#its not giving me a crisis or nothin

[ladyinbl00d]

i can write gore

NOT SONGS?????????

[nyan-binary-moths]

If you didnt think there was something wrong with me before than I think it's about time I reminded ppl that I never suffered from motion sickness until after I played crisis core when iw as like 13 and found out cloud got motion sickness and now I suffer from it far too much-

[ironcladrhett]

(The War Between Brothers)

“And?! We were kids once, little brother. Nobody fuckin’ treated us with kindness, and we’re just fuckin’ humans. Not hurtin’ anyone that wasn’t ready to hurt us first.” He stepped close to Emilio now, getting in his face and jabbing his shoulder roughly with a finger. “You’re askin’ me to leave a monster alone. A beast that’ll only spread its malice out into the world, on unsuspectin’ folk what can’t even defend themselves. I don’t give a flyin’ fuck how old it is, you hear me?” He snarled through gritted teeth.

(Starry-eyed)

“What good will that do ya?” he asked, pacing in the darkness, eyes glinting malevolently with a grin the mare could not see. “Calm down… the lights ain’t gonna kill ya. Probably. Well, that’s what we’re here tah’find out, anyway.” Still he paced, heart beating at an elevated rate, the delight writhing its way up his spine. Nothin’ felt better than watchin’ them fuckers suffer. Nothin’.  “My, ain’t you pretty in the light…” he commented in a voice that sounded both saccharine and venomous at the same time.

(Good Omens)

“It wasn’t fair what he did. But he didn’t give you a choice. He wouldn’t have given you a choice either way, don’t you see that? It was always him or mom.” Ophelia stepped closer again, and Rhett flinched. “He was ruthless. Brutal. He tried to put it away for you, but he couldn’t. And he made you… just like him, didn’t he? When he died, you felt like you had to pick up his mantle?”  “Stop,” Rhett muttered, shifting his weight again and hissing in pain, slumping back against the tree as he’d been when they arrived. Ophelia moved closer, and he remained still.  “No, I won’t stop,” his daughter promised with tears in her eyes, her arm raising as a hand reached for him.  “S-stop, I don’t want—I can’t—” The girl’s hand found his shoulder and he had nowhere to go, helpless against her will as she circled her arms around his torso. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, the insect buzz and scratch of being this close to a fae almost overwhelming him, but there was no escape, so he tried to push it down. Bury it like he’d buried his brother. Bury it like he had the truth of his moralities all this time, overlaid by Desmond’s own. Just as he’d been adopted by that hunter community, so too had he adopted his brother’s code. He loved him fiercely, but Ophelia was right. 

(The Burden)

“Fuck’s sake,” Rhett snarled, shaking his head at the poor bastard of a ranger with fresh holes in his head. He turned on Emilio, jabbing an accusatory finger against his chest. “This is why ya don’t watch ‘em to see if they’re up to no good, little brother. This is why ya don’t spare ‘em. Ya fuckin’ kill ‘em when I god damn tell you to.” With an angry huff, he picked the sword back up and slipped it into its scabbard, then looked at Owen. “Forgive the idjit. He’s been havin’ a morality crisis fer a couple years now.” Maybe this would take care of that, he thought. Rather, he hoped. 

(Do It For Me)

Rhett hated being helped. He hated relying on other people. He was better than that, stronger than that. He was old as hell for a hunter, particularly with one so red a ledger as his own. He was a survivor, and he’d not gotten through it by cowering in fear, by hiding behind others. He hated it, but he was resigned to it for as long as Emilio felt was necessary. And what could he do? Abandon the only family he had left? He needed to, he knew that. He needed to get the fuck away from all of them as soon as possible, to keep his mistakes from bleeding into their lives too. But… he couldn’t. Physically, he couldn’t. He didn’t feel trapped, he was trapped. 

[taiblogcomics]

Fights and Delights

Hey there, anachronistic tacos. It's September now! Countdown is still going! Do you see now? Do you begin to see how this was as a weekly series? And this is me being diligent about it! I genuinely don't know if there were any delays or what have you. I know that 52, for all its splendor, missed a deadline or two in its still very impressive run. And I know that because the trades for it include a lot of supplementary materials, including stuff by the writers about behind-the-scenes work. What do the Countdown trades (which I am reading this from) have? Nothin'. Because Countdown sucked, and they know it sucked, so they cheaped the trades out as much as they could~

Here's the cover:

All right, it's no secret I've been harsh on more than a few covers in this series. But it's this series, so can you blame me? Now this one, though, this is a cool cover! I will absolutely give it that--if Batman actually appears in the issue. That's my caveat! In fact, I will make you a deal. As long as there are no other outstanding major issues (e.g. character deaths), I will give this issue a full pass if Batman is actually in it. If they're just putting Batman on the cover to bank off his personality, it fails. That's the deal, man. The total deal.

So, in the recap, Pied Piper and Trickster are on the run for murdering the Flash and hid out in Gotham, where they're confronted by Deathstroke (not Batman). Donna Troy and Jason Todd are searching the multiverse for Ray Palmer, and are held captive by a magical queen (not Batman). Mary Marvel, in pursuit of magical power, is expelled from her apprenticeship by Zatanna (not Batman). Karate Kid and Una are searching for answers and fought a '90s reject (not Batman). Holly Robinson is recruited by Athena's women's shelter to fight in a gladitorial arena (not against Batman). And Jimmy Olsen takes his new superpowers to the Justice League and is rejected (including by Batman). Now let's get into today's issue (with or without Batman).

So, remember two issues ago where Trickster and Piper tried to pass themselves off as in Deathstroke's employ to escape from Poison Ivy, only for Deathstroke to show up and call their bluff as a cliffhanger? And then the previous issue didn't even feature their subplot? I hope that anticipation and build-up was worth it, because we open today's issue with Deathstroke having beaten them up off-screen. Seriously. Slade must be getting paid by the minute, because he is in one panel in this entire series. "What was even the point" is the tagline for this whole series, but it feels especially fitting here~

So anyway, Piper and Trickster got beat up by Deathstroke, who then tied them up, hung them upside down, and pointed the Bat-Signal to shine on them. So page two does fulfill its promise of Batman, as he shows up where the Bat-Signal is being shone, as he always does. Like Bat-moths to a Bat-flame. Batman's about to pull them up and Bat-interrogate them when they disappear. We then see they got whisked away by the Flash--not the one they killed, but I believe this one is Wally, who has returned from the Speed Force he got stuck in during Infinite Crisis. Batman notes that they're probably in for even a worse time than he was gonna give 'em.

Hey, do you remember how this whole series started? With Duela Dent's murder, and Jimmy Olsen trying to write an article about it? Well, Jimmy suddenly did. Now that he's been rejected from the Justice League, he's back to square one. He reasons that there must be some connection between the murders of Duela, Lightray, and Sleez. To that end, he's visiting DC's resident tech genius, John Henry Irons (AKA Steel). He's got a bio-feedback scanner, and Jimmy's hoping it'll tell him more about his powers. And true to form, if you didn't read Steel's or his daughter Natasha's parts in 52 or Infinity Inc., you probably don't know why he has this.

We cut away from that back to Wally having hauled Piper and Trickster out of Gotham and to Keystone City. To Bart Allen's grave, specifically. Naturally, he's furious. See, both Trickster and Piper had reformed some years ago and were allies in the pages of Wally's own series. So not only did they participate in Bart's murder, they betrayed his trust to do so. So he's even madder about this than he is at the actual villainous Rogues like Mirror Master or Weather Wizard. Mad enough that he won't hear them out, he just starts beating the hell out of them.

Over with the Multiverse Crew, Donna Troy and Jason Todd got captured by a fairy-tale queen, Ryan Choi (the only non-white character in this whole story) got turned into a bug, and Bob the Monitor got thrall'd. Queen Who-Cares amuses herself by turning Ryan back and forth from bug to human, and when Donna comes for her, she uses Bob to blast her away. She's very interested in Bob's ability to move between realities, figuring this will be of great help to her once the Great Disaster strikes. And when Donna gets up again, she calls in her bug squad to have a fight scene.

Speaking of fight scenes, we check back in with Athena's combat arena. Holly Robinson's still squaring off against the combatant in the comedy mask. Holly reveals her secret of how she's survived on the streets for so long: there's no such thing as a fair fight. If you find yourself in a situation where you have to cheat, do it, coz your opponent would do the same. So she manages to get around behind Funny Face and start choking her out with her whip. Funny Face does a scorpion kick to break free, and Athena calls the match. She deems both of them worthy, and Holly's opponent removes the mask to reveal she was Harley Quinn all along! Gee, who could have guessed~?

Mary Marvel, meanwhile, is not in a fight scene. In fact, where she is is actually kind of funny. She's in a marketplace in China called Chung Ling Soo Square. And when I went to look that up to see if it was real (given DC's track record of having over a dozen fictional major cities in the US alone), it turns out Chung Ling Soo was an American stage magician in the late 1800s who performed in yellowface. Like, you get the connection as a magical person, so he has a magical market named for him. But you probably won't find many places named after him in real-world China. Anyways, I think that's some fun trivia for you.

Oh yeah, where were we? Mary Marvel, magical marketplace. Wandering around in her black latex cheerleading uniform, she looks a little out of place in the Asian mysticism-themed stuff. Naturally, the only other person who also super stands out notices her. It's Klarion the Witchboy! Klarion's a fucking delight whatever he's in, the scheming blue-skinned Puritan. He and Mary have a friendly chat, which is mostly all Klarion assessing both Mary's magical ability and naivete, after which he binds her in a bubble and plans to sell her on the market himself. See? Dastardly~

Meanwhile, Una and Karate Kid have finally met with this Mister Orr that Oracle recommended they seek out. That dingus Equus is nowhere to be seen, thank god. Orr asks if they're familiar with the OMAC Project (which resurfaced in the leadup to Infinite Crisis). Whatever Karate Kid is infected with, it bears a resemblance to the OMAC virus. So Orr suggest they track down Buddy Blank, the guy who invented OMACs. And as they leave, Orr calls up a mysterious silhouette, reporting he did as was asked by sending them to Buddy. The silhouette replies that his master will be most pleased. And on the other side of the screen? Desaad, rearranging Darkseid's chess set again.

Back over with Jimmy and John Henry, the machine is showing a visualisation of what's going on with Jimmy. More specifically, it's showing a projection of the Source Wall, the mysterious barrier at the edge of the universe. Jimmy's also getting that classic sci-fi trope of his head swelling painfully from having too much info in it. A brief projection of the multiverse also appears. The machine is overloaing, and Jimmy's brain is projecting it back, catching them in an overload feedback loop. Steel has to smash the machine to turn it off, another classic sci-fi trope. Whatever's going on with Jimmy, Steel can't even determine it.

