#i meant to do this ages ago but got hung up on some of the questions. which i just didn't answer djgjghdh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phantomrose96 · 8 months ago

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Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

“God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the portal from which he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

#sham sacrifice #danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #vlad masters #danny fenton #YELLS AND THROWS THIS AT YOU #ive been spinning around like a top on this idea #tw: suicidal ideation

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jaune-submissive-and-breedable · 1 month ago

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'Jaune father sold him to Weiss's family as a servant/bodyguard. And of course, Weiss's asshole of a father would have him experimented on, making him taller and place him to be a guard the mansion like a dog. But Weiss and her family/friends take full Avenged of their sweet power guard dog.

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"Oh, Of course, we'll be happy to see you dear" Willow chirped. The screen before her had the visage of her eldest children, standing at attention with a crispy military uniform. "And I'm sure HE will be happy too~"

After closing the call, Willow leaned back in her chair and sighed happily. It's been a long while since she's had all her children together, maybe longer, with Weiss and Bleiss going to separate combat schools. She rose to inform her daughters that their elder sister would be visiting soon, pausing to ask her personal maid a very important question.

"2P, where is Jaune right now? I'm sure he'd be overjoyed to hear Winter's coming for a visit"

"I believe he's playing with the twin mistresses, ma'am" the dark skin maid replied.

Willow sighed and raised a hand to her temple. "I swear...those girls..."

She left her office and headed towards the twin heiress' room. they always wanted to play with the blonde boy, even from a young age, despite Jaune being a faunus. Honestly, she couldn't blame them, he was a really good boy. And the way his ears and tail wagged when he was happy is just the cutest.

Years ago, before Weiss was born, her husband, Jasque had acquired Jaune from his family for a pretty penny. The transaction was visibly illegal, but the law meant nothing to wealthy men like him. After doing so, he had atlas physicians and scientists experiment on the poor boy for months before introducing him to the family. He was tall, almost to her hips, had scars all over his body and his eyes were dull and lifeless from the experiment. What shocked her and enraged her most was how young he was. For this reason, he was placed as Winter's bodyguard and servant since they were the same age. They were inseparable since then, always doing things together no matter who was present. Be it eating playing, bathing, or even sleeping Jaune was there for her, he even got a little life back in his eyes After Weiss, Bleiss, and Whitley were born, he became their bodyguard and servant as well. All including Willow, the servants, Klein, and some of their guests loved Jaune's company for one reason or another. He also lived up to his bodyguard status in the family quite well. He truly was a good boy.

As Willow neared her daughters' room, she could her the muffled sounds of flesh colliding, moans of pleasure, and the distinct shouts of swears, no doubt from that vulgar child of hers.

*I swear that girl is gonna be the death of me* she thought as she turned the nob.

When she opened the door, Willow was immediately hit with the distinct smell of sex emanating from the twins' room. Looking inside, she saw Jaune lying on Weiss's bed. His clothes were thrown all over the room leaving him naked as the two girls in question had their way with him. Around his feet, and presumably, his hands were black glyphs that held him in place.

Weiss sat atop his face with a groin smashed into his mouth. Her long white hair was loose and tangled around her sweat-caked body. She wore only her pure white panties and a pair of white thigh-high socks. Her mouth was wide open from Jaune's long flat, dog-like tongue licking and probing her pussy.

Bleiss, on the other hand, sat on his groin, moaning and shouting as his cock speared her tiny pussy. Unlike her sister, she was completely nude save for the lacy pair of panties that hung loosely around her ankles. Her pitch-black hair was held in a neat ponytail allowing any onlooker to see her cup breast bouncing wildly up and down.

"FUCK, HIS COCK IS SOO~ GOOD!" She shouts ceasing her bouncing to wildly grind against Jaune's cock.

Across from her, Weiss moaned as his voice vibrated in her pussy "Bleiss you sow...*Moan*....Get off his it's my turn now!"

The haired girl flipped her twin off with a smirk, "Oh please, you snooze you lose bitch~"

Weiss's face scrunched at her twin's reply, her face red with anger "Why you listen here you....you"

"Ahem"

Looking to who said that, they girls' eyes widen when they saw their mother standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a disappointed expression.

"Oh.....fuck"

"Mother!..."

"Care to explain what you two are doing.." she paused looking at Bleis. a splatter of cloudy fluid covered his ass and leaked from her womanhood. Looking down Willow also saw a bright blue cockring laying on the floor "Bleiss....turn around"

Bleiss had a nervous expression on her face and protested "Oh...but umm.......I'm...uhhh"

Now, Bleiss"

She wanted to protest more but begrudgingly turned around. Willow shook her head upon seeing her daughter's bloated stomach, no doubt allowing Jaune to cum inside her.

"Really dear...." she sighed

"I warned her not to but she wouldn't listen, Mother" Weiss chimed, despite having a bloated stomach as well, albeit small.

Bleiss turned around to face her twin, fury covering her face "YOU FUCKING ASS KISSING!!!!..."

Willow was about to stop their arguing but 2P beat her the punch. The android grabbed the duo by their arms and roughly pulled them to their feet. Their stomachs emptying themselves of cum now that they're unplugged, the cloudy white fluid forming into lakes on the floor. From the bed, Jaune sat up coughing, his throat full of his own cum from Weiss sitting on his face.

"Jaune" Willow called out calmly. The blonde looked in her direction for his orders "Go clean yourself up and wait for me in a quarters please, I'll be along to talk with you shortly"

He nodded and made his way towards the door, passed Willow, and into the hallway, leaving his clothes behind. She bit her lip as he passed. Over the years, He's grown into a handsome man. He was well built, still very tall almost 7 feet, and had a decent amount of muscle on his frame. His hair had grown long enough to reach his shoulders. He also had some stumble growing that made him look a bit more mature. She could understand why her daughters risked pregnancy with that stud. Not letting herself be led astray, she turned back to her daughters, disappointed and overall just tired of their shenanigans.

"You too are to be attending two of the best huntsman academies in the kingdoms and yet you risk getting pregnant before you even graduate? You know Jaune's sperm is highly potent" She sighed and turned to leave, giving 2P one small task. "2P, please make sure these too are cleaned and dressed. Also, inform Klein that they are not to have any desserts for a week"

"What!"

"Bullshit"

"Make that two weeks"

Hours later, in Willow's bedroom

A muted groan escaped Jaune's mouth as he squirmed on the soft mattress. On his lap sat a half-naked Willow, her blouse torn open, skirt hiked up to her waist, and pantyhose ripped with her panties moved to the side. Her stomach was bloated with cum with small streams leaking from her stuffed pussy. Her left hand was raised in the air holding a syringe of pink fluid while her right used Jaune's chest for balance.

"Your taking to the aphrodisiac nicely" she cooed as she gently rolled her hips on his cock. "I can feel your balls churning with cum~"

"Mistress...I....need to.....BREED" he growled dangerously, his eyes had a feral look in them

She gently kissed his lips and looked into his dull blue eyes, bringing him back to his senses for a moment. whispering huskily"Then breed me~"

Willow gasped as he thrusted his impossibly large cock inside her. He was already skewering her womb from just that one thrust. She hardly had time to process anything before he trusted again then again before fully pistoning his hips inside her. She watched his face twist and contort into a feral expression, his pupils' mere slits in an ocean of blue. She watched him open his and lean to her right, groaning as she felt him nibble on her shoulder. All the while her trusted into here cunt like a dog in heat.

"Oh...Jaune your...AHH!!!"

Willow gasped as Jaune bit hard into her skin, though not enough to draw blood. It was sudden, but a welcome surprise from the faunus. But when she felt him increase the force in his mouth, she began to feel a bit afraid, but even more aroused.

"Jaune...Not so rough" she chuckled, only to be met with animalistic grunts from the faunus. Her smile faltered as felt him biting hard, his teeth threatening to break skin. "that's enough, Jaune"

He didn't reply instead applying more force.

"Jaune....That's Enough"

Still no response.

"Jaune..." she called with more authority "I said that's enough...."

Willow lost all thought in that moment. He had broken through her skin resulting in streams of blood to flow from her shoulder. All according to plan

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

"AHH...BREED ME YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!!!" she cried. Ignore the pain from having her snatch destroyed by his massive cock.

The faunus man obeyed his mistress's request, never stopping his thrusts for a moment. His mind clouded with only one thought, Breed. His cock stretched her vaginal walls as he pushed in and out, occasionally scrapping out leftover bits of cum from earlier. His balls churned with more of the life-giving seed, eager to release it inside of Willow's battered womb.

the matriarch moaned loudly as she felt herself getting dominated by the faunus. It wasn't the first time he ravaged her form, in fact, it was a near-weekly occurrence. Ever since the "tragic" death of her husband, she along with her daughters had been using Jaune for sexual relief. And he was leagues better than Jacques ever was. After their first rendevous, the night of Jacques's death, she secretly had a special aphrodisiac that would make him into a horny beast hell-bent of breeding. Sure it left her sore for weeks, but it was well worth it to feel his seed swimming inside her.

"PUMP ME FULL OF YOUR SEED" She screamed, "MAKE ME HAVE ANOTHER PUPPY"

He was more than happy to oblige, his cock twitched and pulsed as he felt his climax rapidly approach. With a mighty grunt he shoved himself deep into her pussy and release a torrent of cum inside her womb, never stopping his thrusts as his seed flooded her womb. Willow's eyes rolled back in her head, moaning loudly as she came alongside her lover, their juices mixing inside her cunt. Even though it was a safe day, there was no way she wouldn't be impregnated afterward, though it wasn't the first time. She moaned contently, knowing he was nowhere close to being done. Sure Winter wouldn't mind if she stole her lover's seed.

Atlas Military base, Winter's quarter.

Winter screamed into her hand as she came. She laid on her bed with her other hand inside her pants, rapidly pumping her fingers inside her drooling snatch. She could hardly wait to visit Schnee Manor and reunite with Jaune. Ever since he entered her life, living had been much better than what it used to be. Especially since the death of her bastard father. That was the day she finally gave herself to I'm. Pinning him to her bed she rode him like a horse forcing every drop of sperm from him til she looked pregnant.

*Jaune....*she thought as she rode out the last seconds of her orgasm.

She wanted him to com with her, but he declined, saying he was nothing more than a guard for the Schnee family, and she needed him no longer. It broke her heart to hear him say those words, but she knew he wanted her to walk her own path. Though she made sure to return home to see him whenever she could. She knew her mother and sisters would use him too, but she knew he longed to her.

*I will make you mine* she thought as she pulled the covers over her *You'll see*

with that last promise, she fell asleep. Dreaming of when her knight slew the foul beast that imprisoned her.

He truly was a good boy.

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Sent by @dumbawesomev69

Hope you like it.

Also it is implied that jaune killed Jacques

#rwby #rwby smut #jaune arc #weiss schnee #winter schnee #willow schnee #bleiss schnee #faunus Jaune

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hrryshoney · 1 year ago

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you got the antidote

A/N: did somebody say continuation? pt. 1, hope u guys enjoy again. so happy that yall find this Man as appealing as me! ty to everyone who bounced ideas w me bc u probs made this part 10x better😋 and again, don’t like it then don’t read it. p.s. there’s a scene where reader is texting! Bold is matty. Italics is reader.

warnings: smut 18+, p in v unprotected sex, inappropriate actions in a doctors office, loss of virginity, size kink (so, reader being implied as smaller), corruption kink, use of Y/N, taboo topics/power imbalance (doctor/patient), fingering, oral (f receiving), light choking, light spanking, dom and sub dynamics, problematic age gap maybe (reader is 22/23, matty is 29/30), dirty talk, lots more lol etc..

It was 6:00 pm on a Wednesday, and you were getting ready for sleep. Well, not sleep exactly, but you were going to shower and get in bed. You had gotten back from class about an hour ago now, and after having a light dinner all you wanted to do was have your ‘everything shower’ and relax.

Then, your phone pinged with a text message. You walked over to your nightstand to see who it was, assuming it would be one of your friends, or even your partner on a project for one of your classes. You were confused, though, to see a text from an unknown number.

It was even more confusing that they were speaking like they knew you.

Unknown - Today 6:04 PM

Come by the office? Need to discuss some things.

You furrow your eyebrows, trying to remember who this could be. Or, if this text was even meant for you. You could ignore it, but something in your gut told you not to. You decided on sending a simple text back.

sorry, i think you’ve got the wrong number!

You clicked your phone off, throwing it on your bed and walking into your bathroom. You turned the water on, turning it to the hottest setting and letting the bathroom steam. Hearing your phone ping again from the other room, you sighed inwardly and hung your head. Stepping out of the bathroom, you went to check your phone again. This time, there were two messages.

Unknown

Don’t think so.

This is Y/N, correct?

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, gripping the phone in your hand tighter. Okay, who the fuck was this? And, why did they know your name? However dumb it sounded, you were going to ask them just that.

who is this?

and why do you know my name, lol

Even though this was the number one way to get yourself killed in a horror movie, you gave the stranger the benefit of the doubt. You saw the 3 dots appear on your screen, and decided to wait. When the text came through, you felt immediate relief.

Unknown

Sorry, Princess.

This is Matty.

You found yourself smiling at your phone, now. Of course, why wouldn’t it be Matty. But then it struck you that your gynecologist was not only texting you, but calling you princess. And you never gave out your number.

doctor healy lol!

how’d you get my number?

Files, and all that.

You giggled, and decided to put his name in your phone as ‘Doctor Healy’. Swiping back to your chat to respond.

ahh, not very professional

Why not stir the pot? You were bored, and it was a bleak and boring Wednesday. You had nothing better to be doing, really. You walked into the bathroom to shut the shower’s tap, it could wait. You showered yesterday, and you wanted to talk to Matty.

I think that’s the least unprofessional thing you have to worry about, Princess.

Your heartbeat sped up slightly. You jumped into your bed, rolling on your stomach and pulling the cold comforter around you. All the responses you could think of were poor, so you settled for a lame one in the end.

don’t call me thatt

“princess”

Unfortunately for you, Matty’s response was almost immediate.

Perhaps ‘brat’ is more fitting, then?

Are you coming to the office?

Embarrassment surged through you, and you dropped your phone to put your face in your hands. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, he was still having an effect on you. And you know you shouldn’t be having these thoughts about him.

yes, sure

what for?

Just wanna go over some of your stats.

Your eyes widened, and as if he could see you through the screen, Matty sent you another text for clarification.

Don’t worry, though. Everything’s alright.

okay, great!

It’s only me here, rest of the staff went home. Just park out front and come in, door’s open.

You hearted his message and decided to change your clothes before you went. You thought it was a little strange that Matty would have you come in after everyone had left, but you supposed he knew what he was doing.

Since you figured you would be coming home right after, you decided to forgo a bra. You threw an oversized sweatshirt on over your head. Changing your jeans out for leggings. You slipped on your sneakers and laced them up.

You took the elevator down from your apartment to the lobby, quickly walking to your car that was parked in the parking garage. Luckily for you, it was still daylight outside.

The drive was quiet and quick, you unplugged your phone from the aux and parked out front of the offices. When you walked to the glass double doors and pulled them open, there was no resistant, just as Matty had said.

The lights were on, but the office was barren. It was that same sterile smell and harsh, bright lights from the day of your first appointment. Goosebumps raised on your arms from the slight chill of the space, and you walked towards the open door of one of the examination rooms.

You could hear faint whistling and typing coming from it, confirming your suspicions that it was the one Matty resided in. You made your way to the doorframe, knocking twice on it to alert him of your presence.

Matty’s head immediately shot up from the computer screen, dark brown eyes meeting yours. “Y/N,” He called out once he saw you, a grin on his face. “Come here, then.” He rolled his chair out from under his desk, coming to a stop in the middle of the room.

You walked toward him hesitantly, still nervous and unfamiliar. But, with that smile on his face, how could you ever be nervous. He stood up once you got in front of him, the height difference now visible. You smiled back at him.

“So… what was it you wanted to go over? I know you said it wasn’t urgent, but I was a little jittery about it on the way.” You rambled, picking at the skin on your finger nails. His smile was beginning to look more and more like a smirk as you held his gaze apprehensively.

“Ah, yes. Just one thing I wanted to take a closer look at. Feels like I didn’t get the whole point of view before.” His hand came to rest gently on your shoulder, reassuringly stroking the spot with his thumb. “And, I thought it would be best if I saw you again privately, so I could spend as much time on you as needed.” His pupils almost got larger then, hand slipping down to cradle your elbow.

You felt your body heating up. Giggling, you blindly agreed with his reasoning. “Whatever you see fit, Doctor Healy. What do you need me to do?” You asked him honestly, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your feet. The way he was staring at you made you restless.

He cleared his throat, an attempt to snap himself out of the daze. His eyes dragged up and down your body noticeably, “Would you mind removing your jumper?” He asked, eyes glued to the piece of fabric.

You swallowed thickly, now flustered at the choice you had made earlier in your room. “I- Well, I don’t really have on, um, a bra underneath?” The statement came out as more of a question, and the way his mouth went slightly agape had you fumbling to explain yourself.

“Sorry! I’m sorry if that’s unprofessional, Doctor. I just- I hadn’t realized you would be examining me. I thought this was more of a paperwork thing.” You smiled awkwardly, hoping to ease the tension. His hands twitched by his side, one coming to pull slightly at the front of his trousers.

His chuckle was enough to make you shiver. “It’s nothing to apologize about, really. Just makes my job easier. Are you comfortable to remove it, still?” You whispered your agreement, pulling the sweatshirt over your head with both your hands. Once it was off, you laid it on the examination table, turning to face Matty again.

His gaze was unwavering on your chest, the distance between you two seeming even shorter now. “I can touch you?” Matty asked, breathless. But with your nod, he was shaking his head.

“Come on, Princess. Need your words. Should know this one by now.” His eyes almost gleamed.

“Right, sorry. Yes. You can touch me, Doctor.”

You can almost feel the heat radiating off his body before he touches you. And then, Matty’s hands immediately landed on your hips, tracing them up your body. He started to walk closer to the examination table, backing you up until your heels hit the foot of it. First, his hands were on your bare shoulders. Then, you were being abruptly spun around so your thighs hit the table.

His hand rested on your stomach, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Gonna start your appointment now, okay? Let me know if you need a break.” His fingertips never halted, now playing with one of your breasts. He tweaked your nipple and you let out a gasp.

“Sorry, Princess.“ You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you know he’s not sorry at all. He walks his hands up to your bare neck, letting his hand softly lay in place. You let out a squeak when his fingers suddenly squeeze either side of your neck.

Keeping his hand on your neck, the other comes to grab roughly at your hip. “Small, could do anything to you.” His fingernail trails the rest of your neck, going down the valley of your breasts. Suddenly, both his hands disappear from your body. Before you can whine and beg him for more, you feel his palm flatten on your back.

There’s a slight push, and he’s clearly giving you an out. You give into his strength, bending at the hip over the examination table. “Can I take off your pants?” Matty’s bent above you, leaving a trail of kisses down your bare spine.

Your nod is almost instant, only hindered by the way your cheek was pushed against the table. You can’t help pressing your thighs together. “Please, Doctor Healy.” You feel his hands fiddling with the waistband of your leggings.

