayed, you could still smell a hint of tobacco embedded in her fingertips. Your eyes lifted momentarily; catching the blonde’s gaze as she gently pushed your hips against the nearby wardrobe. Her lips immediately attached themselves to your neck, planting tender kisses along the fragile skin. You let out a whine, trying your best to contain the sounds within you begging for escape. You always figured her favor towards your vulnerability was a power move. Quite similar to Wilhemina’s—

Oh shit. Mina.

You cleared your throat, hoping it would help break you out of the sudden bashful spell. Time was ticking and it did not permit for this—no matter how badly you wanted it. “We should really get going. Delia’s probably waiting.” Billie nodded against your neck in agreeance and took a step back from you, but not before giving you a love bite.

“There. A purple accessory to go with your outfit.”

You rolled your eyes—hiding the fact that you absolutely loved the hickey—before you spoke again, “Oh, wait-” She arched an eyebrow at you as she put the perfume back into her purse. After shuffling through your pockets, you pulled out a pack of gum. Opening it, you slid out a stick and held it out for her, “-here.”

Her expression fell as she stared at you, “Darling, are you trying to tell me my breath stinks?” She frowned, cupping her hand in front of her face to blow into.

You immediately rolled your eyes at her accusation, “No, but if you don’t take it, Mina will.”

“Why would Venny want a stick of gum?” She asked with both eyebrows knitting together.

“Wha- No, Billie, I meant she’ll tell you that your breath stinks!” You giggled, elaborating on your statement.

A soft pink hue graced her cheeks as she caught on. “Ah,” Her manicured nails tapped against the side of her purse as she looked away and hid her face out of embarrassment. The humility made her crave a cigarette, “I suppose that’s more logical.”

Billie knew how much Wilhemina hated the smell of the cancer sticks and didn’t doubt for a second the truth you spoke. The last thing she needed was the redhead scolding her for smelling like a walking pack of Marlboro. With a huff, she took the minty offering from you. The silver-covered stick of gum danced between Billie’s fingers for a moment before she finally unwrapped it and slid the gum into her mouth.

After indulging in a piece yourself, you crumbled the wrapper and held your hand out for Billie’s. She stared at you; absentmindedly folding the wrapper as small as possible before placing it in the palm of your outstretched hand. It was a habit she did with not only gum wrappers, but napkins as well. You always wondered if the tendency to fold was something she had been taught growing up or if it was just one of her silly little quirks.

“Thank you, Kitten.” With a closed-mouth smile, you discarded of the trash and returned back by her side within a minute. She chuckled at your eagerness and walked out of the bedroom, “Come, before we’re late.”

You mentally rolled your eyes, finding it a bit ironic that the woman who was always ‘fashionably late’ to events was rushing you. Nonetheless, you followed her with confusion written all over your face as she led you to Madison’s room.

“Uh, Billie? Why are we in here?” You questioned, walking into the room once she pushed open the door.

Madison walked out of the bathroom and jumped, holding a towel tight against her body, “Fucking knock next time, blondie! What if my tits were out?!”

You smiled apologetically at the witch, “Sorry to barge in like this, Madison. I’m sure Zoe finds them amazing.”

The younger blonde glared as you beamed innocently.

Billie ignored the whole exchange and darted directly to Madison’s bed. “That’s rich.” Placing the palm of her hand on the mattress to aid with kneeling down, she continued, “Besides, Madison, you don’t have much to be worried about if—God forbid—anyone did see.” You held in a laugh and watched as the older woman reached under the bed—admiring the way her ass looked in the lilac dress.

Madison rolled her eyes and watched as you stared at Billie’s ass as if you were in a trance, “Perv.”

You scoffed, now looking at her, “She’s literally my girlfriend.”

She shrugged, grabbing a second towel to dry her hair, “I don’t care. Go be gay somewhere else.”

“I apologize.” You held your hands up in mock defense, “Next time, I’ll be sure to switch the gay off before entering.”

Sliding from under the bed with three presents in her arms, Billie stood up and flipped her hair—handing you one of the presents. “Alright, doll, let’s get going.”

You held the gift and nodded, shuffling out of the room as Billie led.

“You’re welcome!” Madison yelled out as the both of you giggled to yourselves whilst descending the staircase.

-

Approaching the coven’s library, you couldn’t help but ask, “Why were the presents in Madison’s room?”

Billie shrugged, “Delia thought it would be the perfect spot since Venny never goes in there.”

You nodded, “Okay, but why didn’t anyone let me know they were in there?”

She chuckled, “You ask far too many questions.”

“And you don’t answer enough of them.” You stated with a pout.

Billie stepped closer to you, smirking, “Babydoll, we love you, but you couldn’t hold water even if it was frozen.” Noticing the slight furrow of your eyebrows, she figured you didn’t understand what she meant. “Must I elaborate?”

“Hold water?”

“It means to keep a secret.” She paused and snorted, mumbling to herself, “God, am I getting old, or is it a southern thing?”

You shrugged, “I doubt it’s the southern thing. I usually understand about 95% of what you say.”

Her expression went blank, “Did you just call me… old?”

You blinked, taking a moment to process what just happened. Clearing your throat, you smiled innocently, “I think it’s time we go in, but I would like the record to show that I am great at keeping secrets! I haven’t even told anybody that you despise sweet tea-”

“Shh!” Her hand immediately covered your mouth. You ceased talking as she looked around as if someone was listening and whispered, “Don’t you ever say that out loud again.”

You nodded slowly at her dramatics as she removed her hand and adjusted the two gift bags on her arm. Biting your lip nervously, you turned towards the door to the library. Your fingertips fidgeted anxiously with the wrapping paper on the present. Billie winked at you and opened the door; letting you enter first while following close behind. Her right hand found the small of your back, slowly rubbing it to help ground you.

As bookshelf after bookshelf passed, you proceeded to walk toward the fireplace. The closer you got, the more Cordelia came into view. She sat in a chair, tapping away on her laptop.

“Please tell me you’re not still working right now,” Billie stated, unamused by the always-working Supreme.

Cordelia jumped—startled by Billie’s voice—and instantly closed her laptop, “Well, hello to you too.” She displayed a bashful smile, standing up to greet the both of you.

“Has Mina made it yet?” You asked in a hushed tone; in case the other woman was somewhere nearby.

Cordelia chuckled softly, “Not yet.” She removed the gift from your arms and wrapped you into a tight hug, “You look amazing, sweet girl.”

You smiled, feeling your face heat up, “Thank you, Delia.” With your face buried against her neck, you took a moment to bask in the smell of her chamomile shampoo and vanilla perfume before pulling back. “You look stunning by the way.”

She grinned in response—absentmindedly smoothing her hands down the front of her long, flowy skirt. “Really? I was hoping it wouldn’t be too much for Mina.”

Your eyes scanned the entirety of the Supreme, “She will love it. Trust me.”

After setting down the gift bags, Billie greeted Cordelia with a kiss and complimented her on today’s outfit selection, as well. You genuinely found the whole thing funny, considering all three of you were wearing purple. The idea was cute, but the execution was questionable. Honestly, it felt a bit… cultish.

You took a moment to look around; admiring the purple and silver decorations, along with the few drinks and snacks placed on the coffee table beside a bouquet of violets. Cordelia had truly outdone herself. It wasn’t so over the top that it would overwhelm Wilhemina, but it was enough to show effort and that alone would please her.

The only thing missing now, however, was Mina.

“I thought she would be here by now,” Billie muttered, looking at her watch, then at Delia.

“She would have been here if she didn’t request to work today,” Cordelia mumbled, adding her gift to the other three.

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving your gaze to the both of them, “I didn’t know you could request to work on a mandatory day off.”

“You can’t, babydoll.” Billie rolled her eyes while texting on her phone, “Venny is just so stubborn that she thinks she can do whatever she pleases.”

Delia hummed to herself, “And her bosses are a bit too…” She paused, thinking of the right word to use, “…intimidated to tell her otherwise.”

You smirked, “So they’re scared of her? And she’s working for them?”

“It appears so.” Cordelia chuckled.

