#i am a fucking object to him to be bent and forced into the shape that pleases him

[klaxxi]

it's sort of bizarre to think about how my dad's confused why i fucking hate him when he treats me like a waste of air lol

[mustyrosewater]

their responses to the words “make me.”

as i’m sure we all know, the two words “make me.” are some of the most used in a brat’s vocabulary. greatly inspired by my good friend @the-door-matt​ (who is a self proclaimed brat.) i have decided to write how pedro’s characters respond to said sentence. good luck, and god bless the brats. 

NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

javier pena :

baby, are-

are you sure you don’t have a death wish? surely you do if you give a man like javier pena any from of attitude. 

all day, you’d been trying to get under your co workers skin, simple things such as taking just a little bit of extra time getting your coffee, making you late. wearing those bell bottom jeans you know hugged your ass just the right way, anything you could do to get on javier pena’s nerves, you did.

you don’t even remember what he asked you for, maybe he’d asked you to hand him a pen, or even pass him a file that was sitting beside you; all that you remember, is leaning forward slightly from where you were sitting on the desk and tilting your head before saying those cursed to words.

“make me, pena.”

admittedly, you should have known better, but for some strange reason, you’d just felt the need to push one his buttons, at least you’d been wise enough to do this when it was after hours, only the two of you left in his office to sort through reports and such. 

you should have known that from the way he turned deathly still and looked up at you slowly, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. if look’s could kill, you’d most definitely be dead. you could only watch as he slowly took the cigarette from his lips and squashed it in the ceramic ashtray on his desk. 

next thing you know, javier has gotten up from his desk and is now standing in front of you, a hand now wrapped gingerly around your lower throat, not applying any pressure, simply sitting his hand there and keeping you still. 

“is that how it’s going to be? you’ve been trying to get under my skin all day missy.” 

as he speaks, his head lowers from around your throat to begin ghosting along your covered skin, barley applying enough pressure to feel his touch, just enough to know that its there.

“this is what you want? is that why you’ve been trying to push my buttons all day hm?”

legend has it you had trouble walking the next day, bruises on your hips and thighs certainly saw to that. needless to say, javi didn’t get attitude from you except on some very special occasions. 

francisco “catfish” morales : 

you took his hat, babe, why did you take his hat?!

he’d been searching for it since he woke up, after he’d had a shower, only to find that his hat wasn’t waiting for him on the bedside table as it always was. there was also the matter of the fact that you were nowhere to be found. 

he came down the stairs slowly, only now hearing movement in the kitchen. when he finally poked his head around the corner only to find you in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and waiting for toast to pop did he spot his cap sat snugly on top of your head, turned backwards allowing him to see the logo of the oil company. 

you must have heard him, because you turned and offered him a big smile, though he could read the mischief clear on your face. 

“morning.” you practically sang as he approached, wrapping your arms around his waist and standing on your toes to kiss the end of his nose. his hands sat snugly on your hips as he stared down at you like you would stare at a puppy that had been caught chewing on its owners shoe. 

before he could reach up to take his hat back, you broke away from his hold once you’d heard the toast pop. 

wasting no time, frankie only shook his head. “give it back.” he knew you knew what he meant, but you only turned around, giving a mock clueless look.

“give what back, babe?”

“my hat, give it back.” he didn’t sound angry, not even annoyed; if anything, he sounded like he was enjoying this little game you’d started with him.

“make me, francisco.” 

you quickly realized you’d fucked up when his eyes suddenly darkened, as he moved closer to you and had you pressed up against the counter in a manner of seconds. his breathing had suddenly grown heavy and he was practically grinding against you. 

as you breathed out a few soft moans, shutting your eyes and wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt the cap being pulled off of your head, opening your eyes just in time to see him placing his cap back on his head.

your mouth hung open as he smiled down at you and turned around heading for the front door. 

“don’t even think about it francisco.” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him back into the kitchen, hearing him laughing as he spun you around and pushed you back onto the counter, continuing his trail of kisses. 

shane “dio” morissey : 

oof, well, i can tell you that you fucked up.

dio is not somebody who likes to be given attitude in any shape or form, not getting his way, whether it be through manipulation or force, is an entirely foreign concept our resident goth boy. 

literally, doesn’t even matter why you said it, or what it was about. all that matters is that the words “make me” are like flicking a switch in dio’s mind that suddenly has you pressed against the wall with his hands wrapped around your throat as well as dio practically seething the most pornographic sentences into your ear.

don’t expect to be experiencing any release though, dio is going to do whatever he wants, and that means that you won’t be cumming until you’re crying, not until you’ve learnt his lesson.

whether that means you spend hours with his head between your thighs or rather hours bent over the bed with him pounding into you relentlessly until you can’t take anymore, it’s all the same to dio. 

he’s not going to let you cum until you are in tears baby cakes, not until you’re crying out that you can’t take any more and that you’re sorry, this is never going to happen again and that he needs to stop.

well, then he will, only long enough to gruffly let out “make me.” before resuming his torture on your body.

yeah, you won’t be walking straight for quite a few days after that, sorry not sorry. 

oberyn martell :

it’s the giving an actual prince attitude for me-

no, for real, despite the fact that oberyn is a prince, we know that he doesn’t take it too close to heart when it comes to thinking he’s above certain things.

however, you? being a brat? haha yeah that shit’s not gonna fly. as soon as you say that sentence and give him that look, it’s over. oberyn doesn’t tolerate you being a brat unless he wants you to be a brat.

he will simply repeat his request, allowing you one more chance to be good for him, when you retaliate with another “make. me.” this time pausing between words, oberyn simply shrugs, he gave you a chance, can’t say he didn’t try.

he walks towards you and picks you up, dropping you down onto the bed, staring down at your as he unlaces the lather belt holding his tunic in place. he lets it fall off of his shoulders leaving him only in his loose orange pants as you stare up at him, narrowing your eyes and biting your lip. 

he’s not stupid sis, he knows that this was what you wanted all along, seven god’s forbid he actually lets you get away with it though.

overstimulation and spanking is all that you’re going to get, all while he nonchalantly tells you “i gave you a chance to be good my little dove, if you want to be bad, see what you get.” before he lets another smack come down hard on your thigh. 

much like our friend dio, oberyn isn’t going to stop until you’re on the brink of tears and apologizing profusely, just pleading, begging for him to let you come. 

however, unlike dio, oberyn will cave in and let you because he’s lying if he says that look when your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open turn him to putty in your hands. 

din djarin : 

ok look, he tried, he really did.

when you first replied to his request to pass him a tool with a mischevous “make me.” he only stopped for a second before resuming what he was working on.

“i’m serious.” he replied as nonchalantly as always, only causing a pout to form on your face.

“so am i.” you shrugged, moving the tool box out of his reach with your foot when he let out a sigh and reached for the tool himself.

“i’m not in the mood.” he grunted, standing up to tower over you, staring you down through the vizor of his helmet. you couldn’t even see his face, but knowing that under his helmet he must have been starting to get annoyed only brought a smirk onto your own. 

the tool that was clasped tightly between your hands was the next object of his staring. he reached for it, only for you to place your hand behind your back, not once breaking eye contact with the bounty hunter. 

though his helmet you could hear the pissed off huff he gave, right before he grabbed your other wrist and spun you around to push you down onto the crate you’d been previously sitting on. unable to move, you could only wait as he pried to tool out of your hand and suddenly let you go, only turning back to what he was working.

pouting, you turned around, expecting to see him continuing his work, instead, you watched him chuck the tool back into the tool box before he looked back at you, reaching forward to grip you by your shoulders and lead you into the room that two of you shared on the crest.

only checking once to make sure the kid was asleep, he shut the door behind him and shoved you down onto the bed, beginning to unbuckle his belt, only staring at you through his vizor. 

he fucked you into the mattress that night, so hard that you had bruises on your hips when you woke up, walking out of the room only to find him working once again, missing the small chuckle that emitted from him as you limped past him.

maxwell lord :

sorry my love, maxwell lord IV doesn’t take orders from anybody, especially not you. the two of you had gotten into some petty argument, something about how you’d already responded to star labs saying he’d be attending their charity gala, and now here he was, claiming that he no longer wanted to attend purely based off of the fact that one of the sales rep’s had given him a dirty look as they were leaving. 

you were stood in front of his desk, arms crossed and tapping your foot impatiently, staring at your boss as he propped up his feet and gave you that smirk that was all to familiar and all too infuriating. 

without another word, you simply threw your hands up and grabbed your coat, turning around and walking towards the large mahogany doors you knew would take you out of his office.

“don’t walk away from me.” his voice rung out behind you, as well as the sound of him standing up from his chair. 

you didn’t reply, only continued walking; just as your hand touched the door handle his voice rung out again, though much colder, much more harsh.

“don’t you take one more step out of this office.” 

you whipped your head around to look at maxwell, your eyes suddenly wide with insult, who the hell was he to order you? well, technically he was your boss, but still. 

you took a few steps towards him, your heel’s clicking on the marble floor before you stopped and stood in silence, letting your eyes linger on his face before finally speaking. 

“make me.” 

without even waiting for a reply you turned around and continued your retreat out of the office that you were sure cost more than your own house three times over. 

but before you could leave, you felt hands on your shoulders as you were spun around harshly to meet the angry eyes of maxwell, his breathing was heavy and his perfectly gelled hair had moved slightly out of place, leaving a few strands sitting on his forehead. 

“is that what i have to do to get you to fucking listen to me once in awhile hm?” as he spoke, he turned the two of you around and continued until you were pushes against his desk feeling the hard wooden table digging into the backs of your thighs. 

all i’m gonna say is, expect to be bent over that desk and prepare to hide the bruises around your thighs from by the time our man is done with you.

you may have begun to order him around a lot more often after that occurence, who knows. 

max phillips :

okay well, for one 

why are you saying “make me” to your boss

especially when your boss is max phillips  

it was, in all honestly, because you were having a bad day, technically your shift wasn’t starting for another ten minutes, you’d only just sat down at your desk and let out a sigh as you heard your boss’ office door opening as well as those infuriatingly well polished shoes appearing in your vision.

without even saying good morning or anything, max was already on your case about those reports that were meant to be on his desk by this afternoon.

not even waiting for a reply, he patted you on the shoulder and reminded you that you needed to start working.

without even thinking, as he was walking away, you blurted out a snide “make me.” it was meant to be quieter than it came out, a little snap only meant for your ears, and yet, somehow, he seemed to have heard it loud and clear.

the second, and i mean the second, those words leave your mouth, max’s head will have spun around to look at you in disbelief, sparing little to no time before he’s placing his hands flat on the desk of your cubicle and narrowing his eyes at you, only to growl:

“my office, right now.”

hope you’re ready bby, cause max certainly is. 

all your coworkers have to pretend that they don’t know exactly whats going to happen when max asks you to close the door behind you.

max practically shuffles his desk into the wall while bending you over it and fucking you into tomorrow, in his mind, this was his way of showing you what an attitude like that would get you

they also pretend that they can’t hear the banging and muffled moans coming from his office, he’s their boss, they can’t say shit. 

by the time your waddling out of his office, sheepishly adjusting your dress and collar, all while max leans in the door frame with a confident smirk plastered on his face. 

this is then followed by him demanding that everybody stop staring and get back to work.

jack daniels a.k.a agent whiskey : 

i love our yeehaw man, you love our yeehaw man, we love our yeehaw man.

so i can’t work out why you would want to get on this mans nerves.

it starts out small, little things that you know will push his buttons, stealing his hat off of his head once, then twice and then finally a third time.

you sat on his desk beside where he was working and grabbed the hat off of his head for the third time after he’d taken it back, placing it on top of your head and flicking the brim upwards playfully.

you knew he could stop you from taking it, but he was either enjoying this more than he was letting on, or didn’t have the heart to stop your fun, either way; what had started out as fun was very noticeably beginning to annoy him.

he sighed deeply when you grinned at him, swinging your legs back and fourth from where you were sitting.

“babygirl, light of my life, will you please stop taking my hat.” 

his voice was audibly tired as he looked up at you, only to see you grinning.

“but i like it, it looks better on me.”

by the sound he made, you could tell you were right, or at the very least, he really enjoyed seeing you in his hat, but despite that, he still lifted a hand to reach for it only to have you lean away from his reach

“i’m gonna have to ask for that back sugar.” 

“make me cowboy.”

as soon as you said that, his eyes noticeably darkened as soon as you said it, leading to him standing up and stepping in front of you, standing between your legs. 

“i won’t ask again babycakes. give me the hat.”

your only response was to lean in and smile at him.

“make. me.”

that was the limit, within mere blinks of an eye you found yourself bent over whiskey’s knee as he sat down in his office chair, the hat still on your head.

“i gave you the chance babygirl, no arguing now.”

your ass is gonna be red by the time your out of that chair, and i can confirm you will indeed be walking weird tomorrow.

but hey, it was worth the hat, wasn’t it?

pero tovar : 

baby i hope you know what you’re doing..

you stole his coin purse off of his belt while walking past him in the market, you’d stolen several coin purses today, this was just the first one that caught you.

you were only a few meters away when you’d heard him yell out from behind you, resulting in you breaking into a sprint through the crowd in order to get away from the mercenary now hunting you.

it took a few minutes of running before you were able to successfully escape, hiding behind a building and leaning against the wall huffing and puffing feeling like you were going to be sick.

finally calm enough to continue on, you turned the corner only to run bang smack into said mercenarys chest, the now very angry mercenary.

“you made me chase you through three streets senorita.”

despite attempting to turn and run once more, he caught you almost instantly and had you slammed against the wall.

“you’re one of the only people that have been able to outrun me, but despite this, you stole from me. give it back.”

maybe it was the high adrenaline, or the fact that the close proximity was allowing you to feel his breath on your cheek, but for some reason, you decided to dig your own grave even deeper.

“make me.”

the growl that left that man was nothing if not animalistic, the next thing you knew, you’d been swung around and having your chest pressed against the wall as he grinded against you, dipping face down to breathe in your scent.

“if we’re going to be like that senorita...”

yeah, needles to say you had a very fun time from then on out explaining to people how you met your latin lover. 

dave york : 

death. ELECTRIC CHAIR. did u really, reeeaallly decide to give a trained assassin attitude? ur funeral babes. 

i don’t even want to know how it happened, but as soon as that man heard “make me.” leave your pretty little lips. oh mama.

you were bent over the kitchen counter, hand through your hair, pulling it back and other hand blissfully placed around your neck, gradually applying more pressure.

“oh, you thought that was fucking funny? you want me to make you? you little fucking whore, i’ll make you then.”

trust this man will be leaving several bruises all over your body, this is literal hate fucking at a certain point, there is no other way to describe the way this man reacts to attitude of any kind.

words cannot describe the state that you are left in, but as much as it hurt, the aftercare is worth it. waking up to him laying soft kisses along your shoulder, all the bruises and bitemarks.

bringing you coffee while running you a bath so that the two of you can relax and let your body recover from the absolute torture and pleasure it has been through 

[hvlfwygod]

know your strength, part 2 | patrick & ben

tw: idk it’s a little intense

June 20

When he opened the door, his father was on the other side.

Very creative, he thought, or said. So the dream skipped a few minutes and got right to the point. Despite himself, his heart started beating faster, faster, and he closed his eyes, but this was a nightmare so he saw it all happening anyway.

I’m not going to give you the satisfaction, he said, or thought, just as the door slammed in his face again and the dark started to suffocate him. Whatever you want, I’m not doing it.

I’m just happy to know you’re stuck here. The voice sounded muffled, far away, and then footsteps retreated, leaving him there.

His heart was still racing when he woke up.

—

A small canvas, coated in blacks, grays, browns. Dark reds. Jagged bursts of white.

His stomach curled, threatening to eat itself.

His head hurt, hurt, hurt. 

The figure in the doorway stood like a menace, face blurred because his fingers would not stop trembling. 

Patrick hadn’t slept so much in months, and the inspiration was spilling out of him. He woke up in the middle of the night and finally knew how to finish the painting. His throat burned, he wanted to be high and far away, anchored only by his frenetic brushstrokes. This scene was not his mind, but it was shaped like his nonetheless. All quaking lines and consuming shadows. It was hungry and aching, just like him.

His leg bounced, shaking his easel.

He felt like shit.

But he was nearly done. Withdrawal was a bitch and lasting long, long, but he’d be out of the woods soon. Soon. Focusing on creating let him shut out the rest.

June 21

Constant nightmares were not new to him. He could handle them, especially since he knew why they were happening. There was no monster waiting for him when he closed his eyes.

Still.

He knew how to function on little to no sleep. And he’d started napping, snatching a few hours of peaceful, quiet rest.

Still.

He was sure that the point was to break him. Make him tell someone, or beg for it to stop, or grovel and apologize. He wouldn’t. He could endure more than most.

Still. Still. Still.

Ben kept waiting for his mother to come, but she must have had better things to do.

June 22

When the painting was done, he set it to dry, then scoured his kitchen. Left his roommate a sloppy apology note. Ate until the hunger pangs stopped. 

His head was clearer now, and he thought about his knife.

Patrick would never tire of his nightmares. He reveled in them, came alive when he had them. He’d never stop relying on them first, always.

Still, a push might be nice.

Hence the painting. And the knife. (An impulsive purchase, back when he could make those.)

He hadn’t really had a plan when he started this. All he wanted to do at first was attack, to indulge his powers. But now that days had circled by and Patrick had circled deeper into a hellish sobriety, he wanted more. He wanted to see Ben’s face.

Patrick found it on his shelves. He watched the blade spill into shape, roll back, spill again. Roll back, again. Spill.

He really felt like shit.

Patrick hadn’t slept so much in months, but he slept anyway, because the other option was to think and think and think and think about little pills, little tabs, little piles of powder.

—

Ben didn’t try unpinning himself from under the beast— he knew in this version of events no one came to save him. But he did look it in the face. How much longer until you get bored?

Never, it answered, showing off its teeth. Are you? I can make things worse. I love a challenge.

Ben felt the ground move. A hand emerged from underneath him and rested on his forehead. It pulled him down, down. He didn’t flinch, even as his chest tightened up. Whatever you do, it won’t work.

The monster made a low, growling noise, but it sounded amused. It will work on someone else, I’m sure. You have a roommate? I noticed on my walk in.

Ben did not answer, which felt like a defeat. Another hand snaked around his arm, his leg, hugged his torso from below. Because this was a nightmare he knew he was going somewhere worse. The beast hummed again, the noise huge and deep.

I won’t, I won’t. As long as you meet me tomorrow. I have a gift for you.

June 23

For how excited he was, it was hard to get out of bed. His head felt as though it was trying to detach itself from his body.

Patrick felt almost delirious from the pain exploding out of his skull. Had withdrawal been this bad last time?

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. He found something that resembled a painkiller, drank water straight from the faucet. He felt like complete shit, but it didn’t matter. He had somewhere to be.

—

Every morning since this started, he woke up angry. Today was no different.

Ben considered the candle, still in the same place on his dresser. Unlit, and no offering beside it.

He was in no mood to cook.

There were no instructions on where to meet, so he just went to the same place as before. He bought another coffee, sat at a bench, and waited.

Something approached him that was tall and gaunt and resembling a human that hadn’t slept in days. Ben confirmed after a few frantic blinks that it wasn’t a ghost. His shoulders relaxed.

He had about three seconds of relief before his shoulders tensed up again. Ben had no time to get up, so he pressed himself back into the bench. “Are you fucking crazy?”

There was a knife in Patrick’s hand. It was oddly shaped, and the blade was black and slick like an oil spill. Ben’s eyes didn’t move from the sharpened point, because he wasn’t sure where it would go once he looked away.

“Oh, relax,” Patrick scoffed. Ben watched the knife get lifted, and the blade slide into its hilt, defying all that he knew about knives and the laws of physics. “Of course you assume I’m going there. Fucking scumbag.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Ben asked. Cautiously, he glanced up to Patrick’s face. The man looked very, very sick, and equal parts smug.

Instead of answering, Patrick presented the object in his other hand. Ben had been so focused on the weapon he hadn’t even noticed the painting until it was in his lap.

His father glowered back at him. He stood in the doorway to Ben’s old room, body slightly turned. Clothing rumpled. One arm hung down, hand curled around a bottle. The other was gently bent at the elbow. He was pointing, just firmly enough to be menacing. Clothes scattered the room, his bed just peeked into view, mostly eaten by shadow. His father was mid-sentence. His face drooped into its scowl, as if his muscles has learned to settle into that expression.

The lines were shaky, but it was so perfectly him.

Ben poured his coffee all over it.

Patrick was laughing, but Ben heard it at a slight delay. He could barely see anything besides his father’s painted face, warping.

Aw, you don’t like it? Ben realized Patrick was talking. “But I worked so hard! I guess I’ll try to do better next time. Don’t worry, Prius, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Ben was so mad he couldn’t speak. His heartbeat shook his entire frame. His teeth practically chattered as he tried and failed and tried and failed to respond.