“Gotta bend you over and inspect you.” He mumbles, and you don’t think you were meant to hear it. Matty is pulling the leggings down your thighs torturously slow. Once your pants pool at your ankles, you hear him take two steps back. He’s staring at your white panties, and you hear him click his tongue twice.

Matty presses the growing bulge in his trousers right on top of the growing mess in your panties. He leans down once again, a hand on the back of your neck as he whispers in your ear. “Gonna take a look at your little cunt now, okay baby?”

You moan out a noise that sounds somewhat like a yes, and it’s good enough for him. Matty pulls away, pressing a thumb atop the wet spot that has now stains your underwear. “Naughty girl.” He chuckles, and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

Suddenly, you hear a loud tearing sound. You feel the shock when you realize it was Matty ripping your panties from behind, the elastic snapping back on your skin. You gasp feeling the cold air hit your cunt, and the dull sound of your ripped underwear hitting the floor.

Matty runs his fingers down your body, outlining your pussy. “Spread yourself for me.” It’s a demand, and your throat runs dry at the tone of his voice. You bring your two hands back from your side to grab your inner thighs, spreading yourself open for Matty.

Matty’s middle finger prods at your hole, circling it. Your incessant moans making him laugh. “Quiet for me, checking to make sure everything’s okay.” The tip of Matty’s finger slips inside you, stretching you out. As soon as you moan, he’s pulling his finger out again. Teasing.

“Doctor- Matty. Please, please.”

His fingers travel up and down your slit, feeling you out. Your wetness is dripping on his fingers, and you can't help the whines escaping your mouth. Matty makes a noise in the back of his throat, pushing his middle finger into you again. "Feel good?" Matty's voice is a deeper tone than usual, chestnut colored eyes now an almost black.

You moan in confirmation and wiggle your hips, "Another please?" Feeling the constant stretch from his fingers is too good. His unoccupied hand comes to lay flat on your lower back. "Need it, Doctor." You'd beg if he asked, and if he didn't, too. A wet gasp tore through your throat when his thumb came to circle your clit from behind.

"Stay still and I'll make it better, okay? Whiny little girl." Matty says, tone all amusement. In your state, you don't really find it that funny. It's all okay though, when he slides his ring finger into you.

Now, both his fingers are moving in and out of your cunt at a steady pace. The friction is so good, and you can hear the wet sounds your pussy is making. You’d have half the mind to be embarrassed, but you don’t have the energy for your cheeks to start burning.

You can’t stop babbling for him, mostly nonsense. Matty can make out that most of it is you begging, though. He curls his fingers inside of you, plunging his fingers even deeper. “Such a good girl for me. So agreeable, just let me do anything? Yeah, you would. Bent over like a good pet and taking my fingers. Made you into a little slut, huh?”

“Oh my God.” You manage to choke out in between the moans that are shaking your body. You feel yourself get even wetter for him. “Doctor, please. Yes.” You’re shaking your head so hard that you know it’ll hurt later. Matty grabs a fistful of your hair to lift your head up slightly, fingers never stopping.

“Fucking like that? Like being called a slut? Can feel how you clench around me, s’pathetic.” Matty curls his fingers inside you, speeding up his pace even more. He takes his fingers out of you completely. Before you can protest, his hand comes down to slap your cunt. Three quick taps that have your mouth hanging open in silence, and then he slips his fingers back inside of you.

Matty’s hand lets go of your hair, slinking it around your front to rub tight circles on your clit. “Come on, princess. Cum for me, cum for your Doctor.” And when he pinches your clit, you’re gone. You squeeze your eyes shut so tight that you see white behind the lids. Loud moans are pouring out of your mouth and your torso is writing against the table.

His fingers never cease their movements, working you through your orgasm. Once you come down from it, you feel overstimulated. “Too much, Matty.” He slips his fingers out, and you turn your head in time to see him put his fingers in his mouth to taste you.

Matty licks his fingers and holds eye contact, smirking when he’s done. “You taste fucking sweet.” He takes a step closer, and your lips part. Matty slips his two fingers in your mouth, then. His grin goes even wider when you immediately close your lips around his fingers and suck.

“Good girl, don’t you taste good?” He’s chuckling when you nod your head around his fingers, agreeing. He pulls them out of your mouth with a pop, and he moves backwards to his original position.

“Need it right from the source.” He mumbles, and that’s when you see him sinking to his knees. You automatically shove your face down onto the table again, your muscles tense in anticipation. He trails his fingers down your thighs teasingly as he does.

“Been dying for this, you know that? Need to taste you.” His hands hook to the front of your legs, limiting your movement. Your upper body is still bent across the examination table.

He pries your legs apart even further, fingertips gripping hard on your thighs. “Please, Doctor. Do something.” Your whines are met with a chuckle, causing you to bury your cheek further down onto the cold surface. The noise you make is loud when you feel a firm hand come to slap your ass once.

“I’ll decide what you get. I know what’s best for you, Princess. Don’t fuckin’ forget it.” Without warning, he pushes his face into your cunt. His warm tongue licks a long stripe up your folds, and you scream out in pleasure. He moves his tongue down to your clit, flicking it in rhythm. His fingers trail to your hole for a minute again, but they’re gone as soon as they came.

You jolt in oversensitivity when Matty takes his mouth off you, just staring at your pussy. You try to close your legs, but the strain of his large hand against your thighs remind you that you can’t. He blows cold air onto your cunt, and then spits onto your hole.

You clench, and Matty laughs. “Doctor Healy, I-I can’t.” Instantly, his tongue is being shoved inside you. Licking the mess he’s made, and fucking his tongue in and out of you.

“You can and you will. Don’t be a brat.” He speaks against you, and the vibrations of his words just make you moan more. “Just a pleasure drunk whore, and you’re trying to deprive me of this?” His lips purse around your clit, sucking hard.

You’re shaking your head, and your hands raise behind you, tugging slightly at his hair. It’s a poor attempt to push his mouth away from your over sensitive nerves. One of his hands comes up to grab both your wrists, pinning them behind your back.

“Let me eat.” He pins you down even harder, and the feeling is sending you over the edge, and you clench your thighs the best you can.

“Matty.. Fuck. Doctor, please. I’m gonna cum, need to.” Your whole body tenses and you feel yourself teetering on the edge. The slightest thing could set you off, and Matty knows this.

His hand comes up to spank your ass again, and he speaks as he licks over your clit. “Let go, you’re so good. Letting me prep you, stretch you out for me.” And that’s what does you in for the second time of the night.

You cum in Matty’s mouth, and he is working you with his tongue the whole time. One of your hands is gripping the side of the table, trying to ground you in some sense. “Fuck! Thank you, thank you.” Senseless curses and strings of the same words are all you can get out of your mouth.

When you come down from the high, Matty is rubbing your back gently. “Good girl, baby. Did so good for me.” He says it so softly, you almost can’t believe this was the same man who made you cum twice in a row just a second ago.

You turn to prop yourself up on your back, feeling a bit tired from all that just took place. Matty’s smiling at you, but there’s a dusting of pink across his cheeks. His eyes practically black. You look down to his trousers, bulge straining against the zipper.

“Does that hurt, Doctor Healy? I can help you.” Your eyes are wide, and you want to return the favor. Last time he made you feel good, he didn’t get to cum either. It’s only fair.

“Don’t have to, could take care of myself if you’re too worn out. Know it would be your first… and I understand if you want to save that. Make it special.” He’s trying to be polite, be a gentleman. Though, it’s not very gentlemanly when his hand goes to palm himself. You shake your head.

“No, I want to. I wanna give myself to you. And, I can go again, you’re not that good.” Of course, that last bit was a lie. You roll your eyes teasingly, but Matty’s pupils dilate. He steps closer to the table.

“Not that good, baby? Don’t eat your words.” He grabs your wrist and places it on top of the tent in his pants, moving your hand up and down. “Wanna be inside you so bad.” Your head rolls back at his words, desperately needing to feel him in you.

Your fingers work at the zipper of his pants, and before you can look up to gain his consent he’s undoing them himself. He drops his trousers, stepping out of them. Your eyes are glued to his black Calvin’s. Matty is big, and you haven’t even see him yet. There’s spots of precum on his boxers, and you commend him for having the strength of not cumming in his pants.

You pull at the hem of his shirt. He’s got his lab coat on, and you need both items off. You feel so bare before him, he needs to catch up. He gets the message, and quickly takes his coat off. It falls to the floor with a clink.

Then, his button up underneath. He loosened his tie earlier, and quickly pulls it off his neck to discard of. Matty undoes the buttons of his shirts with such diligence, and your mind can’t help but wander to how experienced Doctor Healy really is.

When he shrugs his shirt off, you feel like drooling. The black ink covering his body is truly mouthwatering, and his abs aren’t helping the situation. You bring a hand to trace the tattoo on his hip, but when your eyes trail down to his boxers again, your mind is back on track.

Your hands find his waistband, looking up at him with wide eyes. He nods encouragingly, mouth hung open slightly. As you peel his boxers off, you fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together. This is all so erotic.

Matty’s cock springs free from his underwear, and he is big. His cock is pretty, long and thick. The tip now a slight red from being pressed against his zipper. You run your hand along him, pumping him twice. The moans that come out of his mouth are throaty.

He’s heavy in your hand, and all you want is for him to be inside you. Matty notices your dazed expression and can’t help but smirk. “How do you want me to take you?” His hands rub circles on the exposed skin of your hips.

You think for a moment, before ultimately deciding. “Think if I bent over again, it’d be the most comfortable.” Matty audibly moans at that and throws his head back. You giggle, getting into position.

Matty brings himself behind you, letting his dick run through your wetness. “Got you nice and ready for me, I could slip right in you.” He taps the tip of his cock against your folds. You moan at the weight of it.

Matty’s hard cock prods at your hole, and he’s moving himself through your arousal. The noises coming out of your mouth never cease, and neither does Matty’s dirty mouth. “Don’t know if I’ll fit inside you, baby.” And you can hear the faux pout in his voice without having to turn.

“No, please! Please, Doctor. I can take it.” Your chest is heaving, and your throat feels scratchy from the constant noises falling from your lips. Matty just laughs, clearly enjoying the state you’re in.

Your head feels fuzzy, and you try to clench your jaw to bring you back. Matty sees this and soothes a hand down your back. “Know you can. Always an eager whore for me, baby.”

Matty slides his cock in you, putting only the tip inside and then pulling out. You whine out, please and more being the only coherent words. You feel delirious, and his teases don’t make it better. You’ve been aching for him. “Matty, please.”

“I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He hums, rubbing your back again. You feel him rub himself through your folds again, the head of his cock bumping against your clit. It has you arching your back unintentionally.

Then, just when you think you can feel the yearning in your spine, Matty is thrusting into you. It’s half his cock, and you feel stuffed full. You scream out, hearing his reassuring shushes behind the blood that’s rushed to your head.

“Good girl for me, so fucking tight. Made you cum twice and your cunts still gripping me like this? Should keep you in bed all fuckin’ day and train you.” He grunts out, jaw clenching and head rolling back. He taps your ass twice lightly, and you know what’s coming.

Matty thrusts into you again, and your whole body jolts forward. He stays put, but you can feel the bruising grip he’s got on your hips. You’ve never felt so full, so whole, and it’s almost all too much.

Matty’s finally, fully, inside you, and you feel like you can’t breathe. “Made for me, princess. Weren’t you? To just be my little plaything.” He’s still, waiting for your instruction on when to move. He’s so big, it’s all too much.

“You- oh my god, Doctor.” It’s the only reply you can get out, and you unintentionally clench around him. You feel a quick but sharp slap to your backside, making you moan even louder.

“Be a good girl for me, c’mon.” He takes a fistful of your hair, bringing your head up so he can place a kiss on your cheek. He turns your head even more, wrapping his other hand around your throat and kissing your lips.

“P-please move. You’re so big.” You’re in an arousal induced daze, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs. You squirm, hoping that will get him to move out of you. You don’t get very far though, because Matty is bringing his hand back to your hip and holding you in place.

As your back is to his chest, you turn far enough to see the smirk on his lips. He pulls out of you, and you let a gasp fall from your own. “Yeah? Big enough for you, Princess? Know nobody’s taken you before, gotta make it good for you.” Matty punctuates his question by thrusting back into you, hard. He grabs a handful of your tits, pinching your nipple.

You know it’s a rhetorical question, but you’re too drunk off him. Nonsensically nodding your head and babbling. He’s set a rhythm with his hips now, and it’s nothing like you felt before.

The room is filled with sounds of skin slapping together, and you can hear just how wet you are. Matty’s pace is unrelenting, his groans never ceasing. You think you could break the examination table.

His cock is moving in and out of you, every thrust of his hips brining you closer to the edge. You’re overstimulated from coming twice earlier, and you feel your orgasm building.

Matty is two steps ahead of you. When he feels your pussy clenching around him, he knows he’s right. “Gonna cum for me again, baby? So I can fill this slutty fucking pussy? Not an innocent little virgin anymore.” He coos, and goes even faster, bringing a hand under you to your clit and rubbing tight circles.

The pleasure is too much, and you feel your legs about to give out. The prospect of Matty coming inside you excited you too much, and you can’t stop thinking about it. “Please, Doctor Healy. Can I? I need it so bad.” You don’t know why you’re begging for your release, but you want him to grant it to you.

His fingers speed up, still pounding you into the table. “Perfect fucking cunt, so tight and warm f’me. My little fucktoy, right? Cum, let go.” And if his words didn’t do you in, when he moves to pinch your clit certainly has you.

You come with a scream, vision going white and your body turning hot. Matty’s hips are still moving, and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. When you come down from your high, the moans are still spilling out of your mouth.

Matty is moaning, to the point of whimpers. You feel his dick twitching inside of you, and you know he’s about to cum. “Please, Doctor. Cum inside me, I need it.”

Matty’s eyes roll back in his head at your words, and his jaw is agape. He thrusts inside you twice more, until he finally falters. “Fuck me. I’m coming. Gonna fill this cunt up, stuff you full.”

Matty spills inside of you, and you feel the warmth immediately. He slumps over, now bent on top of you in your position. He’s kissing down your spine, and rubbing your shoulders all whilst inside of you.

After a minute, he alerts you. “Gonna pull out, now. This might hurt a little. I’m sorry, Princess.” And it does, but you only wince a little.

As you lay there, you notice Matty looks mesmerized. Then you see he’s staring at his cum that’s now dripping out of you, down your thighs. When you catch him, a light blush dusts his cheeks and he’s quick to defend himself.

“What? I’m a simple man, s’hot.” You just giggle and nod, brushing him off. You turn to lie on your back on the table, propping your legs up. You knew you’d be sore tomorrow.

“Thank you, Matty. Was so good. I’m so happy that you were my first.” You say airily, with not much thought. You were just saying what you felt. And Matty’s grin was worth it.

“Always. Let me get a towel. Gonna clean you up and drive you home.”

#divider cred: @cafekitsune #gyno!au #tea’s writing✍🏻

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months ago

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AITA for not telling my partners I'm a system?

💚🐻

To preface this, I don't use Tumblr and I'm using my partner's account, so I would rather ask this anonymously. Forgive any non-tumblr-isms 😅.

This happened a while ago, but to be honest I can't let this go. I feel so horrible about it despite being reassured and I figured Tumblr, who has a lot of systems/people with DID/OSDD, would be able to give me an unbiased (as much as I can give an unbiased account, anyway) answer.

I, (24M), am a system with one headmate, P, (??). (Neither of us are sure how old he is, since it seems to change on the day). I don't want to get into exactly how I got him, but I believe the term for what we are is "traumagenic"? Sorry, again, I'm not really familiar with everything.

Anyway, I've had him since I was 8, and he's been... well, a real pain in the ass, to be frank. I understand now that he's a defender by nature and was trying to protect us, but when you get expelled from middle school for several physical attacks and almost get sent to juvie you start to resent the guy a bit. He's a bit like a sleeping bear, except if the sleeping bear had one eye open and killed you before you could hurt him.

Back when I got out of my abuser's house and went no contact at age 20, I moved in with my current partners, Bonfire (24M) and Greenhouse (25NB) (names changed for privacy, obviously.) At the time I didn't know them, but they were looking for another roommate and I desperately needed somewhere to live.

So I moved in with just the clothes on my back and my wallet (bad move, I know, but I didn't have anything anyway). I didn't care to interact with them all that much, not wanting P to get defensive and attack them for no reason, but they just kept pushing and eventually I relented and hung out with them some.

"Some" turned to "often," and then "often" turned into "sleeping-in-their-bed-and-sharing-our-clothes." At that point I was too far into it and embarrassed to admit I'd been hiding a whole other person from them in my mind. I wasn't sure if they'd even like me after, what with P's history of violence.

...so I never told them. I did my best to forget about anything that ever happened and tried to just enjoy the future I'd always wanted for myself. Bonfire and Greenhouse are lovely people and I was finally, maybe just a little happy. I'd never been a happy person and I was content to bask in it for as long as I was able.

This, of course, backfired immensely. P and I didn't have the best relationship at the time, with both of us wanting to do very extreme things to get away from the other. He wanted to kick me out and be by himself in my body, and I wanted to kill myself to be rid of him. We've since reconciled and made strides in accepting ourself for who we are- it hasn't been easy by any means, but that isn't the point.

I recognize now that he was afraid of being hurt again, not wanting to get out of that survival mindset in case Greenhouse and Bonfire turned out to be super-secret mega abusers taking advantage of our trust, but I also know what he did after was wrong.

He got physical with Bonfire, screaming at him and threatening to kill him if he got any closer. I don't have any memory of this happening, so some details may be incorrect, and I apologize for that. Bonfire, not knowing that P was not, in fact, me, (coupled with the fact that he's a fucking idiot (meant with affection)), he got closer and tried to talk me (him) down. P punched him in the face and broke his nose, after which he ran out of the house and left me to "wake up" a few miles away curled up under a tree.

P left me a note a few days later that said he didn't mean to break his (Bonfire's) nose, but that he was lucky he hadn't done worse. This, in P speak, is probably the most sincere apology I could get at the time.

To try and keep this as short as possible, I'll summarize what happened next. I told Bonfire and Greenhouse about P because at that point the cat was basically out of the bag. They said they'd wished I'd told them sooner, and that they were a little uncomfortable being in the same house as "the lean, mean, stabbing machine" (- Bonfire) but that they were willing to help me manage him if I promised to tell them everything I knew about how he worked.

I did, and it's been years since then, and now P and I are, as stated before, closer than ever. I recently asked my partners whether or not they were still upset with me for not telling them, and they just said that they weren't entitled to my medical history and trauma (which, yeah, but he did break Bonfire's nose) and that they didn't care because, "hey, we basically got a free dog out of it" (- Bonfire), and "we made a promise to love you, including all the less-than-savory parts." (- Greenhouse).

Sweet, yes, but I think I might be TA because, um, P LITERALLY BROKE BONFIRE'S NOSE AND THREATENED TO KILL HIM? AND IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN PREVENTED IF I HAD TOLD THEM?