As if on cue, Delia’s phone began to ring. Billie swiftly picked it up from the coffee table and grinned mischievously, seeing Mina’s picture. She answered it without hesitation.

“Where is she?” Mina growled, rushing through the halls of Kineros, as her cane tapped loudly.

You glanced at Delia with furrowed eyebrows; confused as to why Mina sounded so upset. She shrugged in response with the same expression of concern and confusion.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our Venny.” Billie stated, not at all phased by the redhead’s unnerved demeanor (and most likely using the camera to fix her curls).

“Billie Dean, I swear if this is one of your pranks-” Mina started, sounding beyond irritated.

“Wilhemina, it’s not ladylike to swear, honey,” Billie said in faux innocence.

“I am not in the mood, Howard.”

“You’re never in the mood, Venable.”

“She’s always in the mood for me.” You mumbled to yourself, picking at your nails.

“Stop it, you three.” Cordelia intruded, rolling her eyes at the bickering and somehow back on her laptop.

A moment of silence went by before Mina responded in a relieved tone, “Hello, little one.”

You bit your lip, looking up at the phone in Billie’s hand. Standing from the chair, you walked over and peeked a glance at your other lover from over Billie’s shoulder, “Hi, Mina. We’ve missed you.”

Delia shook her head, mumbling under her breath, “What am I, chopped liver?”

“At worst, you’re nothing short of a five-star Michelin steak.” Billie chimed in.

“How charming of you, Billie,” Cordelia responded with a chuckle.

“For God’s sake, give Y/N the phone if you’re going to socialize with Cordelia the whole time,” Mina stated in agitation.

“Well, someone needs to show our Supreme how cherished she is since you can’t seem to provide her with a simple hello. Where are your manners-” In the midst of Billie speaking, the call hung up. “Did she just-“

“Still no greeting,” Delia mumbled, typing away. Within a few seconds, a low buzz filled the room. Delia looked down—feeling her thigh vibrate. Seeing your phone light up with Mina’s contact picture, she smirked to herself and answered, “Hello there, Wilhemina.”

A soft chuckle could be heard on the other side of the phone, “Hello, Cordelia.”

“Playing phone tag, I see.”

“Unfortunately. It seems no one has their own phone.”

“Isn’t that a shame?” You chuckled, watching the Supreme pout in faux sorrow, “I assume you’re calling to speak with our sweet girl?”

Wilhemina smirked, “Perhaps it was you I wanted to speak with.”

Cordelia hummed to herself, “You know our communication is better done through action, my love. I’ll pass them the phone, hm?”

“Thank you.”

Billie rolled her eyes as you retrieved your cellular device and walked off to a less chaotic place to hold conversation. Cordelia arched an eyebrow and peered at Billie from above her laptop, “Now, why was she so upset to begin with?”

She shrugged, admiring her nails, “You know how Venny gets-”

“Billie,” Cordelia stated in a warning tone.

The Medium huffed and flipped her hair, “Calm down, Delia. I simply told her that Y/N was missing.”

“What?!”

“It got her attention, didn’t it?”

Cordelia shook her head and went back to typing, “You’ve got a few screws loose, Billie Dean.”

“The better for you to tighten, my dear.”

Cordelia looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

Billie scoffed while grabbing her phone, then mumbled, “Now I know it’s definitely a southern thing.”

-

You sighed softly, leaning against a bookshelf, “So… how’s work?”

Her expression noticeably softened at your words, “I know you’re upset, little one.”

“And why would I be upset?” You asked—knowing full and well that you were seething on the inside from her deciding to go to work and not tell you.

“Are the others-”

“I walked away.”

With a deep inhale, she gathered her excuse, “I apologize, I was needed at work-”

“You were needed at home.” You stated with confidence.

“Y/N-”

“How naïve do you think I am? I expect you home within the next hour, Wilhemina.”

You took a moment to take in her features. Everything about her screamed ‘apathetic business woman’ but all you could see was the child in her. The fearful being that was dreading another year of life and despising the idea of celebrating it even more. You knew this was why she had fled the coven and chose to hide within the confinements of her office. She didn’t need another reminder of her age increasing and health declining. However, last year she had promised you growth, and what better way to bring in her new age, than with the first step of change?

No more running away.

-

“Happy birthday, my love,” Cordelia celebrated softly as she placed a tender kiss against Wilhemina’s cheek; handing her the last present. It was the same present you insisted on covering in violet wrapping paper—much like the others. “Enjoy. This one’s from an anonymous source.”

Wilhemina’s eyebrows furrowed at Delia’s words as her gaze met with the witch’s. What anonymous source could she possibly be referring to? She had already opened a gift from each of her lovers. Delia laid her hand on Mina’s—which happened to be resting on the unopened gift—and gave it a loving squeeze. As if to say, just trust me.

 Every year, Wilhemina made it clear that she preferred to ignore the day the universe cursed her with life—however—with three girlfriends who loved her immensely, it was nearly impossible. Although dreaded by Mina, November 11th was a day worth celebrating.

Cordelia perched herself on the armrest of the La-Z-Boy Billie gifted Mina the year prior and absentmindedly ran her fingers through her lover’s red hair. Wilhemina huffed under her breath and began to unwrap the gift; taking her time with precision.

“One of these years, I’d like to actually receive what I ask for.” The redhead grumbled.

Billie rolled her eyes, “Get over it, Venny. We’re not going a year without celebrating you.” Taking a sip of her cider, she smirked, “Besides, it’s a fun way to torture you.”

Once the gift was uncovered, she placed the paper aside and opened the large, rectangular box; revealing one of the most beautiful canes she had ever seen.

You bit your lip nervously and glanced at Cordelia. You had begged her to give Mina your gift; knowing if she found out her ‘little one’ spent so much money on her, she’d pitch a fit. Cordelia continued to stroke Mina’s hair as her gaze remained fixated on the cane. No words left the woman’s mouth. It was as if she were frozen.

 You knew your bottom lip was bound to become raw from how much you were currently gnawing on it, “Do you like it?”

Your words snapped her out of the flashback she was currently trapped in.

Taking a moment to swallow down the aftertaste of inadequacy with the apple cider Cordelia made, her piercing gaze hesitantly met yours. “Little one. Tell me you didn’t.”

You fidgeted with your blouse anxiously, “What do you mean?”

She sat up the best she could, frowning, “Did you buy-”

“I said it was anonymous, Mina. Leave it at that.” Delia stated as she interrupted. “Now, who wants pie?”

“Me, please.” You stated, ready to change the subject. Glancing over at Mina, her gaze remained fixated on the cane in front of her.

“Leave my slice on the table, won’t you, darling?” Billie asked, standing up, “I need a smoke.”

Delia agreed, but shook her head disapprovingly, “Fine, but you need to ease off the nicotine.”

Looking through her purse for a cigarette, the Medium pointed a finger, “Don’t. Tonight is a good night and we’ve already talked about this.”

Delia frowned, “I know, but I get worried, Billie.” She sat the plates down on the coffee table as Billie walked up to her and pulled her over to the side.

While grasping her waist and pulling her flush against her body, Billie began, “Hey…” She spoke softly, easing a few golden strands behind the Supreme’s ear, “You never have to worry about me.”

“I know, but-”

“But?”

Cordelia took a moment to find her words then replied in a hushed tone, “That’s easier said than done. I practically watch you inhale your fate every time you go out on that balcony.” Billie frowned at her statement, but let her continue, “And don’t think that I don’t know about you sharing those cancer sticks with Y/N.”

Her eyes widened as she bit her bottom lip nervously, “Have you told-”

“No, but if she finds out, you’re dead along with the rest of the coven that knows.”

Billie arched an eyebrow, “Who was it that told you?”

“I’m not telling you that, Billie Dean.”

The Medium peered, adamant about knowing who told her business, “Coco? Queenie?”

“Billie-”

“Madison? Nan?”

Cordelia sighed, “Nan.”

You smiled, walking over to Mina. Kneeling in front of her, you placed both hands atop hers. She jumped slightly, bringing her attention to you. “Are you alright, Mina?”

She inhaled slowly to control her breathing. Something you had noticed she would do if she didn’t want to draw in attention to her emotions, “Of course, Little one.”