So for the final page of this issue, we return to Wally beating up Piper and Trickster. Once he's satisfied, he asks them what they were babbling about in regard to a "secret mission". Piper and Trickster state that they were only with Inertia and the other Rogues to act as spies. From there, they found out Poison Ivy, Deathstroke, and other villains are planning to attack Green Arrow's wedding (another well-publicised event at the time). How or where they got this info isn't explained here, so it must've happened in the same off-screen fight with Deathstroke. Wally considers this, then starts pulling on their handcuffs. The ones that will electrocute them if strained too far. The comic ends with Wally's face in shadow, stating they deserve to die for killing Bart.

So! As promised, I'm officially declaring this a good issue. It paid off that Batman appearance, even if not as excitingly as the cover. But I think it deserves the title for other reasons, too. We got to see Klarion the Witchboy, we learned a little about American stage magic in the 1880s, we used some funny GIFs in the review. Equus wasn't in it. All that's good!

Which is not to say even a mostly enjoyable issue is not without its, well, issues. The cliffhanger with Deathstroke concluding off-screen and introduction of new info about Green Arrow's wedding is very badly written and baffling (probably happened in a tie-in, but the comic doesn't even include a little "see issue #whatever of Countdown: The Tie-In!" box to tell you where). Ryan Choi gets constantly mistreated, as is a common thing in his history. And you start to see how Karate Kid's storyline will play out: it's a long fetch quest. He will track down a person, who will tell him to go see another different person. This will continue until the end of the series. So, like, strap in.

Still, no one died, and the comic didn't lie about having Batman. That's basically all I asked! It's sad when that's the minimum~

[toestalucia]

uhh up to ch177 lines again

Noa: Captain… Are you sure about this? Are you okay with enduring this sort of tragedy as long as it means saving the world? Choice 1: No, I'm not. Vyrn: That goes for all of us. Losin' friends is a tough pill to swallow. But… everybody who died is gone. There's nothin' we can do… Choice 2: We just have to accept it. Lyria: We're not the only ones who suffered in this battle. But everyone was trying to move on. Even if it meant turning away from reality or hiding their true feelings.

gah.....

Loki: I have to ask… Do you genuinely think it's right to do something like that? Let's say someone dies of an illness. It's obviously a heartbreaking thing. You could even call it a tragedy. But is it really okay to bring them back to life on a whim? You know the answer, but you're choosing to turn a blind eye. In the past, I have no doubt that you would have intervened to stop anyone who was trying to bend the laws of nature. So that no matter what tragedy they had faced, they could look to the future and live on. Loki's tone is genuine, without a hint of mockery. Loki: If you guys say you've changed, that's fine with me. I just want to know what you've got your sights set on for my own sake—so I can walk my own path.

Lyria: I tried to accept it at first too. I told myself that the dead don't come back—that's just how the world works. But if there's a way to make the impossible possible, whatever it is… Loki: You want to travel with your friends again, even if the world may not view your actions as "correct".

loki fan is still surprised we have arrived at a place where loki has this much screentime. anytime the loki parts are always on my mind. personally i rly like the direction of the ppl whos been helping the world going against the world, & that while the side thing of the broken sky Is concerning enough to look for a solution for anyway, theyre pretty obvious with the 'even if that wasnt a thing, we still wouldve done this'. like lokis 'I guess that was a pretty silly question, considering how many times you've come face-to-face with the world in crisis.' line........

but especially considering katalina asking them to travel for themself rather than the whims of the world. having this be their decision issssss auughhhhhhhh......running from the empire...defeating freesia.....having to leave phantagrande 1) cuz theyre wanted 2) they need to get to the next sky realm for the sky pieces anyway. and nalhegrande ends in falling to the bottom of the skies, and oarlyegrande has them swept up first in blf and then otherworld. something about the decision they make is to travel with their friends again. you know

anyway brief loki posting but the way he talks about having met beings similiar to current captain. gods born from beliefs. giving them forms as primal beasts. cuz i feel its been established loki wasnt a researcher? 'im as infamous as those researchers'. but byleistr is also the person who had access of akasha...................next update loki lore for sure. copium. ive waited for so long for them to piece together what theyve alrdy said about his past

[spoonie-ritsu]

UGHH OK HERE I GO AGAIN

he’s just a freaking 13 year old kid, but from such an early age he had labels and expectations placed on him because of his academic ability. as a little kid, making the adults in your life happy with your accomplishments is a great feeling, even if you’re not really sure why they’re happy. that becomes your desire in life, to please other people. that became ritsu’s life, pleasing his parents, his teachers, his peers, falling into the “gifted child” role because it made people happy, he was good at it, so that’s what he did. that’s what he was.

but then he started to grow up, become more self-aware (puberty, essentially), and with it came the realization that being the “gifted child” didn’t bring him happiness the way it brought others happiness. in fact, getting perfect grades wasn’t even seen as an accomplishment anymore, his hard work got no recognition, because good grades were expected of him. the only recognition - the only validation - he’d received his whole life was gone, and he knew he wasn’t happy but his performance in school was all he had, it was who he was. he didn’t know what else could make him happy. he didn’t know who he was.

then he latched onto the idea that if ritsu isn’t the perfect model student, then he MUST be mob’s little brother. mob’s little brother, who was happy and carefree and played with his brother’s powers. his little brother, who was supposed to have powers too, because “of course you’ll get them someday, you’re my little brother!”

he was desperate to feel happy with his life, with himself, so he decided that the reason he was unhappy was because he failed to develop psychic powers and become who he was meant to be. who cared about good grades anyway - anyone can get good grades if they study hard enough. that doesn’t make you special - having good grades didn’t make him special anymore, because nobody cared anymore. having powers would make him special, and uniquely Ritsu Kageyama.

its so ironic how similar this is to reigen’s childhood. reigen lived his life only adapting to other’s expectations for him, and he gained popularity and academic success. until the day he realized he had no personality. he had no hopes or dreams or ambitions because he didn’t need those things before, but he had no idea what he wanted to do after graduation because he had never wanted anything. he had always just done what was expected of him.

in conclusion: ritsu was never given the opportunity to grow into himself. he grew into what other people said he should be, the labels they placed on him, and so the moment he realized he had no personality of his own, he panicked, leading to a ton of bad decisions in a desperate attempt to... become someone (hmm maybe... not unlike mob’s own dilemma, huh?)

[house-of-laminations]

Tbh we always talk about the more eldritch side of the obey me cast, but yknow what would be nice? Seeing these old grandpas get so shocked at how humans work now.

I don't really think demons have a proper concept of evolution. Maybe its more of a power up? But they certainly don't evolve like how humans would. It'd be funny to see some of them get shocked to learn that we didn't exactly look like this before. Of course some of em may know before, but other demons who just think of humans as food and nothing more would.

Idk its just funny to see a demon having a whole crisis because how tf did we go from that to that?

Anon not only is this hilarious to think about, especially when you consider the differences between human and demon biologies, but it's absolutely insane to imagine these ancient know-it-alls either just forgetting it or like. completely missing humans evolving. kinda like MC: i know as a human i think my species is kinda important but how do you MISS that? Brothers: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so I wrote that. I hope you dont mind.

no cws, but there's a nod to dialuci, which could also be very easily read as a reckless MC making a joke at Lucifer's expense. 5.5k words again, babes.

Evolutionary Biology 101 with Prof. MC (or: how the demons missed the emergence of Homo sapiens sapiens only for MC to educate them)

Mammon

Mammon was created some time before Cambrian Explosion - though don't ask him what year, no one was keeping track of things like that back then.

The general goings-on of heaven didn't interest him so much, so Lucifer would often give him the more fun, creative projects to occupy his time.

He didn't pay much attention to humans either, not until Beel, Belphie, and Lilith started expressing an interest in them - and by then human development had progressed to the use of tools and currency - completely missing their initial emergence.

"Well this is a waste of time! There's nothin' shiny here at all," complains Mammon.

"You didn't have to come with me," you say, for what feels like the hundredth time.

In hindsight, it probably wasn't the smartest idea ever to bring the Avatar of Greed along with you while you visit the museum. Solomon had wanted you to pick up something from an acquaintance of his, and that acquaintance happened to be one of the research associates tied to the place. Your only saving grace has been the fact this is the Natural History Museum - still full of valuable artifacts, but less immediately obvious or eye catching. You wouldn't know what to do with Mammon in a place like the British Museum.

Or actually. On second thoughts... maybe you should take him there. He'd be right at home.

You leave the demon somewhere in near the entrance with a firm suggestion (though not an order) to stay put. The meeting is short and to the point, and you leave the office with an ancient scroll in hand.

Mammon is not where you left him when you return.

With a sigh, you find yourself a map of museum exhibits, resolving to find him by process of elimination. Maybe he's by some of the valuables displays - early tools, jewelry, and pottery could potentially snag his interest.

Except he's not where you expect him to be at all.

You find Mammon in one of the new exhibits - Roots of Australiana.

"I made that one," he says, pointing. You follow the line his finger makes and you can't help but feel the surge of fond exasperation when your eyes land on the taxidermy creature.

"Are you telling me you made the platypus?"

"Yup, all the handiwork of the Great Mammon!" he says, pride in his voice and the way he puffs out his chest. "Michael hated it but Lucifer loved it."

The affection you feel for this demon is immeasurable. You laugh, grabbing onto his arm and hugging him close, just to see that beautiful red blush take over his features. You don't let yourself be shocked by the fact that apparently Mammon was responsible for the creation of one of the weirdest creatures known to mankind. It makes a startling amount of sense.

You spend the next few hours in just that one exhibit, pointing at different animals and asking about their origins. Mammon doesn't know the answer to all of the questions you ask, but you do get a glimpse into what sort of life he maybe had before the Fall.

"Oh yeah! Jellyfish! Levi wasn't super interested in makin' anything but we all had to contribute something. He got his out of the way real early on too."

"Lucifer says he made the cassowary, but Satan swears up an' down that it was him drivin' at the time."

"Asmo, Beel, an' I worked together on Kangaroos. Or rather - I made kangaroos but Asmo didn't think they were 'cute' enough so he made wallabies. Beel was just a kid back then but he loved 'em so much he wanted to show Belphie and Lilith, so he made Rock-Wallabies. Small enough that he could pick 'em up and carry 'em in his lil' baby hands."

Eventually you get to the end of the exhibit, where there there's a display of recreations of the neolithic pre-human variations of the indigenous peoples. There's even an actual skull just sitting there in the open, beyond the rope boundary. Surprisingly, Mammon has something to say about this too.

"Lucifer, Simeon, an' a few of the other seraphim helped make those. I dunno why it took a bunch of them though considerin' there are none left around today. Too many cooks, I wonder?"

You freeze.

"Mammon," you start, still formulating your thoughts, "do you know what this is?"

He cocks his head, gaze flitting between you and the display. "It's jus' a monkey, isn't it? Not one of the cute ones though."

"No..." you say slowly, only because you yourself are kind of perplexed by this strange gap in his knowledge, "Well. Yes, kind of a monkey. But a monkey that eventually evolved into the human race."