TL;DR: I didn't tell my partners about my headmate that's prone to violence and he did violence on them and I feel bad.

AITA?

(P says hi, by the way, and he also wants me to tell you that he isn't like this anymore and much prefers soft blankets and eating fruit to breaking his family's noses.)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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changingplumbob · 15 days ago

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Silver explained that he'd taken a picture of a bird Glenn might like but didn't know how to send it. Glenn patiently explained the steps needed so Silver hung up and sent the picture through before calling Glenn back.

Silver: Did you get it

Glenn: Yes. When you get back I'm going to show you how the zoom works okay? The bird was tiny

Silver: But the bird is tiny

Glenn: *laughing* That is true. How are you

Silver: Same as I was this morning

Glenn: Yes but I didn't get to talk to you this morning

Silver: I like it here, it's quiet. How about you

Glenn: I think we've discovered I am not quiet

Silver: I mean your day

Glenn: Oh right. Well I went to see Henri and he showed me how to make the potion of plentiful needs

Silver: Was it complicated

Glenn: Not too much

Silver: Because you know if you need more pleasure again I'll be coming back

Glenn: I do! He umm... he thought I should probably tell you something though

Silver: I'm listening

Glenn: So apparently the hue of the pleasure will be different depending on stuff like amount of people, occult status, novelty

Silver: Meaning he knows I'm a werewolf

Glenn: Well yes but... he could also tell it was my first time

Silver: First time with a werewolf or first time with a guy

Glenn: Oh you know just... first time with... anyone

The other end of the phone was silent and Glenn had to check he hadn't ended the call by accident.

Glenn: Beefcake... are you there?

Silver: Yeah I'm here just... processing

Glenn: I'm sorry if you think I should have said something. I just really like you and wanted to be with you and I was worried you wouldn't want to get intimate with me if you knew and now I'm rambling

Silver: It's cute *sighs* If I had known I'd have been a lot better

Glenn: What do you mean

Silver: I'd have been more romantic, I wasn't very romantic about it. I was *sighs*

Glenn: If it makes any difference I thought you were great

Silver: Next time I'll be better

Glenn: Beefcake please don't beat yourself up about this

Silver: I know modern thinking is different but back when I was raised the first time was really important

Glenn: Ah yes, 863 years ago

Silver: Nope, not my age

Glenn: I'm going to guess it one day

Silver: Sure you are. Point is I'll be more... passionate next time

Glenn: I do like the sound of "next time". Okay I know you can't see me but I just did air quotes

Silver: Did what?

They talked for a couple of hours. They ended up talking for a couple of hours every day.

Glenn spent his days working with the other spellcasters in the coven to sharpen his skills. He still preferred tending plants above any other magic but it was helpful to be taught other things. Silver took his time wandering around the woods of Windenburg, visiting his favourite spots and getting better at learning how to send pictures.

Of course eventually word of his werewolf got out (thanks Howard) and everyone had an opinion. Drusilla naturally thought he should be barred from the property and tried to put their foot down but Phoebus convinced them cooperation between occults could only be for the best.

Gillian was very pouty about not having met Silver but Glenn assured her the next time he returned she could. Just so long as they didn't all try meet Silver at once, he didn't want to risk overwhelming him. Ophelia, Miranda and Henri treated him just the same which was nice. They had become Glenn's friends so their opinion mattered to him.

Opinions that didn't matter of course were the opinions of the twins Jackson and Coleman. They began doing their best to fit some sort of dog joke in to every conversation. Glenn didn't mind. He'd rather they teased him than aggravate Silver.

A few weeks after he had left Silver called Glenn to let him know he was back outside the barrier and Glenn happily sped out of the house to help him inside the spells. When he got him inside he hugged him tight.

Silver: Hold on, I'm meant to be the one with super strength

Glenn: I just missed you

Silver: I told you I was coming back

Glenn: I know I just... worried. Especially with the occult hate crimes in the bigger cities

Silver: That's why I don't go through the cities. Plus they're too loud and smelly for me. But I was thinking, if you don't mind, I could stay weekends? Get my travel fix during the weeks and then always come back?

Glenn: Like a boyfriend?

Silver: Yeah. Like a boyfriend

Glenn: *swooning* I'd love that

Previous ... Next

#simblr #sims 4 #the sims #my sims #active simblr #ts4 #GWG #GlennSutherland #SilverClawcrestByCawthornTales

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mondaymelon · 1 year ago

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𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟣.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee !!

“...That’s the briefing. Any questions?” Sango uncrossed her arms, glancing up from the paper she was reading off of. It was a chilly evening at the Bantan Sango Detective Agency, and you regretted not bringing an extra layer of clothing with you to work.

You sighed, your exhale turning white in the frosty air. The sky had already blended black, tiny pin pricks of bright stars resembling white paint scattered on a midnight canvas hung like a dusty backdrop. The days had been growing colder of late, and the maple leaves that loosely clung to the trees now blanketed the cobblestone streets. “Typical of you to hand me over to some tiring task right before the festival… that other guy, genius detective Shikanoin Heizou, why not ask him instead and spare me the trouble?”

The brunette’s expression grew strained. “You know I don’t talk to him anymore. Besides, he quit a long time ago. He works for the Tenryou commission now, and I hear that quite the skilled man. Wherever he is, he always finds a way to boast about him, I suppose…” Her voice trailed off with an exasperated groan. “It doesn’t matter. Are you going to take the job or not?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Judging by her scammer-like smile, you already knew the answer before you asked the question.

“Nope.” And just like that, she thrusted the manila folder of information into your arms, several pieces of paper flying out of it in the process. “Have fun, I’ll see you at the Halloween Festival later!” She sprinted away before you could even get in another word.

As expected. Sango was rather stone-faced, yet she only grew more and more animated as you got to know her. You didn’t know exactly what happened between her and that redhead detective, but you weren’t one to pry for details the other wasn’t willing to provide. Besides, you still had Ryuuji to pester for help… not. He had long since gone home for a weekend vacation.

“This is why I’m miserable.” You shook your head, reluctantly glancing through the information in the files given.

[ 48 missing people.

No attacks on children. Prime targets seem to be young adults regardless of gender.

Only three bodies have been retrieved.

Bodies are drained of blood. Puncture wounds in neck. Inscriptions on body...

Last event was Oct 24. Tanaka Oda, aged 24. Inferred to have gone missing at night. Had gambling problems but otherwise was a clean slate. ]

“Shit, this sounds like something from a legend… couldn’t these just be wild animal attacks?” You examined the photos, spotting the sunken eyes and dry flesh. “Ah, but unless it was an 8 foot tall bat… and the runes. How the fuck would a bat write? The work of a cult, maybe? Human sacrifice has been a thing before, and that would certainly explain the markings on the corpses, would it not…?” You didn’t have enough evidence to come to conclusions now, nor the sufficient amount of sleep. You had never exactly been the most intelligent, which made you question why Sango had even assigned this case to you in the first place. To give it to the least capable detective in the workforce must’ve meant that it must be an insignificant mystery, right? Then it’d only be a while until all the threads came unraveled. That, at the very least, provided you with a sense of comfort.

That sensation was a fleeting one, shattered by the shrill cry of a woman in the distance. High-pitched. Terrified. You snapped your head up, hastily shoving the evidence in your arm and sprinting towards the sound. It happened again, a broken cry piercing through the misty night. Smoky tendrils swirled in the air and curled around your ankles.

Where had the civilians gone? There wasn't a soul in sight. There were no lights in the windows. Food stands were left unattended as smoke rose from their stoves.

You pulled out into a clearing. There she was. She couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, her paper-white skin contrasting with the pink on her cheeks. Her kimono was strewn, creased as if someone had grabbed her with force. You could see the blood seeping from the bite wound on her neck. Her skin was icy cold. Her pulse had gone dead.

No. Not a wild animal.

This... A word, one spoken in storybooks, flashed in your mind.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. There was someone. In the alleyway. They had seen everything.

"Huk...!"

He made a sound, then his body crumpled to the ground.

His inanimate corpse glowed with a sinister energy. Lines of foreign words circling around his arms and chest blazed forth, shining a deep red against the black night. A tongue you couldn't comprehend. A forgotten, ancient language that had long since been buried.

His body gave a spasm, shaking. It was as if he was a doll, and his joints creaked and groaned as they bent in upon themselves. Where his heart should have resided instead was a crystal-cut ruby, quivering in the open air. His eyes bulged, and then they were no longer there, bursting into a fountain of red. Then, he stilled.

He didn't move again.

Silence. Suffocating. There was something building in the back of your throat. You could taste the bitter bile on your tongue.

"F...Fuck."

Two bodies, cruelly bent and misshapen. The woman in the clearing, the blood pooling from her wounds growing cold. Her face was an almost ashen gray, and her dead marble eyes stared blankly into the sky. What was there to look at?

Then, the man. Twisted arms hung morbidly from his frame. His bloody, mangled sockets lay bare as they gazed at nothing at all. His bloodied body slowly dissipated as ashes in the wind. It was the smell of iron.

You exhaled a shallow breath. You could feel the tremble of your hands as you held them over your mouth. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. You wanted to scream, cry. You shouldn't. You couldn't.

Droplets of crimson lay scattered on the ground. A trail of blood.

Blackened remains of the cursed. A trail of his ashes.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

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witchofhimring · 22 days ago

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Alys x Aemond modern AU headcanons

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen modern AU. Alys is 30 and Aemond 26.

-Alys was born to her father when he was young. Not wanting to suffer the shame of having a child out of wedlock Lyonel Strong chose not to publicly acknowledge her. He did however pay child support. Alys lived with her mother until she (the mother) died when Alys was 14. Afterwards she went to live with her grandmother. Alys's grandmother owned a flat and antique store which Alys would eventually inherit. Alys moved our briefly to attend University and returned aged 21. Shortly after her grandmother passed and Alys was now in charge of the store. Lyonel had nothing to do with Alys once child support was no longer mandatory. Alys had a few relationships but none of them worked out. This was made harder when she was told that having a child would be difficult. So she was all alone.

-Aemond was born to CEO Viserys and his second wife Alicent. Despite the largess of his family Aemond was practically alone. His father cared more for his eldest daughter and Aegon was...well...Aegon. And having only your mother and sister for company can get lonely. When he was 18 Aemond moved out an started University right away. Money was no issue since he had been saving and got a free ride thanks to scholarships. It was nice to get distance, but Aemond still felt isolated. After graduation Aemond moved to a small town that had a company near by. A small, unassuming place. But the perfect starting point for accomplishing his dreams.

-Aemond and Alys did not meet for the first half year. He heard of the strange woman who owned the antique store. Alys herself took little interest in the blonde Targaryen moving in close by. Going to a fortune teller she was told her life would drastically change. Alys wondered continuously what the fortune teller meant. Being a suspicious woman Alys took these sorts of things very seriously. So she waited patiently, these things should never be rushed, and prepared herself. Whether this would bring good or ill she could not say.

-Their meeting would come on one rainy day when Aemond foolishly left the house while it was about to rain. He just wanted to get some air when the heavens opened up and Aemond was forced to run into the nearest building. This one was small, built nearly two centuries ago, and painted completely black with red bricks. He had never felt inclined to go in, having only heard stories of the crazy woman who lived in there. Inside was like stepping into one of his families old castles. The room was dim and old carpets covered the floor. From small books to suits of armor Aemond was momentarily enchanted. That was when Alys stepped out, nearly causing Aemond to flee from pure shock. She was not an unattractive woman, maybe not conventionally, but no one could call her ugly. Raven black hair hung to her waist in big thick curtains. Her heavy set jaw lent to her looks, giving this woman a look of authority that suited her. Most strikingly were the most gorgeous wide green eyes. They reminded him of set jades his mother wore. 'Can I help you.' Raising an eyebrow Alys was equally taken aback by this strangers looks. Alys had never found a man who she thought deserved the word "beautiful". His silver hair hung down to his waist, disheveled but attractive. He had only one eye, amethyst. The other was covered by an eyepatch. His face was angular with prominent cheeks, the type artists would clamor to paint. Alys was considerably better at hiding her alarm, Aemond less so. Little did they know where this would lead them.

-It started out with Aemond becoming interested with some of the older objects in the house. He would come by and examine them. Sometimes he would ask her the history behind them. Luckily Alys, who also had an interest in history, kept a detailed record of everything. Two people, who did not have anyone else, found themselves drawn to one another. Linked by this similarity and shared interests, they begun a friendship. A friendship that would evolve into something more.

Notes: I plan to make more Modern AU's for Alys and Aemond.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #alys rivers #alys #aemond x alys #hotd imagine #hotd modern au

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thelampisaflashlight · 1 year ago

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A Nightlight For Your Pride

[Lamb meets the usually confident Swiss in a time of weakness and doubt. Short read, but a wholesome one.] Below the cut.

"You're just... not really my type."

It shouldn't bother him, Swiss knows.

Most of the time he can let that sort of thing slide, cause, shit, if he was everyone's type he'd be up to his ears in warm bodies to cuddle, but he thought...

Swiss thumps the back of his head against the stone wall behind him, running a hand down his face as the other fiddles with the cigarette pinched between his fingers, unlit.

"I'm sorry if I led you on, that wasn't my intention."

He really thought...

"I don't mind hooking up, but dating's a no."

He was so fucking embarrassed.

"No, it's, it's fine." He'd said, "No worries."

Fine.

No worries.

"Dammit..." Swiss groans, sinking down into a squat.

He'd kind of walked off after that, after saying it was fine, and just... kept going.

Honestly, Swiss had only meant to take a short walk to clear his head, but now he's here; The old chapel on the other side of the woods past the lake.

It's a place he's maybe been once or twice before, but never alone, and certainly not this late in the afternoon.

"Haahhh... Man, why am I so hung up on this?" he mutters to himself, rummaging through his pockets for his lighter, "I didn't even like her that much, I just..."

What had he been thinking?

"Stupid."

They just got back from tour, he should be celebrating, not getting hung up over some girl.

Some pretty, smart, talented girl, who made his stomach feel all wiggly...

"We can still be friends though."

Swiss lets the cigarette hang in his mouth and go to ash.

"I don't think... that's possible." he mumbles, then asks the air, "Do you?"

"I have... no idea." a voice from somewhere above his head has Swiss scrambling away from the wall.

"Who's there?!" he shouts, panicked, "Who-"

"The nightshift." says a little ghoul as they hang over the top of the wall, horns glowing bright green in the fading light, "I did not mean to startle you, but there was not a good time to announce my presence."

"The nightsh-Oh. Oh, shit! How late is it?" Swiss asks, patting himself down for his phone, but coming up empty, "Shit..."

The ghoul on the wall slinks down and crouches on the ground in a very froglike pose, reaching into a pouch around their waist and withdrawing Swiss' phone from it, holding it out to him carefully.

"You dropped this by the lake."

"You've been, uh, you've been following me that long?" Swiss chuckles nervously, wondering how he hadn't noticed them before taking his phone back, "You... you could have said something sooner."

"Mn, you did not seem like you wanted to be bothered." the ghoul replies, long, pale tail sweeping through the leaves on the ground, the eerie glow coming off the spade casting yet more of that strange green light, "Normally, I would not follow someone so far. I do not like wandering too much, but it will be getting dark soon."

"Wait..." Swiss stares at the ghoul for a moment, tilting his head, "Wait, do I know you?"

"I do not think so?" they reply, mirroring the tilt, "You do not look familiar to me."

"No, no, I..."

Swiss bites the inside of his cheek, thinking back on a conversation he'd had with Dew ages ago now...

What was...

“There’s only one other ghoul from that incident that’s still in residence here, but they live in the dorms with the human clergy, and they’re honestly kind of weird.”

“How so?”

“Walks on all fours all the time, glows in the dark like a radioactive sleep paralysis demon, dislikes other ghouls …except for fucking Aeth for some reason…”

“Why do you sound so bitter about that, hm~?”

"You're... Satanas I never did learn your name, but, I heard about you from a friend." he says finally, "You live with the clergy, right?"

The ghoul nods.

"I did not know whether or not I should be worried that people speak of me." they muse, "Or flattered."

Radioactive sleep paralysis demon...

"Ehn, it's subjective..." Swiss lands on, "So you are...?"

"Lamb."

"Lamb, okay. Uh, I'm Swiss." he says, offering his hand to them, "Nice to meet you."

"Swiss like the cheese, or Swiss like the country?" Lamb asks, giving Swiss' hand a gentle pat instead of shaking it.

"Oh, it's, I guess like the country kind, but it's more like, Swiss Army Knife, 'cause I'm a multi-"

...dislikes other ghouls...

Swiss pauses, biting his lip.

"-talented individual." he grins, "So, Lamb, um, care to escort me back to the abbey? Since it looks like the sun's going to set soon, and, ya know, can't see very well in the dark."

Lamb nods.

"Stay close then."

The walk back to the abbey is cathartic if nothing else.

Watching Lamb weave through the tall grass on all fours is silly, but something about the way they pause and wait for him to catch up, or look back at him, or warn him of dips in the path makes Swiss' chest feel warm.

"...Possibly rude question, but... why do you walk like this?" Swiss asks as they make their way round the lake, which Lamb stops at to lap at the water there like some kind of predator mammal taking a break from the hunt to hydrate, "Is it comfortable?"

Lamb peers back at him and hums.

"It's not particularly uncomfortable." they say, moving back into a seated position, "Feels safer."

"Safer?"

Lamb shrugs, then raises up, albeit not very high, standing at their full height.

They're really quite small, maybe around Aurora's height, possibly a smidge taller, but it's hard to tell without the ghoulette around to compare them to.

"I wasn't saying that to make you feel like you needed to stand up-" Swiss frets.

The ghoul gives him a confused look and carries on walking towards the abbey, their tail flicking through the grass, now brighter than before.

"Why..." Swiss starts, but cuts himself off.

"You can ask questions." Lamb tells him, as if sensing his hesitation, their tone shifting to a gentler one that puts Swiss strangely at ease, "I don't mind."

Swiss considers this, catching up to walk beside them.

"Why does your tail... glow?"

Man, he sounds like a little kid.

"I don't really know." Lamb admits, "But Omega said it's not hazardous or really... uh, toxic or anything of the sort. Although, I would not touch it."

"Why not?"

Yeup, little kid.

"It can get on your skin and stain it."

Swiss blinks.

"Really?"

And just like that, he's reaching out and-

"...Hey, Aeth, do we have any of the good dish soap?"

His hands keep that unnatural glow for two whole hours despite Aether almost scrubbing off a full layer of Swiss' skin, but it fades eventually.

And when it does?

He misses it.

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #ghost band oc #nameless ghoul oc

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kerosene-saint · 1 year ago

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actually back on my Show Pony thoughts again

Why does the beloved queerest icon, Show Pony, not show up in the California comics? we see them for a few panels set in the past when they got the girl into the van and a few Polaroids here and there. The pictures indicate that the 'joys they hung around still remember them fondly, at least enough to have pictures of them around. But then why are they not around? Why do we not see them? Well a simple answer could just be they got ghosted but then why is no one talking about them? maybe it happened a while ago?

well I'm not simple so I came up with a whole fucking thing because show pony brain is complex and multifaceted

Show Pony was a teen 'crow. a crow that at first had no idea what the killjoys were like besides what the city told them. They were barely old enough to be working as a 'crow, accelerated by the fact that they graduated school early. BL/ind knew it would be more likely for a teen to escape the city to the Zones so they used them as an undercover spy.