You tilted your head, “I know you, Mina. Something is wrong. Do you not like your presents?”

“It’s not that.” Her fingers caressed the palm of your hand to not only ground you, but herself.

“Is it the pie? I thought you detested cake.”

“I do.”

“Then… what’s wrong?”

Her fingers intertwined with yours as a soft smile appeared on her lips. With a gentle squeeze of your hands, she spoke quieter than usual, “Not now.”

You could hear the waver of her voice. A few decibels louder and the dam of emotions would erupt. “I understand.” You accepted her decision and forced a smile. “Would you like some pie?”

Her fingers withdrew from yours and moved through your hair. “I’d much rather prefer you instead.”

[gallifreyshawkeye]

Chapter 8 of Reclaimed. I actually wrote an almost 11K chapter in a week, y'all! Boom! 😄

Summary:

Aziraphale accidentally discovers inconsistencies with the A(a)rchangel rosters and that there are potentially multiple archangels that have simply vanished. He also gets a message from Furfur who wants to meet, and the message is brought by an unknown angel who reminds Aziraphale so much of a certain red-haired angel that it can't be coincidence. Meanwhile, Crowley is pushed beyond his limits to the absolute brink by Satan and remembers a secret experiment he had worked on shortly after the Fall and that he had kept hidden in case he ever needed it. He hadn't for so long he had completely forgotten about it. Until now. And it might save his life.

Excerpt:

“Supreme Archangel! Sir!” 

Aziraphale turned around to see a breathless angel dressed in… khaki trousers with a black belt, a button-up sea-foam green shirt with rolled up shirt sleeves, a black tie, and dark grey shoes?! waving his hand to get Aziraphale’s attention while finishing jogging up to him from the opposite end of the long corridor. The angel leaned over as he reached Azirapale and rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath before standing back up and arching his shoulders back while taking a deep breath and finally settling into a normal posture.

“Whoo I should probably run more,” the angel said, “Hate running though. Frightfully boring. And so awful . I do not understand the humans and angels who do it on purpose. I mean, the idea sounds nice, especially the endurance running stuff. You know what I’m talking about? It’s where humans go for, like, 50, 100, 200 miles on purpose through, like, deserts and wilderness? Now that would be an accomplishment and super cool. But the training for that?! No. Couldn’t do it. Not in a million years. I bet demons don’t run on purpose. Ever. Or maybe they do because it’s awful. No, wait! I bet it’s, like, something they’d wager for the loser in a bet like, ‘I bet you 50 laps around the Infernal Pit that….’ uh, I’m not sure what demons would bet on. Maybe that one of them didn’t know that Beethoven actually did write a 10th symphony? He did, you know. Did you know that? But you get the idea. That’s how terrible running is.” The angel grimaced and took another deep breath like he needed to fill the very bottom of his lungs. “Whooo, that’s better!”

Aziraphale was staring in utter, boggled astonishment. Never in his existence had he met another angel like this one. Well, aside from Crowley-ish. When the demon was devoid of carrying the fate of the universe, this was not remarkably dissimilar to how Crowley could get on those rare occasions when he felt safe and uninhibited and got going on a subject he was passionate about whether it was passionately negative or positive. Who was this angel?! 

“Can I help you?” Aziraphale asked at last when the unknown angel in front of him didn’t say anything further and simply stood there, rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels while absent mindedly swinging his arms and… humming? something under his breath.

“What? OH! Right! Yes!” The angel’s eyes jumped back from wandering around the large corridor to focused on Aziraphale’s vicinity like he’d completely forgotten that he’d been the one to grab Aziraphale’s attention in the first place.

[outofangband]

Short piece regarding Morwen hearing the rumors of Beren’s adventures, probably incomplete

News of the cousin of her father reaches them shortly before the first snowfall. No word is spared, if such words are known, to the fates of the other men of the party of Barahir but Beren survives. Had survived. The first news that reaches them is mere rumors, whispers that Húrin picks up and then brushes off laughing when he returns from his work among the elves. But he does not brush off the source that has come to their king, holding it solemnly when he tells her of these new stories, though his eyes shine with joy and hope

The impossible had been accomplished, it was said. A Silmaril was cut from the crown of the Enemy and taken, the thieves have lived to tell their tale. Beren, son of Barahir, and Lúthien daughter of the Maia Melian and the King Thingol of Doriath. So far from home, past the dread mountains that lined the Southern border of Dorthonion, somehow, Beren had joined with the Half Maia and ventured so far back up North, to the pits of Hell, and back. That was of course the aspect there was so much glee for. If the rumors were true. Morwen could not see herself how a stunt, however courageous, could be in any meaningful way replicated on the scale needed for their sides’ victory. Nor did she see what good this actual theft would produce. The eyes of the Enemy could fall upon any of the smaller lands between Angband and the Fenced Realm, the search for the thieves would surely kill far more than only them.

“I am sorry no news has come of the others,” Húrin says more somberly, “Of your father and uncle.” Morwen nods and steps out of his arms reach, unspeaking. Her mood, if he knows it, (and likely he does)does not dampen the enthusiasm Húrin feels for this news. He is not a foolish man. She trusts him, not to simply mimic what the folk of the king tell him without thought of his own to give it. If he is hopeful then he has reason for it. So she does not yet argue the merits of the theft.

She does not speak of it at all, really, and when she thinks that Húrin has no knowledge of what troubles her, she feels a stab of impatience with herself for it. Morwen has not sought to conceal anything from him. He has never asked of her thoughts on her cousin and why should he? He knows she dislikes speaking of her family before here under most circumstances. For all she is proud, she has always been so in silence as much as in words

Author’s note: I hope the last line makes sense I think so much about how Tolkien’s description of Morwen’s pride is similar to that of her grief

[dark-ethereal-visions]

Short Story Excerpt: A Requiem for the Damned

There was a place where my family used to go camping. A few yards from the place where we would always set up camp, there was a path that descended down to a large creek. The path was shrouded in trees and it really felt like you were descending down into a hidden realm. This path and the daydreams I had of this path served as the basis for A Requiem for the Damned.

From those minimal beginnings, I became fascinated by the idea of discovering a secret village far removed from the rest of civilization. I imagine that such a place would be part paradisiacal but with evil horrors unlike anything we see in the modern world.

As for Princesa Moreno, I can’t say what inspired her creation. I do like to see women cast as villains in horror. There are so few examples of female villains specifically in the horror genre and that was starting to change until recently. Today, casting a woman as an unredeemable villain is a no-no, but I have a habit of defying the rules.

Here’s a closer look at Princesa Moreno in A Requiem for the Damned:

     He watched her hourglass figure as she departed and the closing of the chamber door obscured his view. Her offer hadn’t gone unnoticed; his stomach howled for sustenance. The sweet cherry tomato burst in his mouth, spreading its juices over his tongue and urging him to indulge himself. However, one of the servants stole his way into the room before he’d had time to fill his belly with one more bite. Between the commotion still growing in the great hall and the appearance of this intruder, he was too shocked to react. The servant easily grabbed him from behind, cupping a large, malformed hand over his mouth, and pulled him into the darkest corner of the room. Employing strength that shouldn’t have been possible for someone so degenerate, the servant spun him around and slammed him back against the stony wall. It was then that their eyes met for the first time. Scar tissue had sealed the slit where the servant’s left eye had been and his right eye was white and cloudy.

     How had this man accomplished all that he had with such limited eyesight?

     Perhaps there were senses at work other than those that Evan relied upon. Regardless, he’d proven himself a formidable enemy, or maybe...He suddenly realized that the man might mean him no harm at all, considering his princess was only moments away. As soon as he stopped struggling, his attacker relinquished the hold he’d held on him.

     “We must be quick for she will return soon. My brother will explain all to you, but, for now…” He faltered and slightly trembled when the princess’ bellowing grew nearer. “…for now, just believe that you must not look into her eyes and you must not trust in her words.”

     “What…”

     The servant tumbled forward and fell to the floor at Evan’s feet, his blood pooling on the floor and sinking into the crevices between the cobblestones. Slowly and fearfully, he looked up from the corpse. Princesa Moreno stood a short distance away, holding the servant’s still palpitating heart in the palm of her reddened hand. Blood dribbled from between her long fingers and over the side of her palm, slowly adding to the puddle upon the floor.

