#it's going to be written with the violence and questionable morals

[arcane-vagabond]

REAL QUICK

Before I post this next one, I want to talk about Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!

For those of you who don't know, this phrase is used in fanfic to denote a particularly dark fic. It's a generic dark fic warning.

With that being said!!!!!!

I do not want to hear any complaints about the fic in question because you have been warned both now and by the warnings on the masterlist. I'm so serious. If you do not want to read dark content, then don't read the fic.

Do I think that this is going to be something heinous? No. But I've also read a lot of dark fic in my day. If you haven't, I urge you to take the warnings into consideration and decide for yourself if it's something that you can handle.

[wardenparker]

The Stars Re-Align, part 2

Frankie Morales x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.8k Warnings: Reader is given an age and a grown daughter. Cursing, food/alcohol, mentions of military service (obviously), complicated relationships, family drama, of-age teenage sexuality, flashback, abusive relationship, domestic abuse, slaps to the face, verbal abuse. Summary: A trip down memory lane brings a conversation full of honesty with your daughter. Frankie frets about the future with Will. And then the world turns upside down all over again. (This chapter begins with a flash back). Notes: Rated E for an Explicit portrayal of an abusive relationship. Even if the on-page violence is minimal, it still deserves to be tagged.

“What time are your parents getting home?” The most frequently asked question you and Frankie have for each other these days, as you decide where to hang out after school and what hanging out will actually consist of.

Frankie smirks and shrugs slightly, eyes dark and full of promise as he slides them up and down your body. “Don’t know.” He admits. “Late. They said something about bowling after Dad got off work.”

The subway is packed full but somehow Frankie still manages to get impressively closer to you as the stops roll by. “Your place, then,” your head bobs in agreement while you try to think a little with his hands on you. Two more stops.

“My place.” He leans in, nuzzling your neck and dropping a kiss on your thready pulse. Grinning when it jumps against his lips.

“I’ll—” It’s all you can do not to gasp any time Frankie kisses you, and you’re in public. “I’ll call my Mom from your phone. Let her know.”

“Tell her you’re staying the night.” He encourages, knowing that he won’t want to let you go home. You live two stops from him and it’s close enough to swing by and have you get dressed in the morning. Or you can wear his clothes. He doesn’t mind that at all.

“It’s a good thing she likes you,” you huff, but again the sound turns into a swallowed moan when he touches you. “I’ll tell her.”

“Good.” Frankie loves how you melt for him. It’s something he takes pride in, aware that you do talk to your friends about your relationship, and that you only have good things to say.

"Not gonna let me study at all, are you?" It's a half-hearted gripe, although you both do have homework to do. Senior year is starting out better than you could possibly imagine and college applications will go out soon. Everything is just as perfect as you could possibly want.

“I bet you that you’ll get an A after our study session.” He chuckles in your ear. “Every prep test you get right, you get an orgasm.”

"Frankie." The little whine only spurs him on. If not for the train jolting to a stop and the hustling bustle of people moving all around you, he'd probably slip his hand under your clothes right there on the train.

“What?” He gives you an innocent look. “You know I’m good for them.”

"I know you are," you huff as he moves you off the train and onto the platform along with the masses. "That's why I'm whining."

“So you’re going to be a good girl and get every answer right, aren’t you?” It’s become a game to him, to see how often he can turn you on in public and he loves how responsive you are. His baggy pants hiding his hard cock from the public as he teases you.

"I would get every answer right anyway." It's another huff, but it's good natured. Mostly just the fact that he's so damn good at getting you all riled up no matter where you are.

“I know, my girl is smart.” He hums, guiding you towards the stairs. “Sexy, sweet, nice ass…shit that’s not an ‘s’ word.” He huffs playfully, just wanting to hear you laugh.

It works, because of course it does, and the sound bubbles out of you as you hustle up the stairs to street level with Frankie right behind you. The extra sway in your hips is just for him, but if someone else notices you couldn't care less. At times like this your world is just narrowed down completely and entirely to Frankie.

Friends for years, Frankie had finally gathered the courage to ask you out in middle school, elated when you said yes. There hadn’t been the drama others had, no huge fights and breaking up only to get back together, the two of you had been steady. He had tried to brush off all the jokes about getting married straight out of school and you popping out six kids right away. You both had plans that didn’t include kids for a few years. At least until after he was a higher rank in the Army. “Shake that ass, baby!” He calls out, whistling in a catcall.

If you were any version of yourself except a teenager desperately in love, you might have huffed at him or made a face, but in this moment you just giggle and throw even more sway into your movements until you’re all the way at the top of the stairs and waiting for him to join you.

“Goddamn.” Staring at your ass, Frankie nearly trips over his own feet on the stairs, catching himself and grinning when you giggle at him again.

“If we don’t get you home in one piece, you don’t get to have any fun,” you remind him, clicking your tongue teasingly.

“Ass.” He sticks his tongue out at you playfully.

"Didn't you just point out how much you love my ass?" The playful retort comes with a kiss to his cheek, and you grab his hand to head for his apartment.

Like others in the building, the apartment had been the Morales family home for years. Making the habit of pulling out his keys and unlocking the door almost automatic. It’s a long-ingrained motion.

“Any sign of siblings?” Before you sling down your backpack on Frankie’s desk chair, you bite your lip and look around curiously for his brother and sister.

"Nope." Frankie doesn't see any of the tell-tale signs of the younger ones being around. He would be tripping over their damn shoes around the door.

“Thank goodness.” The less time you have to spend being social, the more time you and Frankie have to yourselves, and you grab him by the wrist to pull him down the hall to his bedroom.

"Eager to study, already?" Frankie laughs as he lets you drag him away from the living area.

“We can study while other people are home.” You throw a pout at him over your shoulder. “Or do you not want to try what I learned from the copy of Cosmopolitan that Shelly Estrada stole from her mother?”

“What was in it?” He’s always interested in what you learn from those magazines.

“Something we absolutely could not hide under a blanket.” Giggling a bit, you bite your lip and toss your backpack down in his room at the end of the hall just in time for his arms to come around you. “And involves me being on top of you, which I know you love.”

His brow wings up and he grins instantly, always loving when you are bouncing on his cock. “But we had fucked with you on top under the blanket.”

“I know.” Your eyes flash with mischief as your boyfriend practically slams his bedroom door shut. “This is different.”

The click of the lock is loud, securing you inside and keeping out the rest of the world through the action. “Tell me.”

“You get on your back.” One of his favorite views of you is from his back so that isn’t a hard sell. “But when I get on top of you, it’s flipped. So you can eat me out while I suck your cock.”

“Fuck.” Frankie hisses, eyes widening in absolute delight as he quickly reaches for his shirt to pull it off. He loves using his tongue on you and enjoys the very boastful reputation you have given him by bragging to your friends. “I’ve seen it in a porno.” He admits, nodding in agreement. “Fuck, take your clothes off baby.”

“Boys have pornos and girls have Cosmo,” you tease, already pulling your t-shirt over your head.

“Girls can watch porno too.” Frankie snorts. “Bet it would turn you on and give you ideas.”

“Girls can watch porno too.” Toeing off your shoes and pulling off your socks lets you strip your jeans off too, and you stand unafraid and unapologetic in your underwear in front of Frankie. “But where would I get it?”

“Watch it with me.” He groans, pushing down his own jeans and underwear so his hard cock springs out and bobs in the air. “Sit on my dick while you watch another girl get fucked.”

“Next time,” you promise him, though it’s a little breathless as your mouth waters at the sight of him and you pull your bra and panties off as fast as humanly possible. “I want to try this first.”

"I want to try it too, baby." He is always eager to try new things, positions, everything with you. He had cum so quickly the first time he slid inside you. Embarrassed, but you hadn't blamed him for it. Now, he was proud of the fact that you were cumming before him, completely boneless as he fucks you into the bed of his childhood bedroom every chance he gets. You are his everything.

******

Sitting home alone last night was probably a bad idea, but you hadn’t wanted to wreck Rachel’s night. Instead you barely slept — crying intermittently and picking at the remains of your birthday cake with a seemingly endless margarita in your hand while you watched rom-coms and thought about Frankie. Just because Santiago was probably right to end things didn’t make it easier.

Now you’re hungover with your face bowed over a cup of coffee and trying to lecture yourself into making breakfast while you try to figure out what the fuck to do with yourself today.

There’s an extreme sense of guilt that has settled over Frankie’s shoulders. He had – unknowingly – crashed your party and ruined things for you. And changed his entire life in the process. Another child. A grown ass woman who was half his. He hadn’t told Marie, couldn’t even find the words, although he had scooped up his precious little girl and held her close, locking himself into the nursery with her.

As if you were feeling some of those vibes beat out to you across towns, you abandon the thought of breakfast for now in favor of going upstairs to dig out your oldest Memory Box. The box full of keepsakes and memories all pertaining to Frankie. Not the one that contains all of the pregnancy-related things that you’d shown Rachel multiple times in her life, but the secret one you keep tucked in the back of your closet that has things like ticket stubs to the movies and concerts you went to together or the endless Polaroids you took on every occasion. That box. That is the one you bring back downstairs to wallow in at the dining room table.

******

“I don’t think I need to leave Mom alone today.” Rachel tells Benny, sighing softly and reaching for his hand. “This doesn’t make things weird, does it?” She’s asking yet again, but she needs the reassurance.

“We’ll adjust, baby.” He promises her. She needs the comfort of hearing it again and, to Benny’s surprise, each time he says it he means it that much more.

“I didn’t know. I feel like I should have.” She confesses quietly.

“How?” That still doesn’t make sense to him. There is no way she could have known just based on instinct. “Absolutely nobody thought this was gonna happen, baby girl. And it doesn’t change how much I love you.”

“I know, I just—” she clings to his hand and sighs. “I’ve always had this fantasy of my dad coming back and finding us.” She admits quietly. “And now…I don’t know what to do.”

“Frankie’s a good guy.” Benny huffs, knowing that sounds lame. “He’s been through so much. Saved our skins way more times than I can count. And the way he is with Luna? Baby, I know it isn’t what you imagined, but give Fish a chance. You might be surprised to find out that your Dad is just a normal guy who will do right by you.”

“I feel guilty.” She huffs. “Santiago is a good guy too. And yet…” she shrugs slightly. “If you had asked me yesterday if he was someone I would want my mom to be with long term, I would have said yes.” She glances away. “Now…”

Benny’s brow furrows, seeing the guilt on her face for even thinking it. “You wish your parents could be together?” He guesses, soothing one hand over her back.

“Is that wrong?” She asks softly. “If he’s the man you say he is….my mom deserves to be happy.”

“Of course it’s not wrong,” Benny shakes his head. “But…it’s up to them.”

“Yeah.” She sighs softly and smiles at Ben. “Do you want to come in? Or do you want to run for the hills for right now?”

“If you want me to come in, I will.” In no way does he want to give her the impression he’s making a run for it, but he also doesn’t think it’s his place to be in there right now, either. “What if I drop you off now so you can have some time with your Mom, and I’ll come by with dinner later? I can pick up from the Thai place you guys like.”

“That would be good.” She nods, thankful that she can determine what kind of mood you are in. It’s possible that you have simply brushed off the entire thing, but she doubts it.

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Pad Thai for my girl and that crazy peanut curry your Mom likes.” He grins when Rachel almost opens her mouth, but he holds up his hand. “And the fried calamari with the sweet chili sauce. Otherwise don’t bother bringing anything at all. I know, baby. I love you.”

She laughs and leans over to press her lips to his cheek. “You are the best.” She promises. “Thank you for being here. For not finding all of this crazy.”

It’s a little crazy, but not nearly crazy enough to lose her over, so Benny just hums and kisses her back. “Text me if you need me, baby. I’m going to train for a few hours.”

“Good luck.” She doesn’t ask if Frankie is going to help, she doesn’t want to know right now. Since his pilot’s license was suspended, Frankie had been helping Benny train and right now, it’s just too awkward to think about.

Normally vigilant, you don't even hear the front door of the house open when Rachel comes inside. The box of memories has overflowed all over the table as you uncover more and more pieces of your past, and there is definitely a damp tissue in your hand when you finally hear footsteps on the kitchen tile. "Oh shit." The sound makes you jump, but when you wheel around to see your daughter standing there, you relax immediately. "Sorry, sweet pea. I didn't know you were coming home. You scared me."

“Hey Mom.” Curiosity practically seeps out of her pores, looking over pictures and trinkets that she’s never seen before. She knows this has to be a box of things from your time with her dad. She knows it. “Organizing?”

"Um...more like memory lane." You glance back at the table before looking up at your daughter and pat the chair beside you. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

“No, but I can wait.” She doesn’t want you to stop, so she slides into the seat and picks up a Polaroid. “Holy shit….you two look like babies.”

"That was..." Tilting your head slightly in consideration, you squint at the faded photograph and end up smiling. "Sophomore year. So we were about 15? They took us all on a class trip to Ellis Island."

“God.” She huffs, squinting at the photo. “You two look over the moon crazy about each other.” She points out, noticing the way that her dad’s arm is slung over your shoulder and he’s grinning like he’s the luckiest boy in the world.

"We were." If there's a note of yearning in your voice it's unintentional, but you do reach for another photo and hand it over to her to inspect. "Senior prom," you hum in amusement, and offer her another photo that has you and Frankie noticeably younger with a very excited looking collie in the photo between you. "And this is the day he asked me out." Shifting the picture from Ellis Island into the middle, you look at the trio with tired eyes. "The beginning, middle, and almost-end of our relationship."

“You never really talked about my dad much.” She studied each photo carefully, as if she could possibly glean some friction that was under the bright smiles and finding nothing. “Did it hurt too much?”

"Partially." It was a large part of it, if you're honest, and you realize belatedly that you've picked up a piece of jewelry he gave you ages ago like it's some kind of fidget toy. "But also...I didn't think we would ever see him again. And I didn't want you to build up dreams of him thinking he might just stroll in through the front door one day. Which seems ludicrous now, since that is essentially what happened."

Rachel snorts and leans back, biting her lip. “It’s fucking crazy is what it is.” She admits. “He’s like…one of Ben’s best friends. He said they’ve been through some shit together. Francisco saved his life…more than once. My father saved my boyfriend’s life.”

"I'm sure you have plenty you want to ask." Pushing back from the table, you squeeze her shoulder gently and step away to scour the refrigerator for anything breakfast oriented. "But first...how are you and Ben doing, honey? Are you guys okay with all this?"

“We’re okay.” She promises, reaching for another photo. “He’s coming back after training with Pad Thai for dinner.” She tells you. “Santiago still asleep?” His car isn’t in the driveway, so it’s an invitation for you to talk, rather than a question.

"Probably." He's a heavy sleeper, and definitely not a morning person, so wherever he is he's probably still asleep. But that isn't what Rachel is asking and you both know it. "He didn't stay, honey." Suddenly you want absolutely nothing to eat all over again, and your head pounds even harder. More coffee will help... "We, uh...we broke up, Rach."

“Oh shit.” She huffs out the whispered curse and shoots out of her chair. Dropping the photos as she rushes towards you to engulf you in a huge hug. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

"It's okay, honey." It hurts like hell, but you aren't going to treat your daughter like your therapist. It's more than enough that she's there to offer you comfort and support. "I'm just glad that the whole situation hasn't come between you and Ben."

“He broke up with you, didn’t he?” Rachel frowns deeply, upset on your behalf. “That asshole. I’m going to chew him a new asshole.”

"It just wasn't meant to be, that's all." The last thing you want to do is cause more drama with this group of friends that she has. It's bad enough that her father is in the middle of all of this. "And he's entitled to make that decision for himself."

“Did he say why?” She demands.

"He didn't have to say why." But now she's upset, and you start buzzing around the kitchen again to keep yourself busy and hopefully soothe both of you with some food. "If it makes you feel any better, he wasn't happy about it."

“Oh.” That makes her pause and she tries to see it from his point of view. “Oh shit….” She sighs and moves to flop back down into her chair. “He— it’s because of Dad, right?” She asks quietly. “Some kind of bro code. ‘Thou shall not sleep with friend’s former girl’? That has to be it.”

"I don't know if it's as formal as that, but...basically." Yogurt and fresh fruit from the fridge are joined by a box of granola from the cupboard and you put on a fresh pot of coffee to brew. "It's okay, sweet pea. I promise. And please don't think any less of Santiago for putting his friendship first. He's known Frankie a heck of a lot longer than he's known me."

“I just— I don’t like the fact that him showing up has ruined things for you.” She’s still conflicted, and she would never tell you her secret fantasy, even as close as you are.

"It's better to find out early on." That's what you're telling yourself this morning. That you were better off finding out that Santiago and Frankie are best friends before you and Santiago had started planning for the future. "It's not anybody's fault. It's just...how life is sometimes."

She blows out a guilty sigh. “I wish I had stayed home.” She mourns. “I didn’t know he was going to break up with you. You were all alone.”

"I didn't want your night ruined." Once the coffee pot is going again, you grab bowls and spoons and bring the whole tray of breakfast things to the table. "You deserve to have a nice time with your boyfriend. That shouldn't stop on account of your Mom having a little drama in her life."

“A little drama…” she snorts and rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Unaware that she looks exactly like Frankie would have. Right down to the downturn of her frown and the crease of her dimple.

"You look exactly like your father when you do that, you know." You've always thought so, and she's been doing that posture since she was a toddler. "If you ever see him do it, it will be like looking in a mirror."

She rolls her eyes again, sensing that you are trying to steer the subject back to him and she lets you “Tell me about it?” She asks softly. “All of it. The good, the bad and the ugly.”

"For the most part, it was all good," you admit. A basic breakfast comes together easily for both of you and you fill your bowls with yogurt and fruit and honey and granola in your own personal perfect ratios. "We were nearly inseparable. And since we went to the same school, and our Dads worked for the same company, it all went pretty smoothly for a long time. Everybody just...assumed we would always be together. Even us."

“Was there ever any sign he would break up with you?” Rachel can’t even fathom how abruptly the relationship ended if you were as close as you say. It’s just not how she knows her mother to be. You have always been strong and vocal.

“We had a whole plan.” A plan that went haywire, but a plan nonetheless. “But…when I found out I was pregnant I panicked. I started pressing Frankie to get married quickly, instead of waiting like we had planned. I should have told him why, but I was seventeen and convinced that he would just break up with me if I told him the truth. And…no, before you ask. He never gave me any indication that he wouldn’t have wanted a baby. But he wanted to wait to do the grown-up things, so I thought that springing the news on him would ruin it. But if I could show him that getting married earlier wasn’t a big deal, then the baby news would be okay, too. It…it doesn’t make a lot of sense in retrospect. But we were just about to graduate high school and I was hiding my morning sickness by claiming it was nerves over my boyfriend joining the Army. I was not at my best critical thinking levels.”

“Do you think he would have stayed if he had known about me?” The question is quiet, introspective. Wanting to know if she would have been wanted. She knows you love her; you’ve always made that clear, but she also wants to know about the man who is the other half of her biological makeup.

“I didn’t think so at the time, but I don’t know how much of that was just fear of the unknown,” you admit, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently in your own. “But I know he wants to get to know you now. I’m sorry that isn’t a very good answer.”

“Are you— are you okay with that?” She asks, unsure if getting to know Fransisco would cause you pain. She wouldn’t want that, not for a moment. “If you don’t want to see him….” She shrugs. “I can meet him out in town. Not talk about him.”

“Honey, no.” On this point you are absolutely firm, and you shake your head adamantly. “There’s been enough years of not talking about your father. He’s not someone to be ashamed of and we’re not going to treat him that way.” Will it hurt? Of course. But you would rather see Rachel happy than anything else in the world.

“Okay.” She’s still eyeing you doubtfully, but she agrees. For now, she will just make sure that there isn’t a lot of talk about the man you had loved. “Do you— how do you feel about getting to know him again? Seeing him?”

“I wish it hadn’t been by surprise.” That admission comes with a little laugh, because yesterday is still so unbelievable to you, but you just shrug and shake your head. “To be honest, sweet pea? If I can’t face him at this point, I’ll never be able to. And you deserve to know your father.”

“It might be a good thing, then.” She decides. “You make it sound like you never expected to see him ever again.”

"I didn't." You can admit to that very easily.

She nods, looking down at the photos again. “You loved him.” She can tell that easily by the besotted look on your face. “Do you still? Or love that version of him?” She points to the high school photo of them together.

"You're really not going easy on me with the questions today, are you kiddo?" The coffeepot finishes percolating, and you pop up from the table again, needing a fresh cup if you're going to continue on with this line of thought from your daughter. After a few moments of silence filled only by the pouring of hot coffee, you return to the table and sigh. "Yes." You nod finally. "I still love him very much. But who he was then and who he is now may be two completely different people so I have no intention of making a nuisance out of myself after a whole lifetime apart. I only care that you get to have your father around if you want him in your life."

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs softly. “Who would have fucking ever thought? Not me. I mean, I always thought it would be wild if Ben had met my dad. But you nor my grandparents ever even said his name.”

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Rach. Life just...doesn't make sense sometimes. But we always make the best we can out of the confusion." The two of you doctor your coffee and dig in to your light breakfast. Whatever happens, you will just keep rolling with it. Your adult life has been making sure that Rachel is cared for and happy, and that doesn't change just because Frankie Morales still makes your heart clench.