Eventually wandering the Zones got them picked up by an old man in a wheelchair and his radio crew, they taught the undercover 'crow what it is like to be a killjoy. They dressed them in colorful clothes and put makeup on them, glitter and pink and blue covered them from head to toe.

In that moment, when they were named Show Pony, they knew that this was right. This was what they truly were. Not some drone for a giant corporation. A colorful, genderqueer, roller skating mailperson.

Through the next year they started to look less and less like the person they left the city as. Later, in the winter months, a new bright and shiney group of teen killjoys rolls around, Dr D took a liking to them as well as Show. They promised themself to never go back to being a scarecrow, they could never hurt these 'joys. The youngest was just few years younger than them, the oldest being their age.

When the girl appeared they cried, they thought about what would've happened if they had gone back to the city. So they made another promise, this time out loud, to protect the girl. She was something sacred, they could just tell. Show would help take care of her when not dropping off letters or running errands for Dr D, acting as a sort of babysitter for her. During this time Jet and Show started to grow a little closer, often the only ones in the diner while the others were fixing things or doing supply runs.

Then they have a firefight with Korse and the girl gets kidnapped. Show had been in a completely different Zone when it happened, only hearing the news from Dr D. They practically felt their whole word come crashing down when they heard what had gone down. They got back to the Radio Shack as quick as possible, seeing the trans am sitting outside.

only a few weeks later the Fab 4 decided to go after the girl and get her back, Show said they were going to go with but Dr D held them back. He told them he needed them there if things were to go all Costa Rica and they weren't able to get the girl out on their own.

Show sat at the radio on the table, it was a wave frequency that was meant to be kept open the entire time the Fab 4 were in the city so the radio crew could hear if things were to go wrong. They listened to the static and the sound of the four getting their weapons ready.

In the next few minutes everything went rusty. they were suddenly attacked jsut after getting the girl back. Show was quick to jump up and run out the door, dragging GoGo with them and hoping everyone else would follow. All of them quickly packed into the van, Show sitting right in front of the sliding door and getting ready to do anything possible to save the girl.

They already knew at this point that the likelihood any of the Fab four would survive was extremely low, they tried to make as much peace with it as they could in the moment.

When they finally pulled up to the building the girl and Jet was running out of Show jumped out, shooting at the 'crows that they used to work with. unbridled rage set into their bones as they saw the ghosted Jet splayed out across the trans am. They got the girl in the van and closed the door, GoGo driving them away as fast as possible.

when they finally stopped far enough away from the city, fairly close to the shack, the Girl jumped up and ran away. Show watched in absolute grief as she ran, they knew they couldn't stop her, not in this situation. At that moment the sound of a scarecrow car was heard.

Show looked around, terrified but not able to find the black car. That's when someone grabbed them and started pulling him away. Two people, two dracs holding their arms and dragging them to the white transport van. They looked for the radio crew, finding them looking at Show with disdain. Had they known? How did they find out?

Show would be reprogrammed into being a 'crow again and the events of the California comics would happen. Maybe they break free from the city, maybe they never remember who they were. But one thing is for sure, deep down in their mind still lays their Show Pony identity, hidden away and dormant.

#show pony #ttlotfk #danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys danger days #jet star #dr death defying #doctor death defying #danger days headcanons #danger days hcs

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lovethatmakingcoffee · 11 months ago

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Part 1

Forever

Sorry this took so long, Forever. This is a pro-Forever post so be quiet.

Not to be parasocial or anything… but…

So it seems that cancellation always wins. No matter what you have done, how bad it is or if it was even real. In Forever's situation, it was real, but the internet in pure predictable internet fashion hyped it up way more than it needed to be. From what we have honestly gathered from Forever predicament, is that he had tweets long ago that were involved primarily with a group of friends. Those tweets were disturbing and gross in nature and were directed at young girl(s) allegedly around the age of 14 to 16. There was an obvious upset from a third party who called him out on it and he apologized/resolved the situation 7 to 8 years ago.

So! We know that this was resolved 7 to 8 years ago. We know the girl(s) involved do not want to get involved and do not see themselves as victim(s). Because if they did and didn’t get justice for it 7 to 8 years ago, they would have seen this blow up or have heard about it from those who reached out in concern and have taken advantage of the social media mob that was going after him. Either take advantage in getting their justice that they must have always desired and for some reason never got or to perhaps get it widely known enough to tear him down in some sort of way or perhaps sue/get him arrested. And they could get him arrested if they wanted to. If the age of consent in Brazil is 14, then they could always get him on some other charges. It’s not that hard. There are always loopholes.

But they didn’t. They didn’t go after him, making me quickly realize that they do not see themselves as victims. They were not hurt in this situation and they would at least be in their early twenties by now and be able to realize with more life experience and awareness if they were hurt by something in their youth. Maybe they didn’t feel hurt at age 14, but in their early twenties they should be able to recognize if that situation was traumatic for them. But they haven’t said it was. It wasn’t traumatic. They don’t see themselves as victims so they aren’t. Even in their twenties they do not see that time in their life as something that was dangerous for them. And they don’t want to be involved and they don’t hate Forever.

I saw the response from one of the girls. The main girl it would appear. And would also appear that twitter has twisted her words in an uncreative way. What I understood is that when she said she got to know Forever closer than the other Minecraft youtubers and that they went ‘out’, meant that they went out to hang out, because earlier in her statement, she said that. That she ‘hung out’ with Forever. Then later said she ‘went out’ further on in the statement. From what I could gather, this ‘went out’ or ‘hanging out’ were of the fan meet and greets. She said she had family members and adults with her every time, telling us that she had adult supervision, like most teenagers would have when meeting an adult creator that they admire. She also gave the years of when she met him and to me this wouldn’t make sense if these were time periods when they were dating or hooking up. If it was one day or so every few years, then how does that even work if it’s dating or hooking up? Why wouldn’t she say that she met up with him for extended periods of time and not just a day or so out of a certain number of years? She also said she had more ‘proof’ of these claims, to me meaning that she had evidence of the exact dates and places but probably didn’t want to dox herself or something cause this is the internet she is addressing.

Also, also, if she meant that they were dating, why wouldn’t she just say that? That they ‘dated’, instead of ‘went out’ or ‘hung out.’ Some people who claim to be Portuguese said that the way she said it was supposed to be interpreted as intimate, but right now I am definitely taking everything every social media user says with a grain of salt. Especially since I have already encountered a few people who have claimed some very contradicting things which I will explain later. And I doubt since she didn’t want to be involved in the first place that she won’t reiterate what she meant since I understand her hesitation in making any statements on Twitter or other social media platforms. She may never clear up what she said, but she doesn’t have to and I don’t expect that of her. From what I could understand of what she stated, this is what she meant. That they were really just friends.

She is obviously not a professional and some of her words were left to interpretation. Making them vague and a tad unclear, but like I said, she’s not a professional. She won’t say things perfectly nor has a PR team to help her correct things. And if people go after her too for whatever reason, she doesn’t owe an explanation or an apology for anything or anybody. She didn’t even have to make a statement. In fact, demanding an apology on a victimless act seems all too entitled. And the idea of apology videos for something that has already been resolved is stupid.

And lastly, she asked not to attack Forever or others involved. And if she has resentment towards him, that would be a rather counter intuitive move. Cause she obviously appears to be a person who doesn’t want to be involved at all and if she wanted to be the victim, she could be. Hell, I would usually if not always side with the female victim if there was one. But she doesn’t see herself in that role so in turn I will not see her as a victim.

From what I could deduct about her announcement, she clearly seems to hold no ill will to Forever except for when he displayed a few texts in his video that they exchanged that looked to me like ‘greetings’ and ‘meet ups.’ They were pretty casual and yes, the man probably should have had gotten her permission on those first, but it’s not like they were nudes or sexting. Which is what I feared. They were simple conversation starters. But I understand her displeasure in them being put online, just out of the sheer anxiety she must be receiving with this sea of anonymous twitter freaks hounding her for information. So I get her hesitation about the messages, even if it was a smaller thing then I feared. And yes, Forever should have gotten her permission to post them if he hadn’t.

Though at this point, it doesn’t matter what Forever does because the internet already views him with rage-colored glasses. And it is difficult to shake that off. He could save a hundred orphans from a burning building tomorrow and the internet will find a way to view him negatively since they strictly see him in this light.

But going back to the girl, she clearly does not see herself as a victim. Meaning, that the 'lovely' internet has gone ahead and categorized the girls into the victim position even though the ‘victims’ themselves would disagree with that stance. And then the internet has so graciously put Forever in the 'abuser/groomer/bad guy' position even though there are technically no victims to speak of. There were girls but no victims. The girls say they weren’t victims, so why don’t we believe them? I swear, give it a week and the internet will cancel the girls next for their stances and beliefs on this, holy shit the irony.

And again, I reaffirm, she is at the age to publicly tear him apart if she wants to. She should be able to understand the full weight of the situation, yet she chooses not to cancel him and asks to please not attack him or others. And that she didn’t want their past to upend his career. It sounds stereotypical but also genuine. So I shall believe her when she says nothing happened between them. I believe both her and Forever when they say this.

Her and Forever were once and now at the same age, where a third party brought their attention to this situation, and both have agreed that this moment in their lives is not what the internet is making it out to be. That they we’re not in a pedo scenario.

But it was just too easy to put him in the pedo position. Him being a man and all. It was quite simple. And it was so easy to spark up the social media mob with key words like pedo, racist, transphobe, Nazi, blah blah blah. The internet likes to pick one if not usually all of those words when they are trying to cancel someone. And it appears, every time, that they are successful. No matter who the person is or what they have done. It is for the most part easy to cancel someone.

Everyone showed that twitter anti who leaked the tweets how easy it was. How easy it was to get someone you don’t like offline. And everyone was so focused on what the tweets had to say, that they didn’t question the twitter user’s intentions. Most would say they did it to uncover a pedophile and to give justice to the victims by allowing awareness of the pedo's crimes so everyone will know who he truly is and that he was secretly a bad guy all along! But the fun contradictions that takes that all apart, is that there aren’t any victims. None came up and clearly said they were the victim.

There was no justice. So no one was helped in this situation. These tweets didn’t help anyone and just hurt everyone involved. Everyone is saying that these tweets hurt them, that what Forever did hurt them. And that’s where I draw the line in the sand cause no, Forever didn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t hurt you or me or those girls. He said stupid shit in his early twenties that yeah if I had known him personally back then, I would have shattered his teeth in for being such a dumbass or ghosted his ass, but in the end, he didn’t hurt anyone. It was this random twitter user who hurt everyone. They exposed all of this that was resolved several years ago and hurt everyone by doing so. Forever, the girls who didn’t want to be exposed in any sense of the word or involved, the QSMP, you, and me.

So that leads me to ask why they did it? What were their actual intentions? No one seemed to really be asking this in the past couple of weeks. Why did they up-earth this information? Why post it now at the height of Forever's popularity when everyone online was saying how much they loved him and how he is the heart of the server and were begging for him to come back to the QSMP? Why did this anti go straight to social media instead of doing the right thing and reach out to those girls first and ask if they were ok and if they wanted this to happen? If they wanted this information to be leaked? But no, they selfishly went on twitter first and posted the leaked tweets. Not caring or considering how that would affect anyone or anything and just wanting to cause pain. And the internet gave them exactly what they wanted. They kicked Forever off the QSMP, got him labeled as a pedo, and hurt everybody. Which is honestly such bullshit.

When I saw what was happening, my first reaction to most bullshit isn’t sadness or grief, but anger. I was pissed when I saw the internet trying to cancel Forever. For multiple reasons. First and foremost because I thought it was so hypocritical that people were singing his praise and begging for him to return to the QSMP not hours prior, and then the second that stuff got leaked, everyone and I mean EVERYONE went like "oh it’s time to cancel Forever o clock." "I never liked him anyways" "he betrayed us!" "How could he do something so awful?" Which was honestly the fastest 180 I have ever seen in my whole life. They didn’t even question if these tweets were real and maybe they were generated by ai or photoshopped. They were so ready to cancel Forever before he even made his first vod addressing it. The internet left no breathing room.

And even when he made his first vod hours after, it was too late. It didn’t matter what he said or how he said it, he could have done anything at all, the internet already labeled him as guilty. They slammed his neck on the social media guillotine. I believe he could have done the most proper apology video known to man and it wouldn’t have mattered. He could have been calm, cool and collected as he professionally addressed the situation, but that wouldn’t have mattered either. He could have had actual physical evidence showing that he is not in fact a pedophile straight away and guess what? It-Wouldn’t-Have-Mattered! There were those who sparked this drama on purpose and were lying in wait for his video response to drop so they could angle it with him being the bad guy in some way.

The internet was ready to take him apart and choke him out. Mere minutes after the tweets were posted. And I agree, his vod addressing things was a bit hotheaded, but haven’t you all watched this guy for the past few months? He is hotheaded. And frankly, I would be pissed too if some rando online unearthed part of my life that I grew out of. Like- he is obviously not that guy anymore. He isn’t an incel weirdo, and I’m going to say it again and again: He is not a pedophile.

I mean, I hope Forever actually finds this guy and sues his ass. If not for himself then for other creators. It was said that this jerk was also targeting Pac and other members of the QSMP, so like- who wants this asshole around? He isn’t some whistleblower or anything, he was some anti who hated Forever and wanted him gone, and got what he wished for. And you know what? Just like how those girls could have sued or charged Forever through loopholes, ten bucks says Forever could do the same with this guy. Which go for it, my dude. That anti is going to go after someone else one day. Possibly more QSMP members. They could go after Phil or Quackity himself, posting something real or fake to get them canceled. If Forever wants to be the one who bites back, I encourage him to do so. Cause I wanna bite back. Let me at em. Let me at em.

But also, I must say I was disturbed by the internet's readiness to cancel someone so quickly. How gung-ho they were to dogpile him. And I do theorize many of these dog pilers were Forever antis who could have been in the know to fan the flames of this cancellation the moment these tweets were leaked. But that's just a theory I can’t prove. Though what also bothered me was how so many just stayed quiet. I assume in the fear of being labeled as a pedophile supporter. Afraid to say anything against the crowd less they are accused and labeled as a fellow pedophile or an idiot. But I couldn't care less. Feel free. Cancel me. I don’t have much to lose, nor could I care if you tried. I don’t have much going on anyway, so good luck.

But yes, I know there are those who agree with me, not everyone thinks Forever is a pedo. So Forever if you see this, know that there are those who see through this antis’ intentions/charade and will still gladly support you and your endeavors, some are just not so bold enough to speak up about it, but I am cause I'm rabid and pissed. I won't go on twitter too much because that place is a minefield and I think sustaining an argument on there is too hard and not worth it cause you have to post your argument bit by bit and I’m a working adult so I don’t have time for that. Nor will I pay premium anything. I give my money to no one.

But I have been speaking up on other platforms and my intention why? …Well, it’s because firstly this is dumb, and secondly this is wrong, and thirdly I had the worst year of my life in 2023. The people I thought I could trust turned out to be very bad people and whoopee, I got deported. It’s a long story but I will save you the details. But just so you know, the reason I will defend you with all my blood, sweat, and tears is because the QSMP was one of the few things that lightened up my day. And you were my favorite part of the QSMP and I think nobody did it like you.

You did such fascinating lore and you and your character were so interesting, I couldn't take my eyes off of you. Your avatar was so fun to draw and I'm not going to stop drawing your character because of this. You are haha funny Brazilian man, but you are also so much more than that. You are smart and creative. You have genuine heart when taking care of your friends and the eggs. And I hope you find happiness after this turmoil. I hope you can pick yourself back up again after this cancellation because you deserve way more than what these so called 'fans' have given you.

You have obviously grown into a fine respectable man ever since you posted those nasty tweets from several years ago and I am proud to see that you have changed. Not many people ever change and it is nice to see that you have done so for the better. That you recognized your mistakes, apologized all those years ago then improved yourself. I think that’s very commendable and not many are willing to put in the effort. It’s just a shame that the internet won’t let you change and grow up. Once something happens, they forever cement that into your personality when you are obviously so much more than your past faults. You are not that person anymore! But even though I have known you for only a short while, I can see that you are a good person with a good heart and if others can’t see that then so be it.

And since you have heart, well... I don’t know if I should say this next part, but I will so sorry if it’s true. But I think you warned your friends to unfollow you, didn't you? Or at least, there was a mutual discussion and agreement. So they wouldn't get caught in the crosshairs. And you told Quackity to remove you so the QSMP wouldn’t suffer. Or you both agreed that your removal was for the best. I at least theorize that’s what you did. I don’t know how well the other QSMP members have taken your tweets, I assume some are as mad at you as those twitter users, but I think statistically not all of them hate you. I have no way of proving it, but the only way I can tell is that yes, they quietly banned and unfollowed you. Yes, they removed you from QSMP but they haven’t made any videos going like "I hate Forever and this is why." It could be some sort of contractual thing on why they aren’t openly addressing their supposed disgust, but I sincerely think this is the case. And I don’t want your friends to be targeted too in case it is, but if it is I think it’s a bit of a shame. That if they actually disagree with the masses they won’t speak up and let you take the fall. Even if it’s per your request, it still seems awful and personally makes me sick. That everyone is just allowing for you to be labelled as a pedo. I mean- your girlfriend and family are being harassed and those female fans are being bothered. I just can’t fully see why the QSMP members would stay still at such disgusting behavior from the masses, especially if they disagree otherwise. I think it’s unfair and goes against everything that the QSMP represents. It’s supposed to represent people coming together and community, isn’t it? Right? Well what a lonesome community it has become.

Forever, this part of the message isn’t more so for you but for Quackity and co. Questioning if what I theorize is true, you are really going to let your friend take the fall for your server, reputation, and money?

Frankly, ouch.

But I get it. If this is Forever protecting everything you guys built together then I understand. Especially since it seemed more than just a cancellation on Forever and more like an attempted mass cancellation on the entire QSMP server and all of its members. Because just think, everyone. If they accepted Forever back into the fold and even made an argument saying everything I said or more, the internet would still tear them apart. Everything they worked for could possibly go down the drain, OR so QSMP and co may fear it would. I know there are others who have seen through the antis’ intentions, recognizing who Forever is as a person, and understood the QSMP's decision with removing him. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is entirely unfair, will hinder the QSMP because Imma be real, after taking everything that I already said into consideration and just looking at this now as a technical aspect of what makes up the QSMP, Forever was the one bringing up the best lore.

And I mean it. The eggs are cute and wholesome, and many creators have made some interesting lore with the shipping and plot, but Forever’s was just so compelling. Brunim and Philza, Ninho, the Presidency, the Happy Pill Arc, the Nether, the Infection, Eve. It was all so riveting that I was on the edge of my seat! I will claim without a shadow of a doubt that my man made the best content and I will stay firm on that judgment. And personally I think the QSMP will become lacking without his presence. And just the fact that they might have let him go over something that is wrong and they might have secretly disagreed with it if they weren’t so susceptible to the loud majority’s favor… ugh, it just stings.