“How d—”

“How dare I?” Patrick interrupted. Suddenly, he was in Ben’s face, and Ben jerked away. Another laugh, but he couldn’t hear it at all.

Sometimes anger was like a living thing.

—

Something was wrong. The headache hadn’t subsided. In fact, it’d only gotten worse since leaving his house.

Ben was unresponsive. Patrick’s skull was spitting open. Something was wrong. The wrongness needled at him. He was almost nauseous, but stubbornly he refused to stop smiling.

“Prius? Oh, poor guy, did I upset you? Good.” He sneered as he grabbed Ben’s face, forced him to look up from the ruined painting, now on the ground. The man flinched, but not out of fear. He couldn’t describe it, but the distinction was obvious. Ben was returning to this reality, and he was pissed.

Plus, his eyes were all wrong.

“You’ve had it too good for a killer, Ben,” Patrick sneered. His knife was close; maybe unneeded, considering the response the painting had caused. But he’d come this far, and the guy deserved it. So he held it up, pressed it to Ben’s cheek, pulled it down.

It didn’t draw blood, not really. It was more interesting than that. His knife was an extension of his powers, and it harmed accordingly. Something inky and unkind sank into Ben’s skin. In the same instant, his screamed. He curled over, hands flying to the mark. Patrick backed away, watching with a bright, hungry interest. For as much as he loved his nightmares, there was a sick satisfaction with seeing the fear in person.

Ben had said he was immune. Patrick had called bullshit, and he was right. He reveled in that.

Then, his head exploded.

—

Ben hoped that Patrick felt every second of his nightmares. Every single, terrible second of this. This unrelenting terror, this mind-bending fear, fear, fear. This free fall into the worst of his memories. He hoped Patrick felt it all, tenfold.

No, twenty fold.

Feel it. Physically, terribly feel it.

His mind scrambled to steady itself. He came to just as Patrick was passing out.

And then, he left again, this time with his mother. Ben could barely tell up from down; all he knew is that she was just as angry.

—

For a split second, Patrick thought he died.

He pushed himself upright. Instead of Ben, Morpheus sat across from him. They weren’t in New Athens anymore. If he had to guess, Patrick would say his dad brought him inside a cloud.

“How do you feel?”

Patrick scowled. “Good to see you, too.”

Morpheus sighed. “Kiddo, what’s going on?”

“Don’t call me kiddo,” Patrick snapped at him. “Nice of you to show up after I figure out my powers. Really convenient.”

“Did you want me to leave you on the sidewalk?” Morpheus looked genuinely confused. Patrick just scoffed. The god sighed again. “I am glad your dreams are back, son.”

“Don’t mock me. You gonna take them away again?”

Another look of confusion. Morpheus tilted his head. “I didn’t take them away.”

Patrick frowned at him. “Then why—”

“Patrick, come on. You just needed to sober up.”

All this time. Patrick stared at Morpheus. “Bullshit.”

“I don’t deal in bullshit.”

“Ugh.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “No one says that.”

Morpheus shrugged. “I’m a god, I don’t need to keep up.”

“Whatever.” Something about this conversation was deeply humiliating. Patrick turned away. “Thanks for the help, I guess.”

“You didn’t answer me. How do you feel?”

He paused, thought about it seriously. “My head feels better. I feel, okay.”

“Good.” Another stretch of quiet. “I love how you use your powers. But be responsible, please.” When Patrick didn’t respond, there was another, longer sigh.

He reemerged in his bed. At his side was a few bills and a bottle of water. A little note that read: say no to drugs -M

—

“What are you thinking?”

Nemesis was raging. Ben stood in a parking lot in Canada, shaking.

“This is what you use your power for, Ben? A petty fight?”

Ben sucked in a breath. “I didn’t—”

“You cursed him days ago—”

“I didn’t know.”

“That is no excuse! You cursed him then, and then again just now! You could have killed him!”

“I don’t know what to do.” Ben was crying, all at once. Everything crashed on top of him, all at once. “Sorry, can you give me a minute?”

She gave him six, since that was how long he needed before he could speak again.

Slowly, he wiped his face with his palms. “How do I control it? Why didn’t you come earlier?”

“You need to figure this out. Your power is triggered by anger. You cannot let it consume you like this.”

“I don’t want it to,” he argued, but weakly. His eyes burned. “That was what he did, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be like that.”

“Don’t think about him. This is about you, Ben.”

“Mom, what do I do?” He looked up at her. “People hate me, they’re out to get me, and I can’t even blame them, but I still did this. I want to stand up for myself without—” He shook his head. “I can’t keep doing this. Please help me not do this.” He was shivering, cold to his bones.

Nemesis was quiet. Then she placed a hand on Ben’s head. “I will try to guide you, Ben. But this is still your responsibility.”

It was a kinder response than he expected. Ben felt like crying again. He closed his eyes. For the first time that week, he felt as tired as he should be. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in town. The sun was bright, the painting gone. Patrick, too, was nowhere to be seen.

He took a deep breath.

Ben put his head in his hands for a while, then he stood. He needed to go home. He needed to lay in bed for the rest of his life, but just the rest of the day would have to do.

[innuendostudios]

A short video about story structure, capitalism, and Blade Runner 2049.

Support this work by backing me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

Can I ask you something tricky?

In this scene… does consent exist?

Here we have Joi, a holographic girlfriend, programmed to love you but who cannot touch you, and Mariette, a replicant sex worker, programmed to fuck you but who has no strong feelings about it. Put them together and you have almost an entire lover.

Now, I imagine the value of a replicant sex worker is the same as with any automation: a mechanized warehouse never takes a bathroom break, a self-driving rideshare won’t refuse you service for acting inappropriately, and an automated sex worker never turns down a john. Or maybe she can; it’s unclear. Part fo the premise of Blade Runner 2049 is that modern replicants don’t break the rules. [“My kind don’t run.”] Yet the movie is full of replicants breaking the rules. They have some latitude. But the whole reason synthetic laborers exist is because, though the rules may be bent or broken, they constrain replicants in ways they do not constrain humans.

Mariette is told by her madame to go home with Joe and plant a tracker on him that will become important later in the movie. So maybe she can say no to Joe. But can she say no to madame? Both are open questions.

And then there’s Joi. Joi loves her man with all her heart, because that’s what she’s built to do. She is an operating system whose primary function is to love the user. She has no choice in the matter. But, then: who does? None of us decide whom we fall in love with. That is something everyone who’s ever lived has shared with Joi. The difference between us and her is, in Joi’s case, someone else decided for her.

So I ask again: can either of these women consent? Or was consent granted on their behalf the moment they came into existence?

Now, say Mariette can’t say no; how different is she, really, from a human sex worker who goes home with a john she’d rather turn down, or, for that matter, an office worker who goes to work when she should take a sick day, because it’s a lean month and she needs the money? That ain’t trafficking, it’s just capitalism. The Amazon worker who pees in a bottle, the Lyft driver who doesn’t kick you out for being a creep, they live by the same law: give your employers as good as an automaton would or maybe don’t get paid.

And “do what we say or don’t eat” is, technically, a choice, but I wouldn’t call it agency. And did any of us consent to this system? Or was consent granted on our behalf when we were born into it?

I think about agency a lot at the movies, because all the screenwriting and story structure books stressed that agency is the line that divides subject from object.

There are a few ways a story communicates who the point-of-view characters are. Whose eyes does the camera most often see through? Whose perspective are the flashbacks from? A big one is: who has plot agency?

A plot is a sequence of events, where Event 1 causes Event 2 causes Event 3, a chain from beginning to end connected by therefore and but. Searching for the missing child of a replicant woman, Joe finds a date carved on the tree where she was buried after dying in childbirth. THEREFORE he searches the birth records for that date and finds anomalous entries. THEREFORE he goes to the orphanage where the anomalous child was sent. BUT the orphanage’s data for that year is missing. THEREFORE he investigates the premises and finds a hidden toy with the date carved on it, which he has a memory of having hidden himself. BUT replicant memories are usually artificial, so it might be an implant. THEREFORE he meets with the woman who designs artificial memories. BUT she says the memory is real. THEREFORE he concludes he is the missing child. And so on.

The things Joe does in one event are causal to the events that follow; had he done something different, the story would’ve gone someplace else. The plot bends around the actions he takes, which means this is, in part, his story. That makes him a subject.

Joi has her own sequence of events that has to do with her arc as a character, but, by and large, they do not affect the overall plot. She is there as a barometer of Joe’s feelings, and to say out loud what he is thinking. The one pairing of therefore and but she can lay claim to is, she invites Mariette into the apartment. THEREFORE Mariette plants the tracker on Joe. Later, Joe is left to die in Las Vegas, BUT the replicant freedom force saves him by following the signal. It is the only time where, had Joi done something different, it would change the shape of the narrative, and it’s an accident; she dies not knowing she’s done it. The plot acts on her without her acting on it. She is part of the story, but it belongs to someone else. That makes her an object.

All stories have - and need - subjects and objects. But the tendency for subjects to be men, with women serving in largely reactive or thematic roles, is a thing to be questioned. And the tendency for these women to be young, sexy, and sometimes naked often bridges the gap from object to objectified. In truth, of all the central characters, you could most easily write Joi out of the script without seriously changing the story.

But that would be a far inferior movie, because Blade Runner 2049 is less plot-driven than driven by ideas, and Joi is everything the film is about.

Beyond being a narrative or sexual object, Joi is a literal object. The biggest decision she makes is to accompany Joe on his journey, staying by her man’s side and keeping him safe despite the risk because she loves him. And, yes, her love exists solely because it makes a few dollars for someone neither will ever meet, and they both know this, but that makes it no less real. She dies for that love, stamped out in an act of petty cruelty, and, in dying, encapsulates the replicant uprising’s philosophy before it’s even uttered: “Dying for the right cause. It’s the most human thing we can do.”

This is everything the film has to say about living in a world that gives you few options. The only real agency she ever had is when and how she would die, and on whose terms.

That may seem like a lot of symbolic heft to put on a character who is, no matter how to slice it, yet another powerless woman whose tragic death makes a man’s story more interesting. And I’m with you in that. Given the preponderance of women in this movie with nothing to do except die dramatically to underline a sentence, and the Blade Runner franchise’s already dubious notions of consent and female agency, I can’t argue that Joi is a brilliant subversion who escapes the baggage of her tropes.

But I still feel this… ambivalence. Conventional wisdom is that objects can be likable, admirable, but not relatable. They are viewed from without. Real empathy is reserved for characters with agency. And, since agency has, historically, been so unevenly distributed between genders, there is this reflex to treat it as an absolute good, to see a female character who lacks agency as prima facie bad writing.

But… as an elder millennial with no money in a broken democracy with a pitiless economy on a dying rock in space, I feel agency is in short supply. And I know there are lots of people in this world with far less than I have, and I hate to think that makes us all unfit to be protagonists. I am so rarely the thing that acts rather than the thing that is acted on. Joi speaks to me more than anyone else in the movie.

Characters who direct the stories of their lives make for great wish fulfillment, but sometimes I think it makes them less relatable.

I don’t know if that makes the screenwriters’ treatment of Joi defensible. But it is, perhaps, revealing? Maybe it’s worth questioning why agency should be the gold standard for relatability. Because, if we can’t relate to characters with little control over their lives, how could we ever tell stories about capitalism?

[fic-for-fic-sake]

It was self defense

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of death, angst, abuse, swearing. If any of this triggers you, DO NOT READ IT!

A/N: I started writing this a while ago, and just finished it tonight. Basically the reader has an abusive boyfriend and in the heat of the moment something bad happens and Bucky helps her deal with the aftermath. 

Tuesday nights were by far the worst. Jake would come home from a night of schmoozing his fellow Wall Street workers, reeking of gin and cigar smoke. He would stumble through the door, always smiling and laughing, like the jokes from the party hadn’t worn off yet. You would be in the living room, working. Hunched over your laptop, the bright screen a stark contrast to the black night that seeped in through the windows. Managing the lives of the Avengers was never an easy task but it was one that you did with pride. Usually Jake was fine with that, except when he wasn’t. 

“Baby, are you still working? It’s so late.” Jake slurred as he made his way into the kitchen. He loosened his red striped tie and grabbed a beer from the fridge, apparently he hadn’t had enough yet. 

“Yeah,” you began, rubbing your temples with your fingertips, “I just need to finish the schedule for the month.” 

You heard him rifle through drawers trying to find a bottle opener. For a while the only noise in your shared living space was the rattle of objects and Jake’s frustrated groaning. He paused, and you assumed he found what he was looking for. You heard the sound of his dress shoes hitting the wood floor as he walked in your direction. You really weren’t in the mood for his drunken behavior right now, you had schedules to build. Over the top of your screen you saw his fingers curl around your monitor and had your mouth poised with a question when he closed your laptop, beating you to the punch. 

“What the fuck is this?” He sneered, shoving the object in question into your face. 

“What is what?” You retorted, grabbing his wrist and stilling it so you could see what he was talking about. 

“This.” He said, forcefully, as he held what appeared to be a lighter in his hand. 

“Please tell me you’re not drunk enough to recognize a lighter Jake.” You joked back, rolling your eyes slightly. This was bad, even for him. 

“I know what it is but who does it belong to? Cause it sure as shit isn’t mine.” He pressed, moving around the table to stand over you. You stood up from your chair slowly, creating distance between the two of you. 

“I don’t know, maybe someone on the team? They were over here earlier so we could discuss PR for the next month.” You replied calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. You knew what Jake could be like when he was drunk and mad, it wasn’t fun. But usually you could lull him down so he was mostly docile. 

“Who?” 

“Who, what?” 

“Who. From the team. Was here.” Jake questioned, tone clipped. You let out a shaky breath, Jake could be a little jealous of the team from time to time. Especially Bucky. There was a history there and Jake knew it but no matter how many times you assured him it was over, it was all white noise to him. He wouldn’t believe it, and you had the bruises to prove it. Every time you brought Jake to an event and he saw Bucky look at you or even spare a word in your direction you felt it for the next week. Jake always swore that it would be the last time and he wouldn’t get so bent out of shape unless he really loved you. So you stayed, and you believed him. 

Your silence was a dead giveaway as to who from the team had been in your apartment. A hard blow left your right cheek stinging in pain, fat hot tears worked their way down your face as you held your cheek in your palm. 

“Answer me Y/N, who was here?” He screamed. 

“Bu-Bucky.” You choked out. “But I swear we were just going over his schedule.” 

“Horse shit.” Jake retorted, shoving you backwards. Your legs caught on the back of your chair and you were tossed onto the ground with a hard smack. “I bet you wore this little number for him didn’t you?” He accused, gesturing towards your plain black leggings and off the shoulder t-shirt. 

“No.” You choked out, attempting to claw yourself into a sitting position but Jake advanced on you. Kicking you swiftly in the ribs and forcing you back down. 

“Am I a joke to you Y/N?” He challenged as he squatted down next to you and shook your shoulders roughly. 

You violently shook your head no, as fear slowly coursed through your veins. His hand curled into a fist and tore through your left cheek, you could see a spatter of blood leave your mouth and decorate the stainless steel refrigerator. You cried out in pain as he wrapped his hands around your throat, forcing you to meet his harsh gaze. 

“You fucking twat. I could have any woman in the city that I want. You know that right? But I chose you. And how do you repay my gratitude? By fucking your ex in my own home?” He roared as he squeezed your throat so tight you saw black spots begin to darken your vision. You heard a sound that sounded like a dying cat and realized that the noise was coming from your own mouth. 

Your hands scrambled on the floor trying to find something to defend yourself with, your mind racing with the minimal oxygen it still had. Your hand gripped something cool and solid. You weren’t sure what it was but you brought it up and jabbed it into Jake’s arm. You could see the metal corkscrew stick out halfway from his bicep as he let out a piercing howl. He subsequently released your throat and you coughed, trying to work air back into your lungs. However, your victory was short lived. 

“You bitch, you’re gonna pay for that.” He promised, before he pulled the corkscrew out of his arm and deposited it somewhere on the floor. You scrambled to stand up, your hands seeking purchase on the cool marble countertop. Before you could stand all the way however, Jake grabbed your ankle and ripped you down once again. As you flailed your arms the knife block was knocked over and you busted your lip on a cabinet hinge on the way down. 

The copper taste of your own blood filling your mouth made you gag. Your vision was tear streaked as Jake grabbed your ankle once more and dragged you through the kitchen. You quickly grabbed the knife block and blindly threw it behind you hoping to subdue your boyfriend turned attacker. He yelped and you felt the grip on your ankle let go, you grabbed the butcher's knife and turned around to see Jake attempt to scramble towards you on the ground. He had the wooden knife block in his hands and was about to deliver a blow to your head when your instincts took over and suddenly the knife was buried in his chest. 

He let out a strangled cry as his eyes went wide and he looked down at the wound. You could feel his thick, warm, blood ooze out from the entry wound and coat your fingers in slick, red warmth. His hand came to your bicep and squeezed hard. With shaky fingers you removed the knife and stabbed again, further this time. Jake’s hand went slack around your arm and he fell backwards, sprawled out on your kitchen floor. You could feel hot tears run down your face as you removed the knife for a second time. You noticed the faint trickle of blood that made its way out of the corner of his mouth. 

You tossed the knife to the other side of the kitchen and heard the faint clatter as it landed. You sat there, shock kept you from moving. The silence was deafening. Jake’s breathing turned shallow until he was rasping and twitching and then he wasn’t. You sat there, next to his body, bloody hands trembling until you heard the faint sound of your phone ringing. Wordlessly, you stood up and went to check it. 

Bloody fingerprints stained the phone screen as you answered. 

All you could do was breathe into the receiver. Too numb to say anything. 

“Hello? Y/N? You there doll?” Bucky’s voice sounded from the other end. 

“B-Bucky?” You whispered, voice hardly audible, raspy from screaming. 

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong, are you okay?” Bucky’s deep voice probed from the other end of the line. At the pet name you lost it, gut wrenching sobs racking your body. You could hear Bucky asking questions from the other end of the line but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer them. Could only think about the man you killed, bleeding out in your shared kitchen. 

“Y/N don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.” Bucky spoke into your ear before you heard the dial tone. You sank back down onto the floor next to Jake. Unsure of where else to go. 

You heard a knock at your door and you scrambled to get up, to hide, to do, you weren’t sure of. You felt a wave of panic wash over you, adrenaline spiking. 

“Doll, it’s me, can I come in?” Bucky asked, voice muffled by the door. You slowly stood up and opened the door for him. Bucky’s ice blue eyes examined your battered face. Your busted lip, black cheek, and purple throat did a number on his heart. 

“Shit, what happened?” He questioned, eyes never leaving you. Your tears were coming faster now, pouring down your face and you brought your blood dried hands up to wipe your cheeks clean. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm. He walked around you into the kitchen and you heard his sharp intake of breath. He came back to you and gently placed his hands on either side of your face. 

“Sweetheart, I know this is gonna be hard, but I need you to tell me everything that happened, okay? I can help, but I need you to tell me.” Azure eyes burned into yours with worry and determination. With a shaky breath you told Bucky everything until your hands were trembling again and you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. 

Cool metal fingers grasped your chin and pulled your head up to meet his eyes, “Look at me. You were defending yourself. It’s okay. Why don’t you go get cleaned up while I take care of this?” He spoke softly as he stroked your hair with his flesh hand. 

Wordlessly, you made your way to the bedroom you shared with Jake. The bed was made to his standards, per usual, anything else would’ve resulted in you getting smacked. You looked to his side of the bed and his nightstand, everything was just how he left it. The Wall Street Journal folded by the lamp, his reading glasses folded next to the paper, and one of his watches haphazardly tossed on the hardwood. You felt numb as you passed the table and walked into the bathroom. You tried to avoid the mirror but when you caught your reflection you gasped. Now you understood why Bucky looked so alarmed, you looked as battered and broken as you felt. 

You lifted your shirt over your head and winced in pain. You could already feel bruises forming where Jake kicked you and from where you fell. You went into the shower and turned the water on hot, standing under the stream and silently watching as the blood that was caked to your body swirled down the white tiled drain. You scrubbed your body until it was red and raw and still you didn’t feel clean. Fresh sobs caught in your throat as you continued to come out of your state of shock. You sank to the shower floor, sitting catatonically, unable to move or feel much of anything. 

A while later, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, could’ve been seconds or hours, you heard Bucky call out for you, but you didn’t have the strength to answer, just sit under the now cold spray of water and stare at cream colored tiles, tiles that you and Jake picked out together, and now he was dead. You killed him. Murderer. 

“Sweetheart, I’m coming in okay?” Bucky called out before opening the bathroom door. You could see his figure behind the clear glass of the shower and he turned to look at you. His hair was tied up and his sleeves were rolled up, but the second he caught your eyes his whole demeanor changed. His shoulders visibly softened as he walked into the shower with you, clothes and all. “The water’s cold doll.” Is all he said. 