******

He’s in the room with Luna when there’s a knock at the front door. Watching her play with the toys in front of her and squeal happily for tummy time. She’s almost ready to crawl, but for some reason, hasn’t started yet. It irritates Marie, but Frankie is happy to have his daughter still immobile for a bit longer. Once she starts moving, there will be no stopping her.

Marie pulls open the front door with a huff, dressed to go out and irritated that she's being delayed even for a few seconds. "Will." The figure of Frankie's friend fills the doorway and where she once had patience to pretend to be glad to see any of them, it has evaporated recently. "He's been in with the baby since yesterday. Good luck getting him out."

“Hey Marie,” Will doesn’t care for the woman, but he also knows that as long as Frankie is with her, he needs to be polite. Knowing that causing any problems for his former teammate would not be in the man’s best interest. “You are dressed up nice. Big plans?”

"Girls' day," she tells him breezily. Marie grabs her purse and sunglasses with the door still open and swans right through it. "Bye!"

“Bye.” He watches her practically zip down the stairs and chuckles slightly. It’s not like having a day for yourself is not warranted. He wonders if Frankie offered this so he could go to the cookout yesterday. “Fish?” He calls out, wanting him to know that he was here. Everyone is a little more on edge since South America and it wouldn’t be wise to startle him.

Luna squawks happily at the familiar sound of her uncle Will's voice, and he steps further into the apartment. Footfalls that are heavy enough to be heard, but not heavy enough to disturb the downstairs neighbors. The woman who lives below Frankie works third shift and will barely be asleep at this hour of the morning.

Frankie looks up as the door opens, his eyes falling on Will before looking back down at his daughter. “Uncle Will is here.” He coos, brow furrowed as he goes over yet another thing that he missed out on with Rachel. “What’s up?”

“Thought you could use some company,” Will tells him honestly, but he also reaches out for Luna and grins when she reaches back. “And I wanted to see my favorite niece in the whole wide world,” he babbles, laughing when the little girl giggles and looks over again at Frankie. He looks like he needs to stretch at minimum, if not run a marathon to get rid of some stress.

“Only—” Frankie breaks off from his usual retort, paling slightly when the new dynamic hits him all over again. “Where’s Jess?”

“Brunch with her sister.” Will’s girlfriend is typically around for whatever mischief the group gets up to when she isn’t at work, but makes seeing her sister a priority just like Will and Benny make each other priority. It gives her a good foundation of understanding for the Miller brothers, and makes her a solid support person for the whole group — not just for Will. “She asked me to apologize to you for having to work yesterday. Said it sounded like you could have used the support…”

“Yeah.” The word is heavy, pushed out of him on a sigh. He reaches up to scrub his hair, his hat missing this morning and he picks up Luna to hand her to Will when she keeps squawking for him.

“Hey little fairy queen!” Will blows a raspberry on Luna’s cheek to make her laugh and nods his head that Frankie should follow him out into the living room. “Marie went out,” the younger man tells him.

Nodding quietly, Frankie groans as he pushes himself up off the floor. “Yeah. She said something about a day off.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. Seems like she’s needed more and more days off since he’s come back from South America, but every time he suggests spending time together, it’s thrown in his face that he was radio silent for nearly fourteen days – double the amount of time he had said he would be gone. Frankie has just given up trying to apologize.

“Talk to me, Fish.” Will insists, carrying Luna into the kitchen to grab them drinks and looking the little girl over. “Does she need a bottle? I have no idea what time it is.”

“She ate about an hour ago.” Frankie sighs and moves over to the fridge, opening it up to notice that Marie didn’t get the cereal he had asked for, nor any of the baby foods. He sighs and grabs a couple of sodas. It’s a bad idea to drink right now. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Fish.” Will’s tone is deadpan and matter-of-fact all at once. “C’mon man.”

Sighing again, he pops the top of his soda and takes a swing. “What do you want me to say?” Frankie huffs. “This is going to be a big fucking deal.” Marie is going to kill him. It’s not going to matter that his child is grown or that he never even knew about her. His girlfriend had this strange obsession with having been the only girl to have a baby with him. Had once jokingly told him that she had baby trapped him— although it hadn’t felt like much of a joke at the time. She had been six months pregnant at that point. “I feel goddamn guilty.”

“You had no idea.” Will reminds him. He cracks the cap on the soda that he had been handed and quietly approves of the choice. Marie hadn’t been a very good influence in Fish’s habits but since coming back from South America he’s been trying to clean up his act pretty dramatically. “But uh…hell of a coincidence, honestly. We always knew you and Pope had the same taste in women.”

“Fuck.” Frankie snorts and rolls his eyes, trying to hide the pain in them. “It’s not that….” He hedges guiltily, reaching out and tickling Luna under her chin and then dropping his hand. “I’ve been stuck on what could have been if I had known.”

“Would you have stayed?” It’s a hard question, and maybe it doesn’t have an answer, but it’s important that he’s at least thought about it. About what he would have done then and what he’ll do now.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” The answer is immediate and fierce. “I should have asked questions. Demanded to know why she wanted to get married so badly.”

“You were kids.” That part of the situation cannot be stressed nearly enough, and the two men bring Luna into the living room to settle her in her playpen so they can talk.

“We were adult enough to make a baby.” Frankie shoots back before he winces. “One who is currently fucking your brother. Jesus Christ.” He flops down onto the sofa and covers his face with his hand.

“Yeah…Benny promises to cool his jets talking about her like that, by the way.” That conversation had been had between the brothers already — Benny had brought it up and Will promised to deliver the message. “He never would’ve if he had known.”

“Still gonna punch him.” Frankie snort out, looking up at the ceiling. “Definitely didn’t need to know that shit about my daughter.”

"More than fair," Will agrees with a snicker. "He absolutely deserves it. My only request is to be allowed to film it for posterity."

Frankie laughs, probably for the first time since his world has been flipped upside down and he leans back. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

"Perfect world." Will poses, pointing a finger and the neck of the Dr. Pepper bottle at Fish. "Best case scenario, what would you want?"

Frankie shakes his head. “Time travel isn’t possible, man.” He sighs and looks over at Luna. “And I don’t regret having my baby girl.”

"Okay, that's fair." Nobody could regret little Luna, in his opinion. She's the best baby in the world, and he and Benny have their fair share of nieces and nephews to compare to back home from their sister. "Best case scenario of the future."

Guilt swims in his stomach and he rubs it reflexively. “Come on, she hates me.” He starts out. “There’s no way I could possibly have that happily ever after like in some kind of fucking Hallmark movie.” He closes his eyes. “Besides, Marie would fucking murder me.”

"Respectfully, Marie can rot in hell." None of the guys like her, but Fish had been so deep under her spell in the beginning that they had let things run their course, hoping that he would come to his senses along the way. Instead, Fish ended up with a baby on the way. "If you want your girl, maybe one of us can at least do a little recon before you just assume that she hates you?"

He hates the hope that blooms, knowing it would be squashed quickly. “Fuck— how could she not hate me?” He huffs, rolling his eyes and flopping his head forward to take another sip of the soda, even if he desperately wishes it was a beer. “I left her alone to raise a kid. Our kid.” He bites his lip. “I almost saw her….after boot camp. But I was too goddamn stubborn and that bit me in the ass.”

"What happened?" Trying to poke and prod along this highway through Fish's memories is precarious, but it's why Will is here. Pope isn't going to be able to talk sense into Fish right now while he's still getting over the woman who fathered his best friend's oldest child. And Benny sure as fuck isn't going to be the one to offer advice when he's currently sleeping with said oldest child. This one is Will's job.

“I don’t even fucking know.” Frankie closes his eyes. “There was the normal bullshit teasing.” He admits. “Everyone saying I was going to knock her up before we graduated. Have to get married. But we had a plan. I was going to go through boot camp and my schooling and then we were going to get married.” It’s filtering through memories that he’s simultaneously repressed and played over and over again. Not sure where daydreams end and reality begins.

It does no one any good to point out that he had very clearly gotten you pregnant before graduation, so Will glosses over that particular detail entirely. "So when she started pushing too, you dug your heels in?"

“She just hit me with it out of nowhere.” Frankie tells him. “At our graduation party. Demands that we get married. Gets angry when I remind her that we had a plan. That I wasn’t marrying her right out of high school.” Frankie sighs, the ‘hindsight is 20/20’ saying is smacking him on the forehead, but you could have told him. “She started crying and telling me we had to get married or it’s over and I snapped.”

"Okay." When Will nods, he leans forward in his seat and watches Luna playing with her brightly colored plastic key ring for a few seconds. "So neither of you gets points for 'Most Mature Teenager Ever'. That's not super surprising."

“No, but I could have cooled down. Gone back to talk to her.” Frankie sighs. “I left for boot camp the next day.”

"But we all know you never forgot about her." The elder Miller brother looks up, raising an eyebrow at Fish and daring his friend to challenge him. "We all have heard you talk about her."

Frankie blushes slightly, knowing that Will is right. “You never forget your first love.”

"Can I be honest?" Normally it's not something he has to ask about, but this is a sensitive topic.

“Shoot.” They’ve been friends for too long to even question it, but Frankie gives him the go ahead.

"It's pretty obvious to anybody who knows you that..." Will shrugs, almost apologizing for the observation. "That you're still in love with her. Or at least you still have love for her."

“That obvious?” Frankie rolls his head back and groans. “Great. Now everyone is going to think I’m pathetic. And Marie can never know who she is. Never.”

"Nobody thinks you're pathetic, Fish." He chuckles softly as Luna has her keys in one hand and reaches for her teddy with the other, determined to have both toys at once. "But man...we've got to do something about this whole situation before you lose your mind or your health or both."

“Seriously thought about just getting faded.” He shoots Will a bland smile to show he’s joking. “Too bad we burned Lorea’s house down. Sure he had some shit stashed in there too.”

"That shit would've killed you," Will points out without hesitation. "But that's exactly what I'm talking about. You and the little queen over here deserve a way better environment than the one you've got."

“Marie swears she’s clean too.” Frankie had gone into rehab before the baby was born, another sore spot between them. But he wants to get his license back bad enough that he would do whatever it takes.

"It's not just that." It's largely that, but not just. "We're worried, Fish. Honestly worried. You're miserable except for your little girl, and you don't have to be."

“She’s pissed at me.” Frankie reminds Will. “Rightfully so. I got popped on a test. I lost my fucking license.”

“So you’re telling me it’s just right now?” Will challenges. “It’s completely temporary that Marie is upset. It’s not been years of excuse after excuse and abusive, controlling behavior that you would have called any single one of us out on already?”

“What do you want me to do, Will?” He feels helpless and stuck. “We have a kid together. I can’t just fucking get rid of her.”

“Jess and I talked.” It might be horrible, but just getting Frankie to admit that he would rather not be with Marie is a huge step forward. They’ve been worried about him for a long time and they’ll take the avenue in that they’ve got. “We cleaned up the spare bedroom and we want to offer it to you and Luna. One floor away might not be far from Marie yet, but it’s a good first step. A safe step.”

“She’s going to try to take Luna from me.” Frankie is immediately shaking his head no, sitting up. “I can’t— Jesus Will, she knows what happened in South America. You don’t think she won’t use that shit to take my child from me?”

“She has no proof.” The reminder is a stark one. That the trip five men made and only four returned from was a dire one. “We were ghosts down there, man. As far as anybody can prove, we were in Sao Paolo on a boys’ trip. That’s all. Nothing illegal about that whatsoever.”

He’s right, but the blind panic still grips Frankie. “I can’t lose her.” He murmurs, looking over at where she has tired herself out and sprawled on the mat of her play pen to sleep. “I’ve lost too much already.”

"We're going to do everything we can, and we're going to be on your side every step of the way," Will assures him. "If you want to get out of this situation, then we're going to help you. Together."

“She’s gotta leave me.” Frankie had never married her, thank God, but he sighs softly. “I think she’s close.”

Ruefully, Will chuckles under his breath. "Then maybe we should tell her about Rachel."

Frankie huffs out a small chuckle. “Do you want her to hit me with a fuckin’ frying pan?”

"My reflexes are pretty good," he's still chuckling, but this time he shrugs and nudges Fish. Seeing him laugh even a little is good. "I'll stop it before the pan gets to you."

“You mentioned a lawyer once.” Frankie reminds him. “You think you could—? I mean, you don’t have to.”

"Absolutely." There is no hesitation in Will's answer. In fact, he's practically pulling out his phone.

“Don’t— I mean, just talk to them.” Frankie hedges. “See if they would be willing to talk to me.”

"I know he will, but I won't jump the gun. I'll just talk to him." The lawyer in question is ex-Army and specializes in custody cases without a clear-cut answer. Will knows he'll do everything he can for a man like Frankie.

He can’t even believe he is contemplating this. “I know she’s going to find out about Rachel.” Frankie murmurs quietly. “But I’m dreading it.”

"That's more than fair." Shifting on the couch, Will looks away from the little figure of Luna asleep in her playpen and focuses on Frankie. "But will it be better or worse if she finds out on her own, rather than you being direct with her?"

“I don’t fucking know.” Frankie frowns, scratching his head. “She’s been so….volatile after Luna. Or South America. Pick one. But she just throws a fit when I tell her to go to the doctor.”

"You shouldn't be alone when you tell her." That much is pretty damn obvious, but Will isn't beyond stating the obvious right now. "If for no other reason than having a corroborating witness for the custody trial."

“Might need a camera.” Frankie snorts quietly, hating how bad things have gotten. He could deal with a lot of shit, but it’s getting be too much.

"Florida's a two-party consent state," Will reminds him. "A witness is better than a camera."

Frankie blows out a sigh and nods. “Yeah. You’re right.” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand how I get myself into this shit.”

“What matters is that we’re going to get you out of it.” The promise is solemn. Quiet, even. That they are going to get Fish out of this hellhole of a relationship. “You and Luna. You’re going to be safe, so she can grow up without worrying that her mom is going to blow up at any time.”

“I don’t understand what went wrong.” Frankie continues on, shaking his head. “It was good at the beginning.”

“Not everything is made to last.” They aren’t necessarily the softest words of wisdom out there, but Will knows as well as anyone that good things come to an end. After all, things were great with his ex-fiancée until they weren’t. “And sometimes…sometimes we get a second chance.”

“Not that I deserve one.” That comment comes for a multitude of reasons, not just leaving you alone and unsupported during your pregnancy and your daughter’s life.

Will hums, understanding where the thought comes from even if he doesn’t agree. “Isn’t that up to her, ultimately? And to you, if you want to give her a second chance?”

“I don’t have any reason to not give her anything.” Frankie snorts. “I owe her. A shit ton of back child support, too.”

"Just start small," the other man advises. The small smile playing on his lips is just from being happy that his friend is starting to seem more relieved. "Talk to her. Get to know Rachel better."

Frankie blows out a sigh and looks over at Luna again. He can’t imagine missing any more time with her than he has to, and he missed Rachel’s entire life. He had a lot to make up for. “Yeah.”

Will blows out a sigh, reaching over and patting Fish's shoulder with the force of a man who knows his own strength but understands some people need to have love and support knocked into them instead of handed gently. "We'll figure it out, man," he promises. "Whatever it takes.”

******

Because Marie is gone out for a girl’s night and Will’s girl is spending the day with her sister, Frankie and Will end up ordering a pizza. Relaxed for the first time since the big reveal, Frankie is sitting on the sofa, laughing with two slices on a plate and another soda in his hand. Luna is already fed, bathed and down for the night, so he’s seriously contemplating the option of a beer.

The door slams open without ceremony, definitely loud enough to make both men inside jump and loud enough to wake up the baby, but Marie doesn't care. She tears inside like a tornado, already seething and ready to scream before she's even closed the door behind her. "Francisco!"

“Jesus!” Frankie jumps up, pizza spilling onto the floor and he’s half afraid that there’s been an accident, until he sees her fury-filled face. “What?”

"What the fuck is this?" There is a slip of paper in Marie's hand and Frankie's coat is draped over her arm, but she throws that down on the floor in the entry way. "Tell me why I reached into your coat pocket and found some slut's phone number?"

His eyes widened, latched onto the paper and he shakes his head. “It’s not— Marie— she’s not— it’s not like that.” He promises, holding his hands up. “I don’t fuck around on you.”

"Then who the fuck is Rachel?" She snarls, practically spitting the name at him as though its very existence was proof enough of his wrongdoing.

“She’s Benny’s girl.” He pleads for her to understand. “I promise. She gave me her number as a friend, nothing more. She’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in her.”

"So you're fucking your friend's girl now?" Marie is very much in the camp that men and women can't be friends without sex getting in the way, so she doesn't buy this bullshit for a second. "Do you hear this Miller? This asshole is fucking your brother's girlfriend."

“God no.” Frankie nearly blanches at the thought and he can’t shake his head fast enough. “No— I’m not fucking her. Never. Please, babe, you gotta believe me. There’s nothing like that between us.”

"Is that where you were yesterday, asshole?" The fire in Marie's eyes makes it abundantly clear that she has already drawn her own conclusions. She has already decided what happened and nothing Frankie says will dissuade her. "Rachel's house?"

“With Benny.” Frankie stresses, wincing when he hears Luna start to cry out in her bedroom. “Fuck.” He hisses. “Will was there. Nothing happened. Goddamnit, you woke the baby.”

"Oh, who gives a fuck about the baby?" She wails, which only makes Luna cry louder. "You're cheating on me!"

“Hold on.” Will doesn’t like to get involved in this, but he holds up his hand. “Fish isn’t cheating on you.”

“Nobody asked you.” Marie spits, clearly only wanting Will involved in the argument when it suits her.

“I’m not cheating on you.” Frankie implores one more time. “Please, just— believe me. Rachel is—” he can’t say it. The words are stuck in his throat.

“Rachel is what, Francisco?” She’s spitting mad — literally — and when Frankie doesn’t answer her immediately she steps further into his space and slaps him clean across the face. “You’re a piece of shit, Morales. But you knew that already.”

His head snaps to the side but he doesn’t react. Will tenses, not sure if Frankie would ever snap to jump back, but he knows that it would be a mistake on the other man’s part. “I am.” Frankie tells her quietly. “We both know that.”

Satisfied with at least that one answer, Marie tosses the piece of paper on the ground at his feet and crosses her arms. “So what the fuck do you have to say for yourself?”

She won’t stop. Not now. Now that she has this insane idea in her head that he’s cheating on her. Frankie glances over at Will, sighing heavily and he scrubs his hands on his pants. “Thing is…Marie…” he swallows, feeling nervous even though he had been cool under more dire circumstances than these. “Rachel is….uh, she’s my fucking daughter.” He confesses quietly.

The moment of hesitation before Marie starts laughing like a disgusted hyena is only the amount of time it takes her to process the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard in her life. Without another second of thought or hesitation, Marie's hand makes contact with Frankie's cheek a second time, the slap ringing through the apartment with a violent vibration. "You should have been groveling on your knees every day you had me," she spits, arms crossed again despite looking like she wants to make it three slaps for 'good' measure. "You fucked up for the last time, Morales. Hope Rachel is enough of a slut to make up for the fact that you wouldn't know where to put your dick with a road map." Shoving past both men, the whirlwind of Marie's anger propels her toward the bedroom with impressive velocity. "Have fun raising that crotch goblin alone, asshole. You fucked up for the last time."

“Marie…” Frankie can’t believe what the fuck she just said. The door to the bedroom slams open and he can only pray that it’s their bedroom and not Luna’s as the baby’s screams get louder. “I’m coming, baby girl.” He rushes to the baby, wanting to protect her and calm her down.

Will stands in the living room, hypervigilant with his phone in his hand to call for help – emergency services or the guys, whichever is needed – just in case. Frankie had closed the door to Luna's nursery behind him to keep the noise down but it's the door to the master bedroom that Will is watching closely. If Marie wants to start shit with him, too, he's right here ready for it.

Rushing over to the crib, Frankie picks up a red-faced, screeching Luna. Gasping for air as she screams, shaking in fury. “It’s okay, baby.” He coos softly, making sure to keep his own emotions closed off, not wanting to transfer energy to her. “Daddy’s gotcha. I’m right here. Shhhhhush.”

Rattling from the room next door continues, finding a crescendo in the crashing of something that might have been furniture. When Marie throws the door back open she seethes at Will, screaming something incoherent before shoving him out of the way to snap up a few things from the living room and throw them into the various bags she has been packing in the bedroom. Mere seconds later, she is marching out the door with one last screeched "FUCK YOU, FRANCISCO!" and leaving it open as she stomps off down the hall into the night.

Luna is halfway soothed, still hiccupping and sobbing into his chest as Frankie rocks her as he paces around the room. Completely sure that his girlfriend has trashed the apartment, but his concern is his daughter.

The door to the nursery opens slowly about a minute later, and Will swallows but shakes his head solemnly. "Well..." The best he can do is sigh. "She's gone. Took about four bags with her."

Frankie turns and nods. “Can you— uh, I think she might need another bottle.” He tells Will. “I don’t want to put her down.”

"I got it," Will promises, putting up one hand as if to tell Fish to stand down. "I also called in reinforcements. The guys should be here in no time. We'll get the place cleaned up and figure things up." He flashes his friend a half smile, trying for a joke. "Guess you won't need to move in with me and Jess after all."

“I don’t—” Frankie bites his lip and frowns. “You don’t think she will come back, do you?”