Just knowing that my guy has grown and is kind and funny and that incel punk is not who he is anymore, yet he is still dragged by the past and accused of one of the worst things ever! With no ‘victims’ backing up that accusation! Is just plain fucking revolting!

AND lastly, letting go of Forever doesn’t stop the QSMP from being cancelled in the future. You all have just bought yourself more time until the inevitable. At this very moment, it would appear that a wave of different types of hate and negativity has washed over the QSMP, targeting tons of different members in different ways. None so impactful as Forever’s cancellation, but it could get that bad for others.

It has already been proven that there are people out there who will go through great lengths to get rid of one of the best members on your team. So they will individually attack every single member no matter who they are, bringing up past dirt or making something up. And then more successful cancellations will ensue. It doesn’t matter who it is, it could be Wilbur who was on tour all year, he will be an easy target cause he's a musician and attractive so it will be simple to accuse him of having relations with any number of female fans. Etoiles has been cancelled once already so he could easily be targeted again. They can even go after Quackity saying he met with a younger girl than Forever did, because woohoo the big outrage was that at least one of the fans was 14 years old and that is also the age of consent in Brazil. Meaning if he was a pedophile, he could get away with hooking up with this female fan since it would have been legal. And everyone online would be justifiably cancelling him for the ick factor alone. Cause I will speak on everyone’s behalf that is twisted and gross, Brazil. But guess what? Come on, guess? Guess what the age of consent is in Mexico? ~12~ So look out, Quackity. Because these cancellers will cancel you whether anything is real or not and so many will jump on that bandwagon alongside side them. So please. Do look out for yourself.

But what I am saying that it is so easy to unfairly cancel someone on social media. Any one of the QSMP members will be next and if more and more of you drop because of it or have to be removed because of it, then there will be no more QSMP members left. No more QSMP community. No one left to defend each other because everyone was busy defending themselves to 'protect' their friends from being dragged down with them. Even if you lose some viewership or a lot, you should stick together. Because that’s what the QSMP is all about. And you are a lot stronger in numbers than you are alone. You will get labeled as the pedo server or whatever by assholes, but at least you didn’t discard your friends over twitter masses that just frankly don’t matter.

Also, fyi, I think it’s statistically improbable for everyone on the QSMP to be creeps. Maybe one or two is believable. But everyone is a racist, transphobe, pedo, blah blah blah whatever? I press X to doubt. And even now. Even with the one being so strongly accused, I still don’t believe Forever is Pedo Monster. Not at all. Especially with everything I have pointed out today.

And speaking of the masses, I believe some of you think this and deep down some of you agree that what I have said is all true. Even if you feel hurt by it, I think you can sense that this was all too convenient and was very malicious from the start. And honestly, now that these trolls have been given a foot to stand on and power, things will most likely just get worse. Or maybe not, who knows! But I’m saying it’s highly likely.

Though to scold some of you who have been making contradictory statements, I read the tweet Forever liked and made a whole essay about it! If you really read it, he wasn’t liking it because the thread maker said that "young girls are mature for their age” so that means pedophile is okay. That’s not what they meant at all! In fact, that statement was completely taken out of context. The thread maker said there are studies arguing with that statement "young girls are mature for their age" and then the thread maker immediately noted "But that’s a damaging mindset." They did not agree with pedophilia and was taking a more calculative approach about why this situation was happening. And that’s why Forever liked it. Not because both him and the thread maker believed dating 14-year-old girls was ok. He's not that stupid. Just stupid people took it out of context to fan the flames and people took what they said at face value without reading the thread.

Here is the English version of said post that I translated with google translate-https://lovethatmakingcoffee.tumblr.com/post/739870595768090624/lumilla-lopes-ludylops-post-about-forever-in

And here is my deduction of said post if any of you have difficulty reading- https://lovethatmakingcoffee.tumblr.com/post/739017633425473536/and-then-she-said-that-type-of-mentality-hurts#notes

So to highlight this long-winded post, no I don’t think Forever is a pedophile, I don’t think there is a victim, and I do think that anti twitter user needs to face me in the front of an Arby’s so I can show them fist one and fist two.

I will not respond to any of the replies that will come from this post because I follow the number one rule of the internet and that is "To not feed the trolls".

And yes, if you do annoy me, I will block you. I could care less.

I will never delete any of my art that I made of Forever and have saved as much lore from with wiki as I could in case QSMP just wants to get rid of it one day. I also have seen lots of people get rid of or censor their Forever art, so like a panicking Greek fleeing from the burning Library of Alexandria, I am saving as much art as I can and keeping them on my phone. I don't know what I am going to do with it, but it won't be lost to deletion or censorship.

I won’t really be able to follow you, Forever, because I don’t speak Portuguese. But I hope wherever you venture to will be fun and you will be happy, you haha funny Brazilian man.

(I don’t think there was any other way I could have written this where I probably won’t get hate. This was long and took many days to write, and I CERTAINLY don’t have a PR team looking this over, so like Forever, no matter how perfect I respond, some troll will bite at my fingers. So yep.)

#If he somehow sees this... good #qsmp #quackity smp #forever #foreverplayerg #qsmpforever #discourse #I have a lot to say #this took me a long time to make

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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 19 days ago

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I am so tired of trying to work out what my identity is, and overthinking in general. You can spiral inwards like a junji ito character so easily over the dumbest shit...

If I was completely ace, would I really be so hung up on lack of attraction? I get flashes here and there, but does that invalidate it?

Are you meant to still get crushes as an adult or something else? I know they were there before, is it disingenuine to keep saying biace instead of aroace? Because I was bi first.

And then you think... why does this matter? People are dragging themselves through life in shitty circumstances and I'm pulling my own brain apart for no reason.

It's probs because half the people I work with in my age bracket are doing couple trips and getting married and there's always someone who asks. And it feels like you are less of an adult, I guess, for not doing certain things or ticking stuff off a list.

Which, logically, I know and everyone knows is ridiculous. Maybe there's someone out there, and we haven't met yet.

Then the brain comes in like Well, what if you missed them by being ugly or depressed or work focused or a bit of a cunt? What could they want with you? Surprisingly hard to flip that on your brain.

Esp. when your abs, which yo didn't realise you had a day ago before this super easy (theoretically) exercise routine you were given came along. Done it like 2x and I'm hoping it gets easier. First time was easy as... and then the Next Day yikes lmao.

It's super frustrating, because between this and my brain going 'hey everyone in your life will die and you will be left to bury them all' , and 'do you think the kittens are actually happy here and the affection is genuine or is this stockholme syndrome re the food provider' constantly at the most Annoying Moments. Which is, I know to the depths of my soul, fucking stupid thinking. I would kill a man for my girls, especially after losing their older sister in the fire (smoke, thankfully) earlier this year and the nightmare that was.

I'm like, what evolutionary help IS anxiety?

Was it some weird offshoot of trying to keep us alive as prey, but the hypervigilance has twisted because of our modern lives?

Actually, I have been wondering about a lot of mental health and other common disorders. Some of them you could theoretically trace back to some sort of old ability or response to a day to day struggle to live

fascinating to think through

I mean, we're learning how much babies just Know because of instincts built in to DNA and there are interesting studies out now about how children can come out preprogrammed based on stuff parents were experiencing during gestation

not to mention how animals just roll out of the womb and Go in certain places

like, i think one was about how a number of kids born in a longitudinal study about the influence of famine/starvation on a populace, almost all of the subjects ended up with food anxiety and were a bit overweight even though by the time they were born after the famine had broken / they were having food

although I'm not sure the full details, like you should always look into how many subjects, how they monitored this, social influences (eg were the parents still impacted - I mean, think about how aware we all are about germs, and how unsanitary having a kid blow out a cake is after covid pandemic rules? We're going to carry that wariness for the rest of our lives, it shaped us, why wouldnt a major famine?), did the parents overcompensate by making sure the kids got a Lot of food or did they restrict it out of fear either way would impact the relationship to food for a kid.

Another one I know was mentioned was more of a Scientific Dick MoveTM where they like, exposed pregnant grasshoppers to a big spider (predator) to incite fear. The pointy bits (fangs?) were covered to make it impossible to actually hurt the grasshoppers but like, could still attack otherwise.

So in the control group where the grasshopper parents DIDN'T get exposed to the spider, the offspring showed no more than average warness when around traces of the spider (old web, droppings)

BUT, the offspring of the adults who WERE exposed would vacate an area and showed increased wariness around signs of the spider being around, etc.

Again, like with all studies, the question of how many were in the study, was it completed identically each time and were the conditions similar enough, what data was collected and what was discarded?, how many times was it repeated?

Did the grasshoppers react to Non-specific type of spider droppings / webs, other. How were they exposed?

----

I vaguely remember the social research part of my uni degree, and sometimes when my brain is spiralling, it can be fun to imagine any of the following:

a) how you would go about making a social research or scientific research study for something. Would it be qualitative or quantitative? What subject pool would you need? How would you pose it to the ethics committee (even mundane studies must be approved by your specific ethics board)?

What is your hypothesis and how do you intend to test it? Show me the steps of how this study would work... eg. is it a survey delivered to a large subject group of say 200 people in a set population OR are you doing a psychological scenario test with up to eighteen people in VR?

Justify your group size and subject pool - how diverse is it, or are you testing a very specific population / age range / orientation / neurodivergence or other matter? E.g. if you have a study testing, say, the versatility of your company's newest 'outdoor all terrain wheelchair Exxtreme', you wouldn't automatically aim the study at people who don't use them.

How do you find subjects and the testing population? Do you need a control (eg placebo trials)? How do you exclude subjects - eg could you better provide data if you focused on 15-25 males and 15-25 females, who are more likely to be using the wheelchair for hiking (the alleged purpose of the product)?

Would you be looking at specific populations and how would you find the baseline if say, you had people of all different heights and weights and fitness levels involved?

For a longitudinal study, how are you approaching potential subjects and what does monitoring look like? Qualitative (focusing on a small group but with multiple factors of study) or quantitative (broader subject pool, focused on a limited number of outcomes - think of a multichoice questionnaire on a website, it wants set data from whoever)? What intervals are you checking in? What data will be collected and how?

e.g. one of the best longitudinal studies helped to identify the impact of alchol on developing / gestating foetuses, and gave us information on how Foetal-alchol syndrome impacts the children before birth, at birth, each stage of development and as adults. It was a 30+ year study with data that changed how people are diagnosed and supports are given. I believe there's a version for Meth being done at this time, because we need to know outcomes for our substance-sexposed young people.

Because before these people were just Slow or Stupid or Distracted and etc. But when you trace it back and then look at the Common Symptoms and Barriers, suddenly it's clear there's FASD in play. There can be physical signs, but often kids have emotional, developmental and behavioural issues that can be misdiagnosed, missed or ignored as 'naughty' and when you don't ever give a child a chance by supporting them in the way they need, they can and will just... stop trying or take up the Naughty label and give up on themselves.

What does the confidentiality agreement look like - at any time a subject should be able to request to leave a research study and may request their involvement data to be expunged.

etc.

b) how you would recreate the habitat of an animal if you were like, a zookeeper tasked with overseeing the project

What would the base line place look like, what features are from the animal's natural habitat? How much space would each one need and is the animal social or solitary? What foods? What playthings? What enrichment and bedding?

Zoo Tycoon did like, kick this off. I may have had the dino pack as a kid and used to break the fences when guests complained too much. Forgot about that nonsense, lmao, hilarious.

c) making up a maths question that would be a nightmare to find on a test (do not have to solve it, or know the answer, but like imagine that if five trains were all heading to the same terminal/station at different speeds, and a track fuck up meant they were going to make an asterix, how long would you have to fix the issue before they got there?)

or like how much do aircraft cost to manufacture? If it requires x number of metal panels of this size ($), and x number of panels at that size ($$), and... etc.

Or others, like, if you did buy 47 watermelons of varying sizes (specified) at $X per kilogram, how much would you need to pay? If you used an employee discount of %%, work out the new total.

If you were running a grocery store, what is the weekly budget for like employees + restocking + transport of restocked food + what does the store lose from expired unsold items? etc.

d) if you were in charge of society, how would you build it from the ground up? Who is managing the roads and construction? Who is overseeing garbage collection and how would that work with your population and expected growth?

How many shops, laundromats and etc would you need?

Imagine roads and walkways, imagine basic government buildings, what would you need as a minimum. What is in surrounding towns? What do the parks look like and who will maintain them? What does the basic council look like - one mayor and X amount of councillors? Or multiple lower positions?

Local laws? There are state and federal laws, but what is needed locally? What is the budget for signs and traffic lights and public funding for community events? What is the town known for and how do you celebrate it to show town pride? Is there a tourism aspect or feature nearby and how would you put in the infrastructure (tour groups, boost to location, buses or tours, hotels, manufacture local souvenirs, etc).

What about the hospital? How rural are you? Are there additional costs to get big chain suppliers (eg Woolies or Coles or whatever) to bring food and products to your location? Even if you have a non-brand store, how would that work? Transport fees are Expensive.

The post? How would that work?

Electricity? Who would bring the grid to you, not to mention water. If you're too far out, that can ramp up fees like mad. What about sewers? Who is managing construction and how do you ensure it's safe.

Any animal hazards you need local signs and warnings about? Local hazards like floods you might need markers for?

Hospital - can you build one? If not, do you need a helipad and an ambulance service to do immediate care until the flying doctors can get there and get people off to a safer place? If you can get a doctor and some nursing staff, what infrastructure will they need to move here? Financial incentive? Housing ? (Lots of hospitals have residential housing etc for staff and those in training).

What are the societal issues facing your town? What services do you need to make this work? Do you have a centrelink? A bank? Do you have a way for people to access this via a community library with a little booth every Tues and Wed? etc.

e) One of the weirder ones, but sometimes you see a like vehicles or truck or advert for a service or store that is So Specific. And you can imagine how that works.

Like, even the most basic thing - a trucking company. How did that start? What would the baseline needs be to make this work? At least one to two rigs, drivers to fill multiple shifts but can you afford to have two per truck yet with funding?

What would you be licenced to haul and what restrictions per truck? Australia has a bunch of weigh and check in areas, a lot of rules about trucking because we have areas where certain products can't be taken to or past (biosecurity thing, eg banana trees have certain exclusion zones because of certain diseases, etc).

What are the fueling costs and realistically, how often could you run the rigs on a regular (like the max) if you consider driver downtime, fuel and mechanical checks? How do you go about building a client base? When do you increase your fleet?

Do you have regular loads or more of a whoever needs a slot plus one regular? What does insurance cost? How do you keep the drivers healthy and safe on teh road? Does the company maintain their licences? What is the best and worst case scenario for profit? What could go wrong? Do you drug test employees?

Because I have seen extremely specific businesses, like people who make a certain part of trucks or cars, or upholstery of like three specific things, etc. out here and you think... what is the market? How would you even start that or recognise a niche for yourself? What was the initial cost and how would you make it back / how long?

f) straight up wonder what life must be like to be a certain animal. Like, imagine being a dolphin, or a giraffe, and how they would feel if suddenly placed into a human body. Imagine the cognitive dissonance between fins to hands, hooves to legs, etc.

---

If you have other thought-provoking ideas, let me know.

The whole 'go and sit in nature or Deep Breathing thing for anxiety doesn't work for anyone. Sometimes challenging your brain works, sometiems you can do a crossword, sometimes you can straight up trick it into writing a new fanfic in your head, or making up one of the above scenarios...

Forgot where i was going with this.

#anxiety #random ideas for managing #overthinking is so unhelpful evolution why did u do this #starting to wonder if i should consider pursuing that adhd diagnosis when there's time and money for it

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rancidpancakebatter · 1 year ago

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Your Initials and Mine | Prt 2 - [P.P.]

Pairings: TASM!Bisexual!Peter Parker x GN!Reader

Prompt: "peter parker writes your initials next to his on the back of his skateboard, when he daydreams about you" Original Post | Personal Headcannon

Summary: Eyes are the window to the soul, but so is art. Peter's is bare before you if only you could translate it.

Word Count: 6.3k words

Content: Ben's Death, Swearing, Mentions of bruises (Peter needs to get better at dodging),

( Previous | Next )

A/N: Some fluffy, fluffy fluff for ya’ll.

Peter’s house felt very much like a home. It was a space that was well cared for but also lived in. If you looked closely, you could see scuff marks under the dining room table where the chairs slid in and out. You could see loose threads on the quilted throw over the couch. There were knicks and dents on the pots hanging in the kitchen. And notches in the wood door frame down the hall. Love oozes from each and every “imperfection.” The subtle smell of cinnamon was in the air, and heat radiated from the oven.

You followed Peter up the stairs to his room and saw many photos adorning the walls. You had spent hours staring at them before. Laughing at memories and tales May would share. She had once pulled out a few photo albums. There was a smile in each picture. A history filled with such joy, but also great tragedy.

That was a Sunday evening about two weeks ago. May was looking a little brighter during your visits. There was a rosiness to her cheeks now, and her hair was shinier. She was looking better. She brought out cookies while you talked and apologised for Peter’s absence, like she did every week. While catching up, she caught you staring at a picture on the coffee table. She reached for the frame, tracing over her husband’s silhouette with a small smile on her face.

“This was our first trip to Coney Island.” She spoke softly as if lost in the memory now- transported back to those many years ago.

“Ben used to take me on dates there all the time. He liked trying to win me prizes, and I liked the excuse to be so close on the rides.” She chuckles, a small tear escaping her eye. “We hadn’t been in years. Our bodies got older and our days got busier. But then Peter entered our lives.”

She pushes the photo towards you and points to the little boy on Ben’s shoulders. He looked small but full of joy. His hands wrapped around his uncle’s chin as if trying to hug him from high above. His hair is falling on his cotton candy-covered face- tufts of pink sticking to his cheek and dried sugar around his lips. His head tilted to rest on the older man’s head, but his mouth hung open, exclaiming in delight. The Ben in the photo looked the same, only with fewer wrinkles and salt-and-pepper hair.

“We decided to take him that summer; he had been living with us for a few months by then…This was his first smile with us.” Her eyes turn down as she pauses for a moment.

“Ben and I…we were so afraid that…we wouldn’t be enough— that we didn’t know what we were doing. We didn’t have as much money as his parents, we weren’t as smart, and we just…weren’t them. And we were so scared that we wouldn’t be able to give him all he needed.”

You reach for May’s hand, soft with age and always slightly cold. “You and Ben did a phenomenal job. Peter is a good boy; he’s brilliant. And he loves you so much.”

She gives you a polite squeeze before wiping at her face. You hand her a Kleenex and she offers you a teary-eyed smile. “He’s so young. He’s already lost his parents, and now Ben…I’m all he has.”

You felt rude, but you couldn’t help from asking, “Peter’s mentioned before that his- his parents kinda left him here. What happened? Why would they do that?”

May sighed. It was a tired sigh, one of true exhaustion.