“Jake’s dead. He’s dead because of me, I did this. I’m a murderer.” You whispered, your back to the super soldier. 

“Honey, no.” Bucky began, sinking to his knees and pulling your naked form against his chest. His clothes were soggy but he didn’t seem to care. “He did this to himself, he beat you. You were defending yourself.” Bucky repeated his words from earlier. You didn’t move as Bucky turned off the water and scooped you into his arms, grabbing a fluffy towel and wrapping it around your body before carrying you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. 

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me okay?” Bucky pleaded, grabbing your shoulders and meeting your eyes with his. “I need you to pack a bag. Whatever you think you’ll need for a few weeks, just the essentials.” 

“Oh my God I’m going to jail!” You wailed, handing coming up to hide your face as you cried again, panic seeming to break you out of your stupor. 

“Baby, no. You’re not going to jail, you’re coming with me, to the compound. You can stay in your old room if you want.” Bucky explained, hugging you tight against him as you shook with terror. Everything was happening so fast, you didn’t know what to make of it. 

When you were ready Bucky let you go so you could pack. With shaky hands you grabbed a duffel bag out of your closet and pulled shirts off of their hangers, not caring what you were grabbing but throwing it into the bag anyway. Your mind was racing a million miles a minute as you packed what you thought you needed, your mind not as sharp given the current circumstances. 

Within ten minutes you had a bag packed and ready to go. You started to walk back to the kitchen but flashbulb memories attacked you on the way. Images of Jake coming after you, blood on the fridge, the knife, how his blood felt on your hands, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t go back in there. You collapsed in the hallway, wailing cries coming out of your mouth. Bucky came running and caught you before you fell, hauling you back to your feet. 

“I can’t- I can’t do it Bucky. I can’t go back in there.” You argued, vehemently shaking your head ‘no’. 

“Y/N.” Bucky said, his tone even and sure. He cupped your face in his hands, the metal providing a soothing sensation. “You gotta be brave. Can you do that for me doll? Can you be my brave girl?” Bucky implored, his eyes saying more than his words ever could. You drew on some of his strength as you took in a deep breath. Bucky took your hand in his and led you through the kitchen, where you abruptly stopped. 

Everything was gone. The blood, the knife, the corkscrew, knife block, and most importantly, Jake. Jake was gone. 

“Where’s the body Bucky?” You whispered shakily. 

“I took care of it.” He replied. 

“Where’s Jake? Bucky where is he?” You tried once again, pulling his arm as if to pull the truth from his lips. 

“I think it’s best if you don’t know.” Bucky responded, pulling you through the front door of your apartment and shutting it behind you. He ushered you out of the building and to his car which was parked around front. He placed your duffel bag in the backseat as you climbed into the passengers side and buckled yourself in. 

You and Bucky drove in silence for a while. Your mind kept replaying everything that happened, wondering if you could change it somehow. If you could’ve maybe put the knife into Jake’s shoulder instead of his chest, he would still be here. You would still be you. Not this, thing, not this monster. 

“Do you hate me?” Your voice was barely above a murmur as you stared at the road ahead, only illuminated by the headlights of the car. 

“What?” Bucky asked, his head whipping around to look at you. You were slumped into your seat, biting your nails and shaking. 

“I’m a murderer Bucky, a bad guy. You hunt bad guys for a living. You must hate me.” You explained, head turning to look at Bucky, tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to spill over. Bucky turned on his blinker as he turned down a small dirt path, just off the main road, and killed the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt so he could turn to face you fully. 

“Doll, I’m a trained killer. I fought in World War 2 and killed plenty of people. I was the Winter Soldier, the arm of Hydra for years and I killed, and now I kill bad guys. I have a lot of blood on my hands, do you hate me?” 

“What? No! Bucky I could never hate you.” You replied quickly, head snapping to look at him as he said the question. 

“Just as I could never hate you.” He responded forcefully, trying to get you to see his point. “How many times did Jake hit you?” 

“I don’t know.” You replied, looking away from him. 

“Doll.” 

“Too many to count.” You responded weakly. 

“You’re not a cold blooded killer Y/N. He came after you and it was self defense. How could I possibly hate you for defending yourself against a scumbag like him?” Bucky carded his hands through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Fuck, I should’ve seen it sooner.” He said angrily. 

“It’s not your fault Buck. I hid it from everyone, nobody knew.” 

“I swear to God sweetheart, nobody will ever lay a hand on you again. I won’t let ‘em.” He said as he clasped your hand in his and turned the car back on, steering it back on the road. You two drove the rest of the way in silence. Bucky occasionally brought your hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips against it, and he never once let go of your hand. 

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Sympathy for the Devil

Smoke swirled together, pouring out of a crack in the floor and curling against the boundaries of the summoning circle. Stiles was transfixed, horrified, in awe as the smoke rose and folded in on itself, began to coalesce into a shape that took too long to become recognizable. A man stood before Stiles. That black smoke poured from his eyes and his skin was black as pitch, cracked and charred. Lean arms tapering down to claw-tipped hands stretched, and Stiles heard the sickening crack and pop of settling bones and joints.

Stiles swallowed thickly. The man—demon?—looked at him, head tilted like a bird.

“Your pronunciation is off,” he said. His voice was smooth as sin and Stiles almost swooned, did drop the ancient—flesh-bound—tome on the basement floor. 

“Um…” Stiles swallowed again, cleared his throat. “Who are you?” A cruel smirk curled the demon’s lips. His teeth were a shock of pearl white against his charred skin, and disturbingly sharp. They gleamed like daggers in the fire light. 

“I have many names,” the man said vaguely. 

“Oh my God.”

“Not quite, but close.” 

What have I gotten myself into? “You’re a demon.”

“Closer.” The demon put his hand up against the barrier, unable to cross. He didn’t seem to be too concerned, watched Stiles curiously as the human began to pace. “It’s rude to bind someone, you know.”

“Oh hell no, don’t even start, Satan.” The demon bristled, but didn’t refute him. “There is no way I am letting you out of there.” 

“Really? Not for anything?” He leaned forward, voice like a serpentine hiss to match the forked tongue behind his teeth. “Are you sure?”

“… Yes.” 

“Alright.” Stiles watched, awed and disgusted, as the demon dusted off his arms, charred skin flaking away under his hands to reveal fresh, clean flesh. 

“Oh, dude, that is so gross….” 

-

“Unstoppable force, meet immovable object,” Stiles mumbled. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?” 

“Let me out?”

“Shut up, that was a rhetorical question.” Stiles tried not to look at the demon too much, but it was hard not to. Gone was the charred skin and sharp teeth, the demon replaced by the most handsome man Stiles had ever seen. Well. Lucifer was supposed to be the most beautiful of God’s angels. He was taller than Stiles, with broad shoulders and lean muscle. The smoke was still there, filling his eyes and wisping off the tips of his shaggy black hair, distorting the edges of reality around his form.

-

“What are you doing?”

“Figuring out how to put you back to wherever you came from.” 

“Hm.” There was an odd note in the demon’s voice. Stiles looked up at him with narrowed eyes, but the demon didn’t say anything. Stiles waited, but he just cracked open his water bottle and looked around the room, seeming aloof. 

“Okay, what?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing. Spit it out, I don’t have all night.” 

“You can’t send me back. You don’t have the power or the skill.” The demon smiled sweetly. “Although I could give it to you if you ask nicely. That would defeat the purpose though. But on the other hand, limitless power from the devil himself; people have done worse for less. Decisions, decisions …” 

“No.” 

The demon shrugged, unbothered. “You’ll change your tune eventually. They all do.” 

-

There are 203 joints in the human body and the demon seemed intent on cracking all of them, one by one. Stiles’ research was accompanied by flipping pages, the scratch of pen over paper, and the staccato crack crack crack. 

“Will you stop that!” he finally snapped. The demon gave him a droll look and cracked all of his knuckles at once. 

“No.” 

“What the fuck is your problem?” The demon wasn’t given the opportunity to answer before Stiles was hit with a wave of vertigo. Metal and fire filled his vision, sulfurous smoke burning his lungs with every inhale. A cage pressed in all around him, contorting his body, grinding his bones together. There was no position that offered relief and it felt like the bars were getting tighter—

When Stiles came to again the demon was right at the edge of the binding circle, watching him closely. “Interesting,” he said. For a moment, Stiles didn’t realize why the demon seemed so much taller that he was a second ago. Then he realized that at some point he’d ended up on the floor. Stiles pulled himself into a sitting position and took several measured breaths to keep from puking. 

“No, no, I don’t want to be interesting. What the hell was that?”

“Looks like there’s more to you that I originally thought. You’ve got the Sight.” 

“And that is …?”

“It means you can see things as they truly are.”

“How do I know you’re not just fucking with me?” Stiles desperately hoped he was. The feeling of that cage crushing all around him was still vivid, a shadow at the edge of his perception. He couldn’t imagine spending millennia in such a hell, and he’d only experienced a fraction of the sentence. 

“Would that I could, but I couldn’t even rattle a tea cup from in here.” 

“Well—! Well, um, okay…” The demon grinned humorlessly, expression, and then went on to continue cracking joints at random. Stiles could maybe forgive him; he would do the same if this was his first chance to stretch in thousands of years. 

-

Stiles was caught, captivated. He couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the swirling smoke in Mitch’s blackened eyes. “Tell me what you want, Stiles,” he purred.

“I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Come on, I know you want to.” Mitch tilted his chin up, claw-tipped fingers scraping delicately against his skin. He was so close, Stiles could feel the warmth of his breath against his cheek—it would take nothing to lean in for a kiss. “What are those deep, dark secrets you like to keep hidden?” 

Stiles’ mouth was dry and his eyes were hazy, lost in the smoke. The echo of an old desire licked at his lips, but his dad opened the door before he could give voice to it.

-

“You aren’t even a little bit tempted?” 

“Nope,” Stiles squeaked. Mitch put a hand on the center of his chest and pushed him back against the wall, pinning him with the barest touch. “Maybe— maybe a little bit.” Kissing Mitch was like being consumed by fire. HIs touch burned where his hands skimmed under Stiles’ shirt and against his skin, and all he could think about was getting more, filling his lungs with smoke. 

-

“Can I see your wings?” Stiles asked. Mitch hesitated, and Stiles didn’t think he would answer. It would be easy to pretend that he hadn’t heard, that he’d been asleep. If only Stiles didn’t know that Mitch never slept. 

“Okay,” Mitch said softly. He sat up, pulled off his shirt. Reality seemed to shift and warp around him, a strange, otherworldly shimmer that Stiles couldn’t focus on until it cleared, revealing wings unfurling before his eyes. They were big, bigger than Stiles expected; Mitch’s wingtips could easily touch each side of the room at once if he stretched them out to their full breadth. For now he kept them folded down, drooping around him, like a cloak. Like he was hiding behind them. He wouldn’t look at Stiles.

“They’re beautiful,” Stiles breathed. He expected leathery flesh stretched across thin bone, like a bat. The usual depiction demons were given. Instead they were made from feathers as black as night. They reflected the moonlight and shone like onyx. Mitch shivered when Stiles reached out to run his fingers through the shorter, softer feathers between his shoulder blades. “I didn’t think they would look like this.”

“I was an angel, once,” Mitch reminded him. He slowly relaxed as Stiles kept touching him, spread his wings a little bit more, subconsciously opening himself to scrutiny. 
Stiles kneaded his thumbs into the place where feather met flesh, feeling the taught muscle, strong enough to propel Mitch through the air with a single beat of his powerful wings. He fan his fingers through the longer pinions at the edge of his wings where they flared, each longer than Stiles’ forearm. 

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

Stiles moved his hands further to Mitch’s broad shoulders, wondered if anyone else ever got to see the devil so vulnerable. His wings were broken, jagged, ugly. Feathers were missing or crooked, bent, burned. Damaged from the fall. The bones at their crest hung twisted and wrong, padded by soft down. 

And yet Stiles has never seen something more breathtaking. Impulsively, he leaned in to kiss the back of Mitch’s neck. He pressed his lips down Mitch’s spine, laying a kiss on each vertebra, until soft feathers tickled his cheeks, and he could feel Mitch holding his breath. 

“Still okay?” he whispered. 

“Yeah…”

Maybe it was silly that Stiles was being so careful with the king of hell, but he couldn’t help wondering if anyone else has ever shown him such kindness. After all his millennia kept trapped in a cage too small for any human to withstand, perhaps it was time someone treated him gently.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Thirty-Four → in which Friday goes off-book

“The ocean looks so pretty today.” Solitude said, as she gripped Nick’s hand and toddled ahead of them. 

Friday nodded, skipping over some stones and walking along the gray line of the coastal shelf. “It’s always pretty after a storm.” 

“Do you think there were any other castaways?” Lilac asked, taking Sunny’s hand to help her over some driftwood. 

“I dunno. Probably not, they usually show up first thing.” Friday narrowed her eyes, squinting through the light fog. “Unless that’s a boat.” 

They looked ahead, seeing some kind of figure on the edge of the shelf. It was hard to say what it looked like, only that it was large, and square and ragged. 

Lilac picked up Sunny, pushing her hair back, and Nick grabbed Solitude, while Klaus and Violet each grabbed one of Friday’s hands. They approached cautiously, and realized that the object was not a ship, but stacks and stacks of books, wrapped together with green straps. Water and damp pages trickled out from all sides, and as they approached, they saw a foot hanging over the edge, an eye tattooed on the ankle. 

“Olaf?” Sunny asked, but her siblings shook their heads. 

“If I climb onto Nick’s back,” Violet said, “We can hoist Sunny and Soli up.” 

“Lilac could stand on me shoulders, if that won’t hurt her,” Nick said, “And Klaus can get on yours, Vi. We all know he sucks shit at climbing but he can probably hold for long enough to get Sunny up.” 

“Thanks for that, dick.” Klaus said. 

“I can probably climb.” Friday said, moving a little farther down the wall. “I’ve climbed trees before. What’s this thing made of?” 

Klaus started. “Friday, these are books.” 

Her eyes widened. “These are books? They all have stories in them?” 

Klaus nodded, smiling. “That’s right! But let’s find out who’s on top first, before we start grabbing books, okay?” 

Friday nodded seriously. “I’ll check around the back to see if anything fell, while you guys check out the person. I’ll just be over there if you need me.” 

“Let us know if you need anything.” Lilac said, and Friday nodded and ran around the corner. 

“Okay, girls, let’s go up.” Nick said, handing Solitude to Lilac. Lilac climbed on his back and lifted Solitude, while Klaus struggled onto Violet’s and lifted Sunny. The two girls climbed on top of the books, and immediately recognized the woman laying there, in a damp dress of dark velvet. The foot hanging over the cube was bent in a strange way, but she otherwise looked unharmed. 

“Kit!” Sunny called to her siblings. 

“Kit Snicket?” Lilac shouted. 

“No, Kit Kittredge.” Solitude sighed. 

“What the hell is Kit Snicket-” Nick began. 

And then they heard a chilly, familiar voice squeak, “Yes?”

Lilac threw her arms in front of her siblings, only for Violet and Nick to grab her arms and push her behind them. 

A figure stepped out of the mist to greet the children, and Sunny and Soli frowned down the book tower. It was Count fucking Olaf, wearing a streaked red dress, and a pile of seaweed on his head to resemble long hair. 

“Holy fucking shit, dude.” Nick said. “This is low even for you.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Olaf said in a high-pitched voice. 

“What is going on?” 

The Baudelaires jumped and turned; through the fog was coming a crowd of islanders, who had been ready to storm scavenge. They looked in confusion at the group, and then Lilac said, “This is Count Olaf!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” said Olaf. “I’m Kit Snicket.” 

“Yeah, no.” the Baudelaires jumped as Friday stepped back with them, staring over at Olaf. “You’re Count Olaf, and I thought I told you to go away.” 

“Friday!” said Dr Kurtz. “We’ve been looking all over for you! You weren’t with the sheep-” 

“We can talk about that later.” Friday said nervously, and Solitude noticed a bulge under her dress that hadn’t been there before. “Firstly, this is Count Olaf, the bad man.” 

“No, I’ve never heard of this Count Olaf.” said Count Olaf. 

“Dude,” said Larsen, “You’re clearly in some kind of dumb disguise. If Friday says you’re Count Olaf, then you’re Count Olaf.” 

“Why, of course not!” 

“Why is he dressed as a pregnant woman?” said Professor Fletcher. 

“Because I am a pregnant woman.” Count Olaf said. “My name is Kit Snicket, and I’ve been looking everywhere for these children.” 

“You’re not Kit Snicket!” said Ariel. 

“Kit Snicket is up on this pile of books,” Violet said, reaching up to help Sunny down from the top of the cube, as Nick grabbed Soli, “She may be hurt or ill. But this is Count Olaf!” 

“Well,” said Brewster, considering, “Ishmael did suggest that we stop listening to you, because you were spreading lies. And your friend is on a pile of books, which are bound to lead to trouble.” 

“However, he also told us this Count Olaf was a wicked person.” Fletcher said. “And we should always help the injured.” 

“Let’s get Ishmael.” said Omeros. 

“How can you get him if he doesn’t move?” Nick asked. 

“We’ll put his chair on the sleigh and have the sheep drag him here.” said Sherman. “Friday, you stay to guard, and we’ll be right back.” 

“We should get some more coconut cordial, too.” said Madame Nordoff. “My seashell’s almost empty.” 

“Stop drinking that shit!” Nick said, but the islanders just shrugged him off and wandered away. In a few minutes, the colonists were nothing more than faint shapes on the misty horizon. 

“Don’t worry, Baudelaires. They’ll get rid of him.” Friday said. 

“Or us.” Lilac said worryingly. 

“But you haven’t done anything wrong.” said Friday. 

“Neither have I!” said Olaf, in his high-pitched voice. 

“Please, please stop.” Klaus said. “Please just shut the fuck up and go die somewhere.” 

“Oh, I don’t think you’d want me to stop pretending.” the villain said, still in his false voice. He reached behind him, and then pulled out the harpoon gun, with its bright red trigger and one last harpoon. “If I were to say that I was Count Olaf, instead of Kit Snicket, I might start behaving like a villain, rather than a noble person.” 

“You’ve never behaved like a noble person.” Klaus said. “And that weapon doesn’t scare us.” 

“You only have one harpoon, dipshit.” Nick crossed his arms as Solitude let Babbitt onto the coastal shelf to explore, “And this island is full of people who aren’t huge fans of weapons.” 

“Yeah, that shit is useless.” Friday said. 

Olaf raised his eyebrow. “Why, Baudelaires, you’ve corrupted this young girl’s language.” 

“Go to hell.” Friday said. 

“Oh my God,” Violet put an arm around the girl, “I’ve never been prouder of anyone.” 

“You’ll be prouder of me when I get my first book!” Friday practically buzzed with excitement. “You know, Ishmael said it wasn’t a good idea to teach us Island Kids to read, but Professor Fletcher taught us in secret.” 

“Ishmael forced you all to stay illiterate?” Violet asked. 

Friday bit her lip. “He doesn’t force anyone. But everyone agrees with him.” 

Sunny wandered over to her, and then took her whisk out of her pocket. “Whisk.” 

Friday smiled. “Good to see you still have that, Sun. I thought it’d be nice if you had something to help you cook. You’ll keep my secret, won’t you?” 

“Of course.” Lilac said, kneeling in front of her. “But you shouldn’t have to deal with Ishmael’s- hold on.” She looked over Friday’s shoulder. “Olaf, don’t wander off, we still have to kill you. Violet, use your knife if he moves again.” Olaf groaned and turned back, and then Lilac continued, “As I was saying, you shouldn’t have to deal with Ishmael’s rules, no matter what pressure the people put on you to listen to him.” 

Friday bit her lip. “I love learning, Baudelaires, and exploring, but I don’t want to rock the boat. Ever since my father’s… whatever happened to him, my mother has wanted me to be safe, which is why we left the world far behind and decided to stay on the island. But the older I get, it seems the more secrets I have. Professor Fletcher taught me secretly to read. Omeros taught me secretly to skip rocks, even though Ishmael says it’s dangerous. I secretly sneak out to meet you all every day.” She reached into robe, and smiled. “And now I have another secret, just for me. Look what I found curled up on the other side of the books!” 

Count Olaf had been glaring silently at the children, but as Friday revealed her secret, he let out a shriek even more high-pitched than his fake voice. But the Baudelaire orphans did not shriek, staring hard at the long, thick creature, dark as a coal mine, that leapt forwards and immediately pounced upon Sunny. Normally, this would cause the Baudelaires quite a bit of distress. 

But instead, Solitude let out a shriek of pure joy. “Incredi!” she yelled, and Babbitt leapt on top of the snake as it wrapped around the youngest Baudelaire. 