"Maybe for some stuff she left behind, but those were full bags, Fish." Will shakes his head again, not even sure what to say at this point but sure as all hell that things will be figured out before the night is over. "I'm just glad it's not too late. The number of noise complaints should be fewer." With that, Will steps away to make Luna a bottle and wait for the others to arrive.

“It’s okay, baby girl.” Frankie rumbles softly, rubbing her little back and jostling her to calm her down. “You’re okay. Everything is good.”

******

Benny ignores his phone the first time it goes off in his pocket. The second time, even. It's the third time his phone buzzes with a text message that he apologizes and takes his cell out at the kitchen table as he's eating dinner with you and Rachel. "It's the group chat," he explains, the repeated apology apparent in his voice. You both know there is a group chat with the guys, but opening it at the table isn't his usual thing. He tries to have manners around his girlfriend's mother. "Oh shit..." Benny breathes a second later, eyes widening as he reads the texts.

“What?” Rachel looks over at Benny in concern. She knows how hard he tries to impress you and it’s rare that he’s even pulling out his phone.

"I, uh..." He's already halfway pulling the napkin out of his lap with panic on his face, and he looks up at you and Rachel but his eyes jet back down to his phone. "It's Frankie," he explains, unsure how that particular news is going to go over. "He's...my brother is over at his place. It's a SOS text."

“What is it?” Rachel’s eyes widen and she reaches for Ben. Almost ready to claw the phone from him to see for herself. Her mind has immediately started spiraling with worst case scenarios.

"The text says clean up and mission assessment," Benny tells her, although he knows that that won't make any sense to her. It's more like reassuring her that grabbing his phone won't do her any good.

"Is he okay?" You ask, wanting a much plainer and more immediate answer than whatever cryptic military text message he got.

"Safe." Benny clarifies. "That text means he needs our help, not that something has happened to him."

“I’ll go with you.” Rachel is immediately tossing down her napkin and standing. Clearing her plate so she can tidy up quickly and head out with him. It’s obviously time sensitive.

"Baby..." Benny stands too, watching Rachel's anxiety start to build very obviously. "You don't need to do that. We can take care of things. I don't even know what happened yet."

"It doesn't matter what happened." In the split second he looked away, you've stood up, too. Gathering things up on the table means you'll just throw leftovers in the fridge and wash the dishes later. "If he needs help, we're going to help him."

“Mom…are you sure?” Rachel stops and turns towards you. “You don’t have to. Everyone would understand.”

"Sweet pea, I have eighteen extra years of stubbornness on you," you remind her, never once pausing as you clear up from dinner. "We'll take two cars, I'll follow you and Ben since I don't know where I'm going."

Rachel looks over at Benny, but he’s just shaking his head and holding his hands up. Unwilling to get in the middle of that argument. “Don’t look at me.” He snorts.

"Leftovers in the fridge. Two cars. Let's go," you insist, knowing from the churning in the pit of your stomach that whatever the problem is...you're in it now. If Frankie needs help, you're going to be right there to give it to him.

“Yes ma’am.” Benny helps put away the food, clearing his own plate and grabbing his keys out of his pocket. “You can follow me.”

______

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[helpallthenamesaretaken]

The Judo Flip Scene; The Scene that Divided the Percy Jackson Fandom: What Went Wrong?

Annabeth grabbed his wrist and flipped him over her shoulder. He slammed into the stone pavement. Romans cried out. Some surged forward, but Reyna shouted, “Hold! Stand down!”

Annabeth put her knee on Percy’s chest. She pushed her forearm against his throat. She didn’t care what the Romans thought. A white-hot lump of anger expanded in her chest—a tumor of worry and bitterness that she’d been carrying around since last autumn.

“If you ever leave me again,” she said, her eyes stinging, “I swear to all the gods—”

Percy had the nerve to laugh. Suddenly the lump of heated emotions melted inside Annabeth.

“Consider me warned,” Percy said. “I missed you, too.

-Mark of Athena

This scene is one of the, if not most, controversial scenes in the entirety of Rick Riordan's books. It has caused many fans to go deep into the morality of the scene--into the question of boundaries, whether it is just a good boundaries into Percy and Annabeth's relationships or just abusive behaviour. In this post, I will talk about my opinion on, 'What went wrong?'

First, let us dissect this scene, shall we? We have Annabeth, who has lost her only proof of permanence for six months. The guy she was dreading would die for five years before she thought they had their happy ending was suddenly snatched in a time where she thought life couldn't get any better. During this time;

she saw jason falling in love with piper and was stressed that percy would be doing the same without her

she was stressed percy would never even remember her.

she canonically spent hundreds and thousands of drachmas (and probably time too) on iris messaging every monster and god she could just so that she could find him

she spent a WHOLE lot of energy on this.

she was probably advised by people in camp to find another guy, probably got these comments regularly

she was also troubled by athena's roman form to find athena parthenos statue and ditch finding percy, which must have been hard to handle

she was in charge of helping build a WHOLE WAR SHIP

she was also in charge of rebuilding the home of the gods

And you know what? It makes sense that she would have all of these emotions buried inside her. It makes sense that she would be angry, stressed, and depressed and that she would bury all of this inside. "During their separation, something had happened to Annabeth’s feelings. They’d grown painfully intense—like she’d been forced to withdraw from a life-saving medication. Now she wasn’t sure which was more excruciating—living with that horrible absence, or being with him again" Yep, homegirl was going through some stuff.

Though we don't know what his thoughts were on his point of view, from the fact that he laughs and never brings it up later, we can conclude that Rick wanted us to know that he didn't care, and that these interactions are common between both of them, though one could argue that isn't really reliable.

So; Annabeth having an outburst of emotions is a completely normal reaction, judging the amount of things she has gone through, even though it isn't the right way to express her feelings. But, why is the judo flip scene actually bad? Why did it give even percabeth shippers the ick?

The Way Rick Wrote It: Rick treated the scene as if it was funny, Annabeth was such a girly girlboss who did it to keep Percy in his place. "I only judoflip my boyfriend". And people were mad. Mad that girls are portrayed to be girlbosses by making them violent. Mad that this violence was against a guy who was implied to be abused in his childhood.

My Argument: This scene was written in a time where media with violent comedy was popular among kids (tom and jerry, oggy and the cockroaches, i see you), and that it aged badly. Another important thing: a lot of the fandom also thought of it as percabeth's most romantic moments, and hyped it up so much, which contributes towards the whole ick of the scene.

My Argument: One thing to take into account was that the romans were really on guard when the greeks arrived. they were scared it was going to be an ambush. so when annabeth judoflips percy, their nerves took over. i fully believe the humor of 'i only judoflip my bf' was just their way of diffusing a potentially dangerous situation of misunderstanding.

But in the end I do agree, the way this was written was a major disservice to the feelings that Annabeth was experiencing that time. Rick failed to portray that scene as an exhausted traumatised teenager having an unhealthy outburst of emotions, which is what it really was. Instead, he tried to make it a funny type of scene, and the fandom carried it forward by hyping the scene up as if it was one of percabeth's most romantic moments, and even though the intentions were good, he failed to convey the meaning behind what they said properly.

So now that we've answered the question this post was made for, I'd like to end this post with a positive note. I'd like to point out that in cotg, there is no moment that annabeth physically hurted (hurted is too much of an overstatement) percy if you think about it, which shows that she has improved. If you want proof, I searched any time where Annabeth teased percy physically when he said something 'stupid' and what I found was 'nudged me with her toe' and 'lightly pinched me'. So, even though Rick messed up in writing that one scene more than ten years ago, it's safe to say he has improved.

****************************************************************

[cpericardium]

So! I've gotten a host of messages and asks regarding recent disk horse and I wanted to address them as a collective.

I know I have anon asks off, I won't share your URLs, but I do want to thank you for asking and clarifying some of the frankly vile things people have been saying about me, my girlfriend, and friends. I value those of you who offered your words of support, and didn't jump to believe screenshots taken out of context and lies written with the utmost confidence and none of the facts. I am a little tired of having my morals questioned and my views conflated with every single person I associate with, but there it goes.

tumblr user cpericardium suspiciously silent on the subject of Gaza: does this mean you support ethnic cleansing???

My reticence when it comes to posting about topics like I/P is because:

-This is a fandom blog intended for lighter topics, except maybe the occasional vent about life stuff, which I usually hide under a cut. I don't have sideblogs. They seem tough to maintain and I don't post nearly enough to justify it. If I were to make one it would be for another fandom or maybe just the freakier bugs. I simply prefer my social media experience to be stress-free.

-Anti-slacktivism. It's a documented thing: posting about an issue makes you feel like you're doing something, you get that little shot of dopamine, so you don't actually go out and do something that effects meaningful change. I'm trying to do less of that. I'm good with the friends and people I follow who choose to post about it and this is a strictly personal belief, but when I engage in activism, it is offline or it is a donation. You're not going to hear about it.

But don't you reblog lgbt and women's rights posts?

Yeah, and that's usually when I want to save a post for one reason or another (e.g. to talk about with someone on discord later). The bottom line is that the main purpose of my blog is not to post political takes or to spread awareness of anything. It is just a collection of my interests (fan stuff, bugs) and hopefully a way to share those interests with like-minded people.

I will state my views clearly for the record: I support Palestine. The ongoing genocide is heartbreaking and so is the violence against protestors. Additionally, I am against antisemitism and the harassment of Jewish people in the name of supporting Palestine. This shouldn't even need to be said.

Is your girlfriend a Zionist?

No.

Does she support Zionists?

No.

Wasn't she in the military?

Yes, years ago.

But the military is evil?

It is. She's extremely hardcore anti-war and anti-military, does not believe the US should even have an army, and actively PMs strangers on reddit to try to convince them to not make the same mistake. If they're dead set anyway, she gives them detailed advice on how to survive. Because she actually cares about the human cost of war, not the social clout gained from shunning or sneering at people who make wrongheaded choices. I have seen her doing this, seen her seeking to understand their reasons for joining so she can systematically explain—from personal experience!—why they're not going to get any of that out of the army. It is a hell of a lot more effective than bitching them out or writing callout posts or starting whisper campaigns about them. She cannot delete those years of her life no matter how much she regrets them. There is only forward. I think we can all agree on that.

But what about all those things she said. "I regret nothing, I have no qualms, VA nipple money etc."

Well you have to understand that while of generally upright character, she is a bit of a scamp. She believes she fundamentally should not have to explain herself to randos who do not know her, who have never, not once, interacted with her, who are clearly digging for dirt and will twist anything she says no matter how banal. People see what they want to see and they look for evidence to reinforce their preconceptions; they'll go so far as to make alts to join servers, cherry-pick screencaps, crop them, and conveniently fill in the rest of the narrative for curious onlookers. So she decided to exaggerate and amplify and twirl her mustache like a supervillain. Give them a show, as it were.

To be clear, I'm not sold on this strat because it makes her look cartoonishly evil to people who can't understand sarcasm and hyperbole. But her friends and I are aware of her actual beliefs from actually talking with her for more than one (1) second instead of immediately believing two mysteriously cropped screencaps from a thirdhand source, and also aware that she did not in fact do those things people imagine she did. And isn't that what matters? Real-life harm? Do you even care?

Re: screenshots/so-called proof from shakertwelve & lakesbian's "callouts"

Girlfriend addresses them here. I will also note they have spread lies about me and other people before.

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | Chapter Six

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,2k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, blood, unusual and dangerous use of a knife, revenge, violence, explicit and dirty language, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! In this chapter there will be a slight change for MC, I hope you will enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think! 💜

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

"How is she?"

The dark-haired boy lifted his eyes to Seokjin, who was staring at him with his hands in his pockets, still dressed smartly and wearing perfectly polished-toed shoes.

"They stitched her up and now they're giving her an IV, she's lost too much blood," was Jimin's laconic reply, who was leaning against the wall of the waiting room pondering what to do.

They were in a private clinic, there was no danger of awkward questions; it belonged to a cousin of Seokjin's. That was where they went when they urgently needed a doctor.

"And what are you going to do with Ester?"

"I was just about to talk about her," he broke off from the wall, "She's one of your girls, but she disrespected me, Jin."

"You don't want to kill her," Seokjin said, although it was clear from his tone that he wasn't all that interested, but Jimin shook his head and the man relaxed his shoulders; every woman present at the Dark Moon was a big, juicy source of income.

"I want to teach her what respect is for me and my orders, I won't allow just any whore to challenge a decision of mine," he said harshly.

"You're right, besides it might stir up the others to do the same in case there are further jealousies" he pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, irritated, "All right, instruct her" he gave his consent and made to turn on his heels and leave, but Jimin blocked him.

"I'll take her."

"How?" he had heard perfectly well, but he wanted to push him to be more detailed.

"You made me a proposition and this is my last answer, I'll take her."

Because the Dark Moon was a den of snakes and she would only be safe in his arms.

"I'll prepare the bow, then," smiled Jin, Jimin snorted, smiling faintly.

Then she saw him leave and his smile faded, he had a score to settle with Ester and it didn't take him long to return to the Dark Moon, Namjoon greeted him with a look of understanding.

"Hanon locked her in her room, all she did was scream and throw objects everywhere."

Just the thought of such a scene irritated the man.

"I'll give her a good reason to scream if she cares that much," he hissed, Namjoon nodded, knowing his friend, he would not go lightly.

When he entered the room that had seen better days, Jimin found a mad woman inside, messy locks fell across her red, furious face, and broken and bruised objects were scattered everywhere, victims of Ester's rage.

The woman stopped only at the sight of the man stuck on the threshold watching her; Jimin's expression was indecipherable, but his eyes were harder than ice, a detail that made the young woman's lips tighten.

Jimin took two steps inside the bedroom, closing the door behind him, turned the key already in the lock slowly, and a boulder dropped on her stomach.

"Jimin..." the nasal voice because of the hysterical crying and the punch she had received sounded whiny, which did not faze him.

"Ester" dropped the key into one of his pockets and gave it his undivided attention, "Tell me, Ester.... That stupid scene, what do you think it would have led to?"

The girl swallowed, suddenly frozen.

"I asked you nicely to take care of her, to explain things to her," continued Jimin calmly, "And instead you send her to the hospital," he chuckled without amusement.

Ester did not know what to say, she felt only cruel satisfaction in knowing that Y/N's condition was so critical as to require qualified medical attention.

The bitch had to be punished, she thought.

"How do you explain this?"

"I'm yours," asserted the woman simply, "You shouldn't have let her take my place, who is she? You don't even know her, she doesn't know what you like in bed, and even if she did she wouldn't be able to satisfy you, you've been looking for me all along," she growled through tears, Jimin raised an amused eyebrow.

Perhaps Y/N did not know what he liked in bed, but for what little he had had her, she had managed to give him an unforgettable blowjob; Ester's jealousy amused and irritated him at the same time.

Ester could claim to be his, but he certainly did not belong to her.

"I don't know how true that can be," the man crossed his legs, "You say you're mine, but I've seen you satisfy many other men before and after me...besides, who says I've only ever sought you out?" he asked with a smile, remembering vividly that he had had sex with countless other women. The fact that at the Dark Moon he had chosen Ester as his favorite had been totally random; everyone had chosen a girl and he had done the same, choosing one of the prettiest and best. He didn't think that this would make her head swell.

"You've come back to me now," remarked the woman, giving no sign of having listened to a single word Jimin said, blatantly pretending.

The boy remained impassive a few moments before opening his legs slightly.

"Come here," he patted his own powerful thigh wrapped in tight dark pants, Ester remained interdicted and guarded, making the boy snort, "Don't make me repeat myself," he hissed.

The woman took a few steps in his direction, when she saw that Jimin had no strange intentions she became braver, even going so far as to sit on the man who waited patiently for her.

"Lively little girl," he smiled sweetly, arranging a few strands behind her ear, Ester's heart beat inexorably, enchanted by the heavenly vision that was Jimin, "Repeat to me what you told me at first."

As if bewitched by the boy's charm, Ester repeated his words once more, "I am yours..." Jimin nodded, leaving a kiss on the woman's neck.

"Again, Ester," the woman threw her head back under the tender strokes of Jimin's tongue along her skin, inside she exulted in lust.

"I'm yours...!" she moaned when her intimacy came in contact with Jimin's cock, she felt the tip press against her core through the tight fabric, Ester shuddered at the idea of being able to enjoy that rapturous hardness once more and vibrated excitedly when Jimin pushed her against the bed, straddling her body.

"Say it again and again..." he whispered hoarsely, touching the intimacy of the young woman, who arched her back at the contact, thrusting her hips against his hand, which crossed the barrier of her dress to tickle her clit directly.

Long moans dispersed through the room, Ester not holding back from letting everyone know what was going on in there, as if to prove that Jimin never intended to punish her, that she would always remain his favorite.

That is, until Jimin's fingers were replaced by something icy, smooth, and hard that penetrated her slit.

She had not even noticed that the boy had retrieved the object, nor did she know where he got it from or what it was.

Maybe it was-

"Stop moving like a bitch in heat," Jimin ordered her, Ester frowned, she was about to cum, why would she stop-, "Stop if you don't want me to slice you, Ester" was his final warning.

"Jimin, what-"

"Go ahead, say again that you're mine-until you yourself realize the bullshit you keep babbling," he hissed, scrutinizing her cruelly with a derisive smile, his hand made the object penetrate deeper, which caused Ester to squint.

Jimin's words confused her-what game was he playing? And most importantly...

"What do you have in your hand, Jimin?"

"Are you referring to the thing you're sucking up so easily? Hmm... in my opinion you can get there," he said vaguely getting no answer, he huffed, "Come on... you always asked me to give it to you, which is impossible given the rules here at the Dark Moon," he chuckled, holding the base tightly.

At those words Ester blanched.

The switchblade that Jimin always carried with him.

"Jimin... this is a joke, isn't it?" she asked tensely, the boy replied by pressing the knife handle harder against her walls, just a simple gesture and the blade would snap like a spring.

"A whore without a pussy would be worthless," reasoned Jimin, there Ester had confirmation that the man was serious, she began to tremble and break into a cold sweat.

If before pleasure was the only thing she felt, now terror had encompassed every fiber of her body.

"Jimin, please..." she cried tremblingly, but the boy shushed her.

"Your arrogance has always disgusted me, Ester.... but your disobedience is the worst thing about you, I've always let it go because it was pleasurable to fuck you, but now I can't see what attracted me to you anymore," he spat, "Do you want it fast or slow?" he asked mellifluously, smiling fearfully.

Ester quickly denied with her head, she was a lake of tears and unrestrained sobs, "Don't! I-I won't give you any more trouble, I swear, I swear!" she screamed breathlessly, unable to move her body because of the terror she was feeling.

The man after a few moments moved away, withdrawing his weapon accordingly, Ester relaxed slightly before she felt a hissing sound cleave the air and something liquid dripping from one of her cheeks.

Wide-eyed she brought a trembling hand to her face and with a horrible foreboding saw blood, she was breathless when she realized what had happened.

Jimin watched uninterestedly as the woman's despair, her face scarred, ran to the mirror to ascertain her condition, he saw her collapse on her own knees amid sobs and cries, the only thing he felt was annoyance at that scene which he said was ridiculous. She had touched Y/N's face, he had done the same to hers. Permanently.

"You'll be able to satisfy clients with perversions like that, too, aren't you happy?"

He walked out of the room as he entered it, meeting Namjoon's gaze.

"I hope you haven’t damaged it too much."

Jimin shrugged, "Clients care about what's between her legs, she was unsightly even before," Namjoon rolled his eyes.

"I'll go get someone to treat her, she's screaming more than before," he hissed holding the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers.

Jimin patted him twice before heading out of the brothel, ready to finish the job he had started.

The man cast a glance at the woman sitting in the back seat, she was still dazed from the medication that prevented her from feeling pain, she stood staring out of the tinted windows.

A large medical patch covered her entire cheek, just as a bandage wrapped her head tightly and securely.

At her side Taehyung made sure she did not attempt any strange moves; the boy was dressed in casual clothes unlike the young woman who was wearing only pajamas and slippers.

It was nighttime, Jimin had made sure to pick her up in a safe time frame for everyone so as not to raise even the slightest doubt.

"Where do you think I'm taking you?" broke the silence Jimin, Y/N barely lifted her head.

"To the Dark Moon, that's where I belong, isn't it?" she replied apathetically, a slow smile lapped the young male's face.

"You got it wrong this time, honey," he said, leaving her interjected.

"What do you mean?"

"I found a better use for you," he chuckled, almost breathing in the fear of the poor girl, who upset cast a glance at Taehyung.

She hadn't known him long, but in the clinic when she was surrounded by doctors, he had given her the impression that he was a calm and lucid man, or so she thought, although she remembered perfectly well that if Jimin wasn't there, then Taehyung himself would be there to give her that "checkup."

"Calm down, kitten, if he wanted to hurt you, he would have already done so, right?" he affirmed, instantly procuring a glare of lightning from Y/N.

"He did hurt me," she huffed inviperately, squeezing herself into her seat.

Jimin looked at her from the mirror, studying the woman's emaciated contours, her lips tightened into a line were a sign of her strange inner turmoil.

He did not want to get to the point of hurting her again, yet the way he had been raised left no room for pity, if she tried any bullshit he would pay for every single consequence.

After a few kilometers the car stopped in front of a seemingly very luxurious apartment establishment, a garage opened up for them and Jimin wasted no time in getting in, Taehyung on the other hand did not lose sight of every corner of the street, although from the angelic faces they remained gentlemen of the underworld. Seokjin as already specified had his hands full just about everywhere, dealing not only in his brothel - a source of more than excellent income - but also in dealing and often murder for hire.