"Technically,” She began, “they didn’t leave him here. They had an emergency business trip and dropped him off to stay here for a few days...but then their plane crashed."

You suddenly understood just what she meant before. Peter knew true tragedy. Your heart broke for him, but then you looked at his smile. Peter had lost much, but he has gained so many things that are just as beautiful. You felt your soul fill with an iron determination.

You squeezed May’s hand, “He has me too.”

She squeezes back, smiling- a look of gratitude etched into her eyes. After a moment, she admits that it’s been a long time since she’s gone through the photo albums, and she was scared to do it alone. You went through two with her that night, listening to stories and asking questions about faces you didn’t recognise. It was nice.

But upstairs was mostly uncharted territory. The pictures hung here were foreign. You were nervous, finally entering Peter’s space.

The aged-cream paint added a warmth to the space, though you couldn’t see much of it. There were pockets of the wall poking out between all the posters and pictures on the wall. You had seen some of Peter’s doodles, but if you had to guess, he preferred to display his art instead of trapping it between the pages of a bound journal. Peter is very humble, and you’re sure if you called what he had hung up “art,” he would scoff and tell you it wasn’t that good, but to you, it was art.

He could tell he liked to play around with mediums. You could see charcoal fingerprints staining pages of portraits and city landscapes. As well as coloured pencils and graphite. There was inkwork scattered about, adding pops of colour in the mix of blacks and greys. And you realised he wasn’t exaggerating before in his embarrassed defence, he truly did have a lot of drawings on his wall.

There was a mix of chaos and order to their hanging. For the most part, they were evenly spaced and displayed around the walls over his bed and dresser. But then there was his desk.

Peter was definitely a messy artist, turning chaos into beauty. There were notebooks sprawled across the wooden surface. Only a layer of polish protected the lumber below from splotches of paint- evidence of opting out from the pallet and just using the surface.

Impressions from the pencils haphazardly strew about were woven into the grain, forever a part of its story. There were scrapes and notches that you wanted to befriend. And it was all basking in a soft yellow glow from a single bulbed lamp, bent at the elbow in an awkward way that could only be to benefit a very specific angle he needed.

Your eyes drifted to the wall above the desk. There were layers and layers of drawings overlapping and tacked to the wall, almost as if he had never taken one down. Your eyes darted around wildly, unable to pinpoint just one to look at. You traced the lines as they blurred together like a less mind-melding optical illusion– still mindblowing to behold. It reminded you of an overgrown garden, the leaves and petals intermingling together to create one living, breathing thing. You wanted to carefully examine each one, to take them into your hands and care for each one.

Your eyes scanned from top to bottom trying to digest each one. You recognised some– the courtyard at school, the empire state building, May and Ben, his camera on his desk– but then you saw something you hadn’t really expected. Sure, you had both made jokes, and so had others, but you didn’t truly expect to be on his wall. And yet, here you were, locked in a game of blink with eyes that looked like yours.

They looked alight, as did the smile on your face. You looked excited. You vaguely remember Peter snapping a picture like that after he pointed out a bug he saw on the ground. You wondered if he used that as a reference.

You saw another, this time from your side profile. Your hand was in your hair and you were mid-laugh. This one seemed to move and breathe. You doubted he had a picture of that. You could count on one hand the number of times Peter had taken a picture of you, mostly because you always covered your face in embarrassment anytime his lens was directed towards you. And if you didn’t catch it beforehand, you would hear the shutter and scold him, slapping him in the arm. Peter often sketches when he talks to you, you just never imagined he would be drawing you.

These pictures were like looking into a mirror.

No, not quite.

This was different. In the mirror, you see your flaws and every hair out of place, but here, they were made beautiful. You were seeing through Peter’s eyes, peering at yourself through soft lines of graphite and charcoal. You felt delicate. You felt seen. But even when staring at yourself; you feel like you see Peter more.

This was his heart fully bared before you. Before you was all the pain and triumph, and all the things he felt were important enough to capture. You were almost overwhelmed by the thought.

Peter watched with bated breath as you spun around his room with a fist over his mouth. You were wearing an expression he had seen in the classroom when you were thinking hard. He’d always found it adorable, the way your face would scrunch as you would study your books, but now he found it terrifying. Most of the time, when people look at his work, they give him vague compliments, not really having the knowledge to truly comment on it. But you were different.

He didn’t know if you knew much about art, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But more so, he just valued your opinion the most. Something about you was completely captivating. You were so sweet and kind- but also fierce and powerful. He didn’t think he was as cool as you, but he wanted you to think so.

He watched as you examined each piece, a small smile that rivalled the Mona Lisa etched into your face– like you held all the answers to the universe but refused to share them with him.

He felt his heart leap when your head lifted from the desk, and you now gaze upon “the wall.”

It started out very small. He would put his pictures up as a kid. Then he would sit at his desk and redraw the image, hanging that one up to do it all again until finally- he had a passable one. As his skills improved, he didn’t need to redraw as much, but it’s not like he had anywhere else to put them. They continued to grow and multiply, and he let it happen. Now it has become a scrapbook of sorts. Each piece is a snapshot of the stages of his life.

He knew exactly when you saw it. You were bent forward slightly over his desk, as close to the drawings as you could be without touching them. You were treating his room like a museum, your arms tucked behind your back as if you let them free- you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from reaching forward and tracing the pencil strokes. But then you froze. Your shoulders tensed ever so slightly under the razor-back tank top you were wearing. Then you slowly leaned away, standing straight, before tilting your head to the side.

You said nothing as you gazed at your portraits, and Peter wasn’t sure if he would be comforted by anything you had to say. He was terrified that- instead of feeling flattered- you would feel weirded out. Especially if you had seen the ones now buried under portraits of his Uncle Ben. He had been drawing him a lot, terrified that he was already forgetting his face.

He heard you sniffle and was shocked out of his spiralling thoughts. He took a tentative step forward to stand beside you, looking over your form as you hugged yourself.

“Are you okay?”

You wiped at your face, feeling your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You gave Peter a smile, a genuine and full one, despite your wet eyes. “They’re beautiful.”

Peter scratched at the nape of his neck, ducking his head as if trying to dodge the compliment.

“Thanks,” he said barely above the wind.

“Really,” you insisted, “You should submit some of this. I’m sure you could win some ribbons or whatever they give you.”

He chuckled and you joined in.

A few more quiet moments passed as you took in everything you could, but then, Peter reminded you that you were here to study.

You both settle onto the bed, cross-legged, backs against the wall, and knees touching. Peter goes over some of the questions you have and tries to explain them in a way that makes sense to you. You can’t dedicate your full attention to his words though, because every way in which he moves feels like a dance, and you’re enamoured by the choreography. His pen twirled around his fingers with a speed and precision you’d never seen before. You can’t help but think he would make a great drummer. As he talks, you catch general concepts of what he’s saying, but the details are lost in the blur of his ballpoint pen.

His leg is also bouncing around. It is just as quick. Short little bounces creating little shock waves from his knee. The bed around you shook so quickly that it was almost like nothing was moving at all. The only evidence was your books slowly moving away, drifting further into the dip between your legs.

You feel almost like you’re being hypnotized. His gentle voice lulls you into a calm as he explains the difference between each of Henry’s wives, as his fingers drew you in. You honestly didn’t know how long you were entranced, but the spell was broken when he stood suddenly.

You looked at him confused and he let out an embarrassed chuckle before dropping his head.

“Sorry, I- uh. I’m sorry, I’m not very good at explaining this stuff. And I’m like, shaking you, or whatever.”

As he stood, his hand was scratching the back of his neck, and his pen continued to twirl at his side. Your heart gave a painful thump. It yearned for him. His smile. His joy. Before you knew what you were doing you were on your feet. Your hands reached for his, his pen awkwardly pressing against your palms. Words spilt from your mouth with a lack of any sophistication or grace.

“No, no, It’s not your fault. I just…spaced out a bit. I’m sorry. From what I did catch, you were doing an amazing job. I- would it help if you drew it out? Or we can do something else. Or I can-”

A small chuckle falls from his lips, and yours stop moving, too focused on his. His other hand has untangled from his hair and now sways at his side. He finally meets your eyes, and you think you may have stopped breathing entirely. His gaze was curious- as if he was trying to read your mind. You wondered what thoughts he was pulling forward.

“Okay.” You look at him confused, and his heart seizes because you're looking at him like that with your cute little frown and scrunched brows, and you’re still holding his hand from when you rushed to accommodate his buzzing nerves. After a failed attempt to calm his racing pulse, he expands on his one-word reply. “I think if we draw out a timeline that would be helpful- a good reference point for you.”

You nod your head in agreeance and feel your cheeks flush when he slowly withdraws his hand from yours. His hands were warm, but not soft like May’s. His hands were rough— cracked around the ridges— and they were firm, strong. You felt like they could hold up the world, but hoped he would never have to suffer the same penance of Atlas.

Peter sat back down and pulled a notebook that had been laying around into his lap. He tried explaining again, drawing little characters for each historical figure next to the line marking their significance. He would periodically quiz you on the person, seeing how much you knew, and you were both surprised by how much you had retained.

Once the timeline was complete you thanked Peter for his help. He of course brushed it off as nothing, but you knew it wasn’t. You insisted that you would help him with something, but he continued to insist that he didn’t need any. After your relentless persistence, you settled on working through some calculus practice problems in the textbook. The agreement was you would both solve the same five, then check them against the other, and then consult the answer key. Truthfully you weren’t very excited to do math on a Saturday afternoon, but you wanted to help Peter. You wanted to be there for him like you told May you would.

You were both scribbling away, occasionally nudging the other and making jokes about “keeping your eyes on your own paper.” It was nice. You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you threw your arms up and declared that you were finished.

“Great! What did you get for the first one?”

The confused pout returns to your features.

“You’re done?” You ask, almost sounding a little disappointed.

Peter nods and turns his paper to show you. The college rule is not well utilized. Peter had the notebook balancing on his knee at an angle but still elected to write top down, making the equations crooked when you looked at it. In the spaces between, he had doodled vines of pothos wrapping around the jumble of letters and numbers.

You were embarrassed that he could do all that before you even finished, but at least you got the same answers. You didn't remain bitter for long, melting when he flashed you that timid, tight-lipped smile.

“That’s really pretty,” you said, tracing your finger across the vines. “It would make a great tattoo.”

Peter’s brain short-circuited for a moment at the thought of his drawings of you becoming a part of your body.

“Really?” he asked with high brows.

“Yeah, it would make a really cool band.” Your fingers mapped a path along your forearm where you thought the ivy should bloom. “See?”

Peter couldn’t help but agree. He turned to his bag, riffling through it before finding the treasure he sought. He dramatically pulled out a Sharpie looking to you for permission. You placed your arm in his lap, and he gave you an award-winning grin as he uncapped it.

His hands were once again holding you, his touch gentle as he gingerly tilts your arm so he can begin drawing.

“If you hate it, we can wash it off.” he jokes before you feel the felt touch down on your arm.

It tickled a bit, and the ink was cold, but quite frankly you didn’t care. Not when Peter was bathed in the golden light of his lamp, the curve of his nose and the cut of his jaw glowing and eyes sparkling in the low light. This felt intimate, and your heart was racing the longer you looked at him. So you elected to look away, unsure your body could handle the feelings coursing through you.

You continued studying the wall in front of you, going over every sketch and memorising every line. After about five minutes, you noticed something sort of out of place. It looked more like blueprints than a drawing. You couldn’t really tell what it was from this far, unable to read the scrawl around the page, but it looked complex. Beside it, you saw what looked like rough drafts for an odd costume, and a bright yellow post-it note that read “SPANDEX!!!”

Before you could examine it much further you were distracted by a tickling feeling by your elbow.

“Try, not to move,” Peter said in a hushed whisper as he cradled your arm closer to his chest, almost as if he were hugging it. “I’m almost done.”

You apologised, laying your head against the wall, looking for shapes in the popcorn ceiling. Peter grew a smirk, feeling your pulse quickening under his touch. If he was honest, he was just as nervous, holding you this close. His mind raced at the thought that you wanted him to draw on you, that you were willing to let his fingers roam over your smooth skin.

He decided to change the design slightly, wanting to give you something unique and different– something he thought captured you better, how he felt about you better. He first traced where the vine would be, then added the leaves. When he was done, he tapped your arm to get your attention.

You turned your head and gasped when you finally saw it. The vine wrapped around your wrist like a wreath before branching off and spreading up your forearm. They bent and wove around each other, creating a bouquet of leaves. There were the Pothos leaves that he had drawn many times, and also some that looked reminiscent of Creeping Jenny’s.

But the leaves that caught your eye were the heart-shaped ones. You doubted Peter knew much about Dioscorea Bulbiferas or that Philodendron Hederaceums were one of your favourite plants. He drew hearts because he wanted to, and you melted at the thought.

Around the leaves, he drew clusters of stars– little hollow circles, crosses with spires connected like webbed flippers in the middle, and faux freckles– sprinkled across the expanse of your arm, filling the empty space.

“Do you like it?” Peter asked timidly.

“Like it?" You scoffed, "Peter, it’s amazing! Have you ever considered designing tattoos? Because you should. Seriously, this is fucking gorgeous.”

You continued to gush and Peter’s face continued to redden as your compliments continued to pour.

“I messed up here a little,” he says, humble as ever, as he twists your arm to show you where the line work got shaky by your elbow.

You didn’t realise how close you were sitting before, but now as your thighs are pressed against one another’s and his thumb is rubbing circles on the soft flesh on the inside of your arm, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed.

“Please,” you teased. “Even your small blemishes puts my art to shame.”

You thought the way he dodged eye contact was cute, especially with the soft blush spreading across his cheeks. But the way he looked at you, like you already had a home in his heart, made you feel bold.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, as you slid your fingers between his.

“Thank you,” you mumbled as your other hand traced the lines he had drawn.

You were delighted when you felt his head rest on yours, reciprocating the affection with a squeeze of your hand.

“Careful,” he warned. “You’re already my muse, you don’t want to be my favourite canvas too.”

You couldn’t imagine why that would be a problem and told him as such.

“Well, when I find a fun, new canvas," he explained, "I draw until I run out of room.”

You thought of his skateboards and his class notes and reallized he was right. But you also realised something else. You lifted your head, fixing your gaze on him, and felt yourself drowning in pools of hot cocoa.

“That works for me.”

You watched as his eyes darted around your face, this time with a look of disbelief but also reverence. Your faces were so close you could feel the shallow breaths leaving his nostrils. You could feel the heat radiating from his body. And you wanted more.

It seems you weren’t alone in that thought as Peter began to lean in. His nose nuzzled yours and your lips parted as your eyes fluttered shut. Peter had never seen anything as beautiful. You practically melted under his touch, and it was addicting. He wished then that he had the skill of Rembrandt or Caravaggio, so he could one day capture the vision before him.

He raised his hand (the one that wasn’t already preoccupied with holding yours) placing it on the side of your neck, and you shivered at the touch. That was enough “go ahead” for him.

He gently tugged you forward and pressed his lips to yours. You felt like you were flying. It was feather soft, almost non-existent. You worried if you opened your eyes, you would wake, only to find you were dreaming. It was a soft peck that didn’t last nearly long enough, and you felt your heart breaking as his face tilted, bringing his forehead closer but your lips unattached.

You were soon relieved when his lips crashed back into yours, now firm and determined. You let out a small moan, not expecting the fierceness of his kiss. It robbed you of coherent thought and stunted your ability to breathe properly. His lips worked against yours, and you realised something else: you only ever wanted to feel his touch.

You got lost in the moment, only coming back down to earth after he broke away again. He didn’t go far, resting his forehead on yours as you both worked to even your breathing. Your eyes remained closed, still afraid it was a dream.

You sit in the quiet for a moment, both of your brains running a million miles a minute. When you finally opened your eyes, Peter was gazing at you, irises swimming with something akin to love. Maybe adoration, or infatuation even. His thumb was rubbing circles on your jaw as he continued to hold your face.

“You’re beautiful,” He said through a smile.

You felt your blood rising at the compliment, and ducked your head back into his shoulder to hide. He laughed, his hand now resting on the back of your head, playing with your hair.

“You are!” he insisted, causing you to grumble something he couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?” he teased.

You lifted your head just enough so your words weren’t muffled by the side of his neck.

“I said, ‘Shut up’.”

Peter laughed again because your words held no venom. He let you hide for a little longer, but his heart was beating so hard, and he couldn’t take it anymore. His hand moved from the base of your skull to the side of your face until you felt his fingers under your chin. He softly guided it upwards, and you let him, until you were drowning in his eyes again.

“Would it be too much,” he all but whispered, “If I asked you to be my beautiful girlfriend?”

A wide grin cracked across your face, and you nodded your head, unable to find the words to express how much you wanted that.

“Yeah?” he asked with a smile of his own.

You nodded your head again, but this time it was much more enthusiastic.

“Yes, Peter. I would love to be your girlfriend.”

His smile grew tenfold, and you felt like you could die. His face is so bright it could be the solution to solar energy.

He kisses you again, and this time it’s a bit awkward. Your lips don’t mould as well through your smiles, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. He breaks away for a moment and just looks at you. You feel vulnerable under his gaze. He was looking at you in the same way you were looking at his art. Then he smirked.

He was too quick to stop. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, throwing you on your back. You landed on the soft sheets, bouncing a bit. Peter then leaned over you to pepper your face with kisses. You giggled as he continued showering you in affection, occasionally trying to catch his lips, all while he made comments about your new title: “I’m kissing my girlfriend,” “Oh my god, you’re my girlfriend,” “Wow, you’re so pretty, and you’re my girlfriend.”

A few minutes passed like that before he collapsed, tucking his face into your neck like you had done to him before. When you rested a free hand across his back, he snuggled into you, throwing his leg across yours and hugging your waist tighter. You chuckled lightly, but it was an expression of joy rather than anything malicious.

You lay like that for a while, until Peter gets a notification on his phone. It’s kind of jarring, the way the tone rang out, and how he jumped up to snatch the device from above your head. The harsh blue light of his screen illuminated his face, shadows settling into the new frown lines appearing. It was an alarm, you realised. He sighed, hovering above you with a sad look on his face.

“I have to go.”

Your face fell, and you tried to not let too much disappointment seep through. “You’re not staying for dinner?”

Peter looked at you confused. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I have dinner with May every Saturday.”

Peter was silent for a moment, his face showing an emotion you weren’t familiar with. “You’re still doing that?”

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, afraid you had upset him but wanting to lighten the mood. “Why? Are you worried we’re talkin’ shit?

Your plan seemed to work because Peter chuckled at that, “Maybe so.”

“Well…You wouldn’t have to if you just joined us.”

Peter had only joined you for maybe three dinners. May always appologized for his absence, but what upset you more was the worry on her face she tried to hide. She never knew where her nephew was. He would leave and then sneak back in at night. Sometimes he remembered the errands she sent him on, but usually not. May had noticed the scrapes and bruises, just as you had. You both worried about Peter and however he was choosing to process his grief.