There's a moment of silence as Mammon stares at you.

"You're shittin' me, MC," he finally says.

"I wouldn't lie to you about this," you say, even though you would in any other circumstance. Winding Mammon (or really, any of the brothers) up has become a personal past-time. "That right there is one of the protohumans. Paranthropus boisei if that plaque is to be believed."

Mammon looks so confused and it's hard not to giggle a little at his wide eyes.

But then you see his arm move and -

"Wait, Mammon-"

It's too late. Mammon has already reached inside the exhibit to grab hold of the skull. Alarms start blaring but he ignores it - probably doesn't even register to him. Instead, he's holding up the skull to be level with your own head.

You only just hold back from making an Alas, dear Yorrick joke.

"Nah, I don' see it. Where'd the fangs go? Your teeth so little compared to these chompers." he says, while fiddling with the admittedly ginormous teeth inside the skull.

You pull on his arm to try and get him to drop the skull before anyone sees, but he doesn't budge. "Please, Mammon. I'll tell you if you just put. The skull. Down."

You punctuate each word with more fruitless tugs at his arm, which prompts him to raise it higher to try and get the skull out of your reach. Security has now run into the room, and they're all trying to ask him the same thing - put the skull down and come with them.

Mammon snorts, narrowing his eyes. "Pesky humans," he grumbles, before wrapping his free arm around you.

You're not quite sure what happens next. You think there's a flash of wing, the touch of cool leather, but it's like your brain just doesn't know how to translate what your body is seeing, hearing, and feeling.

When the world starts making sense again, you have to blink a few times to get your eyes adjusted to bright sunlight. You can hear running water, and in front of you a platypus is lounging in the reeds of a small creek.

Mammon is still holding that skull.

"Alright, now that we're alone, you can start explainin' things," he says.

This is just too bizarre. You sigh. So much for getting Solomon's scroll back to him before sundown. Especially now that it seems Mammon has taken you entire continents away.

In for a penny...

"Is listening to me explain evolutionary biology to you really what you want to do now we're alone in the middle of nowhere?"

There's a splashing sound as the skull is thrown into the creek. You can't find it in you to care. Especially not when strong arms wrap around you and everything becomes Mammon.

Leviathan

Leviathan was created some million years before the Triassic era. He grew up at the same time the life in the ocean was starting to grow teeth.

He was the brother to spend the most time on Earth - but not on land. His presence in the deepest depths in the ocean was perhaps one of the reasons for their eventual gargantuan size. And as the creatures grew in response to this threat, Leviathan grew with them.

Really, humans only started being interesting when they learned to tell stories with nuance. His brothers like to joke it was the advent of anime and manga, but really, Levi secretly loved the puppetry of early civilizations too.

But by then, it was too late. He'd spent all that time down in the ocean, only to miss man's precursors crawling from the waves.

You're mentally patting yourself on the back for the absolutely brilliant idea to bring Levi to a human aquarium when he stops suddenly beside you.

It's not the first time that's happened during the day - quite often some scaly creature will attract Levi's attention and he'll be frozen staring at it for a bit. If you didn't know better you'd say he was trying to mentally communicate with the fish. You're happy to listen to his long rants and tangents after about that particular species or maybe a fun story he has about some of his oceanic trips. Normally the shifting blue ambiance of the aquarium lighting makes people look spooky, otherworldy. On Levi, it makes him look alive.

What seems to have stopped him this time is the absolutely enormous jawbone of what the plaque tells you is a Megalodon.

"It was a baby," he sniffs.

You grab onto his hand, pushing down the existential terror that anecdote brings up in you. Whatever this jaw belonged to could swallow you whole without realizing, and that's baby sized?

"There, there. At least it's swimming happily in the fishy afterlife with the rest of its species," you try to console.

"Not all of them," he grumbles sulkily.

That makes you freeze. You're staring up at the fossilized jawbone, contemplating the implications of that comment long enough for Levi to wander off on his own.

"MC," Levi calls to you, though you can't say for sure how much time has passed, "what do they mean by 'all life started in the ocean'?"

Once with Mammon was chance.

Twice with Levi - it can't be coincidence.

Or rather, shouldn't be.

"Exactly what it says," you say rather blithely. You should not have to explain this to beings who were definitely alive back then. "All life, including the reptiles, mammals, and even humans, started off as some variation of sea life."

"Oh, so you have gills? Why didn't you say so MC, I could've taken you taken out to visit Lotan ages ago if I'd known-"

"Levi, I don't have gills," you interrupt. "I have lungs. We've been over this."

He screws up his nose. "Seems like a bit of a downgrade, to me. Think about all the cool things you're missing out on because you don't have gills!"

"Missing?" you ask incredulously, "sure, we're coming back to the giant deep sea life that apparently isn't dead in a sec, but how can you miss all of human evolution?"

He blinks at you slowly.

"It's not like the land creatures were doing anything interesting."

You splutter. "Not doing anything inter- Levi they were evolving into humans. They were fighting and eating each other to distill the dominant species!"

He shrugs.

"Plesiosaurs did that too. If you wanted to see some really vicious fighting, you could always count on the Vampyromorphs."

"I'm sorry the what?"

Levi sighs like you were put on this earth just to test him. In your defense, you kind of were, a little bit. You sling an arm around his shoulders to bring him close. You're in this together, after all.

You don't hide your blush when he confidently puts an arm around your waist in return, hand settling on your hip. He uses it to steer you towards the Squid Tank.

"C'mon MC, your normie side is showing. Vam-pyro-morph. Giant squids with slightly cannibalistic tendencies. Ticklish underneath the tentacles and the teeth," he says, like that explains anything.

Sketched onto the plaque beside the tank is one of the early vampire squid precursors. It's the most terrifying thing you have ever seen.

Speaking of terrifying, that reminds you -

"Levi- hey. Levi, please, what did you mean megalodon aren't extinct-"

Satan & Asmodeus

Asmodeus was created sometime around the late Jurassic era. This was way before the modern variations of the Homo sapiens species, but a few of their precursors were mulling around.

That wasn't to say they were doing anything particularly interesting. Instead, Asmo was more taken with the potential colors of avian feathers. He was trying to campaign for more variation by aggressively making more wild and wonderful plumage.

Satan, perhaps, has the best defense in that he didn't exist as an independent entity until sometime around when humans invented agriculture. He may have had flashes of awareness within Lucifer, but it was very rarely during anything to do with the mortal races.

You, Satan, and Asmo had agreed to study for your next Devildom Law exam together in the House's library. Studying together was normally a thing you and Satan would do anyway, but Asmo had been falling behind somewhat in your last exams, and Lucifer was starting to get snippy about it. You suggested Asmo should join you and Satan, on the basis that the current unit is on human cultural developments, and you can teach by example.

Asmo was especially enthusiastic about that.

Surprisingly, he was a more effective study partner than, say, Mammon. The three of you had been managing to read quietly together for just over an hour. Your hand had drifted unconsciously into Asmo's hair, while Satan let his tail wrap around your ankle.

"I didn't realize humans had multiple forms too!"

Asmo's voice breaks the tranquility of the library, and you look up from your notes. Satan leans over Asmo's shoulder and hums a little in surprise.

You suddenly have a lap full of the Avatar of Lust as Asmo crowds into your space. He's got a book in hand - one on the history and development of human cultures. It's turned to a page on the origins of humanity, and it even contains one of those stereotypical diagrams you'd associate with the progression of evolution - from fish to primate to man.

"What-" you start, but Satan's already latched onto this subject like a cat with its prey.

"It makes sense - your current form is quite dexterous and good for persistance hunting, but it doesn't provide much in terms of raw power," he's saying, and what?

"Though it seems the cranial size and cognitive capacity of your current form is the most advanced - is that to make quick decisions and judgements?"

"You don't have to keep your defenses up with us - surely you know that we'll love you no matter what you look like," Asmo croons, twining your fingers together.

"Don't you trust us, MC?" asks Satan and damn him for being so soft.

"Wait, guys, you don't think..." you start but then trail off. After Mammon and Levi, maybe you shouldn't assume the knowledge of these dumbasses demons.

"Think what, MC?" Satan asks.

You can't help the laugh that escapes you.

"Humans don't have multiple forms, at least that I'm aware of. That's a diagram of human evolution," you explain.

It doesn't seem to clear anything up. They're both still staring at you, waiting.

"Humans didn't always start off with opposable thumbs. In fact, we actually started in the ocean as weak little microbes," you say, wishing you paid more attention in high school bio. "We eventually grew lungs and feet and all the other stuff until we landed on version I am today."

"Oh," says Asmo, and it's actually a bit of a surprise that he's the first of the two to get it.

"Kind of like how Satan started off as a parasitic feeling of righteous anger, then became a ball of miasmic spite before figuring out the whole physical shape thing?"

Or not.

"Hey, I was not a parasite-" Satan scowls but you cut him off before he could get truly worked up.

"No, that's more like human childhood development-" you stop yourself when you see their looks of confusion. Right. Basics. "Anyway. Human evolution happened over millions of years. What you see before you now is the result of thousands of generations combining to produce the most viable, strongest traits for survival."

"Oh!" says Asmo, and not again. "Like dogs!"

You go to refute that too, but then you pause. Technically all the different shapes and sizes dogs come in are the result of generations of selective breeding. Some have survived and some have died off.

"Kind of," you finally settle on.

Satan scowls. "You're not like a dog, MC. You're different to other humans, right?"

You sigh, resolving yourself to an afternoon of explain the theories of evolutionary taxonomy, genetics, and survival of the fittest.

To two of the most powerful beings in existence.

Great. So much for date night.

Beelzebub & Belphegor

Beelzebub and Belphegor (and Lilith) all had a fascination with humans and human cultures.

That doesn't mean they were particularly aware of their origins. After all, they had only been created towards the late Miocene era. They were children as the protohumans were taking their first steps.

To say the twins and Lilith grew up as humanity grew up wouldn't be incorrect. They were somewhat sheltered, though, from the worst of it.

You had promised this would be a quick trip to the university's library. You still have your student access, which grants you document delivery privileges - something both Lucifer and Solomon take advantage of regularly. Normally the library could send you a digital copy of your requested book, chapter, or paper, but in this case you had to go in and pick up a physical copy. Belphie and Beel had offered to accompany you for the trip, and in return you offered to get them a human world lunch - your treat.

However, you weren't banking on encountering one of your more detestable peers. You and he had never gotten along - not even since your undergrad days. He catches sight of you before you could turn and leave, and you were forced into a 'polite' game of catch-up.

The conversation starts and ends with pointed barbs and unwarranted bragging on both sides. Occasionally his eyes will flick towards Beel and Belphie at your back, both impatiently waiting for this to be over like kids waiting for their parent to stop catching up with an old friend in the shopping centre. Unfortunately it all devolves into something just shy of a screaming match when he decides to bring the twins into it, referring to them obliquely - insulting them in that underhanded way that conceited academics fling around their intelligence. There's something frantic about it, though.