The other Baudelaires beamed. “It’s the Incredibly Deadly Viper!” Lilac said in amazement. 

“How did it get here?” Violet said. 

Friday stared at them and then blinked very, very slowly. “That thing I was holding,” she said, “Was called what?” 

“No, no, don’t worry.” Lilac put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a misnomer, which means it was given a very wrong name- by our Uncle Monty, actually.” 

“It’s one of the least deadly and most friendly creatures in the animal kingdom.” Klaus said, smiling as Sunny hugged the snake wrapped around her, biting it affectionately, and Solitude ran up to join in, staring at the snake in pure wonder. 

“I don’t know much about the animal kingdom.” Friday moved to sit beside Sunny and Soli and the snake, watching with interest. “There’s so much of the world I’m missing by living here.” 

“The world is a wicked place,” Count Olaf said quietly, and now it was the Baudelaires who shuddered. 

But only a few seconds after that, they saw the approach of the sheep. The mist had cleared a little, and Ishmael, still sitting on his white chair with his feet covered in hunks of clay, was being pulled on the sleigh, with all the rest of the villagers behind him. But as they approached, they realized something else was on the sleigh; the ornate silver birdcage from the last storm. 

“Count Olaf.” Ishmael said in a booming voice, as soon as his chair arrived. He stared down at the villain scornfully but also carefully, as if memorizing his face. 

“Ishmael,” said a disgusted Count Olaf. 

“Call me Ish.” 

“Call me Kit Snicket.” 

“I’m not going to call you anything.” Ishmael said. “Your reign of treachery is over, Olaf. You’ll be locked up immediately.” 

Jonah and Sadie lifted the bird cage from the sleigh, set it on the ground and pushed open its door. With a nod from Ishmael, Weyden and Ms Marlow wrestled the harpoon gun from Olaf’s hands and dragged him into the bird cage, shoving him inside. 

Sunny’s eyes lit up, as the Incredibly Deadly Viper unraveled itself and slithered behind her. “Karma.” she said, eyes sparkling. 

The villain fit in the cage, but just barely. “This isn’t fair!” he said. “I’m Kit Snicket, a pregnant woman, and you’re locking me up and leaving those treacherous children out!” 

“Oh, fuck. Forgot they hated us.” Nick whispered, just as the islanders turned to look at them. Some of them were glaring, while others looked merely curious. Ishmael’s gaze was unreadable, but the children felt cold as he looked at them. 

“We’re just here to help Kit.” Lilac said cautiously, standing up straight and pushing her hair back. “We don’t want any trouble.” 

Before Ishmael could speak, they heard a gasp. Miranda, Friday’s mother, stepped forwards. “Friday!” she shouted. “Get away from that snake! It’ll hurt you!” 

Friday, still sitting beside Soli and Sunny, glanced to the Incredibly Deadly Viper and shook her head. “No. The Baudelaires said it’s friendly.” 

“They’re treacherous, Friday!” Miranda said darkly, giving the children glares. “Get away from them, too. Come here!” 

“Yes, Friday, come back.” Ishmael said. “I won’t force you, but I think you should stick with us from now on.” 

Friday stiffened, her eyes going wide with fear as she gazed onto the crowd of islanders. She glanced from them to the Baudelaires. Slowly, Lilac grabbed Violet’s hand, squeezing it, and said, “It’s your decision, Fri.” Nick and Klaus nodded, and Sunny leaned on Soli’s shoulder and stroked the Incredibly Deadly Viper, who still had Babbitt cuddling on its head. 

“It’s my…” Friday repeated, staring at the sand. 

“Friday!” Miranda shouted. “Come here!” 

Friday sighed and stood up, taking a few steps forwards. She looked at her mother, and her mother’s outstretched arms, and then out at the crowd. Watching her. Waiting for her to listen. 

And then she stepped back. 

“No,” she said. “No, I don’t think so.” 

Miranda’s eyes widened. “Friday!” 

“I think I want to stay here.” Friday said. “I want the books. And the snake. And the Baudelaires.” 

Ishmael turned his eyes to the girl as her mother gasped. “Friday,” he said, “Don’t rock the boat. Books and snakes and those children- they’re dangerous.” 

“I think,” Friday said sternly, stomping her foot. “I want to stay here. You all can go if you want.” 

“Friday!” said a young boy- Omeros. “You know this place’ll flood tomorrow for Decision Day!” 

“So I won’t be here for that.” Friday shrugged. “But for right now, I want to stay here.” She looked over at Ishmael, and then said, “You can’t force me.” 

And then she spun on her heel and ran for Lilac, throwing her arms around her and hugging her tight. Lilac started, surprised, but she hugged the girl back, and then turned to glare at Ishmael. 

Ishmael looked a bit like he was struggling to keep calm and maintain control of the situation, which made the Baudelaires very happy. “Friday,” he said, “I strongly suggest you get away from these children.” 

“She made her decision.” Nick said. 

Ishmael turned to glare at him. “I think you’ve all been putting thoughts in her head.” 

Lilac gripped tighter to the girl. “Lay a hand on her and we’ll beat you senseless.” 

“Oh, please do.” said Olaf from his birdcage. 

“That goes for you, too, asswipe!” Lilac shouted. 

“Are you threatening our facilitator?” gasped Alonso. 

“We just want to be left alone.” Klaus said. 

“If you’re threatening our facilitator,” Miranda said darkly, “Then we’ll have to find birdcages for all of you.” 

Nick stepped back, and Sunny bared her teeth, and at that moment, Friday ripped herself away from Lilac, and said, “I’m sorry! I made a mistake!” 

The Baudelaires gasped quietly, and the Islanders looked relieved. Ishmael even looked smug. 

And then Friday leapt across the shelf, jumping beside the toddlers. There, she picked up the Incredibly Deadly Viper, letting Babbitt slide onto Solitude’s head, and then she ran back to stand in front of the Baudelaires. 

“This isn’t a friendly snake!” she shouted. “It’s called the Incredibly Deadly Viper! It only listens to the Baudelaires, so if you try to trap them, it’ll attack!” 

The colonists gasped and stepped back, and Solitude ran forwards and started imitating the viper’s hisses, hoping to look like she was talking to it. It cocked its head curiously at her, but that did enough of a trick that Miranda looked like she might pass out, and Willa immediately pushed someone in front of her. 

Ishmael just gave the snake a look. “That snake is harmless.” he said. “It used to live here, actually, when-” 

He cut himself off, his eyes going a bit wide. Seeing this reaction, Nick stepped towards Friday, putting a hand on her shoulder. “When? Go ahead, Ishmael, tell us when.” 

Ishmael opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then he said, “You know what? You Baudelaires remaining here will be punishment enough. This area will flood tomorrow, and you and Count Olaf will be off of our island forever, unable to rock the boat. Friday, when you are done playing with these scoundrels, we will welcome you back. Would you like some cordial before we leave? Perhaps your shell is empty.” 

Friday stared at him, and then passed the snake to Nick. Then she took her shell, and, while looking Ishmael dead in eye, slammed it onto the sand and stomped on it. It crashed into tiny pieces, and the remains of the fermented coconut milk spilled into the water. The colonists gasped, and Miranda grabbed tight onto her own shell and backed up. 

Ishmael stared at the broken pieces, and then over at Friday. 

And then he said, “We should leave.” 

The islanders slowly turned the sleigh around, leading the sheep, and Ishmael off. Miranda stopped behind the group, watching Friday carefully. “Friday, come on.” she pleaded, holding out her hand. 

Friday just stared at her, and then she said, very slowly and clearly, “Manatees are herbivores.” 

Miranda was silent for a moment, and then she turned and followed the colonists away. 

There was a tense silence, and then Friday turned around and threw herself back at Lilac. The eldest Baudelaire hugged her tight, and said, “It’s okay. It’s okay. You did good, Friday, you did so good.” 

Violet came closer, and also put her arms around the girl, followed by Nick and Klaus, and finally Sunny and Soli. “Good job, Fri-girl.” Violet whispered. “Good job.”

[yandere-daydreams]

A commission for the lovely @wolfwantsart! I absolutely loved working their OCs, Vivian and Vincent, two ‘heroes’ with the power to embody light and darkness respectively. 

Word Count: ~2000

It was dark. At first, that was all Vivian could think about.

It was dark, and she was on something coarse, rough, and bed-shaped (calling it a real mattress seemed like a stretch of the imagination). She attempted to push herself up, stiffly bent limbs still sore and aching, blinking herself awake while she tried to see her surroundings. Wherever she was, there couldn’t have been any windows. Even on the darkest nights, a little moonlight would always shine through. This was an advanced darkness, a purposeful darkness. Now panicking, her eyes darted uselessly around the small room, only the outlines of tables and desks coming through clearly. Fuck, she could barely see the walls.

Vivian strained to see, instantly regretting the effort. A shot up to her forehead, a steady pounding accompanying the sudden lines of thin, sharp pain. Reluctantly, she ran a hand through her hair, dismayed by the knots but glad she didn’t find an injury. A bleeding wound was the last thing she needed, especially now. Still, the idea of a concussion was going to be something she’d have to worry about later. But, the dryness in her throat, the way she desperately wanted to go back to sleep, pointed to a more measured threat.

Someone fucking drugged her. Someone drugged her, then dragged her into a sealed off, windowless room where she couldn’t even use her powers, with god-knows-what in mind for when she woke up.

Luckily, she didn’t have to worry about the implications for very long. The door at the far side of the room swung open, the sound of metal scraping against concrete putting her further on-edge. She was tempted to jump to her feet, to try and run for it, but the pain in her legs made the idea much less appealing. The distinct click of a deadbolt sliding into place took some of the pressure off, though. Still, she glared in the intruder’s general direction, fighting against the pain to see her captor. “What the hell do you want?” She asked, the harshness in her voice uncharacteristic. “Where am I?! Who are you?!”

There was a familiar sigh, before the man took a step closer, seemingly hesitant. “It’s just me, Viv. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“Vincent!” This time, she didn’t stop herself from getting up, rushing to her friend as quickly as she could. Before she could take a step, however, a gentle hand pushed her back down, the other shoving a glass mug into her hands. “You’ve been gone for months!” She started, practically ignoring the cup in her hands. “It’s like you fell off the face of the Earth, what happened? I’ve been trying to text you for months, and no one was at your apartment… I thought you were avoiding me.”

The boy exhaled deeply, shakily. “Drink,” He ordered, and she took a sip obediently. It was just water, much to her relief. Cold, but less unpleasant than the chilled air of this… bunker? Why would Vincent have a bunker? “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to worry you.” His voice was unusually quiet, even for him. Like he hadn’t been sleeping well, recently. It made sense, in a way. She was always the one to drag him to a bed and practically hold him down until he agreed to get a decent night’s sleep. “But, you shouldn’t have to worry for very long. Soon, we won’t have to be apart.”

“Yeah, because you’re going to come home.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Vivian new how she sounded. Ignorant, childish… like she was ignoring the darker subtext. But, this was her best friend. It wasn’t like he could ever hurt her, even if the way he’d chosen to re-introduce himself was just the slightest bit concerning. There had to be a reasonable explanation, though. “And once we get out of… wherever this is, you’re going to explain why you’ve been missing. Everyone’s going to want to see you!”

“About that…” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture she’s gotten used to. Reflexively, she grabbed his arm, gently pulling it back to his side, keeping her hand on top of his own to stop him from just going back to his anxious ticks. “I… I can’t let you leave. Not yet, at least. I would’ve come to get you when I was actually ready,” He paused, intertwining her fingers with his. It was an intimate gesture, but she didn’t object. They’d been apart for a long time, and even when they saw each other on a daily basis, he was always... touchy. “But, I couldn’t wait that long. You get it, right? I needed to see you, even if I only have half the materials I need. It’s not like I can’t work faster, I will work faster.”

Vivian squeezed his hand, trying to draw him out of the quickly approaching rant. “You’re rambling again. And you need to tell me what’s going on, Vinny. Now. Before I freak-out and assume you’ve gone villain.”

At this, Vincent laughed, running his free hand through his hair. “I might’ve, honestly. I’m not sure anymore.” She opened her mouth, ready to ask him what he meant, but he cut her off before she could. “It’s alright, I swear. Because you’re never going to leave my side again.”

Taking a deep breath, Vivian pulled back, forcing her hand out of Vincent's grip. He relented easily… for a moment, at least. She stood as he spoke, straining her eyes to make out the nearest surface. She needed to put this mug somewhere, she told herself. Even if getting away from Vincent for a second wouldn’t be terrible. “Have you been talking to Divine, while I’ve been gone? Or Rapid?”

“They’re my friends, I’ve had to. I kinda relied on them while you were missing-in-action,” She admitted, finding the table she was looking for. She didn’t bother masking the frustration in her voice. It was deserved, really. “So, what happened? And should I even ask what you’re talking about?”

He mumbled something incoherent, allowing silence to dominate the room. A freezing, ice cold gust of air brushed past her leg, a shadow more defined than the darkness surrounding it. Slowly, Vincent manifested in front of her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest and kissing her forehead. “You won’t have to deal with them anymore, and neither will I. The only person you’re going to rely on is me.”  His grip around her tightened, arms slipping to her waist as he buried his face in her neck. “When we’re fused permanently, they’ll all know to stay away. Not that you’ll be interested in other people, at that point.”

The mention of fusing sent a chill down her spine. It was a hard balance to maintain, two people so different trying to co-exist in one mind. It helped that the combination was always unstable, always deforming quickly, but... Vivian may’ve forced herself apart from him, on occasion. He always proded, always tried to poke around in her memories and hold on a little too tightly. Sometimes, she was tempted to do the same. Luckily, the things he dared to say out loud were always enough to make her hesitant. 

Biting her cheek, Vivian reluctantly pulled at the boy’s coat, making a poor effort to pry him off of her. This didn’t sound like Vincent, he could never say something like that. Something so… crazy. He was her friend, he had been for so long. She needed to have faith in him. She wanted to have faith in him. “Are… are you alright? Fusing isn’t permanent, Vin. It can’t be.”

“But it can!” His voice was too energetic, too excited. He tried to get closer as he continued, like Vincent was willing his skin to melt into hers. She supposed he was, actually. There was another deep breath, warm air hitting her neck. Another sigh, too, dreamier than the last and twice as disturbing. “Or, I think it can be, theoretically. I’ve been working on it, even if my lab here is primitive,” He explained, shifting to face her. She’d rarely seen him smile, let alone so widely. “I’m so, so close. It might be dangerous, but isn’t that a risk you’re willing to take? For me?”

Vivian forced herself to relax, narrowing her eyes as she rested a hand on Vincent’s shoulder, a heartbreakingly platonic gesture. But, if Vincent noticed, he didn’t care. That wide, eery smile stayed in place, never faltering as she scanned over him, trying to look anything but scared. “I love you like a brother,” She said, waiting for him to process the reluctance in her voice. “But what you’re talking about is insane. You need help, dude. Help that you’re obviously not getting by locking me in a dark room and trying to find a way to manipulate something as unpredictable as fusion. Let me take you back to the city. Whatever you’re doing, it’s not healthy.”

For a minute, she thought he understood. His hands fell away from her, fists balling at his sides. His eyes, similarly, dropped to the ground, gaze successfully torn away from Vivian. She watched intently as he scowled, giving him a sympathetic smile when he finally met her eyes. “I… you don’t understand!” His volume came from nowhere, his anger even more sourceless. She took a step back, holding up her hands defensively, but he just stalked forward. “You’ve never loved someone, and you’ve never had to watch your best friend go around and be so warm, smiling at everyone and just ignoring you whenever you try to confess how you feel! You’ve been avoiding me for years! Sure, you pretend to care about me, but when I say something honest, you just call me ‘insane’ and try to run away!”

Vivian’s hand searched behind her, looking for anything to defend herself with or the warning of a wall. But, the cold metal frame of the cot (something she was really starting to hate) met her instead, forcing her to stumble onto the low surface. She fell backward, letting Vincent corner her, looming over the girl with a passionate frustration still radiating around him. “You’ve never laid awake at night, wishing you could crawl inside someone’s skin, just to know how it would get rid of all the awful, awful things that keep running through your head. You’ve never been devoted to someone.” Suddenly, the boy smiled, letting out a low, deep chuckle. “You’ve never been rejected before.”

Without thinking, Vivian shut her eyes, willing her body to dissolve into whatever light she could find in the dark little room. But, it was impossible. Even as the cells in her body burnt in exertion, there wasn’t a scrap of light she could lose herself in.

And Vincent knew that. He’d planned it.

“But, you’ll understand. Eventually.” Slowly, he reached down, cupping her cheek. She wanted to shy away, or hit him, or punch him that fucking grin right off his face, but… it paralyzed her. How unfamiliar he looked, how helpless she was. He pulled away soon enough, turning towards the door and walking with an awkward haste. He only stopped once, glancing over his shoulder before he walked into the pitch-black hall. “Besides, it’s not like you’ll have a choice. I don’t think you’ve earned that luxury, yet.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Normalcy

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

Wow, I managed to write something for this AU again! Now if I could only get around to Resurgence XD. This is a very simple story, much like No Strings on Me it deals more with aftermath than anything else. But like that one, it needs to be told. The main focus is on Jack and Schneep and their problems. Oh, also, read to the end :3c

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read where it started: Stitched Together | Season One

Previous season two stories: No Strings on Me | Nightmare World

“Hey Chase, I got you something.”

Chase looked up from his phone as Jack entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him. He set a box next to him where he was sitting on the couch. Chase blinked at it slowly. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, I just thought it was something you needed.” Jack smiled. “Well? Are you gonna open it?”

“Uh...sure.” With some effort, Chase peeled away the tape holding the flaps of the box closed. He opened it and stared inside. “You got me a blanket?”

“Well, it’s not just a normal blanket.” Jack pulled the folded fabric out of the box and draped it over Chase’s shoulders. Chase looked mildly surprised at how heavy it was. “It’s a weighted blanket. I think it’s supposed to be used for helping anxiety and stuff like that, but it can also, like, simulate physical contact without actually being physical contact.”

“...oh.” Chase pulled the blanket closer. The weight did actually feel...really nice. “You went out and got this for me? You really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I ordered it online,” Jack explained. “Just went down to pick it up from the front desk of the building. They really should deliver packages directly to the apartments, it can be kinda tricky to carry a fifteen-pound package up here even with the elevator.” He paused. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” Chase smiled just a bit. “Thanks, Jack.”

“No problem.” Jack made an okay sign with his hand. “If you need anything else, just tell me. I’m gonna go check on the others.”

“Okay. Um, again, thank you. A lot.” Chase said awkwardly, picking up his phone again.

Jack waved at him as he crossed through the living room and into the kitchen. JJ was sitting at the round kitchen table, its surface basically hidden beneath the books. All four of the magic books were open, various pens placed between the pages to keep them from swinging closed. JJ was leaning over one, intent on reading. “Hey JJ,” Jack said, making him look up. “Need anything?”

Jameson shook his head. No, but I appreciate you offering.

“Alright. Whatcha working on?”

Just looking for anything that could help. JJ tapped the page he was reading. This book seems to be about amulets, but there may be something inside. After all, doesn’t he wear a pair of them?

“Yeah.” Jack shivered. “White, teardrop-shaped, some sort of green scribbles on them. They’re broken.” He’d seen them frequently enough to remember their appearance.

Right. JJ nodded. If we knew what they were for, maybe we’d know more about him.

“Well, good luck dude,” Jack said, making his voice lighthearted. “I’m gonna go check on Henrik, want to take a break and come?”

Something sad flickered through Jameson’s eyes. No, I’m afraid I can’t.

“...oh. Right.” Jack backed away. “That’s understandable. But we need to figure out some way of getting around this soon.”

I agree. But not right now. See you soon, Jack.

“See ya.”

It was a short walk down the hallway to the same spare room that Schneep had been staying in for the past three and a half months. Except now, there was actually someone living there instead of just existing, sleeping. Jack opened the door slowly. “Hey Hen, are you—”

There was a surprised yell, which was accompanied by something hurtling toward the door. Jack hurriedly closed it, hand still on the knob, and heard the clatter of something plastic hitting the door and falling to the ground. He swung it open again and poked his head inside. “Did you just throw the clock at me?”

“Oh. Jack.” Schneep’s shoulders suddenly slumped. “I am sorry, it is force of habit. The clock was the closest object.”

“Totally understandable.” Jack bent over and picked up the small, battery-powered clock. It still seemed functional. Though only time would tell if he could still tell time. Jack smiled a bit at that thought, then walked over and replaced the clock on the nightstand next to the bed where Schneep was currently sitting. “You doin’ okay?”

Schneep laughed dryly. “Well, there are good things and there are bad things. The good thing is that I am not stuck in that place anymore. The bad thing is that I cannot fucking see.”