Peter wasn’t stupid. He knew he was hurting his Aunt with his behaviour. He was trying, he really was, but having a double life isn’t easy. He felt great adoration and gratitude for you, to know you cared for one of the most important people in his life, but guilt singed at the edges of his spirit. It was almost six- he really should be patrolling right now- but he looked into your eyes and couldn’t say no.

“Okay, I can stay ‘til eight,”

Peter watches as a small smile overtakes your face, but it’s sad at the corners, not quite reaching your eyes. He’s confused by this, as to why you’re not more excited. You bring a hand up to push his hair out of his eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

It would have to do for now.

When May comes home, you rush downstairs to help her in the kitchen. She greets you with her momma bear hug and begins asking about your day as you wash the produce she set out on the counter. You're telling her all about it when Peter awkwardly trails in behind you.

“Oh, Peter!” She says, trying to stifle her excitement. Like if she let it show too much, then she might frighten him off. Or maybe she was scared to get her hopes up. “You’re still here. Are you staying for dinner?”

Peter decides to hug her first before he says anything. It warms your heart to see. There’s a soft smile that he gives her, one that says, “You’re my mom, and I love you.” And his hug carries the same message. May looks so small in his arms, a little woman with so much love for her boy.

“Yeah May, I’m staying for dinner,” he says, cheek resting on the crown of her head. They break away and May looks so very happy. “(Y/n) here convinced me.”

You try to hide your warm cheeks from May but she sees right through you.

“Thank you, Dear,” She says to you with a pointed smile before turning back to Peter, “Now go help her. She’s done more than enough helping in the kitchen over the last few weeks.”

Peter gives her a shocked but impressed “Yes, ma’am” at her display of sass. He joins you at the sink, and you try to keep the small water fight that erupted contained to the basin.

Dinner is finished, and You and Peter set the table. May Serves herself last, then sits to say grace. When she opens her eyes again, she gives a nod of her head, “Let’s eat.”

The beef stroganoff is so delicious. It’s buttery and creamy; it’s fresh and light. You tell her as such, and the kind, older woman shushes you, warning that if you keep complimenting her cooking like that, her head’s gonna get too big to get her shirt over.

You reach forward for your glass and May’s eyes light up.

“That’s beautiful,” She says pointing to your wrist. You look down and fall in love with the drawing all over again. You look to your side to see Peter smiling too. You decide to kill two birds with one stone.

“Thanks, May, my boyfriend drew that for me.”

You were still looking at Peter and watched his adam’s apple bob as his cheeks turned crimson. Before he could make any jokes, May stood from the table, clapping and cheering. She ran around the table and enveloped you and Peter in an awkward group hug from behind.

“Oh my goodness, finally!”

At that, Peter stuttered out a staggered “May!”

His guardian paid him no mind, “Seriously, he’s been gushing about you for ages.”

Peter buried his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth like he was trying to block out anything happening right now. You, however, were relishing in his harmless embarrassment.

“Really? For ages?” You teased.

May caught on and smiled widely, “Yes, since your first day of school. He came home to Ben and me and told us all about this new girl he had met and how lovely she was.”

Peter was now banging his head against his crossed arms on the table. You felt like you might cry. Peter had noticed you even then? He was kind to you, sure- and definitely your first friend- but to talk to his parents about you? To already pick up on enough things to talk about? You felt lucky to be here, in this moment.

You reach your hand out to rest on his shoulder. Peter peeked at you over his elbow, scared to see your face. But instead of the disgust or fear he thought he might find, he saw a warm smile and glassy eyes.

“Well, that might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Peter sat back up, trying to play off his embarrassment, “What can I say? I’m just a sweet guy.”

You shove him playfully, and he dramatically leans away, as if you had truly clocked him, but then rocks back like one of those blow-up punching bags that always came right back up and bumps your shoulder with his. Once back at equilibrium, he lays his palm out under the table for you to hold. You intertwine your fingers and can’t help the little skip in your heart when Peter rests his hand on your thigh.

You’ve made an assembly line in the kitchen. May is boxing things up while Peter washes and you dry and put away. May is ranting about this new girl who just started at her job and how entitled she was. It was nice to hear her talk about life again, not just the past. Peter washes the last dish, then tells you he’ll be right back.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the water now silenced, and the conversation paused for Peter’s return. You can’t fight the smile that comes to your face every time your mind wanders to Peter, which is often. Every time you glance at your arm, there he is, pulled straight to the front of your mind. It takes all your willpower not to giggle every time. You’re sure you’ll be swinging your feet all night as you lay in bed trying to drift off to sleep.

“Thank you (Y/n),” May almost whispers from her spot against the stove, “for everything. We’re really lucky to know you.”

The sincerity of her statement floors you for a minute. “I feel the same about you guys. Thank you for having me.”

You share a look with May that makes you wanna hug her until her head pops off. You don’t think anything you do will be enough to tell this woman how much she means to you.

But the moment is ruined by Peter stomping down the stairs. Well some of them, you can tell he’s skipping a couple on his way down by the weird long pauses between his footfall. He’s got his layered jackets and shoes on, and his backpack is packed up. He picks up his skateboard against the wall and says, “I have to go.”

May turns away to wipe at the stove, you think it’s so Peter doesn’t have to see how sad she is when he leaves. Instead, she asks, “Can you get some eggs when you get back?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” He goes to rush out the door but stops. He slowly turns to you with a lopsided grin. His arms wrap around your waist and your cheeks warm knowing May is watching the whole display. She can see the puppy dog eyes and the way his fingers so expertly wrap around you. “See you later?”

“Not tonight, Mister.” May answers for you, “It’s late enough already.”

“Okay, Sheriff Parker,” he declares over your laughter. “So…I’ll text you?”

You pinch his cheek and give him a warning glare, “You better.”

He kisses you, and you lose your breath. His lips touched down on yours, and the rest of the world melted away, leaving only you and Peter. It wasn’t nearly long enough, but he broke away, sending a quiet “bye” through the doorway before closing it behind him. And just like that, he’s gone again. Wandering off into the night to collect more unexplainable wounds and stories you hoped, one day, he'd share with you.

Tag List: @andrews-lovr, @angeliquebones, @blooming-violets, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

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astarfornicks · 1 year ago

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The first and only chapter of a fic i never finished -

This was a long time ago and I haven’t written in ages |

When I stepped outside that night, the air carried a hint of rebellion and a taste of freedom that lingered on my tongue. I was begging for a night away—away from my brothers and their square rules. I dig running away. I really do. The nights I'm sleepless or the nights I'm sleepy; it doesn’t matter. It feels the same nonetheless.

“Hey, Dallas.” I said, “Toss me a weed, will you?”

Dallas always hung around the park those days. Probably because I was there about every night.

He sat under the same tree every time, too. It was a routine.

“Ver, man, go home. It’s about the hundredth damn time you’ve been out here. You got people waiting for you on the other side.” Dallas huffed.

“I never heard anybody but me say they liked it on the East side. Not even y’all. It’s like my break, Dal. It’s rough. Everywhere. Not as good as you’d think in the West.” I uttered. “I think it’s time you start believing me when I say I like it here.”

After an eternity, Dallas caved and passed me a smoke. These nights were only two things: disgusting and freeing. Say to tell the two things apart now, and I wouldn’t know what to tell you.

I continued, “It’s almost six. Have you been here this entire time?”

“Got a few minutes of sleep on that very bench you’re on. Damn raccoons can’t keep their hands off me, man.”

I took a puff, chuckling a bit. Dallas was the man. People knew him all over town, and he sure was what he lived up to. Rowdy, criminal, and last of all, charming.

“Now, you better get back, Ronnie. West side is gonna freak when they find out you’re not there, man. Even worse, if you’re here.” Dallas said, “You got school, too.”

“And how come you don’t?” I spat back.

“Hey, you know.”

“Right, you don’t wanna go, is that it? And I'm stuck there.” I said, lifting, then dropping my arm in defeat.

Dallas chuckled, “You don’t wanna be like me, trust me. Now get!”

I laughed, smiling afterwards and turning my back. “Alright, alright, Dallas. I’m going.” Flinging the cigarette behind me, I asked him one more thing.

“Tomorrow, here, late?”

“You’re really something, Ver. See you.”

That meant yes.

I walked back to the West side in the early sun, hoping that the mere shadows of the trees would hide me from the eyes of anyone passing or watching me from some window.

I thought back to Dallas Winston. Before I got to know him, he was just some no-good hoodlum, a real greaser in my eyes. He was no better than any other criminal I’d seen. But as I spent more time with him, I realized there was more to Dallas than met the eye. He had that wild and rebellious spirit, always up to some mischief or another. His past ran deep in him. In some way that I didn’t want to admit, I also admired him in some sort of sense. Sharp and cool; who wouldn’t?

Still half lost in thought, I snuck into my bedroom window through a tree. As I could finally sit on my plush bed, I thought about my future long and hard. I was a girl with all the breaks. Money in the bank, top grades in school, what more could a gal like me ask for? It seemed like my destiny was carved in stone, clear as day for all to see.

I still had my cigarette in my hand and was itching for a smoke. Stepping away, sticking my head out my bedroom window, I took a slow, thoughtful drag from my cigarette. It was a tough life in this town. I had friends, some enemies, some people I loved more than anything.

No one more than Tommy, though. Tommy was my kid brother, only one year younger than me but a whole lot smarter. Both socially and academically, I’d say. He was there for me always, through thick and thin. He was fun, serious mostly, but fun. Tommy kind of grounded me like that—telling me what to do and how to do it, where to go and who to be with. It's just what he’d do, worrying about me and all that stuff. Things that I didn’t usually do on my own.

I had one older brother, but he was busy at college and I only got to see him during breaks. He was the rowdy kind, almost like me—nothing like Tommy—but I never got along with him as well. Opposites attract, people say. I didn’t care about that sort of stuff until Tommy started yapping on about it. Then I believed it, cause that was one of the only times I’d listened.

I closed my eyes and imagined a life; a life that was perfect and the one that was expected of me. It was nice, no doubt about it. I would’ve never got out of my thoughts if I didn’t hear someone holler my name from the street.

“Ver! Veronica!” I heard, with a waving Sherri looking straight at me. I hid my weed, wishing more than anything she hadn’t seen it. I was ashamed of my habit, just ‘cause I was raised not to do stuff like that.

“Hi, Cherry.” I said back, cracking a smile. Cherry was one of my good girl-friends, one I could really talk to sometimes when I needed an ear. She got the types of things I said for the most part—the things about life being tough and the real things out there in the world.

She squinted at me and smiled for a second before walking away. It was finally about time I started to walk to my bathroom to get ready. I curled my hair, did my makeup, and I was off to school—one place I dreaded like a prisoner facing his cell.

………………………..

I sat bothered and bored for most of the school day. Sure, I got good grades, but I didn’t do anything other than what they asked of me. Besides, if my grades slipped, I’d probably die from my parents before anything ever got to me. And I really wasn’t itching to experience any of that. Not one bit.

I stepped out of school with my other girl-friends, which included Cherry and a few other girls. Cherry and I ran tight, even in a crowd. I had my arm around her and she was leaning her head on my shoulder as we walked. She must’ve been real worn.

“Cherry, how would you like to catch a movie with me later?” I asked her.

“Oh, Ver, I’m not sure. I’ve got a whole lot of homework and you know how my parents are. They’re always complainin’ and I can’t stand it anymore.” She went on and on about her parents, as she always did. They were nothing but difficult people, the sort that grated on your nerves and had no business raising children.

“I’ll do it for you, Cherry. It’s time for you to get out. You could use some time out of there. Nothing big.”

“No, no, Ver. I ought to do it myself—really. I’ll ask my parents, too. It’s a Friday anyways.”

I nodded as I hugged her and watched her walk to her car. She was real pretty, a head-turner, a chick that had all the boys trailing behind her. And I would’ve said I was happy for her if I didn’t know she was dating Bob: some stuck up, deranged boy who jumped innocent kids and didn’t even care. I remember how disappointed I was the day she told me about him. I knew his type, his gang, and the kids he beat on.

I strolled towards the back of the school, where I always parked my car. It was a real nice red Thunderbird. My parents got it for me for my 16th birthday, and I’d treasured it ever since.

The moment I was about to drive off, I caught a few footsteps running behind me.

“Hey, baby. Nice car you got there,” the voice called out, dripping with a mischievous charm that I recognized all too well. When you’re all on your lonesome and have nothing to do, you can talk to Dallas—sometimes. Problems start when anything’s different. I glanced over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of him leaning casually against my car, a devilish grin playing on his lips.

“Bye, Dallas.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“No good Soc.” I heard him mutter. Every time I thought he got past the fact, I was proven wrong.

I drove off, more upset and irritated by the situation than I wanted to be. Dallas Winston was a wild spirit, untamed and unapologetic. The world was his playground, and he played by his own rules. There was something about his reckless abandon, a charm that even I couldn't deny, that pulled me in.

I remembered the first time I met him. Coincidentally, it was also the first time I’d snuck out— and what I thought would’ve been my last. That time, I didn’t travel anywhere off of my turf. It was really Dallas who was out of his territory, trying to vandalize some guy’s car. I sat on our park’s bench; the one on the West side, I mean. Dallas was no one I cared about. He was a nobody to me, a hoodlum, and I would’ve had no idea I’d ever run into him. Hell, I really didn’t even know what he looked like.

Not until I’d been startled by some loud ruckus nearby. It should’ve been my cue to leave, but I don’t listen— not to anyone, not to myself, either. He’d been beaten. I could recall it vividly—the bruises on his face, the casual ease with which he settled down beside me. He asked for a smoke; in return, I had asked him what happened. I sure wished I was spared the details. Boy, were they gruesome.

When he got up, I posed him one last question: his name.

“Dallas. Dallas Winston.”

I sat there, dumbfounded and stunned, like I had just seen a ghost. I felt a surprising mix of curiosity and caution about him from that point on. Some things about Dallas I knew— I didn’t know a lot, but he always striked me as someone that no one really knew anything about. He had a rough past, grew up in New York, first had gotten arrested at ten; I heard that from talking to him. I also knew Dallas Winston always got what he wanted— everyone knew that.

#dally winston #dallas winston #matt dillon #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders #cherry valance #johnny cade #fluff #steve randle #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #two bit mathews #darry curtis #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston x y/n

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nicohischierz · 2 years ago

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don’t come back: brandt clarke

thank you @1-800-iluvhockey for the idea ily 🫶

your brothers were upset when they found out you were going to university in california. luke because it would be the first time you would be separated for longer than a weekend. quinn because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his baby sister was growing up and jack because now there was no one for him to get information on you from.

jack’s reasoning caused a fight between the two of you as you claimed he had no right to control you. jack expected his brothers to agree, which they did, but they also knew how much it meant for you to be your own person. so they sided with you and told jack that he could see you whenever the devils were in town.

that was a year ago. now luke was starting his sophomore year at the university of michigan. jack was starting his fourth year in the league and quinn his fifth. you were incredibly proud of your brothers and they were proud of you.

you truly enjoyed being away from your siblings as it allowed you time to be yourself. no one was coming up to you to be your friend because you were quinn and jack hughes younger sister anymore, they wanted to be your friend because they liked you for you.

albeit being a bit homesick your first year alex and trevor made it easier as they both took turns inviting you to watch their games and then taking you out for dinner or just randomly popping up at your dorm. seeing as alex was your billet brother during his time at the ntdp you were closer to him and hung out with him more often than trevor.

“you do know that jack asks for a full detailed report on you every day right?” alex asked. the two of you were currently in your apartment as alex helped you get ready for your date. last year, you had many failed dates where the guy either stood you up or used you for your friends or your brothers.

you chuckled and turned to the older boy. “i know turcs. once over summer he left his phone open to his chat with you and trev and i saw your texts. thanks by the way for not mentioning my multiple failed dates,”

alex smiled before attacking you in a hug “i only mentioned the time you and quinton hung out because he wanted to know who the guy in your story was,” he defended. you knew all about that interaction. jack had texted you and your other brothers with every piece of information he could find on quinton and claimed he wasn’t good enough for you because he was canadian.

alex pulled away from the hug and helped adjust your dress and hair before looking at you one last time. “you look gorgeous y/n/n and i’m so glad jack isn’t here cause he would definitely try stop you from going out,” he murmured.

there was a silence in the room until the doorbell rang. you refused to tell alex who your date was which is why the boy had showed up at your apartment half an hour before you were meant to leave.

“clarkey?” alex asked as he noticed his teammate. your date, brandt clarke, was a la kings prospect from the 2021 draft. as you spent time with quinton you also grew close to some of the other canadian boys around the area like jordan spence and trevor’s roommates jamie drysdale and mason mctavish.

you’d spent a good chunk of time with them that you spent the first quarter of summer last year in canada with the chl boys. during that time you had to admit that they were slightly better than your brothers friends. and it was during that time that you met brandt.

seeing as you were the closest in age the two of you spent a lot of time together. brandt didn’t really know who you were but after asking around he couldn’t believe you were y/n hughes and you were standing in front of him. he’d seen you when jack and quinn were being drafted and he’d heard your interviews on luke and he admired the way you spoke about your family.

“hi alex, is y/n/n here? we’re supposed to go out together. unless i’ve got the date wrong then could you ask her to call me if she’s busy,” brandt rambled on. you thought it was adorable, especially considering the fact that he was turning red.

it was at that point that you grabbed your purse and headed to the door to greet brandt. “hi clarkey, you look good,” you complimented.

brandt was at a loss for words as he took in your appearance. he had never met someone as effortlessly breathtaking as you. “you look breathtaking,” he whispered. brandt then handed alex the flowers he bought for you before taking your hand.

your date with brandt may have been the first in person date you went on together but over year of knowing each other, the two of you had grown close. you had given him tips on what to do when he came to la and he listened whenever you ranted about a bad date or your brothers.

dating brandt was the best time of your life. you went with him to his first nhl game and watched all his away games on your tv. whenever he was in town the two of you would spend time in your apartment baking or curled up watching tv together.

one thing you loved about your boyfriend was that he never pushed you. if you were having a bad day he would hold you until you were ready to talk or he would give you the space you asked for. what you really loved was that he wasn’t like your brothers.

you were also grateful for alex during the time of your relationship. he would help you get away with staying with brandt and he would cover for you whenever your brothers saw something on you hanging out with your boyfriend.

“he wants me to got world juniors with him,” you announced walking into trevor and jamie’s house. it had become a regular thing for you to text the group of boys you were close with and demand they meet when you had a problem.

“clarkey?” “is that problem?” “yay, congratulations!” jamie, alex and trevor exclaimed. you ignored the three of them and flopped onto an empty couch and groaned. “the thing is luke’s playing too and that means jack and quinn are coming,” you explained.

the boys proved to be no help to your situation as you now sat by the glass in your boyfriends jersey as canada faced off against usa. brandt had flipped you a puck and blown you a kiss before continuing on with his warm ups. just to annoy one of his good friends brennan othmann followed brandt’s actions which earned a slight shove from your boyfriend.

throughout the tournament you managed to stay away from your brothers when you were with brandt. at first your boyfriend thought you were embarrassed of him but when you explained how overprotective they were he understood and helped you.

the game had started with the us leading by two points until canada came bacl and tied the game with adam then giving them the lead. you watched with bathed breathe anytime your brother had the puck, you could tell he was tired. but one incident during the game that made you giggle was when luke went for a hit on brandt but your boyfriend retaliated causing luke to fall.

after a loss to the usa your brothers had all texted asking if you were feeling any better. so maybe you lied to them and said you were sick in the morning so that you could sneak out to support your boyfriend. but your cover was blown the second you ran into brandt’s arms.