He decides to take his leave when you start garnering the attention of other students.

"Right, well, when you're done associating with Neanderthals be sure to give me a call. I need that book once you're done with it."

"I would, but that lead pole stuck up your ass would probably block my call anyway," you sneer as he leaves, determined not to give him the last word.

A strong arm wraps around your waist, stopping you from going after that scholarship stealing prick by keeping you held against Beel's chest.

"I don't get why he made you so mad," grumbles Belphie.

"You mean besides sniping the scholarship and supervisory team I was gunning for during my year away?" you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down. This probably doesn't mean much to them anyway. "He shouldn't have called you that."

"Called us what?" Beel asks, still not letting you go.

You turn in his hold, tilting your head. "He called you Neanderthals. Which is such a childish insu-"

"What's a neanderthal?" asks Belphie, coming up on Beel's other side to lean against you heavily. You're not sure whether it's his inherent laziness or his desire to constantly be close to you, but you appreciate it regardless.

You sigh. By now you've realized that for whatever reason, these ancient entities who predate humanity know nothing about how your species emerged.

You grab both of their hands in your own, tugging at Beel softly to get him to release you. He does, and you walk them towards the display at the entrance of the Anthropology library. There's a large, old diagram in a simple frame that feels incongruous to the ultra-modern aesthetic the rest of the library seems to have.

The picture depicts somewhat of a lineage of human species - with branching taxonomies to show some of the related Homo Sapiens species before your own wiped them out. You point to one of the closest humanoid figures - it's proportions vaguely similar to your own, but the arms and hands are too large, the skull too long.

"That's a neanderthal. They were a possible early prototype of humans," you say, and it's somewhat amusing to see the identical expressions of confusion direct themselves from you to the image.

Beel hums. "I still don't get it. Why did it make you so mad?"

You sigh. "The neanderthals were wiped out by the early Homo sapiens sapiens - my species. Well. Wiped out, bred out, there's still some contention. Supposedly their cognition wasn't advanced as ours, so by using it as an insult, he was calling you stupid, boorish, and outdated."

"I'll show him stupid and boorish," mutters Belphie, his human-looking form flickering slightly around the edges.

And no, as tempting as it is, you probably shouldn't let the demon loose on that human annoyance. You scramble to come up with something to distract Belphie, but all you can really focus on is the flickering.

Hmm.

"Neanderthals weren't the only human-like species people think were wiped out. There's some speculation that humans developed a sense of the uncanny valley because there were other species around that came close to threatening us," you start, tightening your grip on Belphies hand. You re-grab Beel's, now trying to lead them out of the building.

You continue. "Humans have this sense that basically freaks us out when we see something that looks, sounds, and moves like a human, but isn't quite right. It could've also developed as a way to weed out undesirable conditions or illnesses as humanity was evolving."

You can see your words starting to get through to Belphie, and wide eyes blink at you slowly. You can tell Beel is also invested, in the way he's stopped trying to tug you over in the direction of the vending machines.

"But I have another theory."

Belphie is very clearly interested now, but it's Beel who asks "what's your theory?"

"I think that there is another species - one stronger and faster and better at hiding itself - that humans are below in the food chain. All we can do is keep an eye out for them, because we sure as hell aren't going to be able to fight them off."

"I'd fight them for you, MC," says Beel, and he's sweet. But you can also tell that he's realized where you've been leading the conversation.

"What's the point of this all, MC?" asks Belphie and damn it you thought you managed to distract him. His shape is still flickering threateningly.

"I'm talking about demons, Belphie. You guys eat human souls as some kind of tasty snack. Humans can't fight back so we developed an ability to be scared so we could run away. That asshole back there was probably puffing up his feathers because he was terrified of you."

Finally, finally, that seems to appease Belphie. A self-satisfied grin crosses his face, and he leans further into you.

There's a loud growl, breaking the fragile peace. Beel doesn't even bother trying to look embarrassed.

"Yes, we can get food now. C'mere," you say before he can even ask, and begin to drag them anew.

A thrill shoots up your spine when you realize they let you lead them, these apex predators who are designed to consume you.

Lucifer & Diavolo

Unlike his brothers, Lucifer wasn't unobservant throughout prehistoric times. In fact he, Simeon, Michael, and a few other siblings were given the responsibility to push evolution in the right direction.

That final step between Homo Heidelbergensis and Homo Sapiens took its toll on all of them, and so Lucifer gave himself permission to stop giving a fuck about the mortal fleshbags to focus more on his family.

Perhaps this is why he didn't quite have the same curiosity about human culture that his siblings did - it was so much work getting them to that point that all he can think of was the long hours.

Diavolo himself had been born at some point in very early human history but he's always had a fascination with humans and where they came from - compounded when he found out the role Lucifer himself played in their creation.

But that doesn't mean they're both without some gaps in their knowledge (in some very important places)....

"Here, hold this."

This is the only warning you get before the squirming baby is deposited in your arms.

The child belongs to one of your friends from before college - before RAD. Your friend had brought it along for one of your admittedly rare catch-ups because she couldn't find a sitter, sorry! You watch helplessly as she leaves your table to head towards the bathrooms.

You stare at the baby.

It babbles back at you.

"MC?" a familiar voice calls.

You and the baby both look up at the same time with identical dumbfounded expressions.

Approaching your table is two tall figures, both wearing long and expensive looking overcoats. The one in red is grinning sunnily, while his companion in blue is screwing up his nose, making his glasses skew on his face. Diavolo and Lucifer take seats at your table, despite the fact there are plenty of empty places around the cafe.

"Please don't tell me you've picked up a pet, MC," Lucifer says with distaste, "Despite what you may hope, it won't teach my brothers responsibility."

One day you will teach this demon manners. This is not the way to greet someone you run into while they're on holiday.

"It's a baby," you say slowly, dragging out the syllables.

"Ooh a baby what?" Diavolo asks, and surely not.

"Something that's easier to train while young, I would hope?" Lucifer asks.

Well. Yes, but...

You squint at him. He stares back impassively, though you do notice the confusion in the way his eyebrows cock unevenly.

"A human baby!" you say incredulously.

Sure, your time in the Devildom was fraught with cultural misunderstandings, but come on. These are two of the most powerful beings in existence. Lucifer has been around since the beginning of time itself.

Diavolo pushes his face in close to the baby, and then you have to rear back as he turns to study you just as intently. Normally you wouldn't mind, but now is not the time or the place.

"It's so small, and squishy," he says.

"It's the weaker version of a human," Lucifer says, though he doesn't look as confident as his tone would have you believe him to be, "it likely needs more time to coalesce more energy."

"Guys," you say with exasperation, "it's a baby. It grows. Physically! And hopefully: mentally and emotionally. It doesn't shapeshift. It doesn't 'coalesce energy'. It just ages."

They're looking at you doubtfully. You really don't think it's that hard to grasp.

"Besides," you add, "this technically isn't even a human's weakest form."

"They get smaller?" Lucifer asks.

It's the first time you've seen him so freaked out.

"How?" Diavolo asks and no you are not going to explain this to him-

"I'm sorry - who are you?"

Sweet, saving grace. Maybe there really is a god looking down on you.

Your friend has returned. She looks apprehensive, though that may have something to do with the rather large, intimidating, obviously rich men huddling around you and her baby. Oh, right.

Your mind scrambles to come up with a good excuse.

"Oh! This is Luci...us," you start, and immediately panic when you realize you were about to use Lucifer's actual name. The demon in question shoots you a glare, but at this point in your relationship you've become immune.

"And this uh..."

Friend? Boss?

Actually. Fuck it. Time for revenge for almost forcing you to explain the birds and the bees to him. And all the other shit you've been through since waking up in the Devildom.

"This is his husband, Dia. They run the exchange program I told you about - the one I spent a year away for. They're actually thinking of adopting at the moment."

Immediately your friend's face brightens. "Oh?" she asks, "what age were you thinking?"

"Actually-" Lucifer starts, but you're not going to let him derail your Evil Plan™.

"Around the same age as yours," you interrupt.

This lights a fire in your friend's eyes, and immediately she starts her whole tirade anew about the lack of sleep and the burping and all the messes and the lack of sleep and the wonders of small humans forming their own consciousness and opinions and the lack of sleep and- well. Basically everything you had been unwittingly subjected to before you were interrupted by the demons.

Diavolo takes all the unwanted and unwarranted information with an enthusiasm that definitely helps play into the fiction you've set up. Beside him, Lucifer is smiling pleasantly, but when his gaze drifts to you and you meet his eyes -

v̴̥͠ȩ̶̃r̶̟̒t̵͚̍i̵͂ͅg̶̱̏o̶̤͠. you're at the edge of a precipice and you're not going to fall. you're i̷̳͝n̸̦̽s̴͔͐i̶͔͠g̴͉̏n̶̯̏i̵̮͑f̷̻̐ȉ̴̩c̴̛̞a̴̛͇n̴̜͠t̶̩́. it would be so easy to be crushed by this abyss-

you smile back just as congenially. Really. You'd think he'd remember that none of his glares work on you anymore. The baby in your arms squirms and holds its own pudgy little arms up towards the Avatar.

Huh. Interesting. That glare of his doesn't work on the kid either.

You're still forced to sit there politely while your friend rambles on about the wonders of human development and the joys of being a parent for another two hours. It's definitely worth it though - the picture of a small, red, wiggly baby being held at arm's length by the Avatar of Pride is one that will live in your memory for lifetimes to come.

Barbatos

Barbatos doesn't quite know when to attribute his creation to. It's never really mattered.

He wandered the Earth before the Fall, before humans. He watched that first creature crawl itself out of the mud. He watched as it crawled and stood and spoke.

He kept a close eye on this species - especially as they began to show intelligence. They created their own laws and measurements and perceptions of Time, which was cute, if a bit misguided.

In some of the early days, he let some of his true nature slip too close to the surface, and in return he was granted offerings of livestock and. Well. Live humans. Young ones. Too young.

There's warmth somewhere near your cheek as a cup of tea is placed down delicately beside where you had been resting on top of your assignments. You snort and a shiver goes through you as consciousness slowly filters back in.

At least there are worst ways to wake than with Barbatos' soft smile to greet you.

"Thank you," he says.

"For what?" you ask. You're still trying to wake up, and one of your sticky notes frees itself from your face and floats back down to the table you were napping working at. Admittedly, the smell of Barbatos' tea is doing wonders.

"For seeing to the education of my Master and his Lords. It wouldn't do for the future King of Hell and his council to be so ignorant in regards to their human subjects."

No way.

"You set me up," you hiss.

A gloved hand comes down on top of your head, and you put up a small token effort of resistance for a moment but no one can truly hold out against such soft head scratches.

"Perhaps," Barbatos says, and you're immediately reminded of why you associate him with snakes. "But it was a learning experience of your own, was it not?"