     “My god…”

     “Did he harm you?”

     “No.” Something was definitely wrong here. He recalled the anxious feelings he’d felt on the way to this village and he now believed he would have been much wiser to have turned back when the opportunity had been available to him. “No, you got here just in time. He didn’t have time to do much more than grab me.”

     “Good.” She smiled, though not quite as warmly as before, and finished cleaning her hand in the bubbling pool. It was that hand, now just as dry and flawless as the other hand, that took hold of Evan’s arm and led him back into the pit. “Sometimes they forget their status in our society and it falls upon me to remind them. I’ve found instant death to deviants to be a useful deterrent.”

Experience all nine stories in Whispers From Hell: An Anthology of Horror & the Supernatural.

Follow these links to get your ebook or paperback copy:

Amazon Paperback

Amazon Kindle

Barnes & Noble Nook

[teneguine]

"oberon the dark, you said your name was...?" she approaches him after the festivities end, because that's the only time where she can catch him. "first of all, these are for you." she hands him a tranluscent wrapped bag, filled with bits and bobbles of different sweets. unfortunately only leftovers of everything she'd baked the night before. bits of fudge, clusters of granola and a few sugar cookies she hadn't been able to fit in her gifts for anyone else. he's sure to like it but she feels a bit bad she can't make anything specifically for him.

"happy day of devotion, of course." she smiles, then moves onto what she was really here for. "you called me your great great great......erm, many greats grandma. i'd like to know what that's all about...?"

"Yes, Oberon Dark! That's me; only the darke- Oh, are those sweets?!"

Hands clasp together and excitement bubbles to his shadowed surface as Caeda presents her gift. Owain switches up on her in a heartbeat, doing away with his deep and serious prose, and adopting the lighter kind of speech that is more natural to his tongue.

"Oh wow!" he exclaims, snatching the bag from his ancestor, "They're just like mother used to make...!"

"AHEM!" and again, he stops. The gears change; the hero comes back into full view. Instead of openly trying one of her treats he sneaks one into his mouth behind a turned back, and uses the opportunity to strike a dramatic pose. "So the curtain falls... The hero's origin, unveiled at last! With no other choice, I must make my grand reveal..."

"...For I am not the Professor Oberon Dark you know and love. No no, my true name... Is Owain!"

Boom. Hands fall over shining eyes, legs spread wide and arms fold into angles. All that is Owain is shown to grandmother Caeda, before again, he slips a cookie into his mouth. Spoken while chewing, the first half of this next bit requires a good ear to understand,

"And you are Caeda! The Caeda! The holy inquisitor sent from the heavens! The sacred queen of a steadfast heart! You're a hero, and within you sleeps an almighty blood. It was said that you could turn into an angel, that the sound of your voice swirled in its vigor and called horses to your side! With your mighty spear, Lightsboon Guardian, your reach extended into the hearts of men and plucked them into the pits of oblivion!"

Obviously, much of that is mistranslated. Whether it be time, the skewed eye of history, or Owain simply adding in his own dramatic flair, he speaks of a make-believe hero. And, now that he's getting to his favorite part, his smile spreads wide. The sparks in his eyes explode into embers, for their passion burns bright.

"And I too have this blood," he reveals, undoing the clasps of his vambrace and rolling up his sleeve. There it is, imprinted onto his skin in a reddish tan: the Brand of the Exalt. The symbol of his heritage, it means more to Owain in particular than most who bear its symbol. It exists for mother, to remind her that she is indeed chosen--that she is a hero. And though she may never have one of her own, she can rest easy knowing that her sacrifice to protect Owain's has cemented her as more than worthy.

No matter what great feat he accomplishes, or what far land he traverses, nothing Dark ever does will compare to that day.

"Behold! You and I are kindred souls, linked together by our shared heritage! Though our times no closer than the sand and snow, I am undoubtedly your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson!" And yes, that's the exact number of 'greats'.

He'd offer more of an explanation--maybe treat her to a cultural exchange as they try to forget about how their meeting is even possible--but the blonde is simply out of breath by this point. He's nearly spoken an entire novel, having to heave his breaths just to stay on his feet. But he can't help it! The figure of legend is before him, so he must put on his darkest display and let her see just how excited he truly is.

[kingdomofbellows]

Traveling word was that a certain someone was missing him. Hard to believe in the pit of his being that anyone would miss him, but he supposes it's been a while since he's blessed Bellows & it's ruling beauty with the gift that is his divine presence. And thankfully Scaramouche is both a giving & a generous god.

He's brought no small amount of gifts for Irene, head from fallen foes, as well as stolen goods & treasures found in his travels he believed suit her fancy. Of course, while time is but a drop in the bucket for one such as he, he knows to mortals like her, it's a precious & painstaking thing. He will need to 'make up' for his neglect of his blessed queen.

"Has my Queen been behaving in my absence?"

It had been so long.

For Irene, it felt like ages upon ages being separated from the one she considered her true King and no matter the parties she threw or the company she kept, his absence was as noticeable as the loss of one’s own heartbeat.

She wouldn’t be found in her throne room but rather the garden, as it was more acceptable to wallow in one’s sorrow in the company of flowers than the court. She doesn’t look at anything or anyone in particular, rather staring off to the side with unseeing eyes with an expressionless face. If not for the rise and fall of her chest or the occasional sip of her long cold tea, one might have mistaken her for a corpse.

She doesn’t stir to the sound of his footsteps, however the sound of his voice seemed to fill her motionless body with enough life that she’s able to raise her head towards him.

“S…Scaramouche…”

The sight of him standing there…it couldn’t be could it? But he was clearly right there. She’s on her feet before she realizes it, taking one unsteady step in front of the other until she stands before him. Shaking hands reach out, touching his cheeks as hot tears begin to carve their way down her own.

It was him. It was really him.

“You’ve come back…you’ve finally come back..” Her voice cracks as the words slip from her lips, fingers now trailing down his cheeks to the front of his chest. Her fingers caress the fabric then slowly begin to bunch it in her hands as if worried he’d escape her again. “Where..where did you go? Where did you go?!”

Relief at his return washed her body clean of its soul draining sorrow, but unfortunately for Scaramouche, rage was quick to follow. Using her grip on his front, she’d lift him up and begin shaking him violently.

“Where did you go!? I woke up and you were just gone! You left me and now have the audacity to just walk up to me in my garden as if no time has passed and ask me if I’ve behaved?!”

Her shaking increases.

“You didn’t write! You didn’t send message! Not a singular word in the entire time of your absence! I thought you possibly dead! I’ve been trapped mourning you! You…you��gah you don’t deserve my insults! If I thought it capable of accomplishing anything I would have you hanged! Quartered! Boiled in oil! How dare you make a mess of your queen!”

Rant finished, she’d set him down none too gently and release him to pull him tight against her. She still trembled with her anger, but beyond that, there was joy. Pure and warm as it thrummed in her chest.

“I hate you..I hate you so much…don’t you ever dare leave me behind again.”

[littlewalken]

Sep 25

The First Amendment protects you against the government not Little Walken, my blog my rules, don't liberate my baby.

If I have to chose a side in the divorce of the LGB from the rest of the alphabet soup I'm with the LGB side. Even tho I'm asexual I'm on the side of it being who I'm attracted to not how I identify.

So here's my take- the only time I'm not going to have any Marge Simpson grumble with neopronouns is the joke by Evilwizards how if spiders had pronouns they'd be it/ze/bit/xe.

That's it.

You can have he or she or they, I get there are intersexed people out there who don't make videos about it being their entire identity.

If your pronouns are on your resume or are among the first things out of your mouth it tells me you're going to be the biggest turd in the punch bowl.

I also treat people who bring up their faith, their politics, and other things that they've made in to their identity instead of having a personality.

I spent too much of my life trapped in situations with people I didn't want to be around because I was unable to leave them under my own power. The second half of my life ain't got time for that shit.

Come this time next year I want to look back and tell myself that I got a hell of a lot accomplished and what I'm feeling is well deserved pride for jobs well done.