“Yeah, guess that’s true.” Jack sat on the bed, near the foot. Schneep’s shoulders raised at the shifting of weight. It was...odd, almost unsettling, that Schneep wasn’t looking at him. His head was turned in his general direction, but his eyes were staring directly forward, not seeing anything. The strange effect was compounded by the scars he had, the ones that looked like tears coming from his eyes. “How’s the, uh, lessons coming?”

“You mean this?” Schneep waved the book he’d been holding. “I’m afraid it is going very bad. They do not read like letters, they are just bumps.” He pursed his lips. “When I said I wanted to know three languages, this is not what I meant.”

“Maybe you just need some help,” Jack suggested. “I’d be happy to try.”

“That would be appreciated.” Schneep hugged the book to his chest, leaning backwards onto the headboard of the bed. “But not right now. I want to do something.”

“Well, like what?”

“I do not know, just—just something!” Schneep snapped.

“Whoa, hey. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Jack scooted closer to him until he was able to put a hand on his shoulder.

Schneep jumped at the unannounced contact, but settled into it easily, putting his hand on top of Jack’s. “I know, I know, I am sorry.” He sighed deeply. “I am just...frustrated.”

“Maybe you could channel that into something productive?” Jack asked. “JJ’s busy right now, but I think if you asked, he’d be glad to...I dunno, have help with his work.”

“How?” Schneep asked, his voice almost bitter.

“Uh...” Jack didn’t have an answer for that. Until they worked something out, communication between Schneep and JJ would be...difficult, to say the least. Jameson couldn’t speak for Schneep to hear, and Schneep couldn’t see Jameson’s signing anymore. There had to be a way around this, but in the week since Schneep had woken up, they hadn’t been able to find anything.

“That is what I thought,” Schneep sighed. For a moment, he was silent. And then: “Fuck it. I need to get out of here.” He swiveled around to the side of the bed and stood up.

“What—Henrik, what’re you doing?” Jack stood up too.

“I need to get out of here. You didn’t leave anything on the floor, did you?” Without waiting for an answer, Schneep walked straight across the room. He had the route from the bed to the door memorized, and the only difficulty came when he got close enough to said door, having to reach out to find out how open it was. He managed to grab the edge of it where it had been left ajar and walked out.

“Dude, wait!” Jack half-ran until he was even with Schneep. “I’d like to think you just mean out of the room, but you didn’t did you?”

Schneep kept walking down the hallway, fingers gently brushing along the wall so he could keep track of where it ended. “No, I did not, my friend. I have been awake and in this world for seven days, and I am thoroughly sick of this apartment. How have you three stayed cooped up in here for so much longer? I need to see—well, I need to experience the world again. I want to feel sunshine and air that doesn’t come through a tiny little glass.”

“You can’t be serious!” The two of them had entered the living room at this point. “Hen, I-I-I think you’re right, I mean, it would probably be good, but it’s not safe! Anti is still out there, and-and you—”

“Blind people have managed to get around in the wide open for a long time,” Schneep retorted.

“Hey, uh, I’m in here.”

Jack jumped. He’d been focusing on the situation with Schneep and had forgotten Chase was still in here. He looked over to where he was sitting on the couch, still wrapped in his new blanket, still staring at his phone. “Sorry, dude,” Jack said. “Didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“It’s fine,” Chase shrugged. “But, uh, what’s goin’ on?”

“I am trying to leave, and Jack is not letting me!” Schneep half-yelled.

“I’m not ‘not letting you,’ I just really think you shouldn’t!” Jack said defensively. “It’s dangerous out there! And confusing!”

“Well, maybe you could come with me and make sure I do not get to the confusing part!”

“I—I didn’t—that’s not—I wasn’t—” Jack stumbled over his words.

“I can go with you, doc,” Chase piped up. He unwrapped himself from the blanket and got to his feet, tucking his phone in his pocket. “It...I mean, we have to go outside sometime, right? Vitamin D and fresh air and shit.”

“You two—!” Jack didn’t even finish his sentence, just walked over the the kitchen entrance and poked his head inside. “JJ, I need backup over here.”

JJ looked up from the book. He tapped it insistently.

“Sorry, dude, this is important. It shouldn’t take too long.”

Jameson exhaled deeply, then closed three of the books but left the one he was reading open, with a pen tucked inside to mark the page. He pushed his chair back from the table, stood up, and joined Jack and the others in the living room.

“JJ, I need your support,” Jack said. “These two want to go outside, and I keep telling them it’s not safe. Right?”

Jameson considered this. I suppose it’s not entirely. But if they want to leave, they should be able to. In fact, we’ve all been in here for a while.

“So you’re saying it’s dangerous?” Jack summarized.

Schneep make a sound of disbelief. “That was too long a pause to just be an agreement.”

“Cheater,” Chase mumbled. “He actually said something along the lines of ‘yeah, but we should still be able to, actually let’s all go.’”

“He didn’t say we all need to go!” Jack said, a note of...desperation entering his voice.

Jack. Jameson signed his name firmly, spelling it out. We’ve all been stuck in here for a month and a half. That’s not healthy for anyone. I would certainly like to go outside and relieve some stress, and it sounds like everyone else would too. You’re welcome to stay inside, of course.

A strangled sound escaped Jack’s throat. He wasn’t going to win this. So the real question was, why was he even so attached to staying inside in the first place, when he really agreed with everything they were saying? “I...didn’t...” he sighed. “It’s...not safe to be alone, no matter where we go. I think...I think that’s even worse than leaving in the first place. So...if everyone wants to go, I...I guess I’ll come with you.”

“Great!” Schneep said, clapping his hands. “Fantastic. Do any of you know where my coat is?”

Five minutes later, and the four of them were standing on the sidewalk outside. It was unusually sunny for a November day, though there was still a chilly breeze that occasionally ran through the streets. Jack and Schneep were standing close to each other, with Schneep holding tight to Jack’s arm. JJ was also close to them, though Chase stood a bit farther away.

“Okay. So, we’re out here,” Jack said. His eyes were darting up and down the street, locking on to every moving object before eventually looking away again. “Now what?”

“I...don’t know,” Chase admitted, pulling on his bandanna to make sure it was tied tight. “We can go for a walk?”

“Is there not still a park?” Schneep asked. “I would very much like to go there.”

“Yeah, there is. It didn’t close or anything, doubt it would.” Chase turned to JJ. “What d’you think?”

That seems like a wonderful idea, JJ signed. Come on, no time like the present.

Jameson started down the street, Chase following. Schneep squeezed Jack’s arm. “Jack...the other two are walking away. I’m assuming you are going to follow them?”

“Y-yeah...right.” Jack took a deep breath, then slowly started walking after them.  The city streets hadn’t been this...open before, had they? 

As they strolled through the city streets, most of them slowly started to relax. Sure, their little group was attracting occasional attention from passerby, most of them staring at Jameson’s mask or the way Schneep stared at nothing. But they didn’t notice. Chase and JJ fell into relaxed conversation, and after some time Chase began translating JJ’s signs for Schneep. Schneep himself, meanwhile, couldn’t stop smiling. He loved this. Loved hearing the sounds of the city instead of hearing nightmares and static, loved being able to feel the breeze and the warm day.

Jack, however, was feeling increasingly on edge. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like anything could come at them from any direction at any time. He had to hurry to keep up with the others, but he wanted to slow down, maybe stop moving altogether and just watch for something to happen.

This was not helped by reaching the wide-open green space that was the park. Even though there were rows of trees planted, and the park was still small enough to see the surrounding city buildings, there was still nothing in all directions. Jack’s head was practically on a swivel, it was turning around so swiftly and frequently. But he forced himself to take deep breaths and stay calm. He couldn’t ruin this for the others. They were having so much fun.

They settled at a picnic table near the playground, Chase and JJ on one bench and Jack and Schneep on the other. I’ve had a great time, JJ signed, eyes crinkling in the way they did when he was smiling under the mask. Henrik, this was a good idea, thank you.

“JJ’s having fun,” Chase translated. “Schneep? He says this was a good idea and says thank you.”

“Oh!” Schneep’s face lit up. “You are welcome, my friend! See, I know that fresh air has many benefits, I am a doctor, why do you not trust me?”

Chase laughed, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. He was staring at the playground with a faraway look. His phone was in his hand, and he played with it nervously.

Is something wrong, Chase? Jameson asked.

“Oh!” Chase snapped to attention. “Uh, can you sign that again?” After JJ did so, Chase sighed. “I dunno, I just...” He looked down at the table surface. “I’ve been thinking about...about calling Stacy lately.”

Everyone went silent. “Well, why do you not?” Schneep asked gently.

“I dunno, I mean, what do I say? ‘Sorry I haven’t been able to take the girls for the weekend lately, I’ve been mind-controlled by a demon’? She’d think I’m crazy.” He  looked up. “Did you guys...tell her anything? When I...you know.”

“In a way.” Schneep leaned forward onto the table. “We tried to say that you went away for something important, but she saw right through that. So instead, we just told her that you had disappeared, and that while we knew the reason, it was not safe for her to know more. She did tell the police, but she did not tell them that we were involved.”

A smile ghosted over Chase’s face. “Yeah, that sounds like her.” He glanced over at the phone. “I guess I...I don’t have to tell her too much, do I? But...I mean, I kinda want to. Communication is good, right?”

Do what you feel is best, Chase, Jameson signed gently.

“It is, but the choice is yours, my friend,” Schneep said softly.

“Yeah...you’re both right,” Chase sighed. “Jack, what do you think?” When Jack didn’t answer, Chase looked over at him. “Hello? Dude, you alright?”

Jack startled. “What? Sorry, sorry, sorry, I just—what were you saying?” He wasn’t even looking at the others, all his attention turned outward. His shoulders were tense, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the surface of the table. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go sit over there, I’ll be—I’ll be—I’ll be right back.” And with that, he stood up and walked over to the nearest tree, sitting on the ground with his back against it and his knees drawn up to his chin.

“That’s...weird,” Chase muttered, exchanging a look with Jameson. “Uh, Schneep, Jack just...left but we can still see him and he looks...nervous. To say the least.”

Schneep frowned. “Well, we can’t have that.” He slid off the bench. “At least one of you needs to get me over to where he is now.”

“Yeah, let’s all go.”

It was only a short walk over to where Jack was sitting. Once there, the three others sat down, all facing him. Jack didn’t even look at them, just looking around them for...something.

“Hey bro, you doing alright?” Chase asked.

“Huh? Yeah yeah, I’m okay,” Jack said, still not looking at them.

“Jack, even I can see that you are upset,” Schneep said gently.

“I’m not upset, I’m not, I’m just—” Jack broke off. His eyes were going back and forth, darting around the scenery wildly. He was rocking gently.

You’re right, you’re not upset, you’re having a panic attack, Jameson signed, eyes widening.

“What? Panic? No no, I’m—I’m—”

“Panicking,” Chase supplied. “Jack. You don’t have to tell us what’s wrong. But at least tell us that something is wrong.”

There was a long moment of silence. Jack finally settled on looking at the others. “I—I don’t want to make you guys upset,” he finally admitted. “You’re all relaxed, and having a good time, and I’m over here, just fucking...I don’t like this. I-I don’t like this. I d-don’t. I don’t like this. I don’t li-like it.” His words became more choked up with each repetition.

Schneep moved first, blindly leaning forward with a hand outstretched until it found Jack’s knee. From there, he scooted over to Jack, ending up next to him. “Tell me if this makes you not good, okay?” he asked, then leaned on Jack, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Jack tensed at first, but soon melted into the contact. “No, that’s...that’s the opposite of not good,” he mumbled, tilting his head so it rested on top of Schneep’s. “Thanks.”

“Is no problem.”

Jack, are you comfortable telling us anything about how you feel right now? JJ asked slowly.

“I...” Jack took a deep breath. “I feel...like I can’t keep track of anything. Like there’s something bad about to happen, but I don’t know what, o-or where it’s gonna come from, because there’s no—it’s easier when I can see, like, an entrance or something, because then I know where—but there aren’t any doors or windows out here, and it-it could be anywhere!”

“You are breathing fast,” Schneep suddenly said. “Calm down a bit. Do it more slowly.”

Jack did his best, trying to take slow, shaking breaths. “I just—I want everything to go back to normal, so I thought...maybe if I didn’t—I don’t fucking know, talk about this, then it would just—”

“That’s not how it works,” Chase said firmly. “Things don’t just go away if you don’t talk about them. If anything, they just get stronger.” His voice softened. “Jack...you’ve been through a lot. We all have, and you’re not...you’re not any less important than the rest of us. If something freaks you out, then tell us so we can avoid it.”

“But—”

“It’s what you did for me, isn’t it? It’s what you did for Jays and it’s what you’re doing for Schneep. If you honestly thought we’d be more upset about having to change something than about giving you a fucking panic attack, then you’re completely wrong. What kind of friends would we be if that was the case?”

Jack made a small whimper sound. There were tears in his eyes, and though he was aware he could blink them away, he didn’t. “Thank you...” He buried his face in Schneep’s shoulder, who made no effort to pull away and instead reached up and started running his hand through Jack’s hair comfortingly. “Thank you, guys...”

“I told you, it is not a problem,” Schneep said with a smile. “Do you want to go home?”

“...yes.”

“Then we will go home.”

After a moment more, Jack pulled away from Schneep, standing up. The others followed suit. “I...you’re...you’re all great,” Jack said. “You’re all...I love you guys.”

And we love you too, Jack, JJ signed cheerfully. If you ever wish to talk, we’ll be ready to listen.

“It might...be a while.” Jack reached up and rubbed his right eye. It’s moments like this when he can feel the phantom pain.

And that’s alright, JJ assured him. We’ll all share in our own time.

The four of them walked back in silence, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to speak to understand.

Weeks passed. They eventually worked out a system for leaving the apartment. A pair would always go, leaving another pair behind. Jack was trying to readjust to open spaces, and Schneep was trying to adjust to his new disability. They were all slowly starting to open up about what happened to all of them.

They also realized that funds were running low. An unfortunate set of circumstances, since Jack and Chase were still “missing” and couldn’t do much without attracting the police, who’d ask questions they honestly couldn’t answer without sounding insane. Schneep also couldn’t return to his job; surgery was one of those jobs that required sight, as did many others. Jack was considering returning to his YouTube channel, but until he worked up the courage to do so, JJ took it upon himself to find some way to earn money for this new household.

He and Chase were out one evening in early January, searching for a place of business that was hiring and also wouldn’t mind having a strange, silent man working for them. It was slow going, but they were both optimistic.

“We should probably start heading back soon,” Chase said, checking the time on his phone. “Unless we want Jack to cook.”

Jameson shuddered at the thought. Alright, but if I may...I need to use the bathroom.

“Alright. I think this place has one, might as well. I’ll wait here.” Chase leaned against the wall.

I’ll be back in five minutes. With that, JJ turned and walked back into the office building they’d just come from.

And five minutes later, he walked back out, only to find Chase wasn’t there. He froze at first, then trampled down the surge of fear that had immediately arisen. That wasn’t any guarantee that something bad had happened, maybe he just...he couldn’t think of another explanation.

His head whipped side to side, and barely caught a glimpse of someone rounding the nearby corner. Though he only just saw the person, he could tell that it was Chase just from the build and the brief color of the hair. He broke into a run, speeding to catch up with him.

He turned the corner, seeing Chase leaning against the wall once again. But wait. He wasn’t wearing his bandanna and wristbands. And there was nothing underneath. Instead, there were a pair of necklaces, white teardrop-shaped pendants—

“Hey, Jackson.” He smiled. “Did you m̷i̕ss m͠e̵͢?͞”

Chase woke up lying on the ground of an alleyway. His head felt fuzzy, and when he tried to stand up he suddenly got dizzy and had to try three times to get to his feet. What...happened? He pressed his hand to his swimming head, and something brushed against his face. He jolted, then looked at his wrist. The string had come loose from underneath the wristband. And...on the other wrist too. He looked down. A string was dangling from underneath his bandanna, too.

Panic stopped his heart. “JJ?” he called. “Jameson? Can you—can you clap or something if you can hear me?” When there was no obvious answer, he ran out of the alleyway and shouted, “Jameson?! Give me some sign you can hear me! Jameson?!”

He looked around. No sign of Jameson. But there was something to his left. He felt a sort of...familiar tingling coming from that way, a sense that made his stitches feel hot. He hesitated for a split second before running toward it.

He rounded the corner, and the feeling increased. Nobody was there. But then Chase looked down, and his blood became ice.

Lying on the sidewalk was Jameson’s mask.

“No...” Chase breathed. “No, no, you didn’t...” He scooped up the mask. It looked the same as it always did, except for the fact that it wasn’t on JJ. “Shit!” He reached into his pocket and sent a text to Jack: We have a problem.

He didn’t even wait for a reply before turning around and sprinting back toward the apartment. They weren’t going to let this happen again. He wasn’t going to let this happen again.

That bastard wasn’t going to touch any of them ever again.

[antiquechampagne]

Beastly Kingdom - Chapter 11 - Splish Splash

Liz felt the strain and pressure of the last few weeks of preparation lift, if only for a moment. It was replaced with the fact that she now had to bend and shape her raiders into not only a powerful fighting force, but also a manufacturing powerhouse, almost overnight.

After some negotiation, Nate sent a few low-level commanders from the Minutemen to work on organizing and training the Pack. Luckily, he took her suggestion to send them in civilian clothes to keep the Brotherhood from getting any ideas of their true mission. Liz had the old Disciples headquarters cleaned out under Fizztop Grille, moving Big Mama into a proper home. Not only did this mean Liz now had a wonderfully powerful guard dog to protect her front door, it also gave the Pack more room to expand their operation.

A number of the freed traders fled Nuka-World as soon as their collars were removed. More than she had expected stayed, taking up residence in Bradberton. This included their de facto mayor, the good Doctor Mackenzie. A few of the more dedicated traders even negotiated the use of a few apartments close to the market to be closer to their stalls.

It took longer than she expected to establish their new trade routes. Shank, ever the logistics wrangler, found the transition from organizing raids into the Commonwealth to master supply chain manager an easy change. Soon enough, more goods were flowing through the market and into the Operator’s kitchens, which had expanded into the buildings surrounding The Parlor. Their first priority was to stockpile enough food, chems and munitions to fully supply both Nuka-World’s forces and augment the Minutemen for the upcoming offensive.

Today, though… today, Liz was doing her best to keep her best armorer from being eaten by one very annoyed deathclaw.

“You need to hold still, Mama…” Liz scratched in between a few blue glowing belly scales with one hand, the other gently moving the giant head to look in her direction. Today was Mama’s helmet fitting, something they were both dreading. Mama wasn’t fond of the constricting armor that was already created, but this was another level of torture she was not ready to endure.

Bort was the artisan tasked with molding the various bits of high-grade ceramic infused steel from scrapped Galaxy Zone robots to cover all of Mama’s vital bits. He stood off to the side of Mama’s luxurious enclosure, trying his best not to drench the leather and scrap prototype with copious amounts of sweat. It took Liz a few tries, but she finally got Mama calm enough to relax and close her eyes. Cooing calmly to distract the beast, Liz motioned for Bort to get closer.

Working together, they slowly eased the prototype over Mama’s two giant curved horns, securing it under her chin. As Boris tried to tighten the buckle, Mama shook her head, trying to throw the offensive headgear off. She succeeded in cold-cocking Boris in the temple with a horn, knocking him out flat.

Liz smiled wryly and nodded her head. “Come on, Mama. Look what you’ve done!” Mama bent down, sniffing at Boris. She started to open her jaws, but Liz chided her gently. “You just had lunch, leave him alone.” Liz pulled the deathclaw’s giant muzzle to her chest, resting its chin on her sternum as she reached over and finished tightening the leather strap.

“There! Stand up and let me get a good look at you!” Mama stood back on her rear legs, her head nearly 11 feet above the ground. Liz smiled. “Now, move around a bit. Let’s see how it fits.” Mama paced the giant room, jumping and galloping around the internal concrete structures of Fizztop. The tremors of Mama’s weight on the floor woke Boris from his daze. Liz noticed Mama picking at the back of the helmet with her giant claws where it dug in.

Liz motioned for her to come close. She got out a pen. Again, she gently guided Mama’s head to her chest, marking areas to be altered.

After sending Boris away to work on fabricating the last piece of Mama’s armor, she turned to her monstrous charge. “You’ve been cooped up all day, haven’t you?” She scratched behind her horns. “Wanna go play in the pool? Cool off?” A giant stubby blue long tongue lolled out of her maw as she danced from foot to foot.

Liz opened the giant red door and Mama shot, bounding across the courtyard into the giant reflecting pool, rolling and dipping her huge body in as much of the water as she could. Liz laughed. Mama looked like a giant scaly puppy playing with pure joyful abandon. Quickly, many of the nearby people found better places to be than within striking distance of the deadly animal. A slow unlucky Pack member caught Liz’s attention.