Thanks for the ask, Anon! 💛 I hope you don't mind the mess that spawned from it...

Back to masterlist | Eldritch Headcanons

[j-wont-stop]

The Scarred (Chapter Six)

Title - The Scarred (Chapter Six)

Word Count - 1281

Fandom - Batman: The Dark Knight

Pairing - Ledger!Joker x OC

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Warning(s) - None

Inspiration - Cold (Aqualung & Lucy Schwartz)

Masterlist

A/N - Thank you for the kind comments, they mean so much to me ❣️❣️ This is a bit of a filler chapter, I guess. I promise the next one will be more juicy ;)

“Let’s get ye home, yah?” Liam spoke softly after she had calmed down somewhat. He guided her with a hand on her back, eyeing the van knowingly as they walked past it. Penelope sniffed and placed her hands in her pockets, head kept down in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Penelope whispered after a few moments. Liam’s head whipped in her direction.

“Fer what, exactly?” She sniffed again.

“I’m not usually like this. You just met me at a bad time.” Her head lifted and she gave him a delicate smile. Only a fool wouldn’t fall to their knees at the sight of it, her large eye glistening under the street lights. It was child-like. Innocent in every way, but at the same time far from it. Its complexity fascinated him.

“Depends on ‘ow ye look at it.” She stared up at him as he looked forward once more. “The way I see it, I think I met ye at the best time.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Not to toot me own horn, but tha’s twice I’ve helped ye in what seems lie’ a crisis. I mean,” he threw his arms up in a joking manner. “What in God’s name would ye ‘ave done without me?” The comment made her chuckle and he joined in with her. It was a relief. A much needed one, at that.

It took her by surprise that as the weeks passed, he was able to make her feel so comfortable. To make her feel so secure, so safe with him. Even after he killed someone in front of her, claiming it was for her own safety. There was an aura around the man that drew her to him and she wore it like a blanket to keep her calm. She wasn’t attracted to him, no. He was handsome, charismatic. Charming, even. But what she felt was a deep admiration. As if he was a brother.

Liam made his way to Penelope’s door, rapping on it a few times to make his presence known. He folded his arms over his chest and looked over to where he heard echoing footsteps, seeing a taller brunette making her way over to him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Hi?” The woman questioned him in curiosity.

“Who might ye be?” Her eyes widened.

“Irish?” She made a sound of approval and nodded her head. “Emma. I’m stealing Penelope for tonight.” She spoke dominantly, winking at him with a smirk.

“Are ye two-?” He clinked his index fingers together.

“No! No. If anything, I thought you two were.” She laughed. “I’m married.”

“Well, tha’s never stopped anyone.”

“So you two are a thing?”

“Wha-?”

“You didn’t deny it.” She shrugged with a chuckle.

“She’s a good friend o’ mine.”

“Oh! Are you Liam?” She exclaimed in excitement.

“Aye. Tha’s me.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Mentioned me, ‘as she? I should feel special.”

“You should. Took me years to get to where you are with her now.” Emma’s voice grew softer. “Takes a certain person to get her to trust so quickly-“ The door whipped open and the two snapped their heads towards the woman in the doorway.

“Speak o’ the devil.” Penelope looked between the two of them with a wide eye. Liam’s eyes quickly scanned over her, looking between her and Emma. “Wha’s the occasion?”

“Am I not allowed to dress nice every once in a while?”

“Juss different seein’ ye without the baggy clothes.” He gestures with his hands.

“She’s visiting my family for dinner. And you look stunning, hun.” Emma gave Penelope a warming smile while Liam practically gawked.

“Well, I suppose I’ll leave ye to it.” He began to walk off when Penelope stopped him, voice holding just a trace of concern.

“Was there something you needed?” He turned and looked back at her.

“Nothin’ of importance.” Liam gave her a tight smile before heading back to his own apartment. Once he was gone Emma looked over at Penelope and wiggled her eyebrows, earning herself a nudge to her shoulder.

—————————————————————-

“How is it?” The man of the hour asked, a bright smile complimenting his eagerness.

“Amazing!”

“Good, good! I’m glad you like it.” The atmosphere was comforting, save for Alice’s occasional glare from across the dining table. The two story house was elegant, however not exaggerated. It was warm and the perfect size for their smaller family. The different shades of browns and greens were appealing to the eye, none too bright or too dark. “I hope Gotham’s treating you well? No trouble?” Penelope lightly shook her head.

“Thanks to Emma, it is.”

“And Liam.” The brunette coughed under her breath. Penelope shot her a look and she giggled.

“Who?” Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“A guy friend she has.” There was a mixture of ‘ooo’s and gasps among the room and Penelope felt her face start to warm.

“Boyfriend.” Alice chirped in. While Emma laughed along thinking it was all just fun, Penelope’s jaw tensed. Thankfully it went unnoticed.

“Really?” Emma’s mother spoke excitedly.

“Nah, we’re just messing with her. But she does have a friend she’s been hanging out with.” Emma died down the situation, noticing her friend’s discomfort. They mingled into the later night, indulging themselves in a glass or two of champagne after having cake and watching Emma’s father open presents. Penelope stepped out into their backyard once things had grown more rowdy. She took a deep breath and closed her eye to calm her increasing heart rate when she heard the door slide open from behind her. She turned to see Alice’s husband step out to join her.

“Needed a break?”

“Yeah.” Penelope mumbled, looking back out to the fenced in yard, rubbing her left arm.

“I feel ya.” He chuckled as he pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “This ’guy friend’. You like him?” Penelope began to chew on her cheek.

“As a friend, yeah.” He nodded.

“You trust him?”

“With my life.” She examined the man stood beside her. “Why?”

“Gotham’s why.” It wasn’t until then that he looked at her. He noticed the look she was giving him and sighed. “It’s good to have someone you trust in a city like this. Someone to protect you.”

“Give me a gun and I’ll protect myself.” She quirked her brow at him.

“I’m not just talking about physically-“ The door slid open again and Alice peeked her head out.

“Babe, we should get going.” The addressed man nodded and gave Penelope one last look before heading inside. Alice sent her her signature glare before closing the door once more.

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Fourteen of ??)

Hey everyone! I hope you’re all having a good New Year so far! I have a bit of an update after the chapter for y’all.

Edit: Oop! I forgot the link to Part One for any new people! My bad!

Tags (ily all!):  @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia @a-dream-at-night @chloelikesobeyme @getbehindme-satan @theuglypugling @oofthelazyweeb @mammonismyfirstman (as always, if you’d like to be put on the tags list, juust let me know in a comment down below, or a DM)

Word Count: 1,961

TW: None? I’m pretty sure?

Mc didn’t know what she was expecting from the song Satan’s brothers pressured him to play, but a gorgeous melancholic love song was not it, though she should have guessed it was a love song from the title. She was entranced from the first couple notes, and the lyrics pulled her in further. They spoke of someone experiencing love for the first time, though they were afraid of their Love fading away and leaving them. She smiled at the cat lyrics, finding herself not surprised Satan would write about them. He seemed like a cat lover, though she had no real basis for the belief.

 Satan’s singing voice was just as nice as his speaking voice and she found herself impressed. It also held a lot of emotion, enough that she was surprised it didn’t affect his singing. Though she had never heard the song before, it seemed extremely familiar. Though, it was a fairly universal concept, so it probably just seemed she’d heard it before. She hadn’t realized she was crying until Mammon offered her a handkerchief. When he finished, everyone clapped, and he started on another song.

“I never thought I’d hear tha’ song again,” Mammon spoke to Mc in a low voice.

“Why?” she asked.

“Oh… Uhhh… Well, it’s about a lost love of his. Once she… disappeared… He played it one more time and then said he’d never play it again.” 

Mc felt her throat constrict a bit at the revelation, “He must be doing better then. When he got his next… lover, he probably started feeling better.”

“He… Uhhh... '' Mammon floundered for words, and Mc found herself eagerly awaiting his next words, “I don’ think he’s dated anyone before or since her. If nothin’ else, she is his firs’ and only love.”

“Did she hurt him?”

“Huh?”

“I just ask because I’ve seen a lot of people, well, humans, who had relationships go sour and closed themselves off emotionally. I was just wondering if that’s what happened to him.”

“Not… Not exactly… She was human and she… died…” Mammon seemed really anxious at this point, and Mc decided not to push the subject further.

A human? Really? Well, that adds another layer to the song. It’s the most permanent level of “leave” there is. He knew going into the relationship it would end. But… If she had been corrupted enough by him, wouldn’t she have gone to the Devildom? Then they could’ve been together… Does that mean she went to the Celestial Realm? Do I know her? Or… Did she get stuck as a wanderer? Either way, why would he play it now? Mammon said he’d sworn off playing it ever again… The questions swirled around in her head as she watched Satan play.

“Ooooo! Ooooo! My turn!”

“Asmo, you can’t play piano,” Satan sighed, already getting up.

“But I can play music off of my DDD now can’t I?” Asmodeus said, waltzing up to what had become a stage.

As Asmo scrolled through what Mc could only assume was his list of songs, Satan came and stood next to her. Mammon even moved over so he could. Mc gave him a small smile and then turned her attention back to Asmodeus, who was gushing about the song he’d found to sing. She was still thinking about all the unanswered questions she had when she felt a breath next to her ear “What did you think?”

Mc almost jumped, but instead found herself glued to her chair, “Of the song? Or your singing?”

“Hmmm… Both.”

“You play and sing wonderfully. The song was beautiful. I could really feel your emotions.”

“Thank you,” Mc felt Satan retreat back to a standing position, and she found she missed his presence.

A huff from the other side of the room caught her attention. Looking over, she caught the tailend of Michael watching Satan with narrowed eyes before turning back to Asmodeus. How strange.

When Asmodeus finished, Lucifer was both begged and forced to play by those in the room. While Mc had to admit he was definitely in a league all his own, she found herself preferring Satan’s playing to Lucifer’s. She cocked her head slightly at the realization.

“Excellent Lucifer! Just exquisite!” Diavolo boomed, giving the Avatar of Pride a standing ovation, “I can’t remember the last time I heard you play!”

“Well, it has been awhile,” Lucifer smiled. His pride seemed to have recovered enough he could properly interact with people again. Mc was happy she was able to avert a crisis, not interested in finding out how a brawl between Michael and Lucifer would go. Though… Would either of them actually get into a physical altercation?...

Mc was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t realize the brothers were leaving until they were all asking if she would come to the House of Lamentation at some point.

“... And I would love to paint your nails,” Asmo prattled on, grabbing her hands, “And I know the Devildom’s lack of light can make your skin lose some of its radiance, but I have a moisturizer that can help with that. Oh and-”

“Asmo, come on! Ya want Mc to come visit or not?” Mammon interrupted,

“Mammon, you don’t understand the nuances of keeping yourself looking perfect.”