There were not exactly a few of their enemies.

Y/N squared off with a bad feeling the other cars present-where had they taken her?

"Get her out," ordered Jimin, Taehyung opened his door first and going around he allowed the woman to get out as well, holding her firmly by the arm, not only to prevent her from escaping - she had nowhere to go given the enclosed space they were in - but also because he was unsure of her strength, the young woman in fact was unsteady on her own legs.

Out of the corner of his eye Jimin noticed that Taehyung was about to take her in his arms, which inexplicably irritated him. He knew that his friend had no interest in the girl, but that did not stop him from harshly jerking the other away from her to take her personally in his arms stunning not only Taehyung, but Y/N herself, who tried to shrink as much as possible under his dark gaze. The man's grip was firm, but she felt herself falling into the arms of her tormentor.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked with a knot in her throat; Jimin did not answer immediately.

First he climbed stairs that led them to a larger door, from that opened a long, dimly lit hallway and then more stairs to climb until they reached a landing with an elevator.

When they entered and the doors closed he finally spoke.

"You are in your new home."

A thousand questions poured into Y/N's head, confused and agitated. Had she been sold? So, is this how it was going to end?

She had basically ended up like her sister, she thought sorrowfully, regretting several times the absurd idea of looking for a similar job to support herself.

"More to the point, you are in your new home, yours and Jimin's," Taehyung chuckled, as the elevator doors opened to show a series of numbered, digitally locking doors.

"What?"

Taehyung typed a code on the keypad on the door with the number 7, which opened with a soft, almost imperceptible click.

The first thing the woman saw was a spacious, modern living room with an L-shaped sofa of soft dark leather that drew all the attention to itself.

"What does that mean?"

Jimin made a sign to his friend, who understood instantly. He wanted to be alone with Y/N.

"I'm off, see you soon kitten," he greeted her before disappearing, carefully closing the door behind him, the resulting sound no longer sounding so soft to Y/N's ears.

She felt she was being teased.

"What does that mean?" she repeated more somberly, Jimin took a seat on the sofa, crossing his legs in a pose that screamed elegance and power.

"I bought you, that's what it means."

It was a lie, Seokjin had made a gift of her to Jimin, but the latter with that statement tried to give himself an intimidating aura, buying a person after all was not something everyday, one had to be a powerful and influential person to do so, the man wanted her to feel fear in his presence.

She was stunned, "Why would you do that? You hate me, you find me useless! Is this another way to torture me?" she hissed with tears in her eyes, "You made me lose everything, what more do you want from me?"

She was broken.

She had run away from a monster to save her sister, but she had lost her and had been humiliated in more ways than one by Jimin and his former lover, if she could have ended it to avoid more suffering she would have taken the chance.

"I don't hate you, silly," sighed Jimin as he took off his jacket, "You irritate me with your stubborn attitude, but I don't hate you...it's other people I reserve my poison for, it's precious, it's the fuel that gets me going, my beautiful girl" he got up from his seat to go pour himself a few shots of vanilla rum, the crystal mini bar displayed his small but expensive collection of drinks, they were mostly classic brands, Jimin must have been an experienced drinker.

He sipped slowly from his glass, the plump, glossy lips matched perfectly with the transparent rim, soaking up the amber liquid, the piercing tapped lightly against the crystalline surface. Y/N imagined the sinful taste they had, wondered why she had not met him in his angel form, why she was given the devil, after the hell she had already been accustomed to.

"And then..." he continued, "I wouldn't let you stay at the Dark Moon a minute longer, I've already told you that but maybe it's better to refresh your memory," he murmured as he approached, the girl took small steps back, nothing compared to the male's two strides, "I won't let any other man get his hands on you, I want you and consequently you belong to me," he said casting a languid glance at the woman's lips.

"And what will you do in case you get tired of me?" she provoked him.

Jimin's eyes darkened, "What should I do with a stupid little girl like you?" he asked, not answering her question.

Neither of them would have liked the answer.

He took a lock of her soft hair in his fingers, bringing it to his nose he inhaled its light fragrance, the hospital had turned the girl off. He decided to leave her alone for the time being, she needed to recover, and from her thin, depressed appearance he guessed it would take quite some time.

"Here is a room with a bathroom for you, you will also find clean clothes, you may go," he turned away from her, who resumed breathing normally. Jimin was lethal and she feared it was not for one simple reason.

It may have sounded absurd, but no matter how much her instincts screamed at her to escape from the clutches of that monster, a much darker part of her could not stop pointing out its bewitching and sinful aspect.

Hers was a desire that had to be kept silent and hidden inside the closet because it was shameful and sick.

[redgoldsparks]

June Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe read by Matthew Blaney 

This is one of the most gripping and well-researched nonfiction books I've read in a long time. Keefe draws on many research trips, interviews, news paper archives, and personal encounters to tell several interwoven narratives of violence and protest during the time of The Troubles in Northern Ireland. He follows the story of the infamous Price sisters, women who joined the IRA while in college, helped plant many bombs, and became hunger strikers after receiving hefty prison sentences; Jean McConville, a widowed mother of ten who was dragged from her home and disappeared by the IRA; Brenden Hughes, a commanding office of the IRA who escaped assassination attempts and prison, who committed a huge amount of violence but ultimately became disillusioned with what he had done; Gerry Adams, who claims he was never an IRA office despite massive evidence to the contrary, who helped negotiate the peace treaty before launching a successive political career; and many more. I highly recommend this book, especially to anyone wrestling with the moral question of violent versus nonviolent resistant, and what the long, messy process of building peace can look like, at least in one specific place and time.

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata translated by Ginney Tapley Takemori read by Nancy Wu

Keiko Furukura has never fit in with the others around her. Early in elementary school she learned to keep her mouth shut because people often found the things she said (which felt logical and obvious to her) deeply upsetting. But at age 18, Keiko applied for a job at a convenience store and found her life's calling. The store is the only place where she feels really comfortable, needed, useful, and able to interact easily with others inside the routines of customer service. When the book opens Keiko is 36 and has been working the same low level job for her entire adult life. She has no desire for change but others around her are beginning to pressure her more and more to pursue a "normal life", that is, marriage and a better paying job. Keiko can be easily read as an autistic, asexual character; I really enjoyed how her perspective on life was written, even when I enjoyed less the actual things going on around her. A whiny, sleezy man takes up a lot of space in the second half of the story, but I found the ending very hopeful.

How to Love by Alex Norris 

Short, sweet, and insightful. Norris brings the humor of their "Oh No" comic series to this guide to feelings and relationships, but mixed with deep compassion. The visual metaphors are hilarious and perfect.

Becoming Who We Are: Real Stories About Growing Up Trans by Sammy Lisel and Hazel Newlevant and others 

A wonderful collection of short comics about trans people with different stories, experiences, jobs, and dreams. Each story is illustrated by a different artist which gives each tale its own voice. An accessible and affirming collection, especially for young readers!

Fool’s Quest by Robin Hobb read by Elliot Hill

This book picks up right after the traumatic kidnapping at the end of the previous volume, but packs a surprising amount of big plot twists in before the journey to recover the young people even begins. This book suffers from some middle book of a trilogy pacing issues; the action beats of the story sometimes falling at awkward spots, and the story continuing past what might have felt like its more natural ending. That didn't stop me from being RIVETED during the entire 33 hour audiobook. I am so obsessed with these characters. I feel the weight of everything they've been through, the six decades of in-story time, and the consequences and ripple effects of everything that has gone before. This volume continues to push a running theme of very gender-ambiguous characters; there are now two characters who defy an easy binary, and Fitz is finally coming to terms with that in one of his oldest and dearest friends. I'm excited and slightly terrified to head into the 16th and final book of this series soon!

Vera Bushwack by Sig Burwash 

This book is simultaneously a fairly quiet story of a gender-nonconforming queer living with just a dog on a piece of rural property, working on building a cabin from scratch; and also an ambitious exploration of gendered power fantasies. At the start, Drew is learning how to operate a chainsaw to cut trees and clear property from a rural neighbor. Flashbacks and phone calls reveal how Drew got her dog, some of the shitty men she's had to deal with, a past lover who helped her cut a trail to the river, and a tomboy childhood. These scenes of rough realism are interrupted when Drew jumps on her dirt bike or revs the chainsaw and her fantasies spin out across the page, full of wild horses, monster trucks, naked cowboys, symbols of complete and total freedom. This book is deceptively complicated, full of bold creative choices that I really appreciated, even if they didn't all work for me. I have a feeling this story is going to stick in my head for a long time.

In the Form of a Question written and read by Amy Schneider 

A very engaging memoir from Jeopardy champion Amy Schneider, born and raised in Dayton, Ohio, who moved to Oakland, California as an adult and never left. Each chapter title is a question and cover topics thematically rather than chronologically. Schneider is very forthcoming and honest, writing about everything from her transition, her open marriage, her first sexual experiences, recreational drug use, polyamory, community theater, relationship with her parents and more. She has a humorous and yet compassionate voice, relating tales of her hatred of boy scouts, ADD, and failures to understand her own gender without belittling her younger self. Towards the ends of the book she writes of her experience of fame and what she got out of her time on Jeopardy saying that stepping into the public eye as a trans woman and being met mostly with support and love changed her life as much as the 1.5 million she won over a 40 game winning streak and various other tournaments. If you are a fan of Jeopardy, or just curious, this is a fun listen.

Ruth Asawa: An Artist Takes Shape by Sam Nakahira 

Ruth Asawa was born in Southern California to parents who had immigrated from Japan before WWII. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, her whole family was displaced to the internment camps, loosing their farm, all of their farm animals, and nearly everything else they owned. Ruth finished high school inside a camp in Arkansas but was able to leave when she apply to and was accepted into college. She was faced with discrimination and racism, but eventually she was able to pursue her dream of becoming an artist at the experimental Black Mountain College in North Carolina. She studied under influential and well-known teachers who helped her find her own creative voice. She also met the love of her life there. The couple eventually relocated back to California, which had just legalized interracial marriage. Sam Nakahira captures Asawa's courage, determination, and incredible talent in tender line art with delicate grey scale washes. Asawa's best known work, her innovative wire sculptures, are gorgeously rendered. Asawa's insistence on treating every activity of her life, from gardening to parenting to drawing to sculpting, as creative, is a good reminder for me and every artist that living itself can be a creative practice.

People From My Neighborhood by Hiromi Kawakami translated by Ted Goossen 

A charmingly strange set of interconnected stories about a neighborhood in Japan full of unusual characters. The unnamed child narrator tells us of the middle aged woman who runs a karaoke bar out of her house, the old man with two shadows, the child who is passed from house to house by lottery because his parents cannot support him, a diplomat who might be an alien who no one ever seen, the arrival of a mountain of sand, a school built of candy, a girl with prophetic dreams, and more. The stories escalate in weirdness over the course of the book and also introduce more reoccurring characters. The short 4-6 pages chapters made it compulsively readable. I had a great time with this, despite the lack of an overarching plot.

The Contradictions by Sophie Yanow

At age twenty, after a bad breakup, the author signed up for a study abroad program in Paris. Lonely and soul searching in a foreign country, Yanow spots a girl riding a fixed gear bike. Yanow is a committed bicyclist and chases the girl down to learn she is also an exchange student, also recently broken up with, a committed anarchist and a shoplifter. Yanow and her new friend decide to take a poorly planned trip to Amsterdam, intending to hitchhike the whole way. About as many things go wrong as you might expect. In beautifully minimalist black and white panels, Yanow perfectly captures the naivete and first political awakenings of a young college student trying to seem cool and so taking risks and hiding passions in order to impress someone new. A quick read and a master class in understatement.

Little Weirds written and read by Jenny Slate 

There was a lot I enjoyed in this memoir, as well as some aspects that worked less well for me. I enjoyed Slate's writing style and the focus on small moments of beauty and reclaiming one's right to live fully in one's body, acknowledging all of its human needs for softness and love. I liked her whimsy and sense of humor and kindness. I do wish that some of the chapters had been slightly more grounded in some of the facts and loose timeline of Slate's life. I didn't know anything about her before starting the book and it took me until almost the last chapter to learn she was the middle of three sisters; a line earlier on had made me think she was maybe a twin. It became clear that she was writing through the process of emotionally recovering from a divorce, but I only learned from wikipedia that her ex-husband had also been a major creative collaboration partner. I wonder if she expected most people reading this book to already be familiar with her biography? Regardless, don't go into this book looking for facts; go instead for a nonlinear reclamation of some simple but hard-won emotional truths and skip any chapter that isn't speaking to you.

People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks, read by Edwina Wren

This book tells a fictional history of a real manuscript- the Sarajevo Haggadah, a beautifully illuminated Hebrew manuscript created in fifteenth-century Spain. The frame narrative follows an Australian manuscript conservation specialist, Hanna Heath, hired to re-bind the pages in the mid 1990s for a Bosnian museum that until extremely recently was in the middle of a war zone. Alternating chapters dip into contentious periods of Europe's history, usually moments of high tension between religious groups (WWII, Vienna at the turn of the century, the Spanish Inquisition in Venice, the banishment of Jews from Spain in 1492, Muslim/Christian conflicts in Seville in the 1480s) and trace how the Haggaadah managed to survive fire, flood, blood, war, and exile in the hands of many different people. This is an ambitious book that mostly achieved is goals; I got through the 14 hour audiobook very quickly. One unfortunate side effect of the narrative structure is that I as the reader didn't spend more than a few hours with any of the characters, and so didn't develop a particularly deep emotional connection with any of them, including Hanna, the lead. My rating is more of a 3.5 or 3.75 rounded up. But still, I appreciate Brooks eye for capturing just most exciting or tense moment from a historical era and will likely try a few more of her books in the future.

Punk Rock Karaoke by Bianca Xunise 

Three friends, recently graduated from high school, struggle to keep their punk band together through the demands of early adulthood. College applications, jobs, family obligations, and makeout partners are all knocking on the door, demanding to be let in. Will Ariel, Michele, and Gael be able to stay true to their creative spirits and to each other? I had a great time with this fast-paced, sweaty summer, friendship-focused book even though the majority of the punk music references went right over my head.

Parasol Against The Axe by Helen Oyeyemi 

Helen Oyeyemi continues to baffle and dazzle me. This one is set in and narrated by Prague, which is a tricky city full of its own complicated whims and desires. Into this self-aware city enter several women: Sofie and Polly, an engaged couple, celebrating their bachlorette weekend together with friends. Hero, a somewhat estranged friend of Sofie's, who come to Prague mostly to avoid a piece of registered mail which is chasing her down. And Thea, a woman willing to commit violence for the right price, on a hired revenge mission that happens to intersect with a dark episode of Sofie and Hero's past. Does that sound straight forward? It isn't. Oh yes and there's also a book, Paradoxical Undressings which tells a different story to every person who cracks open its covers. This book allows Oyeyemi to tell many nested and fantastical anecdotes from Prague's Communist past. As with most Oyeyemi books, there are a few threads I was left scratching my head over, but I had such a good time on the ride that I don't mind. I'll just have to read it again and see if I catch them (assuming it's the same book when I open it a second time!) 

The Sacrificers Vol 1 by Rick Remender, Max Fiumara and Dave McCaig 

The art is absolutely stunning, but the story is a bit too cruel and dark for me to really enjoy. This book takes the concept of the child sacrifice of Omelas and expands it out into a whole fantasy world, in which gods maintain their power through the consumption of innocents. The stunning color panel carried me though the first volume but I'm unlikely to pick up a second book.

Brides of High Hill by Nghi Vo read by Cindy Kay

Another satisfying installment in the Singing Hills Cycle! In this one, Cleric Chih accompanies a young woman and her family to the remote estate of her prospective husband. But all is not as it seems. The potential husband looks at least twice as old as the young woman, and he has a son shut up in a pagoda and kept drugged in his gardens. Everyone on the estate is in some kind of danger, but the secrets are thicker and deeper than even the Cleric can guess.

[darkonekrisrewrite]

Ever notice that villains are held to higher standards than the heroes both in the series and often the fandom?

Where if someone is labelled a villain they must be a saint who has never so much as raised their voice at anyone, or they'll be treated like an irredeemable monster.

But if they get the hero label, they can constantly threaten murder and assaulting people for the pettiest shit (aka Bakugou), endanger people and cause mass property damage (Bakugou again, and Endeavor, he literally didn't care if he killed a vigilante in the sister series Vigilantes) or break the law for shits and giggles (Miriko, Vigilantes, repeatedly going to fight clubs as a student just for fun, which at least back then her opponents were somewhat consenting).

The heroes are excessively violent often being worse than the actual 'villains' Does anyone remember the double assault of that purse snatcher in the first episode? Including Mt. Lady violently attacking them, a purse snatcher, after they had already been apprehended (And literally contained) by Kamui Woods.

Deku violently attacks Gentle Criminal and La Brava, who he knows are non-violent, and very appearance-based in their crimes, cause of oh no the school festival for the school that has been continuously failing to protect their students might get cancelled. He never made any attempt to tell them what will happen if they crash it, just immediately jumped to 'I better break their bones'

Hawks doesn't even pause his conversation with Endeavor when once again violently apprehending a streaker (in the general public, this wasn't targetting individuals or children). He could of easily just kept the trench coat closed and questioned them, but the heroes ALWAYS jump to violence and escalation.

I didn't even need to use the League/Front or comb through the chapters to get three blantant examples in the main series alone

And as with cops in the real world (and a large part of why I take this so seriously), they are the ones who have received training to deal with conflict. They are the ones that should be expected to be better, as they have supposedly been trained

---

Recently in my A Moral Scapegoat For Who? I got in a bit of a debate, where the other person immediately was going in with 'well the villains aren't actually deep' I never said in that post that the villains were blameless or deep, I was literally talking about using AFO as a scapegoat for them, my point about the villains was they are right (and I thought the following thought was obvious enough that I didn't have to say it but "and they shouldn't be, so what are you going to do?". Second, while later in the debate they say they also think the heroes were shallowly written, they only held the villains in my pretty neutral (all things considered) rant accountable in their first reblog. But we had 1 volume focusing on the villains, and 30+ focusing on the heroes. So even if we agree with them on they are equally shallow/deep (for sake of arguement) the villains (specifically the League) got the same amount done, with only one volume and small tidbits fragmented across the rest of this very long series, that the heroes took over 30 to do. One would typically expect the protagonists to have more characterization than the villains.

In the actively antagonistic, we constantly see "Oh but their suffering doesn't justify their actions! OwO" Which once again as I have said before What the fuck are/were they supposed to do? Second, care to hold the heroes to even a fraction of that standard? Endeavor openly doesn't care if he kills a known and well liked Vigilante if he (the Crawler) gets in the way of killing the villain he's going after, he did not hesitant to kill during the nomu attack, and his high-end battle, where the nomu was fully capable of speech. That is just some of his shit, on the job, I haven't in this whole thing even touched on his dispicable off-duty activities.

The villains are taking their actions from a place of being disadvantage, the heroes a place of extreme power.

Part of why I like the villains is that they are exaggerating how bad they are, so they are either delivering on what they've said, or they are doing better. The heroes are lying about how good they are and expecting constant praise, even if they aren't demanding the praise be personal they are demanding praise. Deku seeing the UA press conference after they literally just had a student kidnapped, multiple injured, at least one child from fucking elementary school almost killed, is shocked and disturbed that the media would dare critise them.

I have noticed that, all the time.

All of this is very true and very well written.

So much so that I don't think there's anything I can, or need to, add to it.

👍👍 ♾️

[reiderwriter]

Thoughts on unsub spencer reid fics?

Hi! I'm not sure if you wanted more of a general answer or meant this as a headcanon or gen request, so I'm just going to go purely on vibes and answer this as a question.

Spencer as an Unsub - Thoughts

Disclaimer: Anything negative said here is absolutely not an insult towards any specific writer or fic. I don't really read unsub Reid fics, due to facts I'm about to get into, so I'm really not knowledgeable enough to be throwing shade 💀 This is personal opinion!

I personally would need a lot of convincing to believe in an "unsub" Spencer Reid.

In Criminal Minds, it's clear from very early into the show that Spencer is very empathetic with certain unsubs. The entire team have their own types of cases that they get more personally involved in (Morgan and cases involving child victims, JJ and apparent suicides, Emily and quote unquote battered women cases) but Spencer is the only one whose personal attachment to cases leaves him empathising with the unsub instead of the victim.

He's the only member of the team who could have seen himself committing violent acts the way unsubs do had his life veered down a different path. And, based on Spencer's background and the psychology of the show, he's probably right to be concerned.

He's a white male, at the peak of the show in his mid to late thirties, with a background of abuse and a family history of mental illness. By season four, we know he's highly skilled with a gun, and by season 12/13, we see that he can be pushed to violence when he is at the very edge of his limitations.

And then they make his character so intrinsically moral that you never question him ever again.

To a certain extent, Criminal Minds is about the perpetual cycles of abuse that human kind can inflict upon itself. Many of the unsubs were once victims, some of them perhaps still are. The heroes of the story are characters who have been able to break the cycle.

Spencer is neglected as a child. He has an absent father abandon him, a mother with schizophrenia who does physically beat him when she is having an episode. He is bullied heavily in school for his high IQ and his lack of social skills. But he is shown to deeply care for him mother and empathise with her deeply instead of coming to resent her like many of the unsubs in that situation. He resents his father, for sure, but instead turns that resentment into drive, leading him to "just keep getting more PhDs." And his personal experiences with bullying allow him to empathise with the unsubs that have gone through similar circumstances.