“i swear luke, she was sitting by the glass in a canada jersey,” you heard dylan duke. at the voice you stilled, your boyfriend felt you tense up and looked around to see what happened. and there he saw your family waking directly your way.

of course, your attempt to stay hidden was thrown away when brennan othmann came running down the hall screaming your name and picked you up. “look at you eh, finally supporting the right country,” otter teased.

your brothers all stopped talking and looked over at you and the jersey you were wearing. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” jack spat. brennan dropped you immediately and looked at your brothers before giving you an apologetic smile.

“what’s going on here y/n?” jack pressured. your mother tried interfering, alex had told her all about how your brothers made you feel. luke shook his head in disappointment and quinn just looked upset.

brandt just wrapped his arm around your waist. the action bringing you more comfort than anyone could imagine, you looked up at your boyfriend as he smiled at you. “this is my boyfriend brandt. we’ve been dating for five months,”

your boyfriend had already met your parents so they exchanged pleasantries. jack looked your boyfriend up and down before giving you an unimpressed face “you’re dating a hockey player,”

“yes jack, i’m dating a hockey player. yes, he’s canadian and yes, he does play for the onatrio reign with alex. what else do you want to know huh?” you shot back.

jack scoffed at brandt’s outstretched arm and turned his attention to your parents. “do you see what happened. i told you we shouldn’t let her go to california now she’s been there a year and she thinks she can run off with some hockey player she’s known for two months,” he stressed.

“i’ve known brandt since the summer jack. that trip i took to canada that’s when we met and we kept talking to each other until he mentioned being in la for training camp. jack he’s good to me,” you whispered the last part.

quinn hated the sad look on your face as you tried keeping your tears at bay. he watched as brandt kissed the top of your head as if he knew exactly how you felt. actually, during your whole interaction with jack, quinn noticed how brandt would do small things that seemed to calm you down.

“you’re too young to have a boyfriend y/n. so next semester you’re going to transfer to umich and you’re going to finish school with luke and his friends. that way we all know where you are and that you aren’t running off with people with unstable positions,” he poked at brandt and grabbed your arm.

however, you weren’t having it. you pulled your hand out of his grip and held onto brandt’s arms. “i am not letting you take me away from the one person i love,” you argued.

“fine. then don’t come to the lake house this summer. actually after this you don’t have to talk to me at all. i know you think i’m overprotective y/n so let me save you some trouble, i don’t want to talk to you anymore so don’t even try to contact me,” jack sneered before walking away.

quinn gave your shoulder a squeeze before running after his younger brother. ellen and jim had both chased after their middle son, the two parents speaking to him in a harsh tone as they berated him for his words. and luke gave you a hug before looking to brandt.

“look after her,”

when luke left, you turned to your boyfriend tears silently streaming down your face as he wrapped his arms around you.

now in front of him, brandt was looking at a little girl who had been banished from one of the people she looked up to.

#brandt clarke imagine #nicohischierz writes #barrie colts

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the12thnightproject · 10 months ago

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Chapter 41: Phone Home - Has Katsu gotten Aki to the future in time to save him?

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Please take me to the right Kyoto! To the right time. I hung on to Aki so tightly that I could imagine him groaning, though the sensory deprivation of the wormhole meant that any noise I heard was an auditory hallucination.

Then, slowly, I did hear sounds… sounds I hadn’t heard for seven years…

Cars…

Busses…

Honks…

The hum of electricity...

And the screaming of tourists who were shocked to see two people manifest in front of their eyes.

Modern Japan… it was familiar, but not really home. Not anymore.

Had I been alone I would have taken time to breathe it in, to readjust to the noise and the crowd and the people. But Aki needed immediate medical treatment, so I stepped forward and announced to the circle of freaked out tourists in my best 'I went to art school and this is the only job I am qualified for' voice. "Historical Reenactments. Daily at the Azuchi Castle Ruins."

The tourists all nodded sagely, as if they saw such stunts often. Once the initial crowd moved off, I took out the paper with Sasuke's phone number, and approached a girl about my age. "Excuse me. My phone battery just died." I waved Iekane's device at her as an explanation. "Can I borrow yours? I need to call my boss before I get marked late for my day job."

She bowed politely and handed over a phone about ten generations newer than the last one I had owned. It had a custom case with some K-Pop band on it. If I had never left this time, perhaps I would be a fan. But I had, and the band on the case, though all adorable, also looked impossibly young.

I almost felt like more of a fish out of water than I ever had in the Sengoku.

With any luck I was both in the right timeline and that my timeline’s Sasuke had the same phone number of the Sasuke I had just left. Mentally crossing my fingers, I entered the number and waited. While the phone continued to ring, I kept half my attention on Aki, who was slumped over on the bench. If Sasuke didn’t answer, I would need to try-

"Mikumo Sasuke." Sasuke's neutral tones directed towards what would be an unknown number.

"Sasuke. It's Katsuko." Not yet five minutes in modern Japan and I'd already reverted to the name of my childhood. "Katsu. I'm at Honno-ji."

I turned away from the girl and lowered my voice. "I've got Aki with me, and I need to get him to a hospital."

The quick-witted Sasuke didn’t ask questions. "We'll be right there."

"Thanks." He'd already hung up. I gave the phone back to the girl and repeated my thank you to her.

"No worries. Great costume. Looks really authentic." With a bow, she headed into the shrine.

Crouching next to Aki, I propped him up under my shoulder. "Don't you dare die on me now old man."

"I’ll do my best." The words were faint, and I could feel his fever radiating off him.

"I'm sure the hospital can fix you right up." I wasn't sure, but now that there was nothing to do but wait, I was babbling uselessly. Every once in a while, a concerned Samaritan would ask if Aki was ok, and I kept repeating that help was coming.

And eventually, a long shadow fell over both of us, and a familiar warm spiced voice said, "Sasuke didn’t tell me his friend was a forest Goddess."

Right. This Shingen hasn't met me.

I looked up at the modern version of the main I had just said goodbye to less than an hour (plus or minus 450 years) ago. The cargo pants, grey henley shirt and leather bomber jacket didn’t look out of place on him at all, although the barely healed surgical scar on his chest and flirtatious look he directed at me certainly did.

With my father half draped over me, it was not the time to go into that, so I introduced myself briefly, while Shingen helped Aki to his feet and propped himself under the uninjured shoulder. "Where is Sasuke?"

"Out front in his motorized palanquin." Shingen gave a little grunt as Aki dumped his entire weight on the taller man. Realizing that this Shingen was probably fresh out of the hospital himself, I hurried to Aki’s other side and carefully maneuvered myself around his wound.

Together we half carried Aki to the street, where an SUV was hovering near the bus stop. Leaving the motor idling, Sasuke leaped out. “Greetings and salutations, Katsu,” he said as he helped settle Aki across the back seat.

I don't remember much about the trek across town. Sasuke drove like a Yokai on acid, zipping through stoplights that turned red as we sped past. The streets blurred out the window, and now that the responsibility for Aki was divided up, the-time travel (and Sasuke’s driving) caught up to me.

Feeling vaguely sick to my stomach, I shut my eyes. No Mitsuhide to hold your hair if you barf here. Or put mint oil on – Weird… I could almost smell the mint.

Opening my eyes, I saw that Shingen was holding a tin of Mintia in front of me. "Try this. I keep them around just for these travels."

Ah. So Sasuke always drove like this. Good. To. Know. "Thanks." I popped a couple of the strong mints into my mouth, and indeed, it did help with the nausea, even when Sasuke whipped a turn so sharply that both Shingen and I grabbed onto the armrests for stability.

Thanks to Sasuke's University I. D., we managed to get Aki admitted through emergency services and by some miracle Aki's biometrics were already in the hospital system. The only real difficulty occurred when the admitting staff asked how he had managed to receive a gunshot wound, and why had it been allowed to go untreated for so long.

"I'm rather curious to know the answer to that myself." I heard Shingen tell Sasuke.

Yes, he would definitely want to know about the movement of battles in 1582 – he probably was even now wondering if Kasugayama had been under attack when I left that era.

To the doctors and nurses, I kept answering, "I don't know." Without any inside knowledge about present day Kyoto's crime scene, it would be hard to make up a good story. Any detail I created would be investigated by the police, "he only said he was attacked and robbed." I then drew on my now honed by Mitsuhide acting skills and put a sob into my voice. "Please, is my dad going to be ok?"

To my horror, I felt a real tear escape. Not completely acting. Unnerved by my tears, the hospital staff ended their interrogation and directed us to a family waiting area, while Aki was wheeled off to parts unknown in the bowels of the hospital.

Shingen liberated a box of tissues from the nurses’ station (by which I mean he flirted with the staff until they gave it to him) and set it on the table next to a seriously uncomfortable plastic chair.

Ok breathe. This is a University Hospital. It’s a top-rated trauma center. It will be fine. Breathe.

Once I had again composed myself, Sasuke, who had been typing on a tablet at warp speed, turned to me. "Are you interested in reading a library of protocols for treating gunshot wounds and blood poisoning?"

Timing, Sasuke. Timing.

I must have looked as appalled as I felt, for he hurried to add. "This is not from Dr Google, but actual medical journals... not that I've personally vetted them of course. I'm not a doctor I'm a physicist."

"That was funnier the first time you told it to me." Were we private enough to go into this here? There were other people in this room. Granted, they were likely dealing with their own issues, but...

"I do not recall making this joke in the past." Sasuke darted a quick look at the other people in the waiting room, then typed something into his tablet. My hypothesis seems too fantastical to mention.

I reached for the tablet. “May I?”

He nodded, so I began two finger typing a response. Ugh. I guess some skills you lose in seven years. Both Shingen and Sasuke leaned over me to watch my response form one letter at a time.

Aki shot in 1578. Took him through a wormhole to 1586 different timeline. You and that timeline’s Shingen helped me get him here.

“Holy crap on a cracker!” His exclamation, and the fact that he nearly shot out of his seat, earned us all dark looks from the others in the room. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Multiverses.”

I nodded. Hopefully that would satisfy him for now. At the moment, I didn’t have the mental capacity to explain more, either verbally, or on the tablet. Luckily, that set Sasuke off on another mad typing excursion, and Shingen, at least satisfied that he hadn’t missed an important battle, took another look at me, and offered to get some food. "What do you like to eat, Angel? The bistro in the lobby has very good pastry. I have tried it all.”

"Oh. Maybe just tea and soup." I had no urge to test a seven-years-in the- Sengoku digestive system on anything heavy (the shock to my intestines when I first arrived in 1575 had been a painful enough experience that I was in no hurry to repeat). Shingen nodded and made himself scarce.

With Sasuke still in mad scientist mode, I finally took a moment to glance through the paperwork I’d been given in intake and realized that Sasuke had pulled both academic and financial strings here.

"Thank you," I said to Sasuke when he had paused in his typing. "I don't know how I'll repay you--."

"It's not an issue." Sasuke gestured to his tablet. "You are making infinite contributions to my scientific knowledge." Wait until you get a look at this device. It was not the best location to show him that… not with all the witnesses about, let alone any closed circuit cameras that might be in the area.

Given my circumstances, I was going to have to rely on his charity for a day or so. While I did at least have the numbers and passcodes to Aki's accounts in that letter, without an I. D. I wouldn’t be able to access them. Granted, I could probably get a replacement for all my papers with a vague 'travelling, got robbed' excuse, but it wouldn't be immediate.

With those practicalities, and the trying-not-to-think-about-it concern over Aki circling in my mind, I gratefully accepted a comforting bowl of ramen when Shingen returned (also with a bag of pastry and a carrier containing three to-go cups). From the smell, it seemed like Sasuke was drinking a seriously dark roast coffee, which I guess also explained his typing speed. The smell reminded me of Francisco's office and for a moment I pictured myself back then all those weeks ago - when Francisco had offered Mitsuhide a cup of coff— and then an earlier memory superimposed over that one.

“You ought to be able to perform both at the same time.” Mitsuhide motioned me over to the writing desk, opened the drawer for like… three seconds… and then slammed it shut again. “What is in the drawer, brat?”—

My mental picture slid to when I searched Francisco's office to retrieve my letter. There... had been a gun in the drawer. I'd been so focused on Aki that it hadn't registered at the time. But it had not been in there when I was there last week (two weeks ago? Time flies when you’ve got wormholes). Sure, owning a gun would not be unusual for a Portuguese merchant. But I had never seen Francisco use a gun. Well… something just felt off.

Damn it. Not for the first time I wished Mitsuhide were around so that I could talk about this with him! (And wouldn't he tease me about it too!).

"Ms. Yamaoka?" A doctor entered the room with an electronic tablet in her hand. "I wanted to update you on your father's condition."

I jumped to my feet, aware that behind me, Shingen and Sasuke had done so as well, just to support me.

"We removed the bullet without any major complications." She hesitated and I realized that this was going to be one of those good news, bad news situation. "However, the infection at the site of the wound and the fever has put him at high risk for a cascading multi organ failure."

I felt a reassuring pat on my shoulder. Shingen. It was the pat of an authority figure to a subordinate, an 'I'm here to help if you want’ kind of thing, and I appreciated that he had dropped the flirtatious exterior. The slight clicking behind me suggested that Sasuke was already looking up all the potential treatments in the medical library. "We'll do everything we can to support his system, but to give the antibiotics a chance to work, we've put him into a medically induced coma." She paused, waiting for me to ask additional questions, but I had gotten the gist of it.

She handed me a few informative packets on their treatment and on patient family support options. The paperwork was a bit overwhelming, when all I wanted right now was, "Can I see him?"

The doctor frowned. "Visiting hours technically ended-"

Shingen edged closer to her. "Doctor. You are truly a Goddess of Healing. We're grateful for everything you do. All my young friend needs is a few minutes with her father, just to ease her mind."

Ha. Apparently that charisma could be deployed at will and with military precision. I was granted five minutes but warned that he wouldn't know I was there.

I was used to Aki seeming bigger than life, but now, hooked up to several machines, he looked drained and very old. As warned, he didn’t register my presence, so I simply sat and held his hand, as if that could be a conduit to transfer my energy to him.

When my time was up, I leaned over him and whispered, "Aki, if you don't recover, I am turning your spy network over to Takauji."

It was the smell of coffee that awoke me the following morning. I sat up on the futon and looked around the room, taking in details that I had been too tired to notice the night before. Sasuke's two-bedroom high rise condo was sleek and ultra-modern. Given how much of a history buff he was, I was surprised at how no-frills it was in terms of decor. It kind of seemed... not him.

In spite of the stark decor, it was comfortable, full of every imaginable convenience. I'd half slept through my first shower in seven years, then, with my hair still wet, I had fallen asleep almost instantly on the futon in the living room (both Sasuke and Shingen had offered to give up their bedrooms for me, but I had insisted that I would be fine on the futon for a few days).

Something clicked and beeped, and I finally located the smell of coffee as emanating from a complicated looking automatic espresso machine. It was the only visible appliance in the open kitchen. The thing beeped again, and, as if on cue Sasuke shuffled out of his room, hair flopping everywhere, glasses slightly askew, and made a beeline for the machine.

Recognizing a caffeine addict when I saw one, I waited for him to get a few sips into his system before engaging in conversation. "How in the world did you manage to survive in the Sengoku without coffee?"

"Indeed, it was one of the only thing I neglected to factor into my decision making when I initially went back in time. However the benefits of immersive historical and scientific research outweighed the inconvenience of the pre-Dutch explorer era." He finished his first coffee, poured another cup, then pulled an electric kettle out of some neat hidden cupboard, filled it with water, and plugged it in.

"Aki's friend Francisco had coffee - when we get back, I should connect the two of you.'' And also question Francisco about the gun. But that was something to worry about later. I had more pressing issues to deal with. “Did the hospital call with updates to Aki’s condition?” Sasuke had left his details with the hospital, since I was still without a phone.

Sasuke held up one finger, slipped back into his room at a much faster pace than he had left it, and returned with his phone. "No messages," He handed it to me. "I presume you want to call?"

He was correct in that, and once I had made it through the frustratingly complicated hospital voice system (yeesh, it was easier to get a message to someone in the Sengoku era than it was to get a live person on the phone) only to be told that Aki’s condition was unchanged, Sasuke had set out a bowl and whisk, and a packet of tea.

By the time I had prepared the tea, taking comfort in the fact that this at least had not changed from the Sengoku era, Shingen joined us. He had either slept in, or put on a kimono, and he looked a bit more like the Shingen I had met in 1586, although he was unhealthily thin; a condition that I imagined would change soon enough if he kept eating sweet pastry for breakfast.

Once we had all gathered our respective food and drink items to the table and taken a few bites to sate our hunger, Shingen asked again the question that I imagine had been nagging at him all night. "How did your father get shot?"

And so once again, I found myself explaining how and when I found Aki, but, not wanting him to question too much about 1586 (I was in no mind space to handle the awkwardness of explaining that his alternate was in love with an alternate version of me), I skipped right to the device, knowing that Sasuke would take over as soon as he saw it.

After explaining what Sasuke Mach 1586 had discovered about the thing so far, I turned it, and the letter he had written to himself over to him, and had the rare experience of seeing his face light up with scientific glee. "Holy crap on a cracker - it's a... I don't know what to call it."

"We were joking that it’s a mini-flux capacitor." Although who knows maybe that is what it was.

"Though I wouldn't dare question your scientific knowledge Sasuke," Shingen looked at the device warily. "I do not want you to accidentally transport us to yet another place in time."

"At the moment, it's coded to me, so we should be ok." Just to be extra safe, I folded my hands in my lap.

Sasuke scanned the letter to himself, making happy murmurs about science and multiverses. Then he set the letter down and sighed happily. “My day is complete. My alternate Sasuke has evidence of yet another alternate Sasuke.” He turned the device over and over in his hand.

“Yeah, according to Katsuko, there are at least four of us, so there are likely four of you too and-“

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The device vibrated violently, let out an electronic beep, and a tiny green light began blinking.

"Sasuke... what did you do?" Shingen's voice had gotten ominously quiet. I glanced around the room, looking for that odd ripple I had seen each time the device activated, but at least on that end things were normal.

"I have not begun any actions that would cause it to activate," Sasuke set the thing down. "Whatever just initiated was automatic."

"Like a self-destruct program?" Yeesh. And I'd been carrying that thing in my kimono.

"Perhaps. Or a homing beacon."

The blinking light intensified in speed, let out another SQUEE.

Then the light went out and it silenced.

@bestbryn @selenacosmic @lyds323 @lorei-writes @tele86 @akitsuneswife

#10things #10 things I hate about Mitsuhide #Mitsuhide Monday #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen sasuke #ikesen shingen #oc: katsuko #katsuverse

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