“Uh, yes. I do. I’m a model. Ya been smellin’ too many of ya fancy products and it’s melted ya brain?”

“I think you’re thinking of yourself, though it was probably when you were trying to con those witches into buying acid, and you drank some.”

“Oi! How do ya know about that?”

“Ugh, there they go again,” a head rested itself on Mc’s shoulder, and she almost jumped until she saw who it was, “Seriously though Mc. You should come over.”

“Yeah. You’re even welcome to bring Luke,” the one brother who she hadn’t talked to added, “Barbatos told me he’s gotten even better at baking.”

“Of course I’ve gotten better at baking! I’m also very good at cooking too,” Luke said, having joined the conversation.

Mc watched at Beelzebub, which is who she figured he must be through the process of elimination, actually started drooling, “Does that mean you’re actually going to come over then?”

Luke smiled fondly, a look Mc wasn’t sure she’d have ever thought he could have for a demon, “If you’d like Beel, I could probably make that happen.”

Beel rushed over to Luke and pulled him into a huge hug. Belphegor removed himself from Mc, walking over to Beelzebub, “Beel, you need to let go of the chihuahua or he’s going to suffocate. Luke can’t make you food if he’s been squished.”

“I’m sorry. I hope these idiots haven’t been bothering you too much.”

“Not at all Lucifer. They were just inviting me over sometime.”

“Well, I suppose it’s time for us to head out,” Lucifer said, starting to gather his brothers.

“You are welcome anytime you want to come over,” Satan’s voice came from behind her.

“I… Thanks. I would really like that.”

“Satan! We’re leaving.”

“I’m coming Lucifer,” Satan called, rolling his eyes, then back to Mc with a smile, “Bye.”

“Bye,” Mc called after him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc sat in her room hours later, the events of the evening still running through her head. Though she knew Michael wouldn’t approve, she found herself much more at ease and even happier around them than she did around most angels. There was a non-judgmental kindness they all exuded (well, all except Lucifer) that made her feel like she belonged. She found herself excited about the prospect of spending more time with them at the House of Lamentation. She had to laugh a bit, the fact she didn’t fit in with the rest of the angels never more clear than it was now. 

Simeon had told her his time in the Devildom had been extremely enjoyable, the less structured lifestyles if the Devildom a welcome change from the Celestial Realm. She had read his work from that time and it was obvious he had felt a lot more creative in the Devildom, even though he had school responsibilities at the time. While she hadn’t doubted his words, she had always figured the change was mostly due to the fact he had been able to communicate with his lost brothers again. Now she understood what he had been talking about. 

Simeon generally gets along with the other angels too. What would they all say if they found out I prefer the company of the Fallen to them? Everything is just more natural with them. It’s almost like I already know who they are, as strange as that sounds. Especially Satan, though I’ve felt connected to him since I got his letter. Speaking of which, who was it that he mentioned? Lil… Lilly? Lillah? Lillian? Hmmm… I can’t remember. I do know I’ve never heard that name before. Whoever it was seemed to have a great impact on all of the brothers. It can’t be someone they Fell with. I’ve read all the literature about the Fall and I don’t recognize the name. Though there’s a lot about the Fall the Celestial Realm doesn’t talk about. But... Simeon’s also never mentioned anyone with that name before… Maybe it’s time for me to do some more research.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc stretched, and checked the time on her DDD. She had been in Diavolo’s personal library for over three hours, and she still hadn’t found any mention of the mysterious “L” person. She found plenty of references to Lucifer though. It seemed he and his brothers had been instrumental in helping Diavolo establish order when the old King had started his slumber. What caused this slumber, why it happened, or if it would end was not covered. Mc wanted to research the topic further, but she couldn’t get distracted until she had answered her initial question.

There was a knock at the door, and Barbatos came in carrying a teacup on a saucer, “I thought you might be in here.”

“Oh, hello Barbatos.”

The butler entered the room, and set the tea down on the table Mc was studying at, “I thought you might like some tea.”

“I would actually, thank you. If you would like to, you can take a seat.”

“I suppose that’d be alright,” Barbatos smiled, and sat down in a chair. His eyes glided across the books strewn around Mc, “You’ve got some heavy reading here.”

“Well, I’m trying to figure something out,” Mc sighed, sipping her tea.

“Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

“Maybe, though I don’t remember what it is I’m looking for exactly,” Barbatos simply cocked his head slightly until she continued, “Satan was telling about… Well, a personal experience, and he mentioned someone. I don’t remember their name, but it was someone very close to all the brothers and they had passed away. I was just trying to figure out who it was.”

“You seem very interested in this person,” Barbatos’ tone wasn’t accusatory, but he seemed to expect and answer.

“... I guess I’m just trying to understand them better. Him better,” The last part slipped from Mc’s mouth easily, surprising even her.

“I think I may know who you’re talking about. If I’m correct, you won’t find any references to her in these books. It’s not my place to explain the situation to you however. You should probably go speak with the brothers about her…” the butler paused for a second before continuing, “I believe Michael also knows a lot about the situation, though he doesn’t know the full story,” with that, he got up and pushed his chair in, “I must continue with my duties, but I appreciate the short reprieve. Good night.”

“Night,” Mc called after him. Huh. Michael knows?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Fifteen

 I wanted to let you all know that as it is January, ever since 2014 the first moth of the year has been terrible for me. So far, we are 3 days into 2021, and I have already gotten a near constant tooth ache meaning I’m going to have to go to the dentist, and have gotten sick. I don’t know what else this month has in store for me, but I just wanted to warn you all, if my updates get sporadic or short, that’s why 😬 

[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My name

Part Seven Title: Pretty

Characters: Negan, Reader, A stupid little prick named Rick Grimes, Garbage pail kid Daryl Dixon, Tanya and Frankie, Gregory, Mentions of Simon, Dwight,Sherri, Amber, Ezekiel, Maggie Rhee, Wives: Tanya and Frankie, and Lucille.

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Typical Negan BS, Canon Typical Violence, A bit of gore, Angst.

Word Count: 3,557

“What did I miss?” Negan inquired as the door shut behind him.

"I dunno what you mean.” You struggled to remove your panties.

“Sin-since when do you get into cat fights?” His eyebrows raised as he watched you hop around clumsily. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking off my bra and panties.” You huffed pulling one arm into your dress to work open the clasps.

“Stop it.Here let me.”Negan shook his head in exasperation as he came to stand in front of you.

His long fingers gathered the soft material of your dress.He lifted it up over your head and slid it down your arm.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why are you gettin’ undressed?”

“I’m too hot for clothes.”

Negan grinned. “You sure are.”

“No.That’s not what I mean.Meant?Mean?”

“How much did you have to drink?” With one deft movement, he unclasped your bra.

He made it seem so easy.You pouted, glaring down at your exposed tummy pensively.

“I should be able to do that. I’m the one with boobs!” You complained.

Negan chuckled a smooth melodic sound.His warm hands slipped the bra straps off of your shoulders, freeing your arms, exposing your breasts.

“Panties too.” You reminded.

The hint of a smile played around his lips as he slipped the waistband of your slightly skewed underpants off of your hips.He knelt down.Something occurred to you as you watched him slide the thin fabric to your ankles.

“How come you’re home so early?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” His index finger tapped the top of your foot. “Lift.”

You leaned forward to sturdy yourself, hanging onto his leather clad shoulder as you raised your foot.

Negan unhooked your underpants from around one ankle, guided your foot back to the floor, and repeated the process with your left foot.

“Are you trying to start a mutiny of the wives or did you get bored enough in there to start shit for no reason?”

Knowing eyes looked up at you.

“I didn’t start it! Sherri did!”

“Did she now?”

“She could start an argument in an empty house.”

“You act pretty high and mighty for someone who sucks the same cock we do.” Negan quoted watching for your reaction.

“Well she does! She was being a-a-a judgey mcjudgerson!”

“A what?”

“A jerk.” You amended.

“Sherri is always “a jerk”.What was different about today?”

You frowned. “The vodka?”

“No.” He replied standing slowly back up.

“...the me?” You mumbled guiltily.

Negan cupped his hand behind his ear gazing at you expectantly.

“Me, I was different, because I got mad.”

“Mhmm.”

“I was angry so I egged her on.”

“That’s not the Y/n I know.” He admonished, taking your chin in his hand.

He tilted your face up and looked you in the eye.

“She said somethin’ mean.”

His brow furrowed. “Mean?”

“We were playing Never have I ever...”

“Mhmm...”

“And Amber said ‘Never have I ever wanted to sleep with Simon.’ Obviously I took a shot.” You recognized the spark of jealousy in his eyes.

“It’s the way the game works!”You defended. “Then Sherri said “Simon?” And I was like 'What’re you surprised?' And she said 'Not even a little.'”

Negan took a deep angry breath.

You jumped back into your case to keep him from yelling at you.

“It was the way she said it.” You emphasized.”Like like I was dirty like I was below her.”

The corner of his lip pulled back in a near snarl.

You could already see how his needless anger would play out.

“And not just me.”You back tracked, “Tanya and Frankie too! I mean how can you blame me?Honestly, she freaking implied that we were sluts or whores or-or worse just cause we’re married to you.She forgets that we’re equals and talks down to us. What was I supposed to do, let her??No no no.”

Negan ran a hand through his hair.His anger had gone down from a boil to a simmer.He struggled to adjust.

“Ugh, I knew it!You’re stuck on the Simon part.You just don’t get it.”

“You were fightin’ over another man! How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”

“It wasn’t about Simon.I was giving you context so you would know how I went from putting up with her to wanting to kick her ass.” You explained, annoyed with his one track mind.

“What the fuck is so great about that scumbag anyway? What’s got y’all so obsessed?”

You sighed loudly.

“Nobody is obsessed! Amber was making fun, cause she thinks he’s ugly.”

“At least one of my wives is smart.”

You rankled at the bitterness in his voice.

“Well I can’t tell you why Tanya and Frankie wanted to sleep with Simon! I can only tell you why I did!”

“Why did you?” He wore a guarded expression.

You rolled your eyes.

“Mostly to piss you off. He’s got the whole second man in charge thing going for him and that works for some people, but for me, it was about how mad I was at you.”

Negan blinked, processing your words.

“You wanting to sleep with Simon was about Me?”

“That’s ... one hell of an over simplification, but yes. It was.You acted like a total dickwad from the second we met to the night I almost slept with him.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you put your finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

“Yes, me wanting to sleep with Simon was about you.Ninety-five percent of the time I was talking to him, I thought of you.”

“And the other five percent?”

“You gotta be kidding me! Is ninety-five not enough?”

“Why wasn’t it a hundred percent of the time?"

“I hadn’t had sex in years!”

“Hmm...”

You interrupted his thinking with a slow languid kiss. He kissed you back savoring your affection.

“I don’t like drama,Doll.I’ll forgive you this time.You girls got sauced after all, but don’t you go making trouble again.”