So I don't think canonically, Spencer is ever in danger of becoming an unsub. He deeply cares about the world and the people around him, and whilst he does have a kill count on the show, he either expresses deep remorse at having to oull the trigger, or it is in the best interest for everyone involved.

Basically, all that to say: I think Unsub Spencer Reid in fanfiction has to be written incredibly carefully, or it runs the risk of being very out of character. To be clear, I'm not too bothered about characters being slightly out of character in fics because it happens. I've probably written a lot of stuff where Spencer is OOC, too. And that's fine.

I do kind of draw the line at grabbing random unsub traits from the show and giving them to Spencer for a fic. For example, Spencer would never end up as a sexual sadist. He probably wouldn't be a spree killer, either. Not that anyone wants my writing advice, but if you're writing an unsub Spencer fic, think about his background and the profiles they generally give for the kind of signature/ crimes you're about to give him.

If this was a request, I apologise for the misunderstanding. But here's a little hint at what I might do with a general "unsub Reid" request.

☆ It would most likely take place after the events of Season 12/13.

☆ It's angst or nothing.

☆ The basic plot: Reid's headaches come back after taking a blow in the field. He tries seeking help for it but can't find any relief. On his next case, because of his chronic pain, he makes a mistake that gets his teammate, the reader, shot. The unsub escapes, but the reader falls into a coma. When it looks like reader is not going to pull through, he tracks down the unsub and beats his to death after a brawl. Massive overkill. The reader pulls through that night, and he feels no guilt for getting that monster off the street. But each time the readers health takes a turn, or they require a new surgery, he is compelled to go back out there and track down and kill another serial killer until the reader finally wakes up.

☆ I don't think it'd be very well received because there would be no morally grey smut. This is some tragic angst shit only, lmao.

☆ please don't put a request for this in my inbox. If I feel like writing it later, I might, I don't have the brain power right now, though 💀

That's all I've got right now, but I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on unsub Reid :)

[damianbugs]

Honestly I would love a Jason Todd comic that focused on confronting his world view, like yes it's easy to put a bullet through the head of every criminal but, the world isn't so black and white, sometimes criminals either have no choice/it goes deeper than that. Similar to how utrh questions Bruce's morality (nothing really came of it) I want a comic where Jason's world view is also questioned.

He really has a lot of potential but idk DC keeps fumbling. I'd like to know your thoughts on how you would handle a Jason storyline, I love your metas.

oh how i mourn the disappointing horror of everything under the red hood could have been... for both bruce and jason!

if i were to handle a jason comic, i would disregard everything ever written after under the red hood and related stories. as much as i enjoy jason joining the batfam and rebuilding bridges in fanon works, i much prefer jason becoming a permanent member of the gotham rouge gallery and staying batman's kind-of-enemy in canon.

what i think utrh was setting up was Jason Todd, Ultimate Foe of Bruce Wayne. jason is a incredibly smart and cunning character, who planned to the smallest detail in order to get his desired outcome. nothing he did was by accident. but more importantly, his unwavering and concrete code can only be rivalled by batman, and so, they will constantly be at odds. if utrh taught us anything, it is that jason and bruce are always going to be plagued by what they lost in each other, and as a result, will never find their way back to what they once were.

they will now forever exist as consequences of each other, no matter what.

by doing this to his story, jason finally has the chance to grow as his own character, independent from the batfam;

one of the biggest problems with how dc is handling jason is that they want him to be this angry, violent and unsociable person while also trying to convince everyone that he is not angry and not violent and very sociable with the batfam. this causes the disparity in his writing, either with inconsistencies or just downright character assassination.

if he was kept as gotham's anti-hero, then this gives him the freedom to find his own code that is no longer dependent on batman's overarching one. utrh jason kills indiscriminately because it's what solves the problem that batman's never been able to fix: crime. jason, who is young, and betrayed, and for all that he is intelligent, he is naive and claims he's the long term solution to batman's short term one. unfortunately, killing criminals to stop criminals from existing works until, like you said, comes a situation where the world isn't so black and white.

jason knows this, probably better than anyone. he comes from poverty and homelessness, lost his parents to drugs and sickness and violence. many of his stories as robin highlight how, unlike batman, jason is able to see people for who they are and not just their actions, offering a empathetic insight that batman, for all he is kind, can never truly grasp.

as red hood, i think a combination of the lazarus pit, his training, and his murderer, batman's seemingly disregard for him, how the world moves on while jason is stuck, has made him forget this kindness he had in him. that he still has. so we need a story where it is pulled out of him and he is forced to battle what he's always known.

i think this question of jason's morality was what zdarsky was TRYING to do with Cheer (Batman Urban Legends #1-#6), but it fell flat due to the terrible portrayal of Robin Jason. The story itself of jason killing someone and bruce reacting to it left a lot to be desired (as always). not to mention how out of all the criminals jason could've been shown to kill, having it be a dealer who is also an addict is rather... tone deaf on jason's own moral code. the killing was also not calculated or "for the greater good" and was instead a rage-filled thoughtless killing which, again, is a gross misunderstanding of jason's moral code and intelligence.

so we almost had it, a story where jason has to fight someone more stubborn than batman — himself. as a character in batman's rouge gallery, this horrifying realisation of who he shares that title with, the determination to be better not because of batman, but because jason himself has realised he can do more by doing less of what he's been doing.

i don't know if i would rule out jason killing people entirely, since it is such an integral deconstruction of who he was as robin and who he is now as red hood, but i would like to think he changes how he holds his weapons. less of "i kill because it's the only way to fix this" and more "i kill because sometimes it's the best thing i can do to fix this". a very subtle but still problematic change that isolates him from ever joining the batfam.

it might seem sort of cruel, that my ideal jason story makes him lonely and more of a villian, but i think that is the sort of tragic path his character is forced to adopt. he made this bed when he returned to gotham with retribution in his plans and hurt in his heart, and now he must lie in.

there is always the potential for him to be happy, to have his family and friends and be the sort of hero he was as a teenager — but to get there, it needs to get worse before it can get better. that's what dc failed with jason, skipping the internal turmoil and drama and harsh reality checks and skipping straight to the part where he has a family again.

plus, batman's rouge gallery teach lessons to batman. poison ivy, harley, two face, strange, riddler and (annoyingly) even the joker play crucial roles to who batman is as a hero and constantly force him to challenge his code.

jason teaches the biggest lesson of all — that batman is bruce wayne. he had the potential to be the driving force that changed bruce's character forever, because red hood is a reflection that batman created all on his own, not by being batman, but by being bruce wayne. and this fact would have given jason the chance to be more than just that.

[asheurbanipal]

If I have your wife, then kill me and eat me whole

on A03

<<Previous Episode : Next Episode>>

Summary:

As Logan and Wade move out of their honeymoon phase, more complex relationship issues emerge. For Wade, it's a surge of jealousy. A jealousy that Logan is doing everything in his power not to reflect back, reigning in its destructive power. It takes a harrowing encounter with a bolt cutter to get them on the same page.

Deadpool/Wolverine

Explicit

Words: 7044

One-shot in series

Content: angst, oral, jealousy, violence, mild torture. kidnapping

Should have gone to the gay bar. Those vibes look immaculate over there.

Wade laid his hands loosely around a chipped highball glass and a bottle of the shittiest beer imaginable, the bar dark against his back. He ran through the last few days, double checking everything off the list.

Day one: recon. No issue. Their security was garbage. 

Day two: copy the data. Easy. Just slap that bitch on a flashdrive. 

Day three: flash drive delivery to a drop location but not before making a copy to pass off to the X-Men. Not that the client knew about that part. 

Day four: attacked by a group of ninja? Samurai? Some kind of a fighting force all in black with a weird overtone of anti-Asian stereotyping. They were clearly pissed off about the whole "stealing information" thing, and he and Logan kind of accidentally killed them all before finding out the details. 

Oops.

And not even any hand-written letters laying out revenge plans to scavenge from a corpse.

In order to do mercenary work while still upholding the moral standards of the X-Men, Logan had a set of rules and compromises to follow if he was going to join Wade on a job. No politics. Nothing that harmed a pro-mutant organization. Nothing that got in the way of scientific progress (that was a special request from Hank). The X-Men got a copy of any data obtained during corporate espionage. They may not need it, at the moment, but knowledge was power. 

And as few corpses as possible with the ideal number being zero. 

Oops, again.

I'll take the heat on that one with Mr. Lazer and Wheels. 

If Logan slipped up too much on a mission or let Wade get too far afield, they might lose access to the little cottage on the edge of the mansion property. Xavier, at some point, had conceived of a version of the school that was a little more…general? Something like that? And that meant non-mutant teachers, maybe? Wade was still unclear on the reasoning, just that it meant there were little two-room cabins scattered at the far extents of the grounds. These had been offered as a place for him and Logan to live as long as they behaved.

It had been very hard to behave. 

They had been able to get a drop-off from the Blackbird on its way to whatever business, but they had to drive back over the next two days. They had taken off right after dealing with the vaguely racist commandos, so they were still dressed in their suits from the neck down. Logan needed a "goddamn drink" before they settled in for the night at the nearby shit-fuck motel. The only place that would take cash and not ask questions. No credit cards when someone was on your ass. 

And Logan had pulled him into this place. Dark. Depressing. Okay, yeah, maybe perfect, honestly. Wade slammed back a swig from his bottle, then rolled it along its bottom edge. 

A body dropped onto the barstool next to him. Wade gave the guy half a glance but didn't linger. He didn't look like someone out to kill him. Not a recognizable antagonist. Kind of weird that he sat right there, but then people were allowed to be weird in a perfectly mundane fashion. 

Still…

He flicked a knife on the inside of his wrist and waited for shit to get stupid. 

"You here alone?" the fucking weirdo asked. This time Wade actually looked at him. Big guy, soft and jowly, trucker cap on backwards, greasy with a sort of mullet thing happening. Patchy, gross-ass goatee. Just a real mess of a man. 

"No, here with my boyfriend. But he's taking a piss." Wade tapped the edge of the glass of Wild Turkey that he was guarding for Logan. 

"Boyfriend?" Gross-dude took a swig of his Coors Lite. 

"Yeah. He's The Wolverine. The X-Man Wolverine."

"I'm sure he is." They guy leaned in, moving his body into Wade's space. 

"No, I mean that literally. And he will kick your ass." Wade flexed his wrist, tipping his knife into place. 

Gross-dude dropped his hand from the bar then started sliding it across Wade's thigh. 

"Maybe you give my little wolverine a try?"

Oh that is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard.

Wade twitched the knife. He saw the image in his head, blade through the man's hand into his thigh. His reaction would be worth the pain and annoyance of repairing his suit.

Then out of the corner of his eye, the bathroom door opened. 

Oh no let Logan do it. That'll be hilarious. 

#####

What an absolute nightmare of a job. 

And now some asshole had his hand on Wade's thigh. He knew that was Deadpool, right? That he was about twenty seconds away from massive amounts of pain? 

But Wade wasn't doing anything. PTSD reaction? Freeze response?

No, Wade was fucking with him, probably. Some kind of weird goof. Better to step in before the guy got knocked down and didn't wake up again. He moved across the room to Wade's other side, slid a thumb through a loop on the back of Wade's suit, and plucked the worst bourbon he'd ever had up from the ring of Wade's arms.

"Hey, babe, are we ready to go soon?" They hadn't opened a tab, paying in cash, so they could just leave if this was going to be a problem.

"Yeah, I was just talking to my new friend." Wade's eyes narrowed at him in annoyance. Logan glanced down to see the man's hand slowly retreating. He had gotten the message. They were good to go. The man started backing away, hands up. 

But Wade kept looking at him. Then back at Logan. Then back at the man as he moved away. Then back at Logan. There was something there, like he was attempting to communicate without words. He could barely communicate with his words, so this wasn't effective. 

"Really?" Wade finally said.

"What?" Logan took another sip of his drink. 

"Fucking…fine." 

The mad had made it back to his group of friends. Wade broke from Logan's light hook on his suit and took two steps to close the gap. With a single downward motion, he slammed one of his wrist knives into the guy's shoulder. Nothing vital, but something that would hurt like a sonofabitch going in and coming out. The guy spun around, falling back against the hightop behind him.

"It was a joke!" he gasped. "Hundred bucks for whoever pretended to hit on you."

"Oh. So you have to pretend? Not hot enough for a truck-stop impulse buy Billy Ray Cyrus?" 

Logan hooked his arm under Wade's. There was a stack of cash on the table; the payout for the bet. He snatched it and tucked it into his belt. 

"Payment for me not letting him kick your asses," Logan growled. "Wade, let's go." He dragged him across the room.

"Consent motherfuckers!" Wade barked as Logan managed to wrestle him through the door. They stumbled out onto the sidewalk, something saccharine and poppy but tantalizingly addictive drifting from the neon-colored club across the road. 

Their motel was right down the street, a planned walking distance. 

"You good?" Logan asked, wrapping his arm around Wade's waist. He pulled away. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he whined. 

"With me ? What's wrong with you ?" 

But Wade just huffed, taking off into the darkness. 

It was going to be one of those nights. 

"Like I just love how you see a man flirting with me, and you don't do anything."

There it was. It was two in the morning and Wade had been laying there next to him in their shitty motel bed, fuming silently. Logan had drifted into a very light sleep, but knew this was coming. He pressed his palms to his eyes and sat up a little, bed complaining under his weight.  

"He wasn't actually flirting with you."

"You didn't know that when you came out of the bathroom. I didn't even know that. You just saw a guy with his hand on my thigh, and you didn't do anything." 

Logan took a few deep breaths. Wade always worked from an internal logic. He just had to figure out what it was. 

"I came over. I put my hand on you. Acted intimidatingly. He left without a fight." He tried to be measured without sounding condescending or sarcastic. They couldn't both be bad at this, and he was trying so hard. "What else would you have liked me to do?"

"Stab him in the face."

"I'm not going to go straight to stabbing if I can de-escalate. We de-escalated….until you stabbed him, I guess. We talked about this. Stab first and ask questions later is something I'm trying to move away from."

"No, okay. I get the little code of ethics and anger management routine you're stuck on. That's not the problem." Wade lifted his hands, gesticulating in the dark.

"Was there something I didn't see? Were you in danger that I didn't notice?"

"No! He was just some asshole." He was getting madder and madder, but this line of questioning was working. He was narrowing in on the actual problem. And even under the anger he could hear Wade forcing himself to work out his issue verbally. As frustrated as he was, he was still managing to peel away layers. 

"Then I don't understand. What did you want me to do?" 

"I wanted you to be mad!" 

"I was upset." 

"No!" He shot up in bed. "I want you to be so mad that a guy is touching me that you inflict massive bodily harm." 

Logically, that wasn't going to happen. Yeah, he had sliced and diced for lesser things, but he was actively trying to not do that, now. Trying to rein it in. Create some fucking longevity instead of being ready to go out guns blazing at the next given opportunity. 

But, holy fuck, maybe he actually saw what Wade was upset about. 

"You want me to be jealous of other people showing you attention."

"Yes! Yes oh my god! Yes! Thank you. What is the point of having a super hot X-Men boyfriend with metal for fingers if he doesn't use them to scare other men away?" 

"Is it just men?"

"What?"

"What if a woman hits on you?"

And that short-circuited him, body-slumping over to think.

"Okay, come on, lay back down." Logan opened his arms, and Wade crawled in obediently. He was a creature of habit if nothing else. "We'll talk about it more in the morning." 

Wade nodded against his chest. He would either forget about it completely, or this was going to last for a week. Only the next day would tell. 

#####

"Jelly bean, buy me this shirt."

"Why?"

"Because you love me."

"Well, yes. Obviously." Logan's hand found a place in the small of Wade's back as he leaned in for a closer look at the display through the window. "But you have literally a dozen shirts with that fucking cat on it. You don't need another one." 

"Yeah, but this one has Kuromi." Wade swung around the archway into the store and made for the t-shirt wall, hoodie up, one hand in his pocket, the other around his drink. He didn't actually want anything. They had only stopped at the mall to grab some food and shake this black van that had been following them the past hour. Dragging The Wolverine into Hot Topic was just the top five funniest things of all time. He looked ridiculous in work boots and tight Levi's and t-shirt stretching taught over his chest

fucking stop it you're in public

I'm gonna tear that ass up later, though. 

Logan was better at compartmentalizing his horniness and letting it all out at once in an appropriate place. Maybe that was part of the issue.

Because the bar thing was still needling at him. 

They had resolved it last night. Logan understood why he was upset. He, in fact, went out of his way to try to understand why Wade was upset. That therapy shit was working. Maybe he ought to start going again. Because goddamn they were killing this whole communication business. 

He watched Logan sip his fountain drink and gently flick through the metal grate of earrings. Logan pulled one off the display. 

"You think Laura would like these?" he asked, showing them to Wade around the side of the grate. They were little bloody daggers that dangled, so yeah probably. One problem.

"They're one hundred percent her vibe, but her ears aren't pierced." Wade sipped on his bubble tea loudly. Logan stared at the earring card. 

"They aren't?"

Wade leaned in to speak in a low voice. Fuck if he wasn't going to occasionally practice a modicum of decency in public. 

"Remember when we were talking about dick piercings?"

"Right, healing factor." He slid the earrings back. 

"That is some excellent fathering, right there."

"Shut the fuck up."

"If your daughter can't get piercings, you can order clip-on converters online." The girl came out of nowhere, anime shirt and baggy jeans and oh my god was scene hair coming back? She was with a small group, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. 

And all of them were staring at Logan as they milled around the store. Hungry eyes. Undressing him in their minds. He knew that look because he did it all the time. Only he was allowed to do it. These girls…these minors… weren't.

The rage was hotter than he expected. Like… a lot. Like if he had his guns on him, there would be a non-zero chance of brain and blood splatter across the Nightmare Before Christmas display.

"Shit. Okay." Logan pulled the earrings right back down then grabbed a few more sets, a variety of skulls and other cutesy depictions of deadly weaponry. "Did you actually want that t-shirt, babe?"

"No, I was just fuckin' with ya, honey bunny." The girls looked between them, taking in the implication of the exchange. Good. 

Yeah, I get it. I look like a hairless cat in drag. But I'm the one that pulled that hottie. That ass belongs to me. That mouth? Around my dick. Conversations about our deepest fears and lingering traumas? Yeah, I'm the one he has those with. 

That last one was the sexiest. 

"Wade?" Logan was at the door, already checked out and shoving his wallet back into his jeans. 

"Coming!" Wade shuffled back out through the door, glancing around the edge of his hood at the nearest girl. 

Coming for me TONIGHT more like. 

fuck, chill out, Wade

"You were giving that girl in there the evil eye," Logan said quietly, knocking his body against Wade's. 

"She was making eyes at my boyfriend." Wade slipped his arm into Logan's forcefully. Logan chuckled. 

"I think they were just being friendly. They saw a useless old man and tried to help."

"You cannot be this fucking dense, you immaculate asshole." 

"I…okay…I'm flattered you think teen girls would be into me, but you might be a little biased." 

"I'm certainly bi about that ass."

"That was a really bad one."

"They can't all be winners." Wade sucked down the last of his drink and tossed it in the trash as they passed. Logan reached over to do the same, and kissed Wade on the cheek in the process. 

"Does it make you mad to think of other people being attracted to me?" Logan asked, fishing.

"Absolutely livid. If I so much as think about someone looking at you with a lustful gaze, it's like…flames…shooting…off the side of my face. And I think about it all the time. When we're out in public I just know that people are looking at you then looking at me and being like 'oh, the bar is in hell, I guess.' But I'm sensible enough to know this level of obsession isn't normal, so I haven't stabbed anyone. Yet."

"Hm, okay." Logan's voice settled into a cadence of contemplation. 

no no no that makes me feel icky inside

"'Hm, okay' what? I don't like it when you think inside thoughts."

"I'm allowed to have those."

"Not around me you aren't." 

"Jesus fuck, Wade. Okay." He moved them into a side hallway that led down to the bathrooms and other backside navigation. "I didn't understand why you were upset last night because I don't think the same way you do. I don't get mad about people hitting on you. I don't even really think about it. It's not something I worry about at all. So-"

"Why don't you think about it?" Wade shoved his hands in his pockets. There was that sick feeling. The one that lurked in the back of his head. That this was all temporary. A happiness that he wasn't allowed to have. 

"That's what I'm getting to-" 

"You don't think I'm attractive enough? That other people wouldn't look at me like that?"

"Wade-"

"I mean I get that I look like a piebald moose testicle-"

"Please don't do that-" 

"-but to actually hear it from you." 

Logan slapped his hands around Wade's shoulders. 

"Wade, I-"  Wade didn't hear the other side of the statement, his vision going suddenly black. 

#####

Wade crumpled in front of him, and he only just managed to catch him as he fell. 

The people in the black van had found them, but where the fuck were they? There were too many people here. He couldn't get a scent on them. No sound. 

Something sharp bit into his neck and he slapped at it. Tiny blow dart. His vision swam, but it would take more than that to bring him down, the healing factor working immediately to purge it. Another one caught him in the middle of his back. Where the fuck was it coming from? He scrabbled along his own spine, trying to pry the dart out while still holding Wade against him. This one had more of a punch, and the sway started overtaking him. 