Change of direction puppy

She had the biggest grr. Now that I know what the sound was she was born growling. So y'all know she was also half great dane and those feets got huge and those legs got long. In that picture she's barely a month old and probably bigger than any fluffy tea cup pupper she resembles.

I think what's fucked up in my back is the gluteus minimus on the once side. It's the side that locks up if I just walk so I have a long history of something I can only get pain medicine for because otherwise my American health care won't cover anything else for it.

Getting used to the new cane. Good thing I don't like and can totaly sense people sneaking up on me, since like forever, being that pick pockets and purse snatchers in stores like to sneak up on older and disabled looking people. I have enough family members who think they've lost something in my purse that I don't leave it around.

Also managed to find a literal replacement for my purse. It's a plush black cat face with ears and it used to look less ratty before 'oh, was that not supposed to go in the dryer'.

What I plan to do is put the nice one with the full sized plush black cat backpack so I have a 'set' going on. I'm going to have the warn out one in rotation until it literally falls apart or something.

Altho I have a decent collection of purses, half of which go back to work when I needed plain ones, it's not a purse for every outfit thing. It's more of a I just want a different one and I'm not parting one that's still good.

Or I need to get one I can fit my tablet in to. Or I have to replace the one I used to fit my tablet in to because it went to the Mystery Flesh Pit with me and it absorbed the bad mojo and it has rainbow flags on it and kids with pronouns have ruined the rainbow part of The Backrooms.

[kairiofknives]

"You know something? I would be truly offended at how easily the patriars and Fist are falling for this scheme...were I not benefiting from it so gloriously." Gortash grinned as he strutted into his room, lighting only a single candle. There was something soothing about how the shadows flickered, dancing in the low light. "Utter fools, the lot of them. But I suppose they are my fools now. Or rather, they will be. Soon. Very very soon. It's all coming along nicely. Well, as nicely as can be expected given the...last minute changes to our roster."

His hands busied themselves with removing the endless layers of regalia he was so content to don these days. They were a badge of honor, a shield against the vivid memories of so many years of powerlessness. Of torment with no sign of reprieve on the horizon. Every glance in the mirror wrapped in all this luxury was a letter to a boy long gone, but never forgotten. A boy who crawled his way back from the pits of servitude and despair with sheer willpower, desperation and spite. He wondered sometimes what that boy would think of him now, undressing while regaling the shadows with his deepest inner thoughts.

"I was rather... hesitant about Orin, you see. I of all people can certainly appreciate a flair for the dramatic, but I often doubt that restraint is a word she's familiar with. I'm certain that you have plenty of colorful ways to teach it to her. One must wonder why you haven't yet..."

He stared out his window with a dull sort of thoughtfulness. His own breathing felt a bit too loud, as of late. "Well, no matter. The plan moves forward, as it ever does. We've accomplished far too much to buckle before the pitiful obstacle that is your sister's girlish whims. She can craft her bone altars and draw her pentagrams all she wants. So long as she serves her purpose. When you return to my side at last, you can give her the reprimand she deserves. Yes. Yes, it will all be right again, just as soon as you come back."

Turning around for the first time since stepping foot into the room, his gaze sought the telltale shimmer of eyes in the dark. Watching. Waiting. Scheming. Usually to frighten him. Sometimes to press one of those gore-soaked daggers to his neck. Playfully. Only ever playfully. Gortash knew well enough by now that those knives were saving him for last. Maybe, the insane part of his mind whispered, he would even relish in it, when that time came.

"You will come back my dear, sweet assassin...won't you?"

The darkest corners of his room did not reply. Where once there would have been a quiet, amused chuckle, there was now nothing but silence. Horrible, heavy silence. He was once so proud to have overcome his skittishness. To not jump or yelp at the villain lurking in his periphery.

...what he wouldn't give to have them scare him out of his skin again. Just. Once. More.

Really enjoy the idea that as Gortash and Durge’s relationship progresses over however long, Gortash gets more and more used to Durge’s lurking and hiding in dark corners, and as a result it becomes more and more difficult to make him jump.

Like at the beginning of meeting and working together, Gortash’s head is on a swivel as he keeps wondering when that serial killer will seemingly appear out of nowhere once more.

But then like several years into it, he is strolling into his office which seems to be empty, but then he starts talking very conversationally at full volume about how they should now be moving on to the next part of the plan, knowing full well that a voice is going to respond from the darkest recesses of the room where you can see at most a pair of glowing eyes.

[lovincherries]

okay… so, ive never requested anything before but i had an idea and i didnt wanna ask anyone but the master of writing elvis things (you). could you write something about elvis and reader being best friends since they were little (him being like 2 or 3 years older) and whenever he got famous he made her travel with him. she began to fall for him when they were teenagers, but she never thought he liked her. so, when they’re on the road, she get jealous of all the girls and the hookups he has. and finally she gave in to her jealousy (note that she is still a virgin and hasn’t dated anyone like he has) and started flirting with one of the stagehands and he goes ballistic and they get in a fight and he finally shows her how he feels. so angsty, roughness, smut. ya know? if not its okayyyy.

Jealousy, Jealousy

a/n: thank you for saying I’m the master of writing elvis things!!! I love this. Very long bc ill be out of town for a few days and no updates :( Not proof read

warnings: loss of virginity, rough, jealously!!

You had known Elvis as long as you had been able to breathe, your parents were lifelong friends and that made you two as well. He was three years your senior, always preaching himself to be like a big brother to you. You had never seen him like that though, to you he was so much more than a brother. You loved him, and not in the way that everybody else thought you did, you loved loved him. You saw the whole world in his eyes, always looking up to him. He was always bound to be a star, he had that air about him. He had never felt the same about you, not that you knew of. You were just the little sister he never had.

When Elvis’ singing career took off, you were happy for him but you felt such a fear in your heart. He was going to forget about you, you just knew it. He was going to all the places, seeing all the women, and doing all the things that you could never accomplish. He was getting an excitement you could never give him. But, you were wrong. Elvis needed you he said, needed you to be around him. So, he took you on tour with him. You pushed those feelings you had from him in the farthest corner of your heart and your mind you possibly could.

**********

Elvis’ tour was going amazing, for him at least. All the girls ate him up like a piece of pie and you were sort of just there, just waiting for him to give you an ounce of attention. You felt pathetic. You were backstage, watching him flirt with this girl who was perfect. Her skin was perfectly clear, a perfect body, and a stupidly perfect laugh. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you watched him eat up every perfectly rehearsed word she was saying.

“Oh, you’re funny,” he laughed at something that was totally not funny at all. You just couldn’t understand why he was acting like a completely different person, the Elvis you knew would push her away.

You just rolled your eyes once more as their conversation continued, he didn’t even notice your irritation with the whole entire situation. You got up to leave to go talk to Willy, he was one of Elvis’ stagehands. He was funny, cute, and somebody to talk to. Elvis ignored you half the time so it was nice to have someone listen to you for the first time in a long time.

“Where ya goin’ Y/N?” He asked, confused why you were leaving so abruptly. You wanted to scoff at the confusion in his voice, like the answer wasn’t obvious. You didn’t let on to your irritation, or the jealousy rising from the pit of your stomach to your throat.

“Just to go walk around,” you replied, lying straight through your teeth. Elvis didn’t care much for Willy, said he was bad news. He told you to stay away from him, but you wouldn’t listen. He just nodded his head and resumed back into his conversation.

It only took a few minutes of walking around to find him, he was fixing some light that had broken during Elvis’ show that night. As soon as he saw you, he discarded the light to focus on you. It felt good to be wanted like this, something you wish Elvis would do.

“Hey Y/N,” Willy said cheerfully, fixing the hair that had fallen into his eyes. He truly was cute, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes that you could trust. He just wasn’t Elvis.

“Hey Willy,” you smiled back, going down to sit next to him. You sat closer than you normally would and you could tell that he noticed, looking down at the proximity between you too. You had never been this bold before, you had barely kissed a guy let alone began to flirt with one. But, you were on a mission tonight. A mission to forget about the boy that always plagued your mind.