“What about Sherri?”

“Collateral damage.”

You exhaled sharply at the sympathy in his voice.

“Dwight needed to learn his place and the only way to do that without cracking open skulls was to threaten him with Lucille.”His thumb stroked over your jaw lightly.

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Sherri offered herself up in exchange for his life.That just so happened to fit my agenda.So, ‘mean’ though she may be she was telling the truth.” Negan looked down and away for a minute.The deceptively charismatic smirk he wore like armor returned to its place.

“Not for nothin’ but not one of us became a wife because we were lookin’ to put our feet up, except for Frankie.” You pointed out.

“Amber went through some really bad shit.She feels indebted to you for saving her.Tanya’s mom was sick, in a lot of pain, and needed morphine.We both know how I ended up here-“

“Sherri doesn’t know that.” He interrupted.

“That’s my point, she shouldn’t talk about what she doesn’t know.Talk shit.Get hit.Just sayin’.”

“You are impossible...Why don’t you go on and get that gorgeous bottom of yours in the shower? It’ll help you cool down.” He suggested.

“Won’t you come with me? You tried, entwining your fingers with his.

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a small regretful kiss to it.

Negan’s sigh was bone weary.

“I’d love to, Darlin’ ,but Daddy’s got work to do.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

Your face heated at the memory of your sarcastic remark.

“It was a joke.” You groaned.

“Not to me. I think Daddy might be my favorite nick name yet.” He taunted, watching you saunter to the bathroom to start your shower.

You heard his easy laughter receding as he left you to your own devices.

Not far from The Sanctuary, a militia made up of rebel misfits made their final preparations to dethrone the self-professed king.

Once upon a pre-apocalypse time, Rick Grimes thought of himself as a simple man.There was right and there was wrong,very seldom was there anything in between.When there was, it simply meant the situation needed resolving. Once resolved it would fall into one of those two basic categories and all was well with his world again.

However, that was before the apocalypse. Before his family’s survival twisted his morality into something neither black nor white, but a stormy weather grey. The many traumatic situations, trials and tribulations he and his chosen family had faced, forced his grey morality to stain a little darker, but no crisis had pushed him so close to the edge as Negan. Abraham and Glenn, along with so many others had lost theirs lives to the violent sociopath and his merry band of murders.He’d sworn vengeance on their oppressor.Now that vengeance was finally coming to fruition.

“...Those people who use, take, and kill, to carve out the world and make it their’s and their’s alone, We end them...” His soulful blue eyes took a moment to gaze meaningfully into the face of each member of his ragtag army.

“There’s only one person that has to die tonight”His gruff voice assured them, “and I will kill him myself.”

He could see his words already taking affect, giving their anger the justification of righteousness and their thirst for savior blood conviction.Rick kept watching, patiently as Ezekiel roused them with brotherhood and as Maggie Rhee gave them hope.Unlike Negan, it gave him no pleasure to manipulate minds like this.The ends he reminded his conscience would justify the means.

For the greater good!

His inner voice declared.He accepted the words as gospel.

The caravan barreled through the fences taking the few saviors, who weren’t out checking the far perimeter, by surprise. Four shots were fired into the air breaking up an impromptu meeting Negan was having with Hilltop’s incompetent leader.He and his men strolled out onto the platform to gauge the situation.

“Well I’m sorry” Negan apologized insincerity in his voice. “I was in a meetin’’.”

Upon laying eyes on Gregory, Rick Grimes snorted.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Negan’s sharp eyes roved over the caravan of misfit warriors, taking in the army, the battle ready vehicles, their many firearms. All of this would not have given him pause, except for one thing, the determination and fury on their faces.

“Now, I don’t see a reason why we should have us a shoot out,” He snarked, wondering anxiously if you were at the window of his bedroom right now.

Hoping you had heard the warning shots and taken cover, he resumed his performance.

“I have to look out for the safety of my people. I can’t let myself get wrapped up in playing cops and robbers just because you want to find out if my dick is really bigger than yours.” He paused like a comedian building suspense before a punchline, “It is.”

He smiled confidently. “We all know it.”

“This isn’t a game.” Rick Grimes intoned, his solemn countenance causing Simon to mutter an epithet under his breath. “This is a reckoning and your time has come.”

The shoot out that followed was a chaos of ricochetting bullets, screams of pain, and shouted orders. Minutes passed like seconds. Simon called out to Negan, they had reinforcements coming.

As it turned out, so did Rick Grimes.Of all the surprises Negan imagined the colonies to have under their sleeves, not being able to count on his silver tongue to buy time or get him out of such an impossible bitch of a situation wasn’t one, the colonies using the entirety of their separate communities, young and old, wasn’t one, and a heard of the dead filtering into his God damn Sanctuary sure as fuck wasn’t one.

Rick the Prick’s first spray of bullets missed Negan by a second.He dove out of the way and down a flight of stairs. When he reached the bottom he was a little worse for the wear, but his body was still in one piece.He was also resourceful enough to pick up the gun of a fallen Savior and stay out of the crosshairs for a bit.

His brain went into survival mode, pushing him to shoot back, pulling him back behind the dumpster before he could get himself shot. Negan’s gun ran out of bullets all too soon.

“Sonuvabitch!” He ground out, running to the nearest port in the shit storm, a rusty old trailer.

His heart beat so damn loud, he’d forgotten how terrifying a herd could be when you had nothing, but your will to live and your flight response to get you out of it.He heard glass breaking.

Y/n

His pulse jumped in his throat.Of all the days for you to drink you had to choose today.He couldn’t bear the thought of them getting to you.They could hate him all they all wanted, he’d done his share of fucked up shit. He deserved it. What he felt he didn’t deserve was for the consequences of his actions to effect you.

Another spine chilling thought circled in his brain.

“Everyone of you go to your rooms!!”

Had he doomed you all? Like he’d doomed her? A memory of bright blue eyes and a very expressive face loomed over him ominously.

Different time.Different situation.Different woman.He told himself pushing her memory away, down deep in the coffin shaped box where he kept his grief.

A newer memory arose unbidden, He took your hand in his, kissed it softly, and looked into your eyes.All trace of bravado and falsehood dissipated as he let you see him. The real Negan and the effect one night with you’d had on him.

"Can I trust you, Y/n?”

“Yes, you can.”You laced your fingers between his.

“How can I be sure you won’t think my love for you is a weakness?”He watched your face cautiously.

“You aren’t weak.Neither am I.We have both put survival above everything else.”

You were resourceful.You were unbelievably resilient. Negan resolved to trust you to keep yourself alive.At least until he could reach you.

The trailer door blew wide open.Negan fisted the black material attached to whatever dickhead had been dumb enough to enter his refuge and pulled the door shut. The wide doe eyes of Alexandria’s creepy bald clergyman found his face in the dark.

The firing of live ammunition sounded from somewhere below you. In nothing, but a bra and a fresh pair of panties you ran to the wall of windows.Simon and a few of the saviors had taken cover and were taking their best shots at hitting something other than the corrugated steel the invaders were using as shields.Your mind went into over drive.You couldn’t see Negan out there.No sign of his black leather clad back anywhere.At least you knew he was alive.He wasn’t lying on the ground or you’d surely have seen him. A borage of bullets hit some of the panes of glass below.You dove to the ground and began crawling behind the nearest piece of furniture you could.Unfortunately, the closest was a sofa.Cushions and plywood wouldn’t be enough to keep you safe.You lay as flat against the floor as you could as the gunfire reached your floor.The cacophony out there went from loud to ear splitting within seconds.

A sharp angry pain caused you to cry out, but you weren’t willing to risk getting shot again to check the wound.Soon afterwards the shooting died down.They’re running out of ammo, you thought.They must need to make every bullet count.Your heart felt so heavy.Please Lord keep him safe.You prayed.You knew he wasn’t perfect by any means nor was he innocent, but you loved him.You couldn’t fathom a world without him.A moment of quiet passed as you reflected on your husbands many sins.You found yourself struggling to maintain your composure.You wanted so badly to fall apart, but there wasn’t time for that.There was no doubt in your mind that he would eventually come for you, but you couldn’t stay here and wait.It wasn’t safe.

You got onto your hands and knees and clambered to the closet.You cursed Negan’s stupid wives club bullshit for robbing you of your jeans.You only owned two outfits.A black dress with spaghetti straps or a white grass stained sundress.You silently fumed as you pulled the dress on.You owned exactly one pair of shoes these days and they were a pair of black flats, not made for trekking through the forest. You decided to take a pair of socks and Negan’s red kerchief from his night stand.The long tube socks you used to stifle the bleeding of your wound.You tied the kerchief around your wrist. As you left your bedroom behind, you quickly began assessing the damage.You found the parlor doors were wide open. Sherri was long gone, but Tanya and Frankie seemed to be waiting around for...something.

“He isn’t coming.” The statement left your mouth reluctantly.

You knew deep inside that he would come back, eventually. However, seeing the girls fall apart spurred you to action. “We have to go.”

“We can’t leave! We won’t make it!” Tanya cried, her eyes frantic.

“We will! We can!” They looked unconvinced.

“I’ve led a group before.” You sighed exasperated with their dithering.

Frankie’s eyes darted from the room you had just left to the parlor doors.

They’ll probably drag us out of here if we stay.” She said slowly to Tanya, “and who knows what else they’ll do to us.” She swallowed nervously.

“She’s right.” You told Tanya.”We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with here and we shouldn’t stick around to find out.”

Tanya nodded slowly accepting the dire straits you were in.Trying to ignore the fear and anxiety she was radiating, you lead them to the doors.The empty hallway was not at all inviting, but you had no choice except to slip quietly into it.Frankie and Tanya followed.There was shouting and shooting in the distance.The further you walked the closer the noises sounded.You peaked around the first corner.

An arrow whizzed toward you.You ducked back behind the wall, your breathing sharp and quick with shock.You stayed as still as possible, waiting for another arrow to come, but none did. Instead there were heavy angry footsteps.The face of a man appeared, haggard sweaty and holding a cross bow in front of him.Tanya and Frankie yelped holding each other tight.

“Weapons?” He demanded.

“W-we don’t have any.” Frankie stuttered.

“Bullshit!” He barked and demanded you put your hands up.

You complied, more for the good of the wives than for your own.Stout fingers and a large palm invasively explored any place you might be hiding a gun or knife.

“Get on the ground.”He commanded and moved on to check Frankie, then Tanya.

“Who are you?” He asked suspiciously.

“We’re...wives” Tanya sniffed between sobs.“Negan’s wives.”

He grunted more to himself than to you.Static crackled from the walkie on his belt.

“Darryl, You find anything?”

“I found the wives,”He sounded disappointed. “They’re unarmed."

“Go ahead and bring ‘em with you.”A deep voice intoned.

“Sure.”Darryl replied.

“Anyone else back there?” He nodded toward the direction you came from.

“No.” You stated evenly.