No. 

This was a bullshit way to go out. 

He hit his knee, bringing Wade down with him. 

"Wade…wake up. Fucking heal already." But then he felt his body fumble and fall into blackness. 

"They're waking up. Dose them again."

"These motherfuckers are heavy."

Ropes around the wrist and knees. Laying in the back of a van. Moving down the highway fast. Another bite on the ankle and the world faded again. 

"Hey, pookie bear, wake up." Something bonked lightly into the back of his skull. 

"Fuck." He startled back into consciousness. They were tied up back to back on chairs in a dark, nondescript room. "Oh this is stupid as fuck. Are these the people we stole the data from?"

"Probably," Wade said idly. There was a one-way window to his left, and he looked at Wade in the reflection. He was slumped a little but alert. 

 Logan tested how he had been tied to the chair. It was tight. Something stronger than it looked. Any old asshole could get adamantium and vibranium and all that shit, anymore. He flung out a claw, but the angle was wrong to do a direct cut. Together they should be fine to get out, though. Wade had a dozen knives on him at any given moment. 

"Alright. What's our plan?" Logan asked. 

"What do you mean you don't worry about people hitting on me?"

"Are we really doing this, right now?"

"We've got time!" 

"Gentlemen. You're awake." A nondescript man dressed in black sauntered in through a gray metal door. A pair of bolt cutters were slung over his arm. This was one of those kinds of sessions.

"Can this wait?" Wade asked with a pout. "We were in the middle of a relationship altering conversation."

This gave the man a bit of a pause, but he kept moving slowly, circling around to Wade. 

"Now, I recognize some professionals when I see them. So I'll cut to it quickly." He tapped the bolt cutter to Wade's hand. "Who sent you to steal from me?" He poised the cutter over Wade's pinky. 

"Bruh," Wade tsked. "I don't fucking know. Logie, my question."

"Wade, honey. Please pay attention to what's happening, right now." Logan wriggled their lashed together chairs. 

"Oh what's he gonna do, take a finger?" 

And he did, the cutter moving through Wade's pinky with a crack and squish. Wade jerked with the pain, but moved right back into the conversation. 

"I need an answer, Logan."

"Christ," Logan muttered. "No you're not conventionally attractive. Okay? So realistically I wouldn't expect you to get hit on by randos compared to, I don't know, fuckin' Ryan Reynolds."

"AHA! I THOUGHT SO!" The chairs jumped with his movement. 

"But that's not the point, goddamnit. I think you're hot as fuck, and that's all that should matter. I'm the only attention you should care about."

"Oh. Hm." Wade rocked their chairs a little. 

"Okay, as adorable as this is, I still have my own questions." Bolt cutter guy positioned the thing over Wade's next finger. "Who are you working for?."

"Your mother," Wade replied. "She hired me after I was done blowing her back out then providing appropriate after care."

The sound of the crunch on his next finger got lost under Wade's next complaint.

"So you wouldn't be mad if someone tried to pick me up in a bar?"

"No…not really...Because you're going home with me, in the end." 

"I really need an answer to my questions, so let me remind you," bolt-cutter said. 

CRUNCH. 

"Okay, that one fucking hurt a little," Wade said then turned back to the window to look at Logan in the reflection. "So you just…don't care? You don't care if some drunk dude slides his hands down my pants." 

"I don't understand what's happening here," bolt cutter guy said. 

CrUncH?

"I know that if some drunk guy slides his hands down your pants, he's not going home with a hand, Wade. If he goes home at all. So, yeah, I'll be mad that you had to go through something like that, and take revenge as needed, but I know you'll fucking deal with it. You're supposed to be the one I don't have to worry about." He hadn't said it out loud. It felt like too much pressure to put on the relationship. But now things were getting dire. 

cr-u-n-ch

"What the fuck does that mean?" Wade tried spinning, but he was stopped by the strapping on the chair. 

"I swear to God…" Bolt cutter guy started moving away, but Logan was too focused on Wade in the reflection to keep tracking him. 

"Everyone I love dies. Or gets converted to sapient space dust. Or didn't actually exist because the memory was implanted by some asshole. You just lost five fingers and still have the energy to bitch at me. I don't have to worry if my claws come out at the wrong time around you. If anything, you like it."

"I do. I'll admit that."

"I don't have to worry about you 24/7. I don't have to constantly think about how I'm going to protect you or if I can rescue you in time if a merc job goes wrong. Because you can take care of yourself. I can just breathe and focus on just being a person. Being a couple. Because I know you're going to come home at the end of the day."

"Maybe I want to be saved, sometimes." Wade squirmed in the chair, trying to get his face around to Logan's shoulder. "Maybe I don't want to have to take care of myself and let someone else do it. Maybe I'm also tired of having to protect everyone that I Iove all the time from goddamn mystical, world-ending bullshit. It's literally the reason I came and got you. To help me. So that I wouldn't have to do it alone. Maybe I don't want to have to carry that weight all the time either. It's too heavy."

"Fuck," Logan sighed. "You're right. I get what you're saying. Let's take some time after this to work it out."

"Maybe you stab a barista that smiles at me too long."

"We'll circle back to that." 

"You people are fucking insane." They both jumped, briefly forgetting  bolt cutter guy was there. "But I still need my answers. So maybe I switch gears." He moved from Wade to Logan, and tapped the circle of blade to Logan's hand. 

"Oh, no, those little piggies are mine, " growled Wade.

With the disgusting crunch of a dislocated shoulder and elbow, Wade managed to wriggle out of the bindings around his arms. 

"Could you do that the whole time?" Logan asked. 

"We were having a conversation," Wade replied. 

Loose from the bindings, he had enough space to pull the knife from the hidden space in the pocket of his hoodie and swing it hard into the side of bolt cutter guy. These idiots hadn't fully patted him down. Rookie mistake. 

The bolt cutter guy had thought this would go his way. He didn't have a backup plan beyond screaming about the knife now in his pancreas, swinging the cutter around in a panic. This left  plenty of time for Wade to reach down and break the chair legs free of the base. This didn't release the bindings around his ankles, but he could walk. He snapped his joints back into place with a series of cracks. 

"Who the fuck are you people?" Bolt-cutter backed up against the wall. 

"You really don't know? Holy shit." Wade pulled the knife free. With the force of that he lost his grip on the bolt-cutters. 

Wade sliced down through the bindings keeping Logan to the chair. 

"I'm Deadpool, and that's the goddamn Wolverine."

The bolt cutter guy reared back to swing the cutters, aiming for Wade's head with the rest of his strength.

Logan was as fast as Wade, ripping free from the chair, claws coming out in the time he crossed the room. A single movement up through his ribs, and bolt cutter guy dropped like a rock. They stared down at him, both covered in splatters of his blood.

"How much do you actually want to fight your way out of here?" Logan sighed. 

"My swords and guns are in the car, so it won't be nearly as fun." Wade leaned against the wall, wiping his knife on his hoodie. 

"Thinking the same thing." Logan moved toward the one-way window. Someone had to be on the other side. He tapped on the glass with the tip of his claw. "You got ten minutes, and we're busting through that door. We will be leaving. You decide what that looks like. This is the chance you get to go home to your kids tonight." 

Wade sidled up to him, slipping his arms around Logan's waist.

"I've…uh…I've lost a little more blood than I realized." 

Logan went to the bottom of his shirt and ripped strips away. 

"Give them here," Logan said. "Wrap your hand while I see where your fingers got to." He wandered back to the chair, searching the floor. 

"You don't have to do that, chicken tender." 

"It's faster, right? And they're all right here." Logan scooped them up from the floor. "Pretty clear cut. What fucking brand are these?" Logan also grabbed the bolt cutters, throwing them over his shoulder. "See if this brand makes hedge clippers." He held the fingers out to Wade. 

"Why the fuck are you thinking about hedge clippers, right now?" 

"The bush in front of the main window is too tall." 

Wade held the first of the fingers in place, waiting for it to attach. 

"I thought the kids on landscape duty took care of that." 

"They just run the riding mower. We do the hedges and edging. Well, I do. You haven't done shit."

"Ohh, when I get all these fingers back on we should do some edging." Wade bit his bottom lip as he worked on the next finger. 

"Hilarious." 

"Wait, who put in the dog-run for Puppins? I assumed that was one of the kids." He had made it through all his fingers but didn't dare stretch them, yet. 

"That was me. Laura helped."

"Oh…thank you. That was nice." Wade pecked Logan on the cheek.

"Those fuckin' zoomies…" But Logan didn't know what the rest of that sentence looked like and just sort of vaguely mimicked the act of running with his fingers. The crackle of a speaker came from somewhere above them, and a voice blared out. 

"Okay, you might talk a big game, but if you think you're getting out of here-BLACHT" 

The voice through the speaker cut off violently with a wet, choking sound. Splatty and gross. Wade jumped against Logan with surprise at the scream, clutching Logan's chest with his still healing hands. 

"Oh. Wait. It's the X-Men." Wade set his head against Logan's shoulder. "No big deal." Wade knocked on the  window. "We're in here, you sexy little spandex aficionados." Logan slapped his hand from the window.

"It could also be someone more annoying to deal with, and we just lost our escape window."

"Oh, no, it's totally them. I have a microtransponder in my shoe that I set off when I woke up here. These people did not pat us down well, at all." 

"You have a transponder…in your shoe…"

"Mhm. They don't want to lose you as an asset, so if you come with me on a job, I have to wear it. But I also wasn't supposed to tell you. Oops." 

"How long were you awake before me?" Logan canted his head toward Wade, pieces coming together now that the tranquilizer was working its way out completely. 

"A while. Ran my mouth at them so they'd torture me first. Figured I hold out longer than you. Also…you know…Don't like other people putting sharp things in you."

"Wade," Logan sighed. The bolt on the door cachunked , and Logan spun, claws clicking out. 

"Hallo! Please don't kill me." A furry blue hand slipped out the gap between the door and the wall and wiggled its fingers.

"Kurt, holy shit." The door swung open and Logan met Nightcrawler across the room. They shared a quick hug. "You haven't been at the mansion." 

"Business to attend to." He leaned around Logan. "Good to properly meet you Wade. Bad circumstances." Logan turned. Wade had gone a bit slackjawed, thinking. He snapped back, grinning.

"Let's get the fuck out of here, huh?"

#####

I didn't like it. I didn't like him hugging the little blue man. 

Wade, what the fuck is wrong with you? He's known them longer than you. 

I guess technically not, because it's not actually the same Nightcrawler. But conceptually he has. Fucking hate this multiverse shit. 

Just need to get my hands on him to feel better.

Get my fingers in his flesh.

The Blackbird might have swooped in to save them, but the team wasn't actually done with whatever weird little diplomatic mission they were on. Wade had been told that if he left the plane he would suffer dire consequences. Logan could join them if he wanted.

He didn't.

Suck my dick, X-Men. Logan keeps choosing me. 

Why am I in goddamn competition with the entire X-Men?

"Wade, you stopped talking." They were in the cargo hold. Logan was doing arms and ammunition inventory. Wade was cleaning the rifles. It was something to keep them busy. 

"You always tell me to shut up."

Logan turned sharply. 

"Then I won't do that anymore. I don't actually like it when you're quiet for too long. It means you're upset about something." Logan moved across the cargo hold and dropped in front of him on the floor. 

Wade put the rifle parts he was cleaning back in the bag and shoved them to the side. He opened his arms and that was the cue for Logan to crawl into his lap. He rolled forward over his knees and nestled his head into the pillow of Wade's crossed legs. Wade ran his fingers through Logan's bangs and combed them up over his crown. 

"I'm still thinking about the bar thing and the torture chamber stuff. I'm not mad, though." Wade waved his hands a little to shake off that presumption. "Just trying to sort myself and why I felt the way I did. And I'm not quite there, yet. I'll get it together, eventually." 

"I'm not stabbing any baristas."

"Just a little pokey poke if her hand lingers on mine and we share an unexpected moment?"

"I'll compromise by severing the ACL of the next waiter who laughs at your jokes just to get a bigger tip."

"Oh wait. No let them flirt for, like, one minute. Then crck. " He gestured across his throat with the back of his thumb. Logan chuckled, then his eyes flicked in thought. 

"To be perfectly clear, I'm not actually going to do that. However, I will have a bigger reaction to you getting hit on, and I will include minor threats of violence if they're being handsy. If that's something that makes you feel good about yourself." 

"Eh. I don't know why I'm making such a big deal about flirting in a bar, anyway. Not like it's a regular occurrence. Mach speed blobfish isn't exactly a look that gets a lot of play."

"Hey." Logan reached up and poked him hard in the cheeks. "What have I told you about insulting my boyfriend?" 

"Self-deprecation is the foundation of my comedic genius, sugar bean. Take that from me, and I lose half my material." 

He's so pretty like this. Deep, creased laugh lines. Little crinkle between his eyebrows. Long nose. 

Wade ran his hands down Logan's jaw. Then he leaned down and kissed him upside down. 

Spiderman style.

Wade pulled back just enough to talk. 

"I don't actually need or even want you to protect me. You clearly need me to protect you, though." 

"Oh, what makes you say that?" Logan reached up to peck him on the lips.

"I'm the one with a radio in my shoe."

"That they forced you to wear."

"That I was clever enough to actually wear when they told me to instead of…not…doing that…" Wade ran his hands down Logan's chest, studying the place where he'd reattached his fingers only a few hours before. There was still a thin line as the flesh continued to knit itself together. He sat back up a little, drawing his hands back to Logan's temples. 

"So neither of us want to carry the weight of the world," Wade said with a drifting hum. "But we worked together on that TimeSplitter motherfucker, and we saved all of reality." Logan curled his hand over the top of Wade's.

"And we did it holding hands." Logan brought Wade's hand to his lips and kissed his palm.

"Fucking gross. When did we get this disgustingly cute?" 

Logan lifted his hands to catch the sides of Wade's head. 

"I've always been cute, you just had to catch up." He pulled Wade down to kiss him. He broke the kiss too soon, and Wade was about to complain before Logan turned over on his knees. He moved Wade's legs to part around him.  

Oh ?

Logan hooked his thumb around the zipper of Wade's jeans and drew it down. 

Yep.

His lips pressed to Wade's bulge through his boxers. He nosed open the fly and brought Wade's cock into his mouth, tongue running small circles over the tip. Wade wove his fingers through Logan's hair, locking into place, steadying himself against Logan's rhythm.

Logan Logan Logan

The refrain started up like it always did, a rattle that snaked around his brain and wiped everything else away. When Logan was touching him, he stopped thinking. He just was . He just existed as body and sensation. As nerve endings and neurochemicals.

Words that were already stupid became more senseless, that part of his brain going on autopilot.  

"Take me deeper, daddy." 

God, why the fuck did I say that?

Logan obliged, though, pushing into him until Wade's cock was brushing the back of his throat. His fingers went tighter in Logan's half-curls..  

Sweet baby Jesus, this man is going to kill me. 

#####

Wade's dick was rough, calloused like the rest of his skin. He loved it. Every time he put his mouth on Wade in some form or fashion, he fell a little more in love. In love with Wade's body. His form. In love with the pulse and beat of breath underneath.

Every time Wade talked, even when he spiraled out into nonsense, Logan found himself falling a little farther down into him. It was becoming harder and harder to imagine the version of himself that had hated him. That grew rabid with rage at his voice. 

Now? He wanted to devour him. He had spent so many years suppressing his rage just for it to explode and destroy everything at the exact wrong moment. He'd spent every moment since then trying to prevent something like that from ever happening again. Even if it didn't mean anything. Even if it didn't matter. And he'd almost done it. He'd packed every emotion away into the deepest part of himself and drowned it so he'd never have to feel anything. 

Then this motherfucker opened everything up again. And it became a tumult, emotions crashing over each other. 

He tucked his hands up under Wade's shirt, pressing his thumbs into Wade's stomach as he took him deeper. All the way to the back of his throat. The friction of his jeans on his own erection was bringing him to a mini-climax as he ground on Wade's shin. 

It rose like an ember, tensing his hands. Wade moved one hand out of his hair to touch his knuckles. 

"Let the claws out if you want, peanut. No organs, please."

The double sensation of Wade in his mouth and the dry, half-orgasm was enough to overwhelm him after the day so far, and he lost control of himself before he could change his hand shape. The claws came out his palms, instead, digging into Wade's lovehandles.

It hurt like fuck, but Wade's shiver underneath him was worth it. 

#####

And he might as well kill me now, because I'm already in heaven.

He clenched around the blades in his side, trying to focus on both the pinpricks of pain and the center of pleasure rising in his pelvis, wallowing in the combined rush of dopamine and endorphins. 

There was the tiniest puff of sound somewhere toward the front of the jet. Through his haze of ecstasy, Wade found a way to focus his attention in that general direction. 

Kurt.

He had realized what was happening mid pulling a bag down from the rack and froze. Wade lifted a finger to his lips and gestured violently with a throw of his head for him to leave. At the same time, Logan took a particularly long drag on him, drawing an absolutely unearthly sound out of Wade's body. 

Kurt puffed out of existence.

That'll learn ya. 

Fuck. Shit. Logan Logan

Distraction gone, his brain started shutting down again. 

Logan Logan Logan

"Logan," he whispered, the sound barely forming around his lips. Logan pulled away, and Wade almost cried. Logan looked up at him through his lashes, keeping his lips barely half an inch away from the tip of Wade's cock.  

"If you're going to say my name, say it properly instead of so quietly you think I can't hear you." He kissed the head. "Because I always do. Every time." He took him in again.

"Logan," Wade moaned. The moan turned to a whine as his stomach and pelvis went alight, his toes curling his shoes, tension breaking around his body. He came hard in Logan's mouth, pulling his face against his body until Logan's nose was touching where his pubic hair used to be.

He released his hands with a hard sigh and gasp, falling back against one of the bulkheads. Logan pulled back, cum and spit creating a bridge between Wade's cock and Logan's lips. He lifted up, pressing those messy lips to Wade's 

"I need to do you," Wade panted into Logan's mouth.

"I'm fine," Logan said. 

"Did you come in your pants, ground bear?" Wade grinned. 

"No," Logan said, but there was a shade of embarrassment. 

He totally did.

There was a clanging knock on the access hatch on the side into the cargo hold. Storm's voice followed. 

"Entering the ship!" 

"Good timing," Logan said, zipping up Wade's pants. "Imagine if they were just a few minutes earlier."

"Hahahah yeah."

Oops.

#####

Logan stood on the back porch, shirtless, letting Puppins out for her last romp of the night. The cherry red of his cigar burned out against the night sky and the glow of the mansion up the lawn. 

No smoking indoors, and Wade didn't really like the smell. So he'd reduced the frequency considerably. The booze, too. He hadn't felt the need to drink nearly as often, but it was never going away completely. After the last few days, for example, a high quality scotch and a cigar did just the trick. 

His phone buzzed on the side table, and he picked it up. It was Kurt. All Logan read was the word " Entschuldige"  before his phone blew up with text messages from everyone on the team. 

"Babe," he called back into the house. "Are emojis the same in this timeline?" 

Wade drifted into the open doorway in just boxers and his off-brand Barbie hoodie that was printed off-center. 

"What the fuck are you talking about, happy feet?"

Logan held up his phone to give him a better look. 

"I just got a whole lot of text messages, but they're all just an eggplant, a knife, and a plane. I don't know what that means."

Wade's nostrils flared. 

"Oh, I have another little German man to kill."

[matan4il]

I was going to refer to this Newsweek op ed, written by Doctor Qanta Ahmed, in my daily update post, but when I was looking for which part to quote, I found that it was ALL too important to leave out. So here is all of it:

I was in scrubs from the wet morgue at Abu Kabir when I learned Queen Rania of Jordan questioned whether Israeli children had verifiably been killed by Hamas on October 7. Hugely appealing to the West, ranked among Forbes's 100 most powerful women, among the top ten most followed international leaders on Instagram, dressed routinely by Valentino, Schiaparelli and Dior, and of Palestinian origin (her family is from the West Bank's Nablus), Queen Rania is undeniably a global icon. And her powerful voice became the opening salvo to a chorus of innumerable deniers, a further barbarism dehumanizing the victims of Hamas' atrocities targeting women and girls.

Hearing her strident tone, even as I was surrounded by Israeli Jews, Israeli Christians, and Israeli Muslims still reeling with shock, cut to my core.

Days after the attacks, as a Muslim woman committed to combating Islamism and a physician, I traveled at my own expense to the Gaza envelope to view the aftermath of Hamas' butchery. I examined the cadavers of the murdered and defiled; the corpses of the decapitated and immolated. I spoke with the victims of Hamas, including a former hostage—a Muslim physician—and numerous witnesses to Hamas' express barbarity against women, children, girls, and infants, brutally violated in life, in utero and in death.

I inspected bodies that had been repeatedly stabbed, shot, and crushed. I examined mutilated bodies, restrained with cables, electrical cords, and zipties, still in place post-mortem, and those that had been decapitated and incinerated at temperatures approaching 3,000 degrees Celsius.

Back in New York City, Israeli criminal prosecutor Ayelet Razin Bet Or shared with me evidence compiled in Israel's ongoing investigation into Hamas' crimes. Michal Yaniv, Head of Foreign Affairs on Israel's National Security Council, provided me testimonies recorded by Israeli security officials.