“Hey!” She called to the woman in striped leggings and a pig mask. Reluctantly, the Pack member slinked up to the Overboss. Liz slipped her a handful of caps, ordering her to return with a leg of something from the market as quick as she could. Soon Liz was playing ‘keep away’ in ankle-deep murky water with half a brahmiluff leg. Liz weaved around Mama, teasing her with the meat. She waved it in the air inches from her nose before darting away, leaving Mama to slash and bite at nothing but air.

Liz held the leg in her teeth, swinging it back and forth across the pool from Mama, who's tail lashed side to side before bolting straight for her prize. Out of the corner of her eye, Liz caught a glimpse of some bright yellow armor off to her left. The distraction was only a few milliseconds long, but that momentary distraction slowed her down just enough that she could no longer avoid one of Mama's incoming claws. Mama's playful swipe caught her across her jaw, throwing her down into the fetid water. The meat went flying in the other direction, Mama in hot pursuit.

"BOSS!"

Liz got to her feet, wiping the greasy water from her face and eyes. The large gash on face burned and stung; blood running in a sheet down her neck. Feeling around, she found the sizable wound wasn't particularly deep.

"Boss?"

Gage was to her from the edge of the pool. He had stepped into the water, but was reluctant to get any closer, eyeing Mama with his hand on his weapon.

Liz waved him down. "It's fine. Just another scar to add to the rest of 'em." She turned to Mama, who was turned away from her, happily crunching away.

"Mama." She said the name with commanding authority. The deathclaw glanced up. "Drop it. Come here." Slowly Mama did as she was told. As she got closer to Liz, she started to sniff the air. Liz stood stock still, Mama inching nearer to her freely bleeding face. Liz stared into Mama's glowing blue eyes, her gaze never wavering. She could see the moment when the creature realized why her once happy playmate was now staring her down with a stern disappointed look. Mama shuffled back a few steps and bowed her head ever so slightly in apology. Liz extended her hand, rubbing Mama's own jaw slowly. Her firm expression softened into a weak smile.

"Be more careful next time, Mama. I don't have scales like you." Mama leaned into her hand. "Let's go get cleaned up. Back to your room." Slowly, the reptile began to slink back to her lair.

Turning, she saw Gage. He stood in awe, still barely a foot away from the water's edge. As she passed him, she called out. "Would you mind calling Dr. Mackenzie? I'm gonna need some stitches for this."

She shooed at Mama to speed her up as she sat on the edge of the pool, draining the water out of her boots. Looking down, she saw her shirt was ripped in several places. Guess I'm pretty lucky she only clipped my face! she thought to herself.

She heard Gage's footsteps in the water behind her as he splashed around.

"Boss, I think you dropped this..." he held out her hollow claw talisman, now cracked and missing pieces. The lanyard was tangled with dripping wet weeds.

"Well, fuck..." Liz took the broken necklace and inspected it before dropping it back in the water. "Guess I won't be wearing that anymore."

Mackenzie was nearly finished with her row of stitches when she got word that Nate had entered the park. Liz pushed the doctor to finish faster. Over the objections, Liz got her to skip the last couple stitches in favor of slapping a bandage on the oozing wound and calling it good.

Liz found Nate in the bustling marketplace, chatting to a pair of merchants. Traders from around the Commonwealth and beyond had started to investigate the new market, ever ready to make a fistful of caps if the opportunity present itself.

"Good evening, General. To what do I owe your visit?"

"I just wanted to see how things were progressing. I had several positive reports from my people. I wanted to see for myself." He pointed to her face. "Is everything alright?"

"Just a little training accident, nothing to worry about. Would you like a tour of the new-improved Nuka-World?"

"No thanks. I feel like wandering around a bit... kicking the tires, if you like."

"Of course. General. I might suggest leaving Fizztop Mountain and Kiddie Kingdom off your itinerary for today... unless you want to test Mama's hospitality or to your radiation resistance."

Nate nodded. "Excellent points. Well, I am sure you are very busy with all the preparation. I'll leave you to them." He turned to go. "I'll make sure to touch base with you before I leave if I have any questions."

Liz wasn't particularly happy with such a cool reception in her own territory, but she knew well enough to leave it alone. He was transparent enough with his intention to see if she was keeping up her end of the bargain. She respected that.

Not that she was going to just let him skulk around unsupervised. A quick visit to Mason made sure he was tailed discretely as he wandered the parks but a few of the Pack's most promising infiltration units. If nothing else, this would give them good practice for future operations.

Liz spent the rest of the day getting reports of the General's movements while pretending to supervise weapon allocations around Nuka-Town and the surrounding parks. It appeared that not only was Nate checking on their progress but try to gauge both her troops and residents opinions of Nuka-World's new mission. From what her men could discern, the General liked what he heard.

Around dusk, Liz saw Nate walking towards her as she sat talking with Mags outside the Parlor. Dr. Mackenzie strolled by his side, chatting lightly. He nodded, taking his leave from the former slave and headed her way.

As he approached, Liz motioned for Mags to head inside, leaving the rusty patio chair open for the General. "So, did you find everything up to snuff, General?" She motioned for him to sit.

He remained standing. "I am quite impressed what you have managed to do here in such a short period of time. I could have done without the babysitters, though."

Liz waved the accusation way. "It's a good test for'em... from what I hear, your feats of sneakiness are quite impressive. Is it true you took out all those raiders in Quincy and they never even got a shot off at you?" Liz wasn't sure, but she though she saw a faintest hint of a blush.

"Maybe." He quickly recovered. "Enough about that. I thought we might start talking strategy, privately, for the assault on the Boston airport. If you have the time, of course..."

The Overboss rose from her chair. "My office should do. Not a soul would dare to bother us up there. I've been wanting to show you all the nasty little tricks I've been thinking up."

[glacierbash]

Did y’all know... I write shit sometimes???

Summary: two gays just sitting on a roof being gay

Warnings: death mention. Nothing serious but they just talk about dying a lot. Kinda my personal coping method.

“Dakota? What will happen when we die?”

“Our minds will stop working, our bodies will rot, and we’ll be tossed to the mole rats. Next question?” Dakota stared at the unlit cigarette in her hands. Part of her wanted to light it, just to watch it burn; she had no real desire to ever smoke again. But on the other hand, she just wanted to throw it. Get the damned thing away from her.

Next to her, her companion chuckled. “That’s awfully dark of you. I expected you to say you would go to Hell or something.”

“...probably am. No god would ever take me.” Dakota forced a laugh of her own, tossing the cigarette off the side of the building. It tumbled down, quickly disappearing. Adalyn hummed softly.

“Why do you think you deserve to go to Hell?”

“Any number of reasons. I lie, I cheat, I steal, I kill. Least I’m not a racist, but that doesn’t make it any better. I mean, Anne said that long ago, people believed you’d go to Hell for being gay!” Dakota threw her hands up, careful not to slap Adalyn. “It’s ridiculous. I breathe to loudly? Hell. I—“

“If you find it so restrictive, why do you still believe in it?” Adalyn asked, cocking her head to the side like a confused puppy. Dakota hesitated, tightening her ponytail out of nervous habit. Why did she still believe in all that stuff, anyways?

“It was… what I was taught. From an early age. It’s not just something I can easily get rid of.” She finally said. Adalyn studied her with appraising eyes, a distracted smile upturning the edges of her lips. And then she sighed.

“You mean it’s something that you were taught in the vault, right?”

Dakota froze. How… how did she know? How in the ever-loving fuck did Adalyn know about… that?

Her stunned reaction got the synth laughing again. No judgement in her face, only mirth. She clearly didn’t understand just how serious of a thing it was. “Anne told me. Don’t worry, I’ve kept your secret.” And then her face got serious. “Why would you hide that, though?”

“Would you hide being an ex-courser?” Dakota snapped. Adalyn shook her head.

“No, I’d be upfront and honest. Like I was with you guys. The second I could, I explained who I was. And that I would… probably need to kill you.”

“Then you don’t get it. Life in a vault is… boring and scary. What if there’s a critical failure? What if our food isn’t as good as before, or whatever. But then there’s also the fact that it’s the same thing over. And over. And over.” Dakota scratched her chin, relaxing a bit. “So I ran away.”

“You were really dedicated to escaping, weren’t you?” Adalyn reached forward, gently grabbing Dakota’s free hand. She brought it up to her lips to give it a gentle kiss. Dakota grumbled.

“Yeah. Grew my hair out and scarred up my face and everything.” She pointed to the thin mark on her lip. “It helped, at least a bit.”

“Did it, though?” She asked.

“Dammit. Now you got me doubting. Did I screw up my flawless face for no reason?” Dakota rolled her eyes. “I already broke my nose three times in the vault. Even if I didn’t need to scar my face, it doesn’t matter.”

“How? I mean, how did you break your nose three separate times?”

“Once I walked into a Mr. Handy. Rather than kinda… stumbling, I just let myself fall. Hit my nose hard on a counter. The second time, I got into a fight, and I got punched. Broke my beautiful nose. The third time was when I first tried to shoot a gun. Don’t ask just how badly I messed up.” Dakota glanced over at her girlfriend, who was now laughing. Dakota stuck out her tongue. “Sure, sure, laugh at my pain.”

“If it makes you feel better… one time Hazel and I were training, and she pinned me.” Adalyn paused, giving Dakota just enough time to interject.

“Thrilling, though it doesn’t make me feel much better.”

“Oh, hush. Anyways. She had me pinned, but I landed on my arm. And she was putting a lot of pressure on my shoulder and ribs, for some reason. So by the time she left, my arm was bent all out of place. You can still see it.” Adalyn helped out her right arm, where Dakota could see the slightly awkward shape. “Plus, since the woman I was modeled after has such a weird hand, I got it too” she pointed at the pinky on her right arm, which was bent inwards. “Hooray, biology.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They eventually fell into silence, staring off into the distance. The sun was setting now, ending yet another day in this fucking wasteland. Dakota leaned into Adalyn, resting her head on her chest. The sky was purple, night mingling with the last remaining rays of sunlight. Soon it would be dark, and soon it would be dangerous.

But for now, they watched. It was the little moments like this that mattered to Dakota. Dark conversations turned light hearted. Adalyn wrapped an arm around her, smiling down at her.

“I don’t think you will go to Hell, Dakota.”

“And why’s that? My ego needs a good stroking.” Dakota quipped with a relaxed smile. Adalyn laughed gently.

“I just mean… for every bad thing, you do several good things. You’re the one that found Billy, and insisted on rescuing him. You’re the one that stayed back with Tom to help both synths and institute scientists alike escape. You—“

“Killed a mother. On her son’s birthday.” Dakota’s brow furrowed. “I’m… pretty awful.”

“Then So am I,” Adalyn declared. Dakota snorted.

“Hardly. You’re like a fucking saint in this place. You actually try and do good things.” She replied.

“Then why does my objectively awful past get ignored, but yours doesn’t?” Adalyn shook her head. “You’re much better than you give yourself credit for. Accept it, Dakota; you could be a far worse person.”

“And far better. But… fine,” she said with a sigh, “fine. I’m… not the worst.”

“Good.” Adalyn smiled, kissing the top of Dakota’s head. The sun had sunk below the horizon now, and soon the real terrors would begin to creep and crawl. Adalyn didn’t move, not yet. Dakota sighed, nuzzling into her.

“...I love you,” she whispered. Adalyn moved her own arm under Dakota’s drawing lazy circles on Dakota’s stomach.

“I love you too.” Adalyn replied.

“I don’t tell you that nearly enough. I need to do better. So starting today, I will.” Dakota said. She looked up at Adalyn, whose blue grey eyes seemed to shine in the darkness. Adalyn smiled.

“I could get used to that.”

[just-some-random-blogger]

I’m Not Playing | 2

WINNER Gangster!Song Minho (Mino) x Reader | Part 1 2 3 Summary: Through a forced marriage of convenience, you became the wife of the infamous Minho of the Song gangster dynasty. Word Count: 1k+ Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Hotheadedness, stubbornness, kinda violent, etc.

A/N: I DON’T KNOW WHY I HAVE TO BE SO EXTRA

also i’m sorry for any typos i missed.

IMAGES ARE NOT MINE

I wrapped myself with my brown leather trench coat along with my arms. My ears were perked up in caution and I turned back to see if anyone was following me. In a quick glance, I found no one there. I let out a breath, this is the third day.

A shop caught my eye, and so I decided to go and buy a drink.

"One chocolate chip, please." I spoke in a flat tone to the overly cheery barista.

I turned behind again, and still, no one was there.

I bit my lower lip and focused on the woman making my order.

"Chocolate chip, agassi." she smiled and nodded, handing me my drink with two hands. I forced a soft smile, "Gamsa." Thanks.

I took a sip of my drink and turned to look for a seat. I spotted the perfect seat by the end of the cafe, next to the window. I headed there and sat down, looking out of the window for a certain person.

What was taking him so long?

I turned to my drink and stirred it with a straw. I somehow chuckled bitterly, thinking I was finally.. free.

But then I jolted in surprise at the simultaneous sounds I heard. A grunt, something dropping on the table in front of me, and the words, "What the fuck is this?"

I spoke too soon.

I turned and saw a fuming Minho, jaw clenched, eyes sharp, veins throbbing.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I held and shuffled in my seat. "It took you three days to find me?"

His brows quirked up and he chuckled in disbelief. Taking a step back he wiped his face in frustration, cursing under his breath. Then, he plopped down in the chair in front of me, arms slamming on the table, causing the things he threw to jolt up.

"Is this a joke to you?" he hissed.

I pursed my lips and blinked slowly, "No. I am taking this very seriously." I crossed my arms

For a fraction of a second, his cold, hard, gangster façade dropped and his eyes softened. But all at once, he had that glint in his eyes, the same ones usually directed to those whose deviance he did not appreciate.

He leaned back then raised his arm. "What is this?" he grumbled.

I hitched in a breath, "I think you know exactly what that is, Diamond Tooth."

He visibly twitched. Through my blank expression he soured sour and grimaced at the nickname I used on him, his gangster nickname.

Song Minho got that name for infamously being the wealthiest gangster, not only in the neighborhood or the stronghold of Seoul, not even to just the Republic of Korea, but in the whole of Asia. 

Let me say that one more time.

T h e   w h o l e   o f   A s i a .

 With a growl he took the object in his hand and held it between his pointer and thumb, "What does it mean?"

I looked at he emerald cut diamond ring and flinched when light was sharply reflection into my eyes. I licked my lips and pulled back, "What do you think it means?! It means I don't want it."

And in that moment, time froze. The man before me could no longer keep a straight face on and it made me feel so unnecessarily uneasy and guilty. My chest felt like it was being compressed and tears started to well in my eyes. I had to look away.

I couldn't see what Minho was doing but I knew he was shuffling frantically.

Suddenly he was on his feet and I snapped my head in his direction when I heard the sound of multiple small objects dropping. My eyes widened at the sight. From a black pouch fell dozens upon dozens of diamond rings. The other more

"If you don't like that one," he pulled put another bag, "pick another!" he demanded. He spilled out the contents of the bag once more. "Wear all of them, TAKE ALL OF THEM!" he raised his voice, and yet it cracked in vulnerability.

"If-if you don't want any of that, I can get you something else! I can- I-I... I can custom make something else! Money is no object, diamonds are nothing hard to get."

I felt all the eyes in the room glued on me, thus the tell-tale heat on my cheeks arose. "Minho, sit down."

"No, just pick one!" he pointed his finger and raised his voice.

"Minho, stop. You're being childish. Everyone's looking and--"

"LET THEM LOOK, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK."

"Minho, listen t--"

"NO!" he spat and bent down, "you listen." He straightened up, "I'm not about to let you go, so it's better if you just stop being so fucking dramatic and emotional and pick a ring!"

 Abruptly, I stood as I heavily heaved.

For a moment, he as taken aback and was expecting a violent reaction. But when none came, confusion mixed with anger replaced his slightly fearful look. With a low and frustrated growl, I burst out, "AM I REALLY THAT PATHETIC IN YOUR EYES?"

I snorted inwardly and blinked forming tears away, "Don't you get it, Minho? I don't want your rings, and I don't want to be around you."

He knit his brows deeply.

"We were a disaster from the start, and getting married only added to that. This was never going to work."

He was expressionless before me.

I nodded in disapproval and turned to the table as a petty excuse for myself not to look at him. The jewels before me made me feel sick as I thought of the fact thus man, my husband, measures me in this way.

"You're so reckless," I muttered as I gathered everything into the center of the table. I found myself slightly sniffling as I proceeded to get my things and leave.

As I did so, the word, "Aniyo," were released into the air.

I ignored and began to walk away.

Against what I expected, I was able to reach the door without much fuss. Up until someone screeched out no and nearly gave me a heart attack. I gasped and turned back, only to see Minho on his knees, "Na tteonaji ma." Don't leave me.

"Badag-eseo naelyeo, eoli seogda." Get off the floor, stupid.

"Do you really believe that our marriage is a disaster?" he whispered with glossy eyes.

"It's more than that," I balled my hands in a fist, "it's a joke!"

Minho looked betrayed, and I scoffed and shook my head at that, "What? Did you think I married you because I love you or something? I married you because my family wanted me to."

He looked at me with lips parted.

I growled and turned about, wanting to get as far away from here as possible.

"What do you want me to do?" he croaked out. I stopped in my tracks. "You should know I'd do anything for you. A n y t h i n g.

"I'd take a thousand rounds of bullets for you. I'd shape the world the way you want me to. Hell I'd give up all that I have if it's what it'll take you to stay," he huffed out a dry chuckle, "but I'm sure your father wouldn't let me."

I gulped roughly as I felt hot tears rush down my face. How dare he. How dare he pretend and pull a stunt like this. How dare he.

"Goodbye, Song Minho." I ended as I walked out and out of his life.

[lucyfurwritesserialkillers-blog]

Phillip Jablonski Letter (Sept. 12th 2018)

Dearest Kaleb,

Received your letter and the photograph you sent me I will send a photograph in my letter as well. Also thank you for the great drawing of the fox I love it.

My favorite serial killer is John Wayne Gacy I just seen an interview done by his sister and mother. They spoke with one victim sister. Trying to find peace with what Gacy done.

His mother said she tried to commit suicide twice cuz of the shame brought to the family name. The sister told her he take my brother's wife but he ruined your family.

His wife (?) one night. She looked out the window. John Gacy had a young boy in his car and take him to the garage when he came out. She went into the garage she find a mattress with blood on it and found belts.

His sister done an interview on Oprah show she said John was at a party John left with a man the man take (?) to his house and sodomy them.

I write a man who written Gacy and has Gacy paintings he said Gacy painted Charles Manson and Elvis and other portraits.

Yes I got aroused when they lick the shit off the carrot also I use cucumber inside their anal hole then lick the shit off also I use a frozen banana a male anal hole. Even used a socket and into men anal hole. I attached the socket to my extend (?) push the socket up their anal hole and twist the wrench boy did they love screaming when they scream it arouses me. They go unconscious and always leave blood on my sockets.

Okay more about me. I just love infants and toddlers being a dominant person. If I ever got out I would dominate you. You would love me dominating you and I will make you wear your cross dress. I want you to fantasize what I would do to your body. Psychologist have said I have an unnatural ability to get people in my evil web and have the ability to serve me they are like my little prey. One psychologist said I was like a fish man I would bait my victims then when I hook them I would reel them like a fish out of water.

I love to destroy a boy, man or girl or woman I love to take there morals and self pride out of the male or female.

So you like to cross-dress and be a drag queen and pretend you are a female slut a drag queen that sounds great you would make a great decoy for young boys to fuck.

Do you like to dress like a girl if I got out I would turn you into a transgender I would cut off your penis and flip it inside out I've done that to men before.

Yes I would love to have a photo of you in Drag and as a boy. You should send me a picture of you in bra and panties and take picture of you bend over showing me your cute ass and lying on your stomach on your bed. I would love to have you on your hands and knees like a dog. I have enclosed a photo of me and a guy who visited me my birthday is January 3rd.

No I do not have a cellmate I am known as the asshole bandit. I was raping my cell mates only a few escaped from being sodomy by me and be my prison wife.

Yes you should tattoo my face on your thigh even better you should tattoo my face on your stomach then men can see my face and they dominate you and put my Prison number under it but it's your body you can put it anywhere you want...

I had a former pen pal who had serial killer tattoos on his body he added me to his collection.

Boy you need (?) cuz the gorgeous picture of you when you were young. How old were you in that picture you sent me? No wonder you were molested a young age because you are way too gorgeous to be straight you needed that cock in you at that age. I would have dominated you. I would have taken your boy Hood. I would have shown you your true sexual calling. I would have made you have so much pain I would shove objects in your anal hole then I will make you lick your own shit. I would give you're young anal hole a tongue bath. Any kind you drink juice, milk. ect. I would pee in your drink make you drink it. I would mix my shit in your food make you get on your hands and knees and make you eat your shit inside the food like a dog. I would Make you suck a dog's dick then I would have the dog fuck you. You would lick the dogs asshole after he took a shit. Even if the dog took a shit in public I would make you eat it in public. I would cut your tongue out so you could deep throat man's dick better. I would make urine ice cream for you to slowly suck on and urine popsicles and I would feel your baby bottle help with urine for you to drink and put you in diapers.