“Whatcha working on?” You asked, even though the answer was obvious. Boys liked oblivious women, or it seemed Elvis did so you figured this might work on Willy. He had flirted with you in the past, but you never paid any mind to it before.

“This stupid light, the thing keeps breaking,” he said, taking the light from his lap and putting it to the side. He looked in your eyes, and although they were gorgeous they weren’t the right hue. They weren’t the color you wished to be looking in. You had to stop thinking about him, he would never care for you like you cared for him. He made that very obvious.

“Oh, that’s no good,” you replied, looking to the side. The eye contact was intense and you weren’t sure for how much longer you could hold it.

“Yeah, no good at all,” he said, his voice lowering. You looked back at him, looking in his eyes and you saw him looking at your lips. You saw his hair fall in his eyes and you reached to place the stray hairs back into their perfect place. He sucked in a breath as your fingers made contact with him.

“Sorry, it fell out of place,” you laughed. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes fell onto his face, he had an ulterior feeling behind his eyes. You slowly leaned into him, now your eyes were drifting from his eyes and to his lips. As soon as they were about to touch, you heard a voice.

“Y/N,” Elvis said, an anger hidden in his voice. No one else would have been able to detect it, but you. You and Willy broke away from each other, your cheeks red from almost getting caught kissing a boy. Elvis was always very protective over you, said he didn’t want anyone touching his “baby” sister.

“Elvis,” you countered, not fearing his reaction anymore. Before? You would’ve apologized profusely. But after what he pulled? Fucking all those girls in the room next to you? You had no reason to be sorry.

“Come here,” he demanded, not asking you. Willy looked around nervously, knowing that Elvis was his boss and he couldn’t cross him.

“No, I was having a conversation with my friend. I’m not leaving,” you refuted, you were not giving in to him anymore. You wouldn’t be that girl.

“Yes, you are,” his voice deepened at your disobedience, walking over to you briskly. His boots making a loud noise on the stage.

He grabbed your arm roughly, swooping you up before you had the chance to argue. “Elvis, stop!” You yelled, trying to pry your arm from his tight grip, but it only caused him to tighten it more.

"No, Y/N," he said gruffly. He was guiding you away from the boy you were just about to kiss. "You can't be doing shit like that, lookin' like a whore. He fucks anything that breaths." He stated, and his words wounded you. Like putting salt in a wound. Not only did he not want you, he had to hurt you in the process.

"What happens if that's what I want, huh?" You asked, facing him now. "What happens if I want someone to want me? Is that such a bad thing? What happens if I wanted to fuck him?" You asked, getting in his face now. You were just as angry as he was now, feeling the pent-up rage and jealousy that had been building up for months.

"Y/N," he said in warning, you were dangerously close to him but your anger blinded you.

"Why is it okay when you fuck any girl who looks at you, but I can't even kiss a god damn boy? You're holding me back cause you have this stupid big brother claim over me and I'm fuckin' over it." Your words rushed out before you could even think about them, you knew you were being harsh, but you couldn't help it. He hurt you every single day without fail, and now, you wanted to hurt him too.

You began to walk away from him, but his fingers found their way to your arm again. Preventing you from walking away, and if you had walked away, it would've been the last time he hurt you like this.

"What-" You asked, but before the words could fall from your lips, he kissed you roughly. It shocked you, not knowing what to do. Your lips froze in the very moment you've been dreaming of for years, but the sparks you felt were more real than anything. Although you froze, it only took seconds for you to kiss him back. It was rough, filled with anger, jealousy, and possession. His hands moved from your arms to your waist. He gripped you tight, as if you would float away if he didn't hold you down.

It was everything and more that you had dreamed of, but you had to break away from the kiss. If this was out of some jealousy he felt, he needed to stop. He shouldn't only want you when he couldn't have you.

"Elvis," you said softly, your foreheads touched, and your lungs gulped in the air. "Don't hurt me, please. If I'm not what you want, please stop now," you begged, you sounded weak and meek. It wasn't how you wanted him to see you, but you needed him to see your vulnerability. You needed him to know, without saying the words, that you had been in love with him for years.

"I won't, I promise," he responded, nodding his head.

You kissed him again, hoping he would keep this promise to you. All the other ones be damned, if he kept this one promise to you, that would be all you needed. This kiss was equally as rough, like he was trying to imprint himself onto you. Little did he know, he had already ruined you for any other man.

"Let's go to my room?" He asked, but it came off as a demand, "please," he added.

You couldn't find the words to say, so you just nodded your head. You knew his intentions, but you were willing to give him anything he asked. You wanted to give him all of you.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you two found your way to the room, a heat pooling in your underwear as well. It was completely silent in the room when you first arrived, he just stared at you like a hunter stalking its prey. You gulped as he began to unbutton his shirt, looking directly into your eyes as he did. You were sat on the bed, he loomed over you. His presence was dark now, unlike his usual light essence.

"I didn't like seeing you like that, Y/N," he stated, his shirt now forgotten on the ground. He was now standing directly in front of you. His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up into his eyes. His tight grip should've hurt, should've scared you. It only excited you for what was to come.

"Like what?" You questioned, confused.

"Acting like a whore for another man," he stated, his voice had a dark tone to it that sent shock waves to your private parts. You were naive to all things like this, never really feeling this way about any man before.

"I-I wasn't acting like a whore," you stuttered out, slightly offended that he saw you in that light. You didn't even kiss the guy.

"Yes, you were. Only whores try and make someone jealous," he countered, crawling over you know. You laid directly under him, short, rapid breaths coming out of your lungs. He seemed completely unaffected.

"I-I," you stuttered out once again, not able to find the words. His hands drifted down to your hips, lifting your dress to expose your soaked panties. He let out a chuckle seeing the wet fabric, and it only left you feeling embarrassed. You buried your head into his shoulder to prevent him seeing the heat that had risen on your cheeks.

You wanted him to know that you had never done this before, wanted him to know that he would be your first and your last. He was always destined to be it for you. "Elvis," you said, forcing him to look at you, stopping his prying eyes.

"What darlin?" He asked, still taking in your body fully with his eyes. But your hands guided his head up, forcing him to look at your fully. His eyes looked nervous now, as if he was worried you were going to ask him to stop.

"I-I haven't done this before," you said under your breath, hoping that he would get what you mean.

"I know," was all he said in response, he knew that you were waiting for him. It was only a matter of time before he would give into his urges for you. He mistakenly took his feelings, he wasn't possessive over you in a brotherly way, but in a loving way.

"Oh," you responded, shocked that he knew. He knew you had only seen one guy before, but he wasn't man enough to take you.

He derailed from the topic, not really all that concerned about your virginity. "So gorgeous, can't believe you've been hiding this from me for all these years," he stated in shock, looking down at your body that you always hid with baggy clothes.

"So wet for me, haven't even done anything to ya," he stated, kissing up your neck. He finally let his hips find their home between yours, which made a gasp climb itself out of your mouth. He was hard, ungodly hard. His hands were touching you everywhere now, finding themselves under your dress, grasping your ample breasts.

"Hated seeing you so close to another man like that, could've killed him then and there," he whispered, his hand now drifting to your panties. His fingers lightly traced the outline of your folds through your underwear, which caused your back to shudder in response.

"Elvis," you lightly moaned. He moved his fingers slightly under your panties, shifting them to the side slightly, just barely brushing against the wetness of your folds. Your breaths hitched in anticipation, waiting for the next move. He was teasing you.

All of the sudden, he bit your neck. Hard. You whimpered out in pain, it was surely going to bruise. He kissed it after he finished.

"Didn't think you would have it that easy after the stunt you pulled today, did ya?" He asked, climbing off of you now. You missed the heat he radiated, wishing he would've done something, anything to relieve the ache in between your legs.

"Turn over, want you on your hands and knees," he stated, unbuttoning his pants in the process. He was now only left in his boxers, and you were left gawking at the size of the imprint in them.

You did exactly what he asked, wanting whatever he had to give you. He could take you any way he wanted you. He climbed on the bed soon after you, he lifted you up so your back was pressed to his chest. He lifted the dress above your head, unclasping your bra in the process.

"So gorgeous, and all for me," he slightly jutted his hips into your ass.