“Get up.” He grabbed onto Frankie’s arm and pushed her ahead of him.

“Ladies first.” He mocked, making you go back the way you came.

Daryl stopped at every room.Checked every space a person could possibly hide.When you got back to the parlor, he tore the place apart looking for any one hidden. He found no one. He checked the other rooms found them empty and called to someone on the walkie.

“All clear.” He informed him.

“Good.Meet us on the first floor.”

[opheliawritesxo]

When In Paris

Prompt (in bold): 26 – “I call dibs.”

Pairing: 12 – STUCKY

Summary: After Bucky’s first mission back with the team, the quinjet breaks down so the Avengers have to spend the night in a hotel and of course the two boys from Brooklyn pair up; but there’s a problem. There’s only one bed which causes Steve to have a goddamn crisis and Bucky does what he always does, save the punk’s ass.

Warnings: pure fluff that it’ll rot your teeth, an extremely over used trope, implied smut (if you squint but read between the lines y’all), strong language

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: This is day 1 of 30 prompts. The list is here if you wanna check it out (x) I’m hoping y’all will get smut by day thirty but even with eleven years of fan-fiction writing experience under my belt smut is something I’ve never tried so y’know have some fluff for now (which is a rarity in itself so count yourselves lucky). ALSO DID I REALLY MANAGE TO WRITE LESS THAN 2K I AM SHOOKETH

Sitting outside on the fire escape, Bucky relished in being back in Brooklyn after so long away. Once again sharing an apartment with Steve, it truly felt like being home again. Except instead of Bucky heading to the docks and Steve staying at home, their roles were switched. Bucky still wasn’t called out on missions, not yet anyway. He’d only recently passed his med and psych evaluation, but he knew Steve was wary about him being back in the field.

           “Buck?” He heard the sleepy voice of his best friend call; it was only then that Bucky realised it was 3am and he should probably be in bed.

“Yeah?” He called back, pushing himself to his feet and heading towards the window.

“There’s a mission, kinda big.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at the towering blonde as he stood in front of him, half in his suit.

“You wanna bring me in?” Steve sighed, rubbing between his eyes.

“It’s a hydra base, we kinda need your expertise here but you don’t have to actively go inside. You could stay on the quinjet and just feed us information.” He rambled; Bucky couldn’t stop the small smile that was forming.

“Nah I don’t mind. S’not like they can put me under, all the words are gone, and I got the fancy new arm from Shuri. Is everyone going?”

“Uh yeah.. think so.”

“Well then punk, looks like my biggest worry is gonna be Stark.” Bucky grinned as he squeezed Steve’s shoulder, heading to pull on his uniform for the first time. It was safe to say he was nervous about what was going to happen, but he’d always had Steve’s six and he’d had his.

The mission itself went exactly to plan, a rarity but it did happen occasionally. The only thing that went wrong was the quinjet breaking down before they headed back causing them to have to stay at a hotel for the night whilst Tony sent for a replacement. They were in a beautiful hotel in the outskirts of Paris, the most romantic city in the world. Tony, as expected, took a room to himself with Bruce and Thor partnering up same with Natasha and Clint which left Steve and Bucky.

           After being handed their keys, the two boys from Brooklyn headed upstairs. Their room was on the top floor with three floors between them and any of the other Avengers which Tony helpfully pointed out with a wink. Steve was used to Tony’s innuendos and just took the keys with a shake of his head, but Bucky was certainly confused at the implication. So, what if there were three floors between them and the others, what was the big deal? It wasn’t until they both walked into the room that Bucky’s brain finally decided to catch up with him.

“Tony, you son of a bitch.” Steve grumbled as he looked ahead of him. Bucky raised an eyebrow, peaking to the side of Steve to see what cause the ‘I’m-disappointed-in-you’ grumble; a staple for 30’s Steve. Mainly seen whenever Bucky would work longer at the docks without telling Steve.

There was only one bed.

“I call dibs.” Bucky helpfully called as he made a beeline for it, jumping on top of it and stretching himself it. He didn’t understand why Steve was so disgruntled by it, not like they shared a bed for their whole childhood and even before Bucky shipped out. Saved a lot of money on heating when they could just share body heat.

“I’ll take the floor.” Those words from Steve stopped Bucky in his tracks. Pushing himself up on his elbows.

“No, you won’t.” Bucky muttered as he looked over at the man. “C’mon Stevie, this bed is big enough for both of us. You’re gonna fuck up your back if you sleep down there.”

“Seriously Buck it’s fine.” Groaning, Bucky pushed himself to his feet. Grabbing pillows off the bed and placing them on the floor. “What ya doin’?”

“Well if you’re gonna be a dumbass and sleep on the floor then I am too. Either we both sleep in there,” He smirked, motioning to the bed. “Or neither of us do.” His hands were placed firmly on his hips, mimicking Steve’s most famous pose.

           Groaning with his head in his hands, Steve rubbed at his face before throwing his hands in the air. “Fine! If we’re playing that game then I guess we’re both sleeping in the bed. You win jerk.” He mumbled.

“Always do punk.” Bucky’s cheshire cat grin slipping straight onto his face as if it hadn’t been dormant for seventy years. That only served to make Steve’s heart skip a beat. “Now c’mon, I’m beat.” Steve gulped and made for the bed still in his full uniform, but Bucky stopped him with just a look.

“What Buck?” He sighed.

“You’re not wearing your full tac gear in bed.” Steve felt a blush rise up his cheeks.

“I-“

“Stevie for fucks sake just take it off and get into bed. I’m going into the bathroom if it’s your modesty you’re worried about.” The former assassin grumbled as he made his way into the bathroom. Groaning Steve quickly pulled off his suit leaving him in just his undershirt and boxers. He chastised his past self for not wearing looser boxer briefs.

           You see the problem here was that Steven Grant Rogers had been head over heels for one James Buchanan Barnes since he was fourteen. Now he’d never acted on it because he was in fact; a big ‘ole scaredy cat. With his myriad of health problems back pre-serum he never had to worry about sharing a bed with Bucky because at the time it was just sensible and any appendages that might take interest in snuggling into the most attractive man Steve had ever come across in his life, didn’t particularly work; see previous myriad of health problems. Then came war and they didn’t really get a chance to share a sleeping bag or even a tent for the short time they were together with the Howlies. Now in the 21st Century with actual honest to god proper heating that you could control at the touch of a button, there was no need to share a bed.

Steve made his way under the covers and buried himself in as far as he could go. As Bucky came back out he snorted at the mound under the covers.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothin’ m’just tired.” The man with the apparent plan let out an exaggerated yawn as if to say ‘look at me this is not suspicious at all no sir, nothing to see here.’

“Uh huh, whatever you say punk.” Unlike Steve, Bucky was quite happy to strip off his tac gear in plain view for Steve. Opting to go shirtless and in the tightest pair of tighty whities Steve had ever seen causing a very unmanly squeak to fire its way out of his throat. He was doomed.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, sauntering over and pulling at the covers so he could get in, since Steve had them in a white knuckled grip. Settling in, Steve moved himself right to the edge of the bed. Bucky had, had enough. This couldn’t go on any longer.

“Okay I’m sick of this. What the fucking hell is up with you!?” Bucky snapped. “Ever since I came back it’s as if I smell of shit! You can’t get far enough away from me. Gonna tell me what’s going through that idiotic mind of yours or are we gonna continue playing these games?”

Steve was both heartbroken and slightly turned on at Bucky’s tone. He hadn’t meant to have been that obvious in his avoidance but in Steve’s defence it was for Bucky’s own good. The 21st century might be more inclusive than it was back when they were bunking together in Brooklyn, but Steve was still Captain America. He still had a reputation to uphold.

“Buck.. I’m sorry.” Steve muttered as he scooted closer to the other man. “I didn’t mean to be a dick ‘bout it I just.. I’m.. well.. there’s things about me you’re not gonna like.”

“Stevie, I like everything about you. Try again.”

“You don’t get it Bucky! I-I’ve been keeping this secret since I was fourteen and I don’t- I’m scared alright?” He croaked, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at the eyes that gave him his last happy thought before he crashed the Valkyrie into the ice.

           Bucky sighed, placing a soft hand over Steve’s which was lying in between them. “I’ve known you since you were seven punk. There ain’t no secret about you that I don’t already know.”

Steve scoffed, wishing he had the strength to pull his hand away. “So, you know I’m gay then?” He snapped.

“Yup.” Bucky replied, exaggerating the P at the end. “You’re not exactly subtle when you’re trying to check out my ass.” Steve’s heart stopped and he truly was a sixteen-year-old kid from Brooklyn again.

“W-What?”

“Oh, come on Steve, you’re smarter than this. Your sixteenth birthday in ’34, we talked ‘bout kissing remember?”

“Uh huh..”

“Remember I kissed you on the couch, told you we had to get practice in before we went out and got ourself some dames?” It was all coming back to Steve now. The looks Bucky used to give him, how Bucky always flirted with the girls but never took them home.

“So you-“

“Yip.”

“All this time?”

“Yes sir.”

“But.. how.. why..”

“’Cause I never found the right time to blurt out ‘hey stevie, see instead of practising kissing can we actually kiss for real ‘cause you’re my best guy and I wanna spend the rest of my life with ya even though we’ll probably get arrested but fuck it’.” Bucky exclaimed, grabbing Steve at the hips and pulling him forward, wrapping his arms around the blonde’s waist.

           Steve couldn’t quite believe this was real. He was pretty sure he’d knocked himself out back at the base and this was all a fever dream. Bucky chuckled softly as he moved to cradle Steve’s face in his hands.

“You like me?” Steve squeaked causing Bucky to erupt in belly aching laughter.

“I think I a bit more than like ya punk. I love you Stevie. Have done ever since I was seventeen.” Steve closed the very small distance between them by practically launching himself at Bucky. Kissing him with every ounce of love and adoration he had to give; which was over seventy years’ worth of it.

“I love you too Bucky, have since I was fourteen.” He whispered, peppering kisses to the others jaw. Bucky was the one to initiate the kiss this time around. It was deeper and more passionate than the one Steve had initiated but it held no less love. The kisses didn’t stop there, there was seventy odd years of making up for lost time to do.

           If they slept through their alarm in the morning and opted to stay in the hotel for a couple of days longer because, when in Paris; there would be nods of understandings and shouts of ‘have fun!’ from the others. In reality though, Natasha would find herself with a lot of favours to call in from the others since she’d been the one to ‘break’ the quinjet. Safe to say, everyone at SHIELD and in the Avengers were wholly aware of how much those two idiots needed to declare their love for each other and just bone for heaven’s sake.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

Fic: stabbed

This is a fill for the Whumptober 2019 day 8 prompt: stabbed!

yes, i’m still doing this! it’s been AGES since i last wrote and i’m more than a bit rusty, so i’m trying to ease my way back with some good old straightforward h/c :)

Summary: Set after the flashback in 2.04. Dick’