One account, far from unusual, is especially harrowing: A woman who survived the Nova music festival in Re'im witnessed a young woman encircled by Hamas, stripped naked, violated, and manhandled by multiple Hamas terrorists as they gang raped her, repositioning her by the waist and hips, moving from one rapist to the other.

Shuddering at the memory, covering her face, with difficulty, the eyewitness continued: One terrorist pulled the woman's long hair, forcibly arching her neck backwards, fully exposing her naked torso, only to sever both her breasts from her chest with his commando knife. Her entire torso fell backwards, slackened in agony. She may have fainted, though she lived through the mutilation. The disembodied breasts fell to the ground, where terrorists casually played with them.

Sergeant Major Natah Katz from the IDF Rabbinical Unit at the Shura base near Ramle described to me cadavers he received with breasts and genitals hacked off, one with a knife impaled directly into the vagina. The mutilation of sexual organs and breasts, "seemed to be an obsession," he recalled. Dr. Chen Kugel, head of Israel's National Forensic Center has confirmed to me the same.

Indeed, Hamas arrived with orders to mass rape: Phrasebooks belonging to Hamas found in the Re'im area listed phonetic Hebrew commands in Arabic "Take your clothes off!"; " Spread your legs!'; "Get down!" Terabytes of their own video data confirm Hamas raped, amputated breasts, mutilated women's genitals, and committed systematic sexual crimes on both the living and the dead. Necrophilia has been explicitly reported.

Despite all of this, almost two months would pass before the U.N. denounced the October 7 sexual violence during hearings. Congressional and Senate Hearings must urgently follow.

Silence ensures Islamist antisemitism overrides human morality. Silence also grants open season for Hamas to continue these obscene crimes with impunity, as they likely still do this hour upon the remaining 129 hostages in captivity.

Genocidal rape has no context. Contextualization is contemptibly antisemitic and pure misogyny, if not open Islamist sympathy.

Repudiation must reverberate globally. In the meantime, I will not rest until Congress, the Senate, and the U.N. speak in unison on the international humanitarian values protecting women, for only then can the decapitated screams of the tiny girl in Abu Kabir can at last be granted silence.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[cephalog0d]

Yeah I'm not done yet.

The thing I keep coming back to is that as much as I'm down to nit-pick things like how characters are written and plot details (and boy are there a whole infestation of nits to pick), what it boils down to is that the basic premise here shouldn't even be happening.

I get they're doing a Thing with Bruce and the after effects of Failsafe and Zur and Insomnia so sure I guess it makes sense to have him acting totally unreasonably. I'm not saying it's a plotline I'm thrilled with, but whatever. This is about everyone else.

You have half a dozen people routinely patrolling in Gotham, who've been doing it for years, who know the city and how it works, who have at least two people who are particularly inclined towards collecting and parsing data for patterns for crime fighting purposes, and none of you noticed anything amiss until Selina called and was like "Hey did you notice my neat new plan I've been doing?"

To that point, in a room full of literal canonical geniuses not a single person has thought to ask any of a dozen very practical questions that occurred to me, a non-genius reader, roughly 10 seconds after reading what The Plan was. Things like, oh, I don't know

How is this going to be a sustainable long-term effort?

For example, what happens when Gotham's wealthiest realize what you're doing and dramatically beef up their security (with tech or with actual people), making it much harder and more dangerous?

Like iirc you, Selina, have definitely had some real dicey situations as a result of your profession, and you're a lot more experienced than these people.

(Hey speaking of which isn't there a whole secret society of Gotham's wealthiest and most powerful who have access to nearly unkillable assassins? Who keeps coming back even though they keep being taken down? You think any of these people might belong to that?)

What happens when the rich folks get pissed and sic the heavily militarized GCPD on you? Don't act like they won't, I'm sure someone's squirreled away stuff from that whole Fear State fiasco.

For that matter, what happens when the costumed villainry figure out who swiped all their henchpeople and decide to object to it, presumably violently?

How many people are we talking here anyway that you're training? How many ultra-wealthy people live in Gotham? How many easily stealable things do they have sitting around to take? (As opposed to, like, other non-liquid fake assets like stocks)

How are you fencing all this anyway? Isn't that a great way to get caught? Or is everyone just stealing cash? (Or did nobody think about the part between "got the valuable thing" and "have usable money from it"?)

How on god's green earth did you ever assume this was going to end in anything other than violence?

Like of course one of your guys got killed. It doesn't matter that you told them no violence, even if they fully buy into that it only takes one panicked reaction when someone's home who shouldn't be, on either side, and there you go.

Look I get what they're trying to do. It's supposed to be a big moral quandary about whether it's right to allow some crime if it decreases other crime, the struggle between Batman being unreasonably violent and unwilling to listen and this new plan of Selina's. First of all that's a weird debate to have when everyone having it is technically a criminal to some degree. And second of all, it doesn't matter, this isn't about the morality, this is about how this plan is fucking dumb and was destined to fall apart even if Batman was still asleep and the fact that any of you are buying it just means there's a gas leak in Gotham somewhere.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i think i've mentioned The Magnus Archives before, but i wanted to talk about it again, in connection with Catra's redemption. The Magnus Archives is a fictional horror podcast with an overarching storyline and amazingly written characters.

[spoilers for TMA below]

one of the themes that was briefly explored in the final season was about forgiveness. it was a very brief moment but it really stuck with me so i'll share it with y'all.

this right here was so important. for context, one of the characters, Daisy Tonner, was a cop who frequently engaged in police brutality. there was nuance to this since she was an Avatar of the Hunt but simply put, she thought she was doing the right thing. regardless of her intentions, a lot of people were killed or grievously harmed by her. for similar reasons, she tries to kill Jon, the protagonist.

later after disconnecting from her entity, Daisy realizes her mistakes and feels painfully guilty about everything. she couldn't bring back the dead, she couldn't reverse anything that she had done. all she could do at that point was to just stop engaging in violence and try to be a better person.

she bonds with Jon after some time of mutual awkwardness. Jon, being lonely himself, wasn't entirely opposed to talking to her and they even form a friendship of sorts. for context, Jon has hurt people too and he could relate with Daisy's guilt and her attempts at redemption.

in the transcript i shared above, Jon is discussing her crimes with the other characters. the thing that was so refreshing about Daisy's redemption is that Jon wasn't forced to forgive her. she put him through an extremely traumatizing and agonizing situation that he couldn't forget. his trauma was taken seriously and while he had begun to consider Daisy as his friend, that doesn't mean he forgave her. and she knew that. she understood that she didn't deserve forgiveness, but she still worked on trying to be a better person.

and later on in the series, Jon even expresses his appreciation for her friendship and admits to wanting to say goodbye to her.

i feel like this is the best way to write a redemption arc. of course it's nice seeing the bad guy being forgiven and accepted by the other characters. but sometimes you have to acknowledge that some people go too far and while they deserve a redemption, they don't deserve forgiveness. the other characters can still appreciate and respect their attempts at redemption, and even become their friend but without being forced to forgive them.

contrast this to SPOP where literally all of the characters have to forgive Catra after everything she's done to them. it doesn't matter how much damage she caused, as soon as she expresses the tiniest bit of guilt, she is instantly forgiven. there's no question of how the other characters feel, their trauma is not valid.

also, i have a feeling that if any of the characters refused to forgive Catra, she would have immediately thrown a hissy fit and spiralled right back to square one. i mean, look at her reaction to Frosta punching her.

by the way, i want to add that Daisy was also a traumatized character. she was also a sympathetic antagonist and she was partially controlled by the Hunt (whether the entities controlled their avatars or not was an unanswered question but it was confirmed that the Avatars were at least 80% in control of themselves). but she still did what she did and no amount of tragic backstory could justify her actions. if only the writers of SPOP actually stopped to think this through, instead of just hyperfocusing on getting Catra and Adora together.

anyway, if you like cosmic/existential horror, lots of angst, deep psychological stuff, complex morally grey characters, and queer representation, i highly recommend TMA! it's the whole package.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

Love in Chaos

The way chapter 393 seized me from the inside out, brought me to my knees, smiling with fierce glee—it was all the proof I needed. All at once, a checklist I didn’t even know I was keeping started getting all its boxes ticked. I’ll admit that for some time, I haven’t been sure exactly how Toga’s story should be handled for her to get the care, nuance, and dignity she deserves. So I’ve been resigned, waiting to see what Horikoshi has to say about it. I didn’t know until I saw it, but I can tell we’re on exactly the same page.

This fight between Ochako and Toga—or should I say Himiko, since ya know, they’re both on a first name basis now—it’s a kind of breaking point for the overarching narrative and its themes. Here is where the big questions about hero/villain society are not only asked, but answered. Himiko, more than any of the other main villains, was branded with that label as far back as she can remember, without her having done anything except exist. Thus, she carries the weight of their society’s problems and becomes a symbol of the injustice in prejudice and fear, the brutal agony of being rejected by the world. I’ve maintained this resolve about the story for a long time: I will not be satisfied with an ending that constitutes a return to normal, or even a slightly amended normal. I know that it would be a disservice to Himiko if she were made to fit into society again, whether that be in death or reform or containment. Society has to change for her. After 393, I can tell that Horikoshi knows this too.

It’s the way Ochako steps up to this conversation so boldly and positions herself on Himiko’s side. When Himiko dismisses her words as fickle, claims she’ll go back on them and do horrible things to punish her according to hero society, Ochako comes right back and says no, this isn’t about what you’ve done, this is about you. I see you. I see your beautiful smile and I want to protect it.

Throughout her life, Himiko has not been treated like a real person, so of course this is what she needs. No lecture on morals could disarm her the way acceptance can. It’s also extremely refreshing and reassuring to see Himiko being taken seriously. I’m so incredibly excited for Ochako to accomplish such a completely transgressive act of unconditional love against this harsh world. I could stare in awe of the panels in this chapter for hours, how they’re drawn at the exact intersection of beauty, pain, and honesty. Grotesque violence and elegance. Power and vulnerability. I was so overcome that, for a while, I failed to register a crucial implication.

Enter: The Female Vampire Carmilla

She is referenced merely in passing, but as a rejected villain name for Himiko, speaks volumes. It’s difficult for me to find the words to summarize… perhaps you’ve heard by now that Carmilla is a gothic horror novella about a lesbian vampire. THE lesbian vampire, in fact—the one who popularized the trope. Knowing this, it is simple enough to apply the story of Laura and Carmilla in parallel to Ochako and Himiko, and register it as direct proof of the dynamic’s sapphic undertones being acknowledged and intentional. I mean. Look at them.

Yeah. But that’s not all. That isn’t what really makes it noteworthy. Put in context: Himiko has been called a soulless inhuman vampire since childhood, and shunned for it. To her, this or any villain name would be a reminder of her lack of agency in identity. Add to this the overall themes of 393 I just described, and suddenly it becomes clear that Himiko is set in contrast against much of what Carmilla, as a fearful narrative about the supernatural, represents.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me provide some details about Carmilla for those who aren’t familiar. The story was written in 1872 by Sheridan Le Fanu, and belongs to a genre characterized by a revival of Gothic aesthetics in service of providing mystery, intrigue, and suspense to a very Victorian expression of fear. On top of that, Carmilla directly influenced Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and set the precedent for many vampire portrayals to come. Many female vampire characters reference her at least in their name, and the novella has been adapted and reinterpreted countless times. Because of this, it is admittedly difficult to be sure of Horikoshi’s familiarity with the original, or pinpoint any other potential influence he may have picked up from another adaptation. One could quite literally write a whole book about the many iterations and widespread impact of Carmilla. This is why, however, I believe I can confidently say that Himiko being compared to a female vampire has implications that are felt no matter one’s familiarity with the origin of the trope. Certain things are baked into the definition through generations of media. The female (lesbian) vampire implies predation, deception, lust, a danger to innocent young women. She represents an inhuman desire that must be vanquished.

In the novella, the main character Laura becomes a fast, intimate friend to Carmilla, a strikingly beautiful and captivating young lady who has suddenly appeared in her life. Laura admires and loves Carmilla dearly, but feels conflicted in moments where Carmilla is overcome by a desire that is explicitly compared to that of a lover. She talks of blood, death, sacrifice, and unity all while holding her close and kissing her. Whether or not this is hot, or whether Laura reciprocates any desire is, I guess, up to interpretation. But one thing is for sure: the ending of the story is not in Carmilla’s favor. I’d argue it’s not in Laura’s favor either. Look, I was an English major. I’m very familiar with discussions along the lines of “is ___ gay?” and “is ___ a sympathetic portrayal of ___ ?” It’s definitely gay, but the rest is unclear. There might be a tangent to go on about how Le Fanu’s complicated relationship with religion may have informed his characterization of General Spielsdorf and the other men who hunted down Carmilla’s grave and destroyed her. Regardless, there is narrative injustice in the way Laura is removed from these events, sent home and only told about what happened later. She loses agency. Her narrations become distant and clinical. In the very end, she describes being plagued by visions of Carmilla, sometimes as her beloved companion, and sometimes as a fearful monster. To me, this represents the lack of closure she has, either to reconcile these two sides of her, or mourn her loss.

There is also so much we’ll never know about Carmilla herself. The finality of her condemnation silences the multifaceted character that was only partially revealed to us. There is an inferred humanity to her, a self-awareness, a true romanticism, that gets dismissed by the people’s understanding of what a vampire is: a deception.

Keep in mind this tragedy. Fast forward through countless vampire portrayals to the present, to Himiko. What a contrast indeed. Remember, she does not want to be called “Carmilla,” or “Vampire.” To make such a reference in a chapter that is showcasing Ochako’s acceptance of Himiko implies that the trope is being broken. It is as if Laura were to go running to Carmilla’s grave herself, throw her own body over her in protection, and shun everyone else’s superstition and desire for vengeance.

(footnote: the above is supposed to say “Himiko-chan” but you know who is a buttface)

Here’s the kicker: since female vampires are so closely tied to negative and predatory portrayals of lesbians, this humanization of Himiko also suggests that her queerness will likewise be treated openly and sympathetically, because there no longer exists an allegory that could be used for dismissing it. Ochako has already made monumental assertions in this chapter. By saying she admires her openness and envies her beautiful smile, and by presenting complete vulnerability in offering her blood, she swiftly separates herself from the lifetime of persecution Himiko has dealt with. It all represents so much more than those who mistakenly call it “yuri pandering” could hope to understand. This is the real deal. 

So what is this talk about romance they’re supposed to have? I firmly believe whatever Ochako says, it has to be a very surprising revelation, for both Himiko as well as us, the audience. Otherwise all the hype and mystery makes no sense. If Ochako has something so important to say, it can’t be to confirm Himiko’s assumptions. Whenever I try to dissect the exact possibilities, I get hopelessly tangled up in semantics, but ultimately I just hope to get Ochako’s perspective in full, especially as it relates to what other people think of her.

Actually, I had an idea while writing this. I saw someone on twitter (I think jokingly) bring up the All Might doll, like oh god, what if it comes up again. Ok but listen. There’s a LOT of potential symbolism in the token from Izuku that Ochako has kept being a doll of All Might specifically. We all know it calls to mind Izuku’s emulation of All Might, which resulted in the aspects of Izuku that Ochako herself admired. We can also easily infer that during the mission to rescue Izuku, Ochako saw the darker side of these traits. Okay, so here’s another wrinkle: All Might, as a near mythical figure, represents hero society. He’s the hero archetype, an upholder of the status quo, “peace,” and his weakening under all the pressure implies a flawed system.

Nighteye predicted All Might’s death, but also admitted that a strong enough collective will can change the course of his predictions. Ochako sites Nighteye’s own death as an origin for her beginning to question who exactly in this world needs saving. If you know my meta, you know that I believe All Might needs to die in symbol only. Right now, Ochako is throwing out an awful lot of things heroes take for granted. Things everyone takes for granted. The outcome of this fight could be a turning point in the war that completely changes the tone. If Ochako is to accomplish this by way of an intimate talk of romance, well…

Bye-bye, All Might!

[intoanotherworld23]

Deep Water IV

Characters: Will Miller, Ben Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia and female reader

Warnings: drinking, some swearing, mention of violence, mention of killing, minor kissing, and some inappropriate thoughts

Summary: Going back to the house after a bad night at the club you play a game of never have I ever and things start to heat up

I know I said I wasn’t going to post anything for a few days but I already had this written up, so I figured I owe you guys another chapter! If you wish to be added to the tag list for this please let me know! Hearts, comments and reblogs are greatly encouraged and much appreciated! Thank you all so much! XOXO

Part 3

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

"I told you we shouldn't have brought her." Frankie argued as he raced back to the house. "It was a bad idea."

"Shut the fuck up." Will growled as he wiped his forehead.

"I could have stayed with her and been fine." Frankie continued irritating Will even more.

"I said shut the fuck up Fish." He screamed at him as Frankie sunk further into his seat. "We did what we had to do."

"We should have known his men were going to be there though." Frankie mumbled shaking his head hating how south things went.

"If he would have just paid up he could have enjoyed his game." It sounded like Will was almost mad he was inconvenienced by this man not giving him what he wanted.

Benny and Santiago sat on either side of you looking down to their sleeves seeing drips of blood. Your head was starting to pound a slight ringing in your ears. Gulping as it sunk it they had just killed another man. Something must have gone wrong for them to shoot him.

All you heard was shots ringing out and hands grabbing you. Looking up to see that it was Will who had you in his hold while Frankie held his gun up covering the both of you.

It felt almost like Will was shielding you himself from anything or anyone getting to you. The way that he grabbed your hand had your heart racing and your blood pumping. He wasn't rough with you or aggressive. It was gentle and comforting which surprised you, and you didn't want him to let go.

"Look at her man." Benny sneered as he nodded to your shaken up figure. "She's absolutely terrified."

"You think I don't know that?." He turned around to glare at his brother.

"She could have been killed." Santiago said with a softer tone but Will still didn't want to hear it.

"But she didn't Pope." He argued as he looked at you just staring straight ahead your mouth slightly parted.

"Who was he?" Quietly asking as three heads turned to look at you making sure they heard you correctly.

"Some Russian asshole who owed us." Will turned back around as Frankie looked through the rearview mirror shaking his head at you.

"What was his name?" You pushed knowing it was a bad idea.

"That's not important." His hands clenching into fists by his side not wanting to involve you in any of this.

"He was still a human being." Will admired your respect for human life, but unfortunately he didn't respect them like you did.

"Not anymore." It terrified you to hear how careless he was towards someone else's lives.

Santiago placed a comforting hand on your knee giving you a weak smile. They knew what you must have been thinking and feeling, and they wanted you to know that everything was going to be okay.

They felt bad that you were in the dark, and they couldn't lend you a hand like you wanted. It was something that Will needed to inform you, and not them since they didn't even know the whole story. You really just wanted to know why and how Will knew your father, and what happened.

"What about the bodies?" Hearing that their were multiple people dead made you feel sick to your stomach.

"One of the security guys will dispose of them for us." Will had an answer for everything and could make anyone disappear.

"Won't the people at club say anything?" You asked Will turning his head to the side at your question.

"They know not to say anything." He sounded so confident you wondered if that were you would anybody say anything.

As you pulled up to the house Will was the first one out while Frankie and Santiago were walking by your side. Benny was right behind Will as they walked into an office hearing the door slam making your body jump up. Frankie wrapped an arm around your waist as you absentmindedly leaned into his body.

Right now you just needed someone to comfort you. Even if it wasn't exactly the person you wanted none the less it was still a warm body.

"I need a drink." Flicking your boots off as you shuffled to the kitchen.

"Haven't you already had enough." Frankie stating with concern at your mental status right now.

"Please that's nothing compared to what I can actually drink." Scoffing to him remembering all the times you would drink so much you were surprised you could even handle it.

Rummaging through the cabinets and drawers finding a bottle of tequila. Taking the cap off you took a shot without even bothering to get a glass. After the night you've had you sobered up since then, and you just wanted to numb this feeling you were having.

"We have shot glasses for a reason." Santiago teased you as sat down in the chair next to them.

"I plan on finishing off this bottle tonight." Both Frankie and Santiago laughing at you as they just sat back.

"Let's play a game." You stated after you took another large shot lifting your legs so your feet was pressed against the side of the arm rest.

"Like what?" Frankie looked confused hearing your suggestion.

"How about never have I ever?" They looked to each other with a shrug as they nodded.

"If we're playing that I'm gonna need something to drink." Santiago stood up as he opened the fridge cracking open a beer.

"Me too." Frankie shouted to him who tossed him a beer catching it waiting a few moments before he opened it.

"I'll go first." Raising your hand as you took another shot. "Never have I ever stolen something."

Both men groaned as they lifted up their beer and took a swig. That was probably a stupid question to ask to two men who were members of a notorious mob. Surely as the night went on and the more drinks you had the better the game would become.

"Never have I ever been to an amusement park." Looking over at Santiago with a shocked look and gasp.

"What?" Exclaiming as you and Frankie each took a drink. "You've never been to an amusement park?"

"Nope not once." Pressing his lips together as he shook his head. "Fish your turn."

"Uh never have I ever gone skydiving." All three of you looked at each other as nobody took a drink.

"Okay never have I ever." You looked around as you thought of something to say. "Been to a strip club."

Watching as both men smirked to each other taking a drink. Rolling your eyes not surprised by that one at all. As you sat there waiting for them to continue as they started discussing their stripper stories.

Laughing along as they joked how Benny got a boner from one of the strippers, and she left him hanging. Telling you how angry he was and that him and his right hand had to get very familiar that night.