"But you've been a very bad girl, Y/N. Leaving me feeling all green," he said, his hands tracing your spine. It was all so intimate; he was invading all of your senses. You wanted every bit of him, everything he had to offer.

All of the sudden, his hand forced your head into the mattress, forcing your ass to jut into the air. "I don't like to feel jealous, Y/N. Makes me feel weak, I don't like to feel weak," he leaned over you now.

"So, I think you need to be punished," he stated, it was all so hypocritical. He did the same exact thing, if not worse than you, yet you were getting punished for it. You weren't dare going to voice your complaints out of fear that he would stop.

"So," he said confidently, "I'm gonna spank you and you're not gonna say a word. If you say anything at all, I'm gonna stop and you're not gonna get anything," he said in that deep voice. His southern drawl did something inexplicably to you. You could only nod your head in response, not able to find the words, even if he wanted you to speak them.

"Good girl," you could've moaned at his words. In all honesty, you could've gotten off on the words that he spoke alone, his honesty left a wetness overflowing in your underwear. You would surely have to throw them away after this.

He rubbed your ass with his bare palm, his rings still placed on his fingers. The coolness of the metal sending an aching coldness that would've normally forced you to scootch away from him, but instead you leaned into his touch. You loved the gentleness he was giving you.

Smack. You jumped in response, the slap on your ass stung. You wanted to whine in response, tell him that it hurt you.

He rubbed the mark he surely left on your ass, "good girls get what they want, Y/N, remember that from here on out," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. You nodded in response, wanting the affirmation to fall from your lips. You wished you could tell him that you were all his and you would never do it again, but you wouldn't out of fear that he would stop.

Smack. He had no words to say this time, his anger manifested as red handprints on your ass now. Elvis was always very possessive over you, but never to this extent before.

Smack. This one was harder than the last, without any rubs to soothe it either.

Smack. This was the hardest now, the pain sent tears prickling to your eyes.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Each slap sent electric jolts all throughout your body, shockwaves went straight to your pussy. He now soothed the marks that he left, lightly rubbing your ass.

"Speak," he demanded, but you couldn't. All you could let out was a small whimper. "What do you want, Y/N?" He asked, demanding an answer from you.

"You, all of you," your voice came out hoarse from the pain.

He moved out from behind you, laying down on the bed. He pulled his boxers down to reveal his aching member, it was a light pink and it was perfect. It was the perfect length and girth, but you would expect no less from him. He was perfect, of course all of him would be. He spit on his hand, and now began rubbing it up and down his member, sufficiently coating himself in his spit. Watching this erotica caused you to have to squeeze your legs together, releasing the pressure that was building up.

"Y/N," he moaned, bucking his hips into his hands. Your mouth was practically drooling at the sight, "get on top of me, move your panties to the side. Wanna take you just like this," he said, his eyes squeezed shut.

You did exactly what he asked, no fear of pain or anything. You were as wet as you could possibly be, now was the time to take him. He sat up as you straddled his lap, your chest pressed firmly to his.

"So perfect," he mumbled, kissing the tops of your breasts. Your hips ached from accommodating the width of his. But you weren't focused on the pain, you were only focused on the pleasure you were feeling. He lifted your hips up, his fingers now tracing your bare folds to make sure you were sufficiently slick. You were. He smirked after realizing it. He now fully pushed your panties to the side, lowering your hips so your folds were suffocating his member. The heat from his body only caused you to become that much more wet. He guided his length up and down your folds before you found your voice.

"Don't you need to-" you started to say before he cut you off.

"No," was all he said, lifting your hips up. Your entrance was now kissing his lip, and you were no longer going to resist this. This intimacy is what you craved from him for so long. He just barely entered you, already stretching you so much. There had never been more than your own exploring finger in you, so this was a stretch.

Your head found its way into his shoulder once more, you didn't want him to see the tears fall from your eyes as he entered you. It was painful, but in a good way.

"Shhh, sh, just relax," he comforted you, rubbing your back as he slowly entered you. You tried your best, but you felt so absolutely full, there was no way to begin to relax. He soon bottomed out in, gasping in the feeling. Although you were in pain, it felt good to make him feel good. It's what drove you, it drove you to find his approval. To see him with his eyes screwed shut, tight with pleasure. Breathy moans coming out of his mouth even though you weren't moving, it made the tears and the stretch worth it.

"So tight for me," he groaned as he was still bottomed out in you, you had to adjust to his large size for minutes or you wouldn't be able to take him. He opened his eyes, taking in your bare body. Your most private parts combined, he looked down, seeing that you took every inch of him. You could've came from this feeling alone, the pleasure of being admired and the pain of being so full.

"All for you," you moaned into his ears, slightly bobbing your hips up and down now.

"Y/N," he moaned. Watching you move your hips up and down, his hand glided up your body, slowly. Tracing the bite mark he left earlier.

His hand found its' home at your throat, slightly squeezing on it as he began fucking up into you. You were adjusting to the pain now, completely ready for him to take you as he wanted.

"Willy could never have you like this, all fucking mine," he rutted into you hard now, placing an emphasis on every single word. He wanted you to know that no man could ever have you like this.

"Should put a baby in ya, no man would ever want you then," he started, his hands gripping at your back now, forcing you to stay into place as his hips thrusted into you hard. You knew your cervix would be bruised and you would be fucked raw, but you didn't care. You wanted him to have you how he wanted you.

Your head fell into the nape of his neck, sucking at it, marking him as he had marked you. "Do it," you murmured into the skin, wanting him to have you any way he wanted you. One of his hands found their way to your clit, sending pleasure all throughout your body. You had never, ever felt this good before. The mixture of being full and his words did something incredible to you, something you couldn't explain.

"Elvis," you moaned, your hips now meeting his. You needed him, needed him like you needed oxygen to breathe.

"Just like that baby," he said, his hips stuttering into yours. He could hardly keep his eyes open with the vice grip your pussy held onto him with.

"Mine, all mine," he quickened his pace, with both his hand on your clit and his thrusts. You wanted to run away from the pleasure he was giving you, but also stay right in place for him.

"So close, baby," he groaned into your ear. He now was thrusting into you, hard. Hitting your cervix. every. single. time.

"M-me, too," you stuttered, not able to find the words in the back of your throat to describe the way he was making you feel. The breath stuck in your lungs and a ball forming in your stomach.

"I love you," he said on one last particularly hard thrust, causing the ball to pop in your stomach and for you to see stars. He finished at the same time, his hands forcing your hips down completely onto him. Your walls were milking his cock, his juices finding their way home into you.

After your orgasm, your breaths were rapid and your vision blurred. You had never felt so good before in your life, you rested your forehead against his. Your mixed juices now leaking out of you around him.

"I love you too," you breathily laughed out, crazy how this night took a complete turn...

a/n: honestly, I don't love it! but i wanted y'all to have something while im on vacay.

find the taglist form linked on my masterlist!

taglist: @kittenlittle24 @dellahalewrites @nananananannerman @psychedelic-70s @vampiregirl444 @chaoticdefendortree @butlersbabe @domaniquessidehoe @pumpkin3-1415 @softmullet @justjacesstuff @defintelynotbreathing @whatstruthgottodowithit @jetva @lunarlovingdreamer @bobbykennedyfan @datsavageavenger @anbanananna @in-love-with-will-byers @bamitzzsam @butlersluvbot @cb97slut @lizzylynch1 1 @yuxixuu @unmaskthewriter @madsb2300 @yenbennie @stitched-mouth @creativewriter2002 @paigemillz @noparcha @ilovesteveharrington @allierw @girlwholikesghosts @alligator-person @re3kin @fifty.shades.of.H @ur.angle000 @theliterarybeldam @blondemoments4l @babywhoresnop @kairoclerosis @peachyjaemin @sparklehani @bubblessugar28 @nini-2009 @worldmadeofmemories @seaweed-orchid @austinbutler17 @everythingisspokenfor @girlblogger2002 @lukanasky @prettyboyswow @gemstone9 @eddiemunsonsgffff @sunsetfreedom05 @cchl @butlerfilmz @yogotti11 @emersxn99 @hot-and-confused @thedepressedhippie @mr-aurum @slutforblueeyes @adoreyouusugar @styles-canvas @hails-schae @claudia-aa @tubble-wubble @butlerfilmz @lilycherries123 @hangmanswhore @erasable-mustache @artsyhead @azzy-ar @friedwangsss @devotedlysweetnight @apparently-sunshine @dark-as-love