You would sleep on me and I would lick your feet never be treated like a human I would treat you like the piece of shit you are. I was living with my friend's wife we lived in an apartment complex we meet a single woman with 7 year girls. Outside there was a swimming pool we had a swimming pool. Where I lived didn't have a swimming pool where they came and visit. Her daughter had a sexy body short hair and a nice petite butt cheek hair one-piece bathing suit was super tight it didn't leave much to my imagination. I love the shape of her swimsuit is shirt off her amazing butt cheeks and it shows off the shape of her pussy.

We had two cats they had kittens. She love to play with their kittens. When she bent over to play with the kittens. Her swimsuit would show off her butt cheeks. She even look good in a dress. One day her mother and my wife was outside she also brought the kitten over to play with her brother and sister.

I lured her into the bedroom and I put her on her knees and force her mouth open and put my dick head in her mouth. It felt so good in her sweet mouth. When her mother called her name I said your daughter cara answer you but she has a mouth full of dick. Her mother said come right now or you'll be late for school.

I pulled my dick out of her mouth told her not to tell her mother or I'll take your kitten back.

Couldn't wait for the opportunity to get her sweet pussy and molest her sweet body. The palm of my hand sweating I wanted to eat out her sweet innocent body. I was drooling my tongue wanted to give her a nice slow tongue bath.

The opportunity came to molest her on the 4th of July Fourth of July BBQ at the complex. She was going swimming in our pool. I told her she had to ask her mother. Her mother did not want her swim by herself I told her mother I would swim with her. (????) her bathing suit. I would eat out my swimming trunks. And waited for my prey. When she came into the apartment I found her out of the pool boy sweet but moving so sexy in her bathing suit.

When we got into the pool I couldn't keep my eyes off her sexy body I swimmed by her looking at her petite butt cheeks I was whispering come play with me.

When she started floating on her back showing me that sweet treasure hidden between her legs we got out of the pool. I dried her off and pick her up take her to my bedroom. And slow strip her out her bathing suit then I laid her nude on her stomach. Then I licked call legs up to her butt cheeks and I licked out her petite butthole. Then I went and got some lubrication (?) jelly to lubricate her tight virgin butthole. I lubricated all my fingers then I slowly penetrate her tight butthole I could only get my little and her rotate the finger she was crying I said suffer you little bitch. Then I laid next to her and put her pussy over my mouth. And I ate her out. When her pussy filll my mouth it tastes like sweet delicious honey. Then I laid her on her but in some pussy did her butt. I put my finger deep in her pussy and rotated it I could leave her hymen intact I find a pin and slide it in her until it reached through hymen then I put her on her knees and masturbate in her mouth.

Her mother got a job so she gave her daughter the key to the apartment to let herself in home from school so when the daughter come home from school and my wife was ar work I would train her to be a prostitute.

We had a small collection a video games we had a (?) arcade I would take her tube video game she would wear a long dress but I would change her into a mini skirt and nude under it.

When she stand a boy to play the game she would bend over like I taught her I could see a piece of her butt cheek. One day I seen the man trying to peep under her dress I walked over I said that's my daughter when dress you thing under then I said she is available to please you sexually. She is a nice piece of ass. She will drive you crazy in bed then I found out he own the arcade i take him i take her into office and have some fun I paid her her pussy and butthole you read her one video for everything take video of her clothes he agreed to do everything to her he was her first John. I pimped her out until she was 8 years old under the sweat mother's nose and under my wife.

Well my love I'll close for now.

Love,

Phillip

XO XO XO XO

[bakugou-tm]

My Other Half - Chapter 4

WHew I haven’t updated this in awhile my bad. This chapter has some intense fighting scenes with our favorite antisocial half and half boi. I know it’s not a lot of Bakugou and OC yet but I promise the next chapters will satisfy your needs ;) But for now enjoy Hazel kicking some aSS!

Friday was finally here. After waking up peacefully on the chilly morning, Hazel was surprised but happy to say her day had been much better.

More friends had been made, classes became easier once she actually was able to pay attention, and nobody had bothered her during lunch.

All she had left was her hero training class then she got to spend the rest of her night with her new friends, all they had been talking about this week was girls night. While Hazel was excited to spend an entire night with her new friends, she was fairly nervous as well. After all she had just arrived in Japan a few days ago, this would be her first time out in the city.

The brunette had an hour to worry about that, for now she needed to be focused on her hero course. She only had a few weeks to prove herself into the intense school.

“Students meet on Ground Beta with your hero uniforms on. All Might will be there waiting.” Aizawa said in a dull tone, the suit latches coming from the side of the wall.

Hazel stood up, ready to change into her gym uniform since her costume hadn’t been made yet until she felt a hand on her shoulder causing her to turn back.

“A student in the support department took special interest in your quirk and decided to make a hero costume for you. If you don’t like it or would like to make changes you can take it up with her.” Aizawa said, handing her a bag with what she assumed was her uniform inside.

A warm grin spread across her face as she bowed to him before skipping out of the room, she could hardly wait to see what the students had come up with for her.

--

“Wow Hazel your costume is…”

“AMAZING!” Mina shouted, finishing Tsu’s sentence as she fangirled around Hazel, the brunette still tugging at the sides.

“I..It’s a bit revealing…” Hazel stuttered, a light dust coming across her cheeks as the girls in the locker room observed her new look.

The new girl’s suit was navy blue with a leotard shape and long sleeves, except for the holes cut out at her shoulder. Thankfully her legs were somewhat covered with the matching navy boots that reached up to her thighs. Around the long sleeves of the suit were silver wires that blended perfectly with the suit, but they weren’t just for a fashion statement. The wire like tubes contained water that could be taken from the air so Hazel could still fight effectively even if she wasn’t near water. With her long brunette hair tied up into a high ponytail that fell just above her hips it pulled off the look very well on her lean body.

“I know how you feel Hazel, my suit is more revealing than I wanted it to be too, but it helps me manuver my quirk better so I deal with it.” Momo explained with a sympathetic smile.

“Plus it actually will help with your combat, being able to absorb water from the air will help when you are in dry areas.” Jiro commented, observing her new suit intensely.

Hazel let out a sigh of relief realizing her friends were right, besides it was very flattering on her. “Not to mention you look amazing in it! The navy and silver really make your tan skin shine and those long legs of yours make the boots look awesome!” Uraraka said with a grin, the girls nodding in agreement.

“Thanks guys, I’m actually starting to like my new suit now!” Hazel said with a confident smile, heading towards the locker room door so they could head to the training grounds.

“Don’t worry, if Mineta or Kaminari try to say anything stupid we got your back.” Mina said with a grin as she punched her fists together. Suddenly you found a new surge of excitement through your body.

--

Hazel couldn’t help but feel all eyes on her once the girls caught up to Ground Beta, a light blush re-appearing back on her cheeks.

While normally she didn’t mind all the positive attention, the reason of the attention couldn’t help but make her flustered.

The students stood around talking amongst themselves while they waited for All Might to arrive and give them their training for the day. Since it was no surprise he was late they took it amongst themselves to stretch while talking with each other.

“Guys, Hazel’s new suit looks awesome.” Kirishima said with a grin as the group of guys looked over to the girls, observing the new girl’s hero costume.

Mineta couldn’t take his eyes off her, even though his eyes were looking at lower regions.. “Man I can’t believe I though Mina had the best butt, look at those golden cheeks.” The perverted boy cooed as he stared at her tan cheeks while she bent down to stretch out the back of her legs.

“Stop fucking looking at her ass you creep.” Bakugou hissed, punching the small boy in the back of the head that earned a loud yelp from Mineta.

“I hate to agree with Mineta but, she does look pretty hot in that costume.” Kaminari admitted, all eyes on the new girl now as Bakugou stared her down.

Though he would never admit it, her costume was amazing. He never noticed how toned she was before but now seeing her in this costume made her look like a total badass.

“Bakugou seems to be agreeing with his eyes.” Sero said with a grin, nudging at Bakugou’s side causing him to growl in annoyance.

“Shut your damn mouth flat face.” The ash blond hissed as he quickly looked away from the girl and folded his arms.

The group of boys snickered at the flustered boy, taking advantage of his embarrassed state. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out right now, huh?” Bakugou’s head whipped over to Sero, his crimson red eyes drilling holes into his own. “Ask her out and I fucking swear I will set you on fire-”

“Hey guys, what were you talking about that has you all laughing like crazy people?” Mina asked, Hazel and Jiro by her side.

All faces looked to Bakugou who simply scoffed, turning his head the other way.

“Your guys’ costumes are so cool! You have to show me how they work sometime.” Hazel said with a smile, looking at all the different types of costumes with a smile.

“Oh I can show you how mine works right now.” Mineta said with a coy grin, handing Hazel one of his purple balls from his head, “This isn’t the only sticky thing I have you know.” The brunette stared down to the sticky sphere in her hand and couldn’t decide which was worse: the disgusting object the boy just stuck on her palm or the disgusting boy in front of her. “Yeah no thanks, I got the grasp of your quirk.” Hazel hissed, shoving the purple ball back in the boy’s face, earning a few snickers from the guys next to him.

“I AM HERE NOW MY STUDENTS!”

Never had Hazel been so relieved to hear those words, quickly she moved away from the group and towards the large hero standing before them.

“It is wonderful to see you all again students! I apologize for my absence I had some personal business to deal with.” All Might explained with his trademark grin, “Nevertheless I am here now and have an exciting training activity for today.” The students awaited his plans eagerly, ready for anything the pro hero threw at them.

“Today we will be doing hero vs villain again, except this time it will be one on one!” All Might shouted, the student’s eyes widening at hearing they would be fighting one on one.

“This will really show how all of our quirks work and how you all can deal with your strengths and weaknesses.” All Might explained, the students understanding the point of the training now, but that didn’t calm down their nerves.

“First up we will have Hazel Jones and Shoto Todoroki!” A sudden chill went down Hazel’s back as she heard the name of her opponent, “T..Todoroki?”

The brunette felt eyes on her as she stepped up nervously next to Todoroki who looked ahead with a blank face.

“Hazel you will be playing the hero, Todoroki you will be the villain. Understood?” All Might questioned, once both heroes in training nodded timidly he dismissed them to the practice building.

“You got this Hazel!”

“Yeah go get em girl!”

These shouts of encouragement forced her to put a smile on her face but it barely hid the fear on her face as she walked to the building with her opponent.

Hazel knew that they were going to be going hard on her but how could they match her with Todoroki, one of the top students, in just the first day?

All thoughts came to a pause when she felt a cool palm on her shoulder, “I will not be going easy on you Hazel, but I wish you luck.” Todoroki said in a monotone voice, giving her the faintest of smiles before heading up into the building.

A small smile reached Hazel’s lips as the boy disappeared inside, at least he had some sympathy for her.

--

Nervously the brunette waited outside for about five minutes, waiting for Todoroki to get situated inside the building. Now was the time for her to strategize: Todoroki had a fire and ice quirk right? While she did have an advantage with his fire quirk since she used to train with her brother a lot, his ice quirk did make some problems. She would be able to turn his ice to water, but he could also turn her water to ice; for her to win she would have to keep a safe distance away from him.

“Ready Todoroki?” All Might asked into the mic, when Hazel looked over to All Might who gave her the thumbs up she inhaled deeply. It’s showtime.

Immediately she kicked open a sewer lid on the street, raising her arms up to get what bit of water she could so she wouldn’t walk in completely empty handed. The more water she had around her the better. Looking over to see her classmates walking over to the observing room she narrowed her eyes and stormed into the doors.

Hazel was met with an eerie silence, no surprise Todoroki wasn’t going to come at her immediately. Moving inside she kept the water flowing around herself, her tan arms remaining up and ready to strike. After what felt like forever of walking her nerves began to creep into the back of her mind, where was Todoroki?

Only one door ahead remained closed, the only one in the building she hadn’t looked through. Slowly she walked towards the door, her navy boots working well to keep her movements quiet, once she reached the door she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was it.

In one motion she kicked open the door, a battle cry escaping her lips and the water already formed into sharp icicles around her to pin Todoroki to the ground. Her plan would have worked perfectly if only there was a villain to capture. When the brunette was met with a silent room she quirked an eyebrow.

“Why would Todoroki leave the weapon unprotected? Did I miss him on the way up?” Hazel questioned out loud, her ocean blue eyes scanning the room before she shrugged, her tense shoulders relaxing as she walked to the weapon, all she had to do was touch it.

But when the cool wind sound reached her ears, her brains slowly kicked into realization of what was happening, but it was too late.

“You didn’t honestly think I left this place unguarded did you?”

Suddenly a wall of ice surrounded her body holding the girl captive to the icy prison, her head whipping up to the sound to see Todoroki now before her.

“Of course not, what kind of hero would that make me?” She said with a grin as the ice around her boots transformed into water before she kicked her legs out, sending a stream of water towards Todoroki that knocked him off his feet.

Quickly she melted the rest of the ice around herself, turning it into water that surrounded her arms like water tentacles. Todoroki was quick to get up as well, shards of ice quickly being thrown at the girl while she whipped her water arms around, slicing the pieces of ice to the ground.

“I know how you favor your ice side, don’t hold back on me.” Hazel hissed as she spun around sending as stream of water towards the half and half boy who easily dodged her attack, freezing her water before shattering it to the floor.

“I don’t think my fireside will be necessary today.” Todoroki said coldly as he sent a blast of ice to Hazel’s hands causing the water around you to splash to the ground once she lost focus. Letting out a growl the brunette looked up to his smirking form already running towards her, she had to think fast.

With a grunt she jumped up into the air, the water below her giving an extra boost before she kicked both of her legs out, sending blasts of water towards the boy. Luckily she caught him off guard, both blasts hitting him causing the boy to fall back. She took advantage of this, melting the ice from her hands.

“You’re able to manipulate your quirk using all your body parts, impressive.” Todoroki observed, earning a grin from Hazel, “I told you not to underestimate me.”

Todoroki nodded towards her, his uneven eyes now narrowing, “Noted.” When a shard of ice headed towards her feet knocking her on her stomach she let out a yelp, the girl let your guard down. Groaning she looked up to see the boy with ice already in his hand jumping towards her, just in the nick of time she rolled away, allowing the water around her to launch yourself across the room.

Even though he wasn’t using his fire side yet, she could tell he was using more power on his ice side, she just needed a little more…

Narrowing her ocean eyes she sprinted over to him, his hands already up with an ice wall rushing towards her but a smirk appeared across her features, his ice wall wasn’t going to work this time.

Sprinting as fast as she could Hazel moved her arms in front of herself, splitting the ice in front of her by melting it. When she reached Todoroki she grinned when she saw the shocked look on his face when she split through his ice wall. Quickly the brunette grabbed his arms and spread them apart before launching yourself up, pushing off his chest so she could flip in the air. Spinning around midair the brunette melted the water from the ice wall before throwing her arms forward, sending the water into Todoroki’s chest with such force that it sent him flying across the room.

--

“Yeah Hazel! You go girl!” Mina shrieked as the class all clapped and cheered for her wildly, for anyone to be lasting this long in a fight with Todoroki was impressive.

“This chick is insane! Did you see how she just jumped off of Todoroki like it was nothing?” Kirishima shouted, him and Kaminari watching the fight unfold while on the edge of their seat.

Bakugou watched behind Kirishima’s chair with narrowed eyes, Hazel was fighting like a trained pro-hero. This led him to wonder who the hell trained her this well? The way she danced around while fighting, especially with Todoroki of all people. You were insane in his eyes. The ash blond couldn’t help but notice the heavy beating in his chest when he watched you fight, it was a foreign warm feeling he definitely wasn’t used to.

“Are you seeing this Bakugou? With the way she’s fighting she could totally kick your ass!” Sero said with a grin, causing the ash blond to snap out of his trance and growl down to the boy, shoving him out of his seat and to the floor.

“Shut the hell up tape boy! I would destroy her in a fight.”

--

Todoroki now looked up to Hazel, a sense of annoyance clearly seen in his eyes. Finally this was the moment she had been waiting for, his left side.

The boy growled as he sent streams of fire towards the girl, surely enough to knock her out and end this battle once and for all, but when the flames began to circle around Todoroki froze, now seeing the brunette’s ocean eyes through the fading fire that circled around her until your arms blew it away.

“Huh..? Can you control fire?” Todoroki asked in disbelief, a smirk evident on her face as she re-positioned her arms into a fighting stance, “No, my brother had a fire quirk much like yours. He trained me to control fire by dimming it down with my water and making it fade away, fire beats water after all.”

The half and half boy was mad now, he couldn’t lose this fight, especially if he was using both sides. Quickly the boy ran towards her before jumping into the air above her, if she could just use water to freeze him against the ceiling it would give her enough time to get to the fake weapon and win already.

Moving her arms around herself she shot them up, a stream of water following after her movement until Todoroki grabbed both of her arms ice spreading up the wire like tubes that held her backup water, rendering them useless.

“M..My backup water-” The brunette started before the boy flipped over you, grasp still tight on her arms causing her to go flying towards the wall, her back slamming against it before she fell to the ground.

“Todoroki take it down a notch, just wrap the tape around her so the game can end.” All Might spoke over the intercom, the half and half boy realizing just how harsh he had been to Hazel.

Slowly he walked over to your shaking form, unravelling the tape cautiously just in case if you tried to get up.

Letting out a shaky breath Hazel tried to lift her upper body up, her arms wobbling below herself. The brunette’s vision was blurry, Todoroki’s last move really taking a toll on her. But no matter the case she had to get up, she couldn’t lose in front of All Might, in order to stay at this cool she had to win.

“Stay down Hazel, I don’t want to hurt you more.”

Looking around for ideas she blinked when she noticed sweat dripping from her nose, that’s it. Sweat. That was technically a form of water, which meant she was able to control it. Gritting her teeth she looked up to Todoroki with narrowed eyes, causing him to freeze.

“I n..never stay down.”

Quickly Hazel swiped her hand across her forehead, gathering the sweat from it before clenching her fist, turning the sweat into a shard which she quickly threw towards Todoroki’s arm causing him to drop the tape.

The half and half boy looked to Hazel in disbelief, not knowing how she was still standing but regardless he was going to take her down. Narrowing her eyes, the brunette flung her arms out, flicking all the remaining sweat on her body off her before turning it into water, throwing small streams of it towards Todoroki.

Todoroki barely was able to dodge the streams of water coming towards him, his eyes widening after he just almost got hit before he swung his arms up, catching the blasts of water and froze them before sending them back towards Hazel, the sharp pieces of ice pinning her uniform against the wall.

All was quiet until she heard All Might’s voice from over the intercom, “Ms. Jones, can you move?”

Tugging as hard as she could against the ice the brunette let out a defeated sigh before slumping her exhausted body down, “No I cannot All Might.”

“Then that settles it, the villain team wins!”

The words the filled Hazel’s ears made ever hair on your body stand, the terrible feeling of defeat sinking into her skin. How was she going to get into this school when she couldn’t even beat Todoroki? She had three weeks to prove herself, this didn’t help at all.

Hazel’s overwhelming thoughts came to a halt when a hand was placed on her shoulder, her ocean blue eyes flicking up to meet Todoroki’s sympathetic ones, while he melted the ice shards causing you to drop to the floor.

“You are very strong Hazel, you were defeated with honor.” Todoroki said with a smile, lifting her arm around his shoulders to help keep her balance before walking out of the room and down the hallway.

“Oh thanks, you were really good as well. I don’t know why I thought I could beat you.” Hazel said with a bitter laugh, shuffling her boots down the stairs while Todoroki helped support your exhausted body, his concerned eyes looking towards you, “Hazel you did amazing today, not only do you have great power but your technique and strategy is near flawless. Don’t forget that you’re still very powerful, you’ll be a great hero.”

Hazel’s ocean blue eyes looked up to Todoroki’s sympathetic ones, a smile rising across her lips, “Thank you Todoroki-kun.”

“Call me Shoto.”

[archonssun]

Walls

Chapter One

Next Chapter→

WC: 3084

Warnings: none (other than an absolutely crazy amount of sass lmao)

▧▨▧▨▧▨

At first, there was nothing but water and mist. Just an endless sea and mist. Then, the gods were birthed from the waters. Firstly, the parents of the god of the heavens, Anshar and Kishar. Secondly, Anu, the god of the heavens. Thirdly, Anu's son, Ea, who became the god of the Earth. Now, with all the pieces placed, Land, Air, and Sea existed as one.