If it wasn’t for the liquor coursing through your veins this topic of discussion would have disgusted you. This wasn’t appropriate at all, but it was amusing to you at the time.

"Okay okay never have I ever set a car on fire." Frankie looked directly towards Santiago who groaned as he took a drink.

"Come on man it was one time." Throwing his hands up as Frankie chuckled whereas you looked at them raising an eyebrow.

"What happened?" You asked nobody in particular.

"This idiot tossed his burnt cigarette near a car that he just poured gasoline on." He started off raising your eyebrows as you started laughing while glancing at Santiago. "The thing went up in flames."

"It was an accident." Throwing his head back not liking to be reminded of the things he messed up on.

Frankie continued laughing so hard he placed a hand on his chest. Santiago didn't look amused at all but you two were finding it hilarious. Santiago stood up straighter as he leaned forward grinning at Frankie.

"Alright fine never have I ever gotten head in a car." He smirked at the blushing man who immediately stopped laughing and a frown took on his face.

"Not you Frankie." You teased as he lifted up his beer taking a drink. "Alright young man explain yourself."

"It was a stripper by the way." Santiago butted in before Frankie could say anything.

“Wow shocker.” Lips pressed together not surprised at all that strippers were involved.

"At least I've gotten head in a car dick." Bob argued back as he flipped him off making Coyote burst into laughter.

"Yeah well at least I've never had to pay for head before." A hand went over your mouth as you tried not to cry from laughing so hard.

“Do you guys have any stories that don’t involve strippers?” Asking through brief chuckles.

“Not really.” Santiago confirmed.

You hated to admit it but you felt a little jealous of the stripper with Frankie. There was something about him that had you clawing at the cage to get inside. Wanting to know more about him, and possibly spend more time with him.

Granted he helped kidnap you, and was a part of a deadly gang. He seemed like a sweet man who has a big heart, and just wants to love someone deeply. Hoping he didn’t catch your stares through the night.

"Okay my turn." Taking a sip of your drink already feeling yourself getting very tipsy. "Never have I ever done it in public."

Both Frankie and Santiago took a swig as you looked at them with squinted eyes. Santiago shrugged meanwhile Frankie was just blushing even harder now. It made you giggle as you turned your focus on him, more turned on than you would’ve liked.

"And where was this Frankie?" Placing a hand under your chin as you asked the red cheeked man, Santiago wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"It was at a library." Now that was something you didn't expect to hear.

"Santi?" Turning to look at the other man with raised eyebrows, meanwhile Frankie still kept his eyes on you.

"It was at a club." Rolling your eyes playfully with his answer.

It didn't surprise you at all with that in fact you wouldn't be surprised if Benny and Will have also done it in a club. Feeling bile rise up in your throat at the thought of Will pressing another woman up against the walls of a bathroom. Hands on her hips with his lips kissing and sucking on her neck.

As you were picturing certain images in your mind you didn't realize how Frankie’s gazes on you were lingering longer and longer. How he would smile wider every time you laughed or teased him.

Frankie thought you were incredibly gorgeous and sweet. The more he get to be around you the more he wanted to keep you by his side. He felt extremely protective of you, and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.

If it wasn't for the alcohol that was in his system and his confidence feeling high he wouldn't have pulled his next move.

"Never have I ever." Frankie spoke as you and Santiago looked at him waiting for what he was going to say. "Kissed a woman named Y/N."

All you heard was Santiago ooohing as you lowered your head with a huge smile on your face. Frankie looked like an innocent little boy who was asking his crush to kiss him for the first time. It was kind of cute, and Frankie was an incredibly handsome older man. He might be a really good kisser for all you know.

Without saying a word you took another drink before you stood up to make your way over to Frankie. His eyes on yours the whole time as you sat on the other side of him Santiago looking between the two of you in bewilderment like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Looking from his eyes to his lips you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. It was a joke at first he didn't think you were really going to do it. Like him though he was feeling the alcohol in his system.

Leaning forward as you placed your hands on his knees one of his hands grabbing your waist as you placed your lips on his. Santiago’s mouth dropped down to the floor as Frankie pressed his lips even harder into yours.

His lips were soft like clouds, and yours were tingling at the delicate pressure he was applying. You’ve never felt like that when you’ve kissed someone. You were hoping he felt the same way.

Frankie groaned in your mouth as your fingers squeezed his thigh. If it wasn’t for Santiago being right there who knows if kissing would turn into more. You could feel the familiar tingle and ache between your legs the longer you kissed.

His other hand came up to caress your jaw as he was really getting into it. Feeling the edge of his glasses pressing on your face. Frankie surprisingly was a really good kisser and didn't seem awkward or uncomfortable at all. What you didn't expect though was to feel his tongue pushing against your lips begging to enter.

Before you could you heard a door opening and two hushed voices. The sounds of their shoes echoed in your ear, but Frankie wasn't letting you go. He wasn’t about to let this moment go so quickly.

He didn't care if the other guys were watching he was loving the attention he was getting. He wanted the other guys to secretly be jealous of him right now. That is until Benny decided to speak first.

"Holy shit Fish." He shouted making you and Frankie jump apart wiping your lip as you stared down at your lap. "Didn't think you'd have it in ya."

"Shut the fuck up." He growled but there was a smirk behind those words.

"Was hoping I would have been her first kiss." Benny winked towards you rolling your eyes at him.

Feeling embarrassed knowing the two of you just got caught kissing. Looking up you immediately made eye contact with Will. Who was staring you down so much you literally felt like you were shrinking down to the floor. You couldn't tell if he was angry or disappointed.

Will was pissed to watch as Frankie had his mouth all over yours. He wondered since the moment they took you what your lips would feel like and taste like. Now Frankie was the first one that got to know that.

It wasn't your fault for how he was feeling you were drunk, lost and confused about everything. Besides you weren't his to control or claim so he couldn't yell at you for kissing another member. He was just glad it wasn't Benny cause then he'd be seeing red.

"Pope." He looked between the two men staring daggers at the man in the glasses with red cheeks. "Fish."

"Benny will catch you up to speed on what we're doing." Both men stood up leaving their beer bottles both nodding as they passed by Will.

Will watching them as they walked away making sure they were gone before looking at you. His stare was really intense and you couldn't look away. Right now you were nervous wondering what he was thinking and what he was going to say to you.

"Let's get one thing straight." He started off as he started stepping closer to you. "You're not here as a guest."

"You're our hostage." You hated being reminded of your situation but he kept going. "We've kidnapped you and I decided to keep you alive."

"Fucking my men is out of the question." His words had venom in them as he spoke. "If you think sleeping with them is going to get you out of this I suggest you try another option."

"Acting like a whore isn't going to get you what you want." Your mouth parting in anger when he called you that.

Will really didn't want to say those things to you, but he wanted to piss you off. He wanted you to steer clear of him and his men, and not try to get close to any of them. The last thing he wanted to happen was any of them forming a bond with you.

Even though deep down inside he wanted to keep you all for himself. He was selfish, and didn’t want any other man to have you.

"I'm not a whore." Huffing as you stepped closer to him this time.

"Could have fooled me." He scoffed wanting to erase the image of you and Frankie kissing.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Judging by the way you were kissing Fish I’d say if it wasn't for us you probably would have fucked him right there." He snarled his cheeks and neck turning a slight shade of red.

At first the way he was talking about you and being so quick to judge you was pissing you off. Then you saw a light bulb turn on and knew exactly what he was really trying to tell you. Knowing from the moment he caught you two to where you both were now.

"Oh I get it." Looking at him with a knowing smirk.

"The fuck do you get?" He asked scrunching his face together curious to where this was going.

"You're jealous." Pointing your finger at him his face unmoved and unchanging.

"Are you fucking serious?" He was acting baffled hoping that you bought it.

"Oh my are you so jealous." You we're starting to find this funny now. "And of Frankie too."

"Shut your fucking mouth." He pushed back and it only made you laugh harder at him.

"That's so cute how jealous you are." You confined to tease with a baby voice you were pressing your luck.

"I said shut the fuck up." He was screaming at you not taking notice that he was now standing in front of you.

"I'm gonna start calling you jelly Mcjea-." Before you could say anything else you felt rough plump lips pressing against yours.

——————————————

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129

Tag list for series: @casa-boiardi @luciferiorbxtch @ladyelissarose @thatchickwiththecamera

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | Chapter Seven

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 2,8k

Warnings | +18, torture, beating, violence and threats, slight mention of past abuse, Jimin has much suppressed anger

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Dark Moon is a story destined to get darker and darker, be careful ❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse

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She had gotten out of the Dark Moon business, at night she no longer heard shady footsteps of clients coming and going from the rooms of her former colleagues, nor any alcohol-induced shuffling murmurs from the hallway, the thing still seemed impossible for her to believe.

Over the course of those three days Jimin had not approached her in the slightest, in fact she had not even seen him, there were only the objects he used to testify to his presence in the house. Perhaps she also had to "blame" her time spent in her bedroom, her new refuge.

She hid under the covers wearing the softest and most delicate clothes she had ever had, even as a child she had never been able to afford such things, her childhood consisted of hunger and nightmares.

She knew that Jimin had not given her everything for free, and that soon he would present her with a hefty bill.

But what she did not know was that Jimin had avoided any contact with her to keep his beast at bay.

The idea of having her in his house, the house he had recently bought for her, drove him crazy with desire. He wanted to bang her at every angle of the house, make her his, sadistically thinking that it would be like a baptism for the new home.

Just before he made the decision to accept Seokjin's offer, Jimin was living in a smaller apartment, suitable for a man who lived alone but, more importantly, spent most of his time outside.

He wanted to give her all the amenities necessary and suitable for a young woman like her: a nice, airy room, expensive clothes, a private bathroom, and even jewelry.

Things that Y/N had barely touched except out of strict necessity, but it didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was that she was there with him, ready to fulfill his every order when he decided the time was right.

"Earth to Park Jimin, hey... Hyung... Yah, Jimin-ssi!" he roused himself from his thoughts by bringing his gaze to Jungkook; the young man was staring at him with large, doubtful eyes.

It was not only Jungkook who squared him strangely, the others also had one question stamped on their foreheads, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’

Jimin sighed, "Sorry, go ahead-were we talking about the Just Bloods?" he rubbed his hands over his face, he hadn't slept a wink that night.

"They took out four of our people, in return we are holding one of theirs hostage," Hoseok said, Jimin raised an eyebrow.

"Only one? At the very least I would have expected carnage from you, Hoseok" Hoseok glowered at him.

"While you were having fun picking out the furnishings of your new apartment, I was attacked without warning, lost men, and it's already so much that I only captured one of them," darted the redhead, causing Jimin's amusement.

"Don't feel bad, hyung, you did a great job capturing the strategist," said Taehyung trying to improve Hoseok's tension.

"The strategist?"

"Choi Kyungi," replied Jungkook, "He is the right-hand man of the Just Blood leader, I'm sure they will be furious now."

"Furious and vengeful, what do we do Seokjin?" Namjoon turned to their leader for an answer; Jin did not even think about it.

"I want him to confess what his gang's plans are exactly, if they attacked us it's because they plan to take control of our territory, but I want to hear it from his putrid mouth," he hissed, "Torture him if it seems appropriate, I want him to confess by hook or crook, these bastards have already dared to do too much."

It did not take a genius to understand that Seokjin was livid with anger. The men they had lost had received a strict military education to be the perfect killers, Jin had invested in them and hated losing money, Jin just hated losing.

The man's grim look was sublime, his feline eyes showed no mercy, much less did the eyes of the remaining Bangtans.

Jimin, Namjoon, and Jungkook saw each other again in the afternoon at one of their establishments, Choi Kyungi stood there, tied with chains to a wooden chair, the room mostly empty except for some "work" tools they usually used when they had to gouge information out of someone's mouth.

"Hoseok?" asked Jungkook.

"Jin doesn't want him here, he's afraid it might kill him," said Namjoon as he looked sideways at the man with the sack over his head; they had sedated him to keep him quiet for a while and now it was their turn to wake him up.

"I wouldn't even blame him," spat Jimin, tossing aside the black sack covering their captive's face, the bruised face showed a boy who could not have been more than twenty-six years old, Jimin growled in anger before unleashing a punch on the man's well-delineated jaw, knuckles collided painfully on the already abused face, and instantly Kyungi opened his spirited eyes, gasping breathlessly, "Lice striking from behind would piss off anyone."

Namjoon approached the boy, lowering himself to his height, "Choi Kyungi, may we know what the fuck you're planning to do?" he asked trying to be reasonable in tone, he wanted to save himself the trouble of another beating at least that day, but in response the prisoner spat a stream of vermilion blood into his face.

"Fuck you, Bangtan boy," laughed Kyungi with contempt.

For a few moments frost fell in the room, no one daring to move in the face of that deliberate disrespect, Namjoon wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, which he later observed disgruntled.

"That was my favorite," he hissed, the kick that shot straight to Kyungi's stomach was swift and powerful, the man coughed up more blood as Namjoon adjusted the collar of the sweatshirt in question, his tense gaze betraying his apparent calm. That dog had unnerved him, "I wanted to be charitable and save you a lot of beating, but you leave us no choice," he made a sign toward Jungkook, who nodded with a grin, his dark eyes glittered with sadism, and walking confidently and cadencedly on on his amphibians, black as his soul, he went to pick up an interesting object.

It was a spiked bat, which he clutched in the palm of one hand with confidence, his swollen muscles flexing from beneath the light mesh, foretasting the little job that would soon set them in motion.

"You're not going to walk out of here on your own legs, Choi," he laughed softly, showing the bat to Kyungi, who swallowed slightly without blurting out a single word, "You're such a jerk, like those little friends of yours who tried to play with us, not knowing that for Bangtans there is no such thing as forgiveness," he pulled back his mighty arm with speed, bringing the bat down against one of the unfortunate man's legs, who held back no longer and screamed breathlessly, his eyes out of their sockets testifying to the lacerating pain that the bat equipped with dangerous ferrous spines had been able to inflict on him.

He trembled agonizingly with his bruised jaw clenched; he would not speak.

Jimin studied the whole scene over and over again, he had lost count of how many times Jungkook had hit him; with the bat, with his own kicks and punches, nothing, Kyungi was barely breathing. He was only capable of spitting his own blood, soiling even more of the already long gone floor; he was a tough cookie and this Jimin had to admit.

"Stop, Jungkook," Jimin put an end to that torture, Jungkook gasped with his forehead and upper lip drenched in sweat, his dark, brooding eyes seemed unwilling to lose sight of their prey, with his chest swollen with irritation he threw his weapon to the floor, backing away.

Namjoon stepped forward to take his place, but Jimin shook his head.

He had something far more useful than torture or a beating; he could be said to have let Jungkook continue just for the sake of revenge.

He approached the now unrecognizable man, put a hand in his jacket pocket and pulled out a postcard.

Kyungi widened his good eye, a choked breath caught in his throat.

Jimin smiled serpentinely.

"She's very pretty, Choi," he said softly, "Those chubby little cheeks make my heart melt, I have to admit," he chuckled, waving the postcard, which turned out to be a picture of a baby girl just nine months old.

"How...how" Kyungi stammered without being able to finish the sentence; he didn't have the strength.

"How did I get this picture? Bangtans have their own connections, Choi...as a result I know about your little girl that you left with her grandparents so they would take care of her, you went off to keep her safe and that's admirable, believe me," he said sympathetically, "But I probably wouldn't do the same in your place, who knows how many wolves might kidnap and eat the hunter's family when he leaves the hut to look for more food."

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME, PARK?!" he suddenly ranted, throwing himself at Jimin just enough that the chains could allow him, the idea that his little girl might end up in the hands of those bastards drove him crazy, and Park Jimin looked like the biggest bastard there.

"That should be me asking you, what the fuck do you want from us?" he asked in a low, quiet voice, "You'd better tell us if you don't want anything to happen to Mada."

Kyungi remained silent, frozen. He even knew his daughter's name, how far had he gone?

"Namjoon, take this picture, tonight we are going on a visit to Daegu province, Yoongi and Taehyung know where to go," the boy stretched out the picture of the little girl to his friend, followed by their prisoner's shout.

"I will talk! Fuck!" he whined, "Don't touch my daughter, I'll talk!"

"You'd better start doing that now, because I really don't know what might happen to her if you don't cooperate: our boss might sell her to a rich family that can't have children, as well as he might raise her in our brothel, making her a respectable Bangtan whore in the future," joked Namjoon, "Or he might just kill her, what do you say Jungkook? One way or another, you will never see her grow up."

"He could indeed, once a decision is made Kim Seokjin doesn't give up, not for anything in the world," shrugged the younger man, holding up the game to his friend.

Now in tears Kyungi spilled the beans, "The Just Bloods would never attack the Bangtans for no reason! Shit..." he exclaimed.

"Bangtan never had any contact with Just Blood, what the fuck are you talking about," chafed Namjoon, already fed up with that play.

"Not with us... but with Choi Minho yes," he said, sending a shiver down Jimin's spine, "He provides us with drugs and prevents the cops from giving us unwanted attention, in return we fulfill his favors," he swallowed, "And..." he cast a glance at Jimin, "He asked us to eliminate one person, a Bangtan."

Jimin snickered openly; it was obvious who Kyungi was referring to.

Minho must have really tied his finger the night he had spent at the Dark Moon under Jimin's threats, and he wanted to retaliate with in other ways so as not to get his hands dirty, the idea pissed Jimin off, it was as if Minho was openly declaring that Jimin wasn’t even worth it to be eliminated with his own hands.

That cowardly behavior was intolerable.

"Listen to me carefully, Kyungi," he leaned slightly toward him, "I want to know every thing you have said to each other, the plan you have devised, and most importantly the place where you are meeting," at those words the man tried to shake his head, but Jimin grabbed him hard by the hair, nailing him with one lethal glance, "Maybe we have not understood each other, you will do it or I will personally visit your daughter and feed her to the worms, screwing anything else, understood?!" he blurted lethally, Kyungi trembled from head to toe bowing his head, he had no choice.

Namjoon and Jungkook accompanied Jimin to his apartment first, they had just discussed about giving a bodyguard to the direct concerned.

"No way, I am Kim Seokjin's bodyguard, and a bodyguard with a bodyguard is even ridiculous to imagine," he growled.

"Hyung, a bodyguard is not embarrassing if your life is involved," the younger man tried to reason with him, failing.

"It's embarrassing if I've been trained to defend and stand up for myself, okay? I don't want someone to protect me," he made adamant, causing the other two to snort.

He got out of the car stymied, but Namjoon called him back, turned listlessly, "What?"

"Would you really have hurt that child, Jimin?" he asked, there was no accusation in his tone, just curiosity. In their world they had seen anything and everything, but they had never gone that far.

Jimin remained impassive, before shaking off an uncomfortable feeling.

"It's just the way we live, hyung, no hard feelings," he said in a colorless voice, before turning and leaving.

When he returned to his new apartment waiting for him was a small figure, she held a plate in her hands and on it lay a soft slice of chocolate cake, the girl's eyes widened.

They had not seen each other for days and she did not expect to see him at just such a time, she cast a glance at the wall clock that read two o'clock in the morning. She believed he would not be back by that evening....

She made to set her plate down on the low coffee table, but Jimin beat her to it, slipping away into his own bedroom.

She was petrified, was this the same intimidating man she had come to know?

She asked no more questions, grabbed her cake and ran to her room, to her shelter, before the boy changed his mind and came back to her with the intention of tormenting her.

But Jimin would not return to her that night, he was struggling with the blood that soaked his skin, after Kyungi's confession had made sure the man fully understood his situation, Jimin rubbed his skin under the shower water, bruised with rage.

Minho was not going to get away with this, the son of a bitch had finally moved, now not even Jin would find excuses to stop him from carrying out his revenge.

He thought back with disgust to his captive days spent in the dungeon of the Choi mansion.

His nerves tensed and he narrowly restrained himself from hitting the pale tiles of his bathroom with his fist.

That and more would be reserved for Minho.

He stepped out of the shower with a small towel tied around his hips, his shiny, flawless skin showcasing the man's beautifully fit figure.

He went to bed that way, not bothering to get boxers to sleep in.

He was tired and mentally exhausted, the last thing he wanted was to take one more step.

He closed his thin, magnetic eyes, trying to fall asleep, but in vain. Chaos reigned in his head, a woman's shadow stretched across his memories, and hours passed, hours where he tried to escape her hands, turned over and tossed and turned in bed in a sweat slick. The woman's laughter scratched his ears, while the Choi forefather's smile never stopped taunting him.

He jerked his eyes open staring at the ceiling in the dark, he breathed heavily for air, frustration made him kick between the clean sheets, he lifted himself up holding his head in his hands, a sickening rage that was hard to let go took over his body.

His beast.

He had to let it out.

He abandoned his bed in search of his vice, grabbed the pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, placed it between his fleshy lips inhaling its bitter substance once lit, after three or four puffs he realized it would do no good.

Frustrated and with damp hair in front of his eyes he pressed it down on the ashtray, putting it out in an unnerved manner.

He had developed an addiction to smoking to escape from his problems, but a bad feeling made him sense that even that habit would no longer be of any use, his crisis was not passing and he was going crazy after it.

With one last glimmer of lucidity he remembered her. Y/N.

He widened his eyes, pupils dilated. With his body trembling, invaded by negative emotions too painful to keep to himself, he prepared to reach out to the only life form in the house besides himself.