[silly-thinkings]

Twisted Daydream~

  Sorry for just ghosting, motivation for writing has been pretty slow. but my fics are being worked on! (The Cursed stone is what I've been focusing on recently. only 3-4 chapters need to be written)

I've received many kind words on "Vacation gone wrong". and it is a stand-alone story. This is just filler ya know. will a narrative come out of this? Maybe... I have been thinking about A plot. But this has been sitting in my Docs for a while now and I'm happy with how it came out. Let me know what you think about it :3

P.S this is a long read--  Tumblr isn’t letting me post all that sooooo.... this is broken up into parts;-;

Please do not Repost my work. Likes and reblogs are appreciated. I do not own any of the DC Characters. This is just Fanfic

The gentle rays of the sun graced your face as you took a deep breath. You looked out the window of your small cottage home and reviled in the beautiful view of the grand farm in front of you. You were in paradise. A paradise perfect for you and Bruce to spend the afterlife.

“You know, I still can't believe I made it up here” You heard Bruce say as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Whatever do you mean?” You adjust your body to face him.

“Well… the things I've done, as Batman-”

“What? Beating up the bad guys?” You said with a giggle before placing a hand on his cheek “Bruce, you’ve done so much good. And then some. Besides, plenty of magic users foretold that we’d be together in the afterlife.”

Bruce smiled, your comforting words easing his mind. He placed his forehead onto yours as the both of you just enjoyed each other's space.

That was until the scent of fire invades your senses. Bruce immediately was put on high alert as a green liquid slowly began to engulf his body.

Your breath hitched as he slowly backed away “Bruce? What's happening?” Suddenly a sharp pain began to overrun your body causing you to fall to the floor.

Bruce felt cold as if he were submerged in water.

“No… no no NO!! Can’t I have any PEACE!” He shouted as the liquid consumed his body.

You felt helpless as you reached your hand out to Bruce. Your face pained him “Y/N… I think someone is bringing us back.”

“The pit?”

“Yes…”

Bruce noticed how You had a different substance corrode you. A blue fire began to surround your body. He pulled you into him. “Y/N, I will find you. I will fix this” Bruce cradled your form as the fire spread faster.

The pain you felt crescendo before you whispered one final time “ see you soon.”

Bruce watched as the fire engulfed all of you before he too disappeared from paradise.

****

The surrounding guards watched as Bruce rose from the waters with such a rage they've never seen before. Bruce was rabid, Punching and kicking every guard who dared to cross paths with him.

“Don’t Shoot!, we can't afford another death.”

That voice, Bruce immediately turned to attack the woman before he was successfully subdued with a tranquilizer gun. The woman slowly walked forward to the now sleeping man. “Welcome back my beloved, we have much to do.”

~Elsewhere~

A scientist slowly backed away from the grand tank that housed the one and only Y/N Wayne. He was tasked with the impossible, to resurrect the dead. With some help, and a mysterious liquid that was given to him by an unknown source he believed he’d done it.

“Yes… yes yes YES! HAHAHA, the Court will finally accept me now.” He hollered in joy as he hugged the tank.

Y/N Floated in the teal-colored water as her body slightly twitched. The sound of a phone caused the Scientist to break from his glorious accomplishment “Tucker speaking. I'm busy”

“Is that so? I hope that you have the results we are hoping for.”

Tucker gulped as he realized who was on the other end of the phone “Lady Angelica. I- I didn't expect a call… especially so soon”

“The court and I wanted to know if the little project we were funding had progressed”

Tucker turned to the glass tank and smiled “Yes well, Ms. Wayne has returned. H-however I still need more time.”

There was a long pause before Angelica spoke “Excellent work Mr. Tucker. I will send a Talon your way for protection. We don't want any vigilantes spoiling our plans.”

There was a click on the other end of the phone. Tucker stared at it wide-eyed before whooping in joy “Thanks to you Wayne, ill finally be recognized in this city.” He walked over to his desk and pressed a button, draining the water “You and your husband rejected my plans for Gotham. Even Luthor thought I was crazy. But now I’ll-”

“GRAH!” Y/N slammed her head against the glass, causing Tucker to jump a bit in shock. Blood trickled down her cheek as she pulled her fists back to slam the glass.

“No no no” Tucker pressed another button causing water to drain faster before smoke began filling the tank. He watched as Y/N’s body swayed from side to side before falling limp.

“Great. She’s not really back…” Tucker placed his hands in his hair in a panic before freezing “No… I’ve essentially reset her! She is nothing more than a wild beast that must be tamed.” ~~Continue Here~~

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I think you mentioned Death Note before. My question here is simple: does Misa's ending seems good?

I know anime and manga have different endings for her but ade they good for her? I ask bc I always wonder if sexism was a play on Misa's character or if we are supposed to see her like that. A sad pawn fot Light.

Talking about the manga and comic.

What is a good ending?

But before that, a note on sexism in Death Note

Holy God, the Sexism in Death Note

There are no female characters in Death Note. This is a bit of an exaggeration but one that's sadly and hilariously true.

Sayu is tertiary character who barely gets any lines and meets a mysterious and horrifying fate where we last see her in a wheelchair and non-responsive, highly implying she was raped, and this is just... never touched on. It's not even not touched on, Sayu basically gets punted out of the story at the earliest convenience after serving her purpose of being kidnapped and making Light miserable for a little while.

Sachiko is even less of a character, getting even less lines, and pretty much shunted out of the way of the entire story. We never get much of a look of how the ongoing Kira investigation, the death of Soichiro, and the death of Light affects the surviving Yagamis Sayu and Sachiko (nor what they're told even happened at the end of the day).

There are no women on the task force. Ever.

Wedy isn't even a character: she's just a jump suit and a motorcycle who... does things for L? Unclear, it's honestly not even clear why she ever even shows up in a panel at all.

Naomi Misora gets a glorious episode or two/volume devoted to her. Then she was too smart so they killed her off (no, really, this is the explanation of why she had to die/be written out of the story.)

Takeda at least gets lines but... she's treated almost as comedic relief/a fool in the end and one mercilessly played by Light who has little to no understanding of what's going on at any given moment.

Misa is actually one of the series' more clever characters, but the series never admits it as you get characters like L constantly belittling her accomplishments even when she goes and collects evidence of Higuchi being Kira for him. Thanks Misa, so glad you helped out with that one.

My point being though, when it comes to women, Death Note is one of the worst anime/manga I've ever seen.

But Back to Misa's End

I actually don't have too many problems with it.

Misa as a character is a tragic one who bases her entire identity on Light. Especially as she keeps undoing her memories and she loses even her reasons for being with Light in the first place as well as much of what drives her. Misa sacrifices so much of herself in the series it almost demands this needless death/unecessary tragedy on her own part due to the choices she made through the series. When Light goes, she has little reason to stick around, hence her suicide.

More, Misa halved her lifespan so many times, even with the Shinigami bonus, that I'd rather we see her die in the series than not. We know that Misa must pay a price for this, and this price may come at any moment.

Misa's end is a bit like Chekov's Gun, given how much it's referenced and that we know it's coming very soon, I do want to see it at the end of things.

Everyone involved with Kira meets tragic ends and Misa is no exception.

While she falls into the pit of female Death Note characters being... female Death Note Characters, I have no issue with her ending and am not automatically raising my "sexism ahoy!" flag.

Death Note has much much much worse examples in that department.

What Did the Author's Want?

The authors were very clear in that they wanted Light/the Kira gang to be unsympathetic and deserving of their ends. Misa can't get a good end any more than Light can. And they went very far out of their way to ensure that Light lost. Uh, ridiculously and unrealistically so.

They really wanted him to lose that one.

In general, Death Note's not one of those series where I agree with the authors much if at all and I have strong disagreements for how they handled the series (basically anything from the Yotsuba arc onward).

So, I'm really not the one to ask about this.