---

The sight that met his eyes was horrifying. People milled about, most looking down at a strange, clay tablet-like object. The tablets must have been imbued with the power of the gods, because whenever someone would put their finger to the surface, the tablet would react with shapes going across its surface and noises being emitted from the device. The same thing could be said about the giant tablets attached to the grotesque, unsightly buildings -- most being much, much taller than the Ziggurats of his home.

He had no idea what was going on, but he did know one thing: he did not like it.

Looking around himself once again, he noticed the strange looks he received from passers-by. From the masses, a woman wearing strangely fitting -- and honestly, very uncomfortable looking --  clothes approached him. She spoke a strange language that he understood naught, but he did understand when she reached for his arm.

"Don't touch me!" He shouted, causing others around them to turn towards the two. The woman spoke once more, then retreated back to the crowds.

What the hell is going on?!

---

The first thing she noticed when she came out from the back of her little bookstore was him. Even with dark hair reaching his shoulders, sun-kissed bronze skin, expressive blue-grey eyes, and a jawline that could kill, the thing that stood out the most were his clothes. He wore a tufted kaunakes, which showed his left leg up to the knee. In both ears were round earrings the size of small Christmas ornaments, gilded rings on many of his fingers, and a neck piece reminiscent of fangs.

"Excuse me, are you alright, sir?" she asked, approaching the man carefully, as if he were a frightened animal. As soon as he saw her coming towards him, he went on the defensive, spewing curses and threats in a foreign tongue. Sighing, the woman stood tall, hands on her hips.

"Look, I can't help you if you don't tell me what is wrong," she said crossly. The man just glared at her with his stormy eyes, the stubbornness displayed in them plain to see, before releasing a sigh himself.

"I don't know what's going on," he ground out, as if it hurt his pride to even utter the statement. "The last thing I remember is the brick walls of my home, the city they were built to protect." When no answer came, the man looked up to see the woman staring at him, the apathetic look in her murky green eyes causing his blood to bubble and boil with ire.

"Dammit, if you're not going to help, then fuck off!" he shouted, causing her to smile to herself.

"Follow me," she finally said, motioning to the back room. The man grumbled, but followed her regardless.

A little too late, he realized something. Grabbing the woman’s wrist, he stopped her and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“How can you understand what I’m saying? What’s more, you can speak my tongue?” His brows furrowed, he pierced the woman with his gaze. The woman’s eyes bugged for a split second before a raucous laugh burst from her chest.

“It’s easy, since I was there when your language was written,” the woman gave him a lopsided smirk and continued to walk into a back room. As soon as they were in the privacy of the storage room, the woman spun around on her heel and approached the man.

"You're obviously not from this time period," she mused, hand to her chin as she walked circles around him.

"What are--”

"If I had to guess, you're Sumerian, right? Or maybe Babylonian?" she kept scrutinizing his body, circling him like he was her prey, until her eyes settled on his seething face. Smirking, she went to touch his earrings, only for her hand to be swatted away. She barked out another boisterous laugh at his reaction before standing straight once more.

"You said something about a walled-in city, right? There weren't many of those back when you were king."

"How do you--"

"Oh, please,” she waved, eyes rolling. “Your clothing gave that away." That, and I’m not an idiot, King. “Only someone as arrogant and self-righteous as a king would wear such gaudy items.”

---

“What’s your name?” he asked, situated in a rather comfortable chair with a ‘mug’, as the woman had told him, with a beverage in it. He studied the woman; she had hair the color of ox leather and green eyes that were both murky and bright all at once. While her build was slight -- barely fit for a warrior, in his opinion -- he had been a victim of her quick wit despite knowing her only a short while. Already, she was a woman he would prefer not to be around, much less mess with.

“You probably wouldn’t recognize it, but my name is Badb Catha,” the woman replied. There was another ‘mug’ in her hands, her finger circling the rim, and she was sipping gently at the drink. The man’s brows furrowed, causing a laugh to erupt from Badb Catha’s chest once more. “I thought so. To be fair, not many have heard of my name. I’m barely recognized by those who created me anymore.”

“‘Created you’?” A pitiful smile came to her face.

“Yes. The ancient Celts were the ones who created me, technically,” she replied with a soft, gentle smile. A few seconds later, she looked back at him. “What about you? What’s your name?”

He was about to answer -- his mouth already open to respond --  when their conversation from earlier popped into his head. He quickly closed his mouth, a frown settling on his handsome features.

“You already know my name, woman,” he glowered. Badb Catha smiled again, this time in amusement.

“Yes, I do. But I want you to say it,” she said. She perched her head on her hand and watched him. His thoughts went back and forth between uttering his name as if it were sacred and keeping his lips pursed, until he finally came to the decision to say it.

“I am called Gilgamesh, and you are one without a head.” His declaration only caused her to shake violently as she cackled, bent at the waist as she attempted to catch her breath. He felt something off about this laugh, something that made it different from the laughs he had heard from her before. It was only a little tickling at the back of his mind as he heard it, and he normally would have investigated. But he brushed the feeling off and waited for her to calm down, and when she did he set his steely blue-gray eyes on her face.

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, could you please tell me why I am here in this gods-forsaken place?” He never noticed the slight rage present on her features -- not until her demeanor had shifted.

“Hey, you came into my shop. And I--”

“I had no inkling that it was your shop I was entering!”

“Enough out of you, you impudent pup!” Badb snarled. As her anger spiked, so, too, did the unfamiliar lilt in her voice. Her features twisted in rage as she stared the man down, forcing him to back down. Satisfied that he wouldn’t interrupt her any longer, she continued. “And I, being the kind soul that I am, decided to help you. So sit down, shut up, and listen, pretty boy.” Gilgamesh sat in stunned silence as she got to her feet, the chair she had been sitting on skidding backwards across the floor with the force put upon it. “Now, I have no clue how you got here, or why. In all of my years, I’ve only heard of this happening once -- and let me tell you, mister King, I have a shit-ton of years on me.”

“But what I do know is that you’re here,” she went on, never giving him the chance to get something in edgewise. She had begun pacing from one end of the room to the other, fingers tapping at her chin as she moved about. “And that it’ll be my job to get you acclimated to this modern world.” Once over with her little speech, Badb sat, breath barely ragged, with palpable rage hidden behind her murky eyes.

Up until that point, there was nothing in her body language to hint she was angry, or dangerous. But now, upon seeing the rage and the hatred shining in her eyes, Gilgamesh finally understood something essential to his survival in this unknown environment: this woman was dangerous, much more dangerous than he had given her credit for.

---

It was not too long after her unbidden outburst that Gilgamesh’s curiosity of the woman reached its peak. Unable to keep his burning questions back any longer, Gilgamesh sat his mug of the brown liquid on the short table and looked the woman in the eyes.

“I am sorry if I offended you in any way,” he started and waited for any sign from the woman to continue. He saw her head move just a bit out of the corner of his eye, and he began again.

“I am sorry if I offended you, Badb Catha. Truly, I am sorry,” Gilgamesh’s eyes scanned her face for any emotion. Again, there was little acknowledgement from the woman. Gilgamesh drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as an exasperated sigh.

“Badb Catha, I swear to you, on my mother’s name -- the goddess Ninsun -- that I am deeply repentant for any offence I may have given to you,” Gilgamesh tried once more. This time, sinking to his knees, he grasped the woman’s hand, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead in reverence. This time, instead of completely ignoring him, Badb’s eyes widened and her lips quirked up. Here was a man -- a king -- kneeling to her, swearing on his divine mother’s name. A small smirk played at her lips. This wasn’t something she got to see every day, and she was going to take full advantage of his position. After all, it’s not every day you have a man kneeling at your feet, seeking forgiveness. Much rarer that the man would bow his head to a goddess not his own.

“You may raise your head, oh mortal king,” she snubbed, her head held high. Gilgamesh’s shoulders gave a start, but he did as told and lifted his head to look the goddess in the eyes. The first thing he saw harbored there was amusement, but only briefly. As he was drawn further into the murky green irises, the amusement was quickly hidden and replaced with … something. What, Gilgamesh didn’t know, but he had a sinking feeling as he was enraptured by her eyes.

Still in his kneeling position, Gilamesh’s eyes followed as Badb Catha recovered and sat back in her chair, her smirk still prevalent. She reclined back in her seat, crossed her legs, and rested her chin in a palm as a provocative look settled on her features.

“It must kill your pride to take a knee for anyone,” Badb said, her smirk growing wider. “Even to a goddess.” She saw his eye twitch as a cruel smile split his face, yet he didn’t utter a word. The two watched each other -- rather, they were in the middle of an intense staring contest.

“No, seriously, it must really kill you to bow your head to a goddess, when you yourself have sworn the gods to be unreliable and fickle beings,” Badb continued. Her voice was thick with amusement -- she was very clearly enjoying tormenting the ancient king. The male rolled his eyes, releasing an undignified snort as he found his feet.

Gilgamesh stood, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stared down at the woman. Biting back a growl, he said, “What a troublesome woman you are turning out to be.”

---

It was the next day that things seemed to quieten down. At least, just a little bit. Gilgamesh relegated himself to staying in the back room, as Badb had told him he would stand out ‘like a sore thumb’ -- whatever meaning that phrase held lost on him -- with what he was currently wearing. He had looked down at his attire, standard clothing for one of his status, then examined Badb’s clothing. With a frown, he had nodded in defeat, and thus had stayed hidden in the back.

However, around midday -- at least, from what he could tell from the intensity of the light shining through the front windows -- the king became restless. He couldn’t keep still for more than a few minutes before he would be forced into action. Only, instead of being forced into battle with an enemy, Gilgamesh was battling inactiveness. But for him, idleness was a formidable adversary.

“Woman!” the king called from his slightly relaxed position reclined in a plush chair. He vaguely heard a deep sigh seconds before the woman entered the back, an exasperated look written on her face.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” she said tiredly. Her reaction momentarily stalled the king, but he recovered swiftly and continued on with what he was going to say.

“Idleness is a warrior’s greatest enemy,” he said vaguely. Absently, his foot began tapping a solid beat on the floor and his fingers began to drum on the chair’s arm. Once again, the woman released a heavy sigh.

“And what would you like me to do about that, Your Majesty?”

“Give me something to do.”

The wicked look in Badb’s eyes was enough to give him pause for only a second before he stood from his seat and followed after her.

---

This was not what I had in mind, Gilgamesh fumed as he reached for another book. Right now, he regretted having asked that woman for something to do. Almost immediately, she had given him a list of book titles and explained what he was to do.

“Now, what I need you to do is to organize these books by the first letter or letters of the author’s last name,” she explained, then had proceeded to grab two books off a wheeled counter. “See, this author’s last name begins with a ‘w’, so this book would be categorized later in the alphabet, while this author’s last name begins with a ‘c’, so this book will be present earlier in the alphabet.

“Now, once you get the rough alphabetization done, you will need to go back and alphabetize within each letter,” once again, she grabbed two books. “Both of these book’s authors have last names beginning with ‘h’. But, this author’s last name begins with ‘h-e’, while this one begins with ‘h-i’.”

Gilgamesh nodded absently as Badb took a piece of paper and a writing utensil and wrote down what she called the ‘alphabet’.

“‘A’ will always come before ‘b’, and so on until ‘z’,” as she wrote, she gave name to each ‘letter’. Once she had finished writing, she turned her eyes to the king, giving him a sweet smile.

“If you need any help, please don’t hesitate to ask.” Gilgamesh swore her smile blinded him for a split second as she stood and walked back into the main room of the ‘bookstore’.

Currently, Gilgamesh was in the middle of the giant stack of books situated in front of him. Grumbling, he pushed on, knowing only he was to blame for succumbing to boredom. He reached for one book after another, always taking a good look at the last name of the author, then referencing the sheet of letters Badb had given him with the order of the symbols. Time and time again, he grabbed a book, took in the author’s name, referenced the sheet, and placed the book in its rightful place.

“How are you doing?” Badb’s sudden voice startled the king, causing the book he had been holding to drop to the floor.

“Gods, woman!” he hollered, losing his balance momentarily. His arms went backwards to plant themselves on the floor, keeping himself sitting upright as he glared at the woman. From where he sat, he could tell that she was trying to suppress her laughter. He heaved out a sigh, recovering his composure and sitting cross-legged as he watched her. She stood in the doorway, a hand to her mouth as her shoulders shook gently.

“I’m sorry!” she finally bellowed, her laughter no longer contained. She held her stomach and crouched to the floor, where she would stay for a minute before standing once more. She wiped at the tears her laughter had brought and fixed him with her gaze.

“So, how are you doing?” she asked again, her eyes turning to the stack of books that had barely reduced since she had given him the job. A small frown appeared, but disintegrated as yet another of her sweet smiles took its place.

“Would you like some help there, King?” she asked, already moving towards the books when Gilgamesh shook his head vigorously.

“No, I do not need your help, woman,” he said forcefully. “If I would rely on everyone around me to perform tasks like this, I would never learn how to do them myself.”

Badb, taken aback by the king’s perspective, stopped in her tracks. But it wasn’t long before another smile made its way to her face.

“I never would have expected you to make a comment like that, Gilga,” she said offhandedly, catching the man off guard once more; not because she had commented what she had, but because of what she had called him -- Gilga.

“Where do you get off calling me that disgraceful name, woman?” he snarled. At this point, her smile became unbearable and Gilgamesh forced himself to look away for fear of never being able to otherwise.

“Oh, come on, Gilga. I know for a fact that it isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever been called,” she chuckled and her eyes closed for a second before opening, exhibiting an untamed, ferocious look as she gazed down upon the king.

“Or would you rather I call you ‘Tyrant King’?”

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Posted: March 11, 2021

I don’t own any of the characters in this story. I tried to do as much research as I could, but please don’t hesitate to tell me if i described something wrong or if I use the wrong term for something! Please also keep in mind that I’m not a professional writer (as much as I wish I was) so I’m bound to make a couple mistakes here and there.

Tbh, this story was supposed to be, like, five chapters MAX with heavy smut. Now it’s upwards of ten chapters and still no smut in sight! but eh 🤷‍♀️ things happen. Who am I to keep them from happening?

Be sure to tell me how you guys enjoyed this first chapter!!!

[staymorbidoddities-blog]

Letter From The Deadly Urges Killer Phillip Jablonski

Sept 12th 2018

Dearest _____, Received your letter and the photograph you sent me I will send a photograph in my letter as well. Also thank you for the great drawing of the fox I love it. My favorite serial killer is John Wayne Gacy I just seen an interview done by his sister and mother. They spoke with one victim sister. Trying to find peace with what Gacy done. His mother said she tried to commit suicide twice cuz of the shame brought to the family name. The sister told her he take my brother’s wife but he ruined your family. His wife (?) one night. She looked out the window. John Gacy had a young boy in his car and take him to the garage when he came out. She went into the garage she find a mattress with blood on it and found belts. His sister done an interview on Oprah show she said John was at a party John left with a man the man take (?) to his house and sodomy them. I write a man who written Gacy and has Gacy paintings he said Gacy painted Charles Manson and Elvis and other portraits. Yes I got aroused when they lick the shit off the carrot also I use cucumber inside their anal hole then lick the shit off also I use a frozen banana a male anal hole. Even used a socket and into men anal hole. I attached the socket to my extend (?) push the socket up their anal hole and twist the wrench boy did they love screaming when they scream it arouses me. They go unconscious and always leave blood on my sockets. Okay more about me. I just love infants and toddlers being a dominant person. If I ever got out I would dominate you. You would love me dominating you and I will make you wear your cross dress. I want you to fantasize what I would do to your body. Psychologist have said I have an unnatural ability to get people in my evil web and have the ability to serve me they are like my little prey. One psychologist said I was like a fish man I would bait my victims then when I hook them I would reel them like a fish out of water. I love to destroy a boy, man or girl or woman I love to take there morals and self pride out of the male or female. So you like to cross-dress and be a drag queen and pretend you are a female slut a drag queen that sounds great you would make a great decoy for young boys to fuck. Do you like to dress like a girl if I got out I would turn you into a transgender I would cut off your penis and flip it inside out I’ve done that to men before. Yes I would love to have a photo of you in Drag and as a boy. You should send me a picture of you in bra and panties and take picture of you bend over showing me your cute ass and lying on your stomach on your bed. I would love to have you on your hands and knees like a dog. I have enclosed a photo of me and a guy who visited me my birthday is January 3rd. No I do not have a cellmate I am known as the asshole bandit. I was raping my cell mates only a few escaped from being sodomy by me and be my prison wife. Yes you should tattoo my face on your thigh even better you should tattoo my face on your stomach then men can see my face and they dominate you and put my Prison number under it but it’s your body you can put it anywhere you want… I had a former pen pal who had serial killer tattoos on his body he added me to his collection. Boy you need (?) cuz the gorgeous picture of you when you were young. How old were you in that picture you sent me? No wonder you were molested a young age because you are way too gorgeous to be straight you needed that cock in you at that age. I would have dominated you. I would have taken your boy Hood. I would have shown you your true sexual calling. I would have made you have so much pain I would shove objects in your anal hole then I will make you lick your own shit. I would give you’re young anal hole a tongue bath. Any kind you drink juice, milk. ect. I would pee in your drink make you drink it. I would mix my shit in your food make you get on your hands and knees and make you eat your shit inside the food like a dog. I would Make you suck a dog’s dick then I would have the dog fuck you. You would lick the dogs asshole after he took a shit. Even if the dog took a shit in public I would make you eat it in public. I would cut your tongue out so you could deep throat man’s dick better. I would make urine ice cream for you to slowly suck on and urine popsicles and I would feel your baby bottle help with urine for you to drink and put you in diapers. You would sleep on me and I would lick your feet never be treated like a human I would treat you like the piece of shit you are. I was living with my friend’s wife we lived in an apartment complex we meet a single woman with 7 year girls. Outside there was a swimming pool we had a swimming pool. Where I lived didn’t have a swimming pool where they came and visit. Her daughter had a sexy body short hair and a nice petite butt cheek hair one-piece bathing suit was super tight it didn’t leave much to my imagination. I love the shape of her swimsuit is shirt off her amazing butt cheeks and it shows off the shape of her pussy. We had two cats they had kittens. She love to play with their kittens. When she bent over to play with the kittens. Her swimsuit would show off her butt cheeks. She even look good in a dress. One day her mother and my wife was outside she also brought the kitten over to play with her brother and sister. I lured her into the bedroom and I put her on her knees and force her mouth open and put my dick head in her mouth. It felt so good in her sweet mouth. When her mother called her name I said your daughter cara answer you but she has a mouth full of dick. Her mother said come right now or you’ll be late for school. I pulled my dick out of her mouth told her not to tell her mother or I’ll take your kitten back. Couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get her sweet pussy and molest her sweet body. The palm of my hand sweating I wanted to eat out her sweet innocent body. I was drooling my tongue wanted to give her a nice slow tongue bath. The opportunity came to molest her on the 4th of July Fourth of July BBQ at the complex. She was going swimming in our pool. I told her she had to ask her mother. Her mother did not want her swim by herself I told her mother I would swim with her. (????) her bathing suit. I would eat out my swimming trunks. And waited for my prey. When she came into the apartment I found her out of the pool boy sweet but moving so sexy in her bathing suit. When we got into the pool I couldn’t keep my eyes off her sexy body I swimmed by her looking at her petite butt cheeks I was whispering come play with me. When she started floating on her back showing me that sweet treasure hidden between her legs we got out of the pool. I dried her off and pick her up take her to my bedroom. And slow strip her out her bathing suit then I laid her nude on her stomach. Then I licked call legs up to her butt cheeks and I licked out her petite butthole. Then I went and got some lubrication (?) jelly to lubricate her tight virgin butthole. I lubricated all my fingers then I slowly penetrate her tight butthole I could only get my little and her rotate the finger she was crying I said suffer you little bitch. Then I laid next to her and put her pussy over my mouth. And I ate her out. When her pussy filll my mouth it tastes like sweet delicious honey. Then I laid her on her but in some pussy did her butt. I put my finger deep in her pussy and rotated it I could leave her hymen intact I find a pin and slide it in her until it reached through hymen then I put her on her knees and masturbate in her mouth. Her mother got a job so she gave her daughter the key to the apartment to let herself in home from school so when the daughter come home from school and my wife was ar work I would train her to be a prostitute. We had a small collection a video games we had a (?) arcade I would take her tube video game she would wear a long dress but I would change her into a mini skirt and nude under it. When she stand a boy to play the game she would bend over like I taught her I could see a piece of her butt cheek. One day I seen the man trying to peep under her dress I walked over I said that’s my daughter when dress you thing under then I said she is available to please you sexually. She is a nice piece of ass. She will drive you crazy in bed then I found out he own the arcade i take him i take her into office and have some fun I paid her her pussy and butthole you read her one video for everything take video of her clothes he agreed to do everything to her he was her first John. I pimped her out until she was 8 years old under the sweat mother’s nose and under my wife. Well my love I’ll close for now. Love, Phillip XO XO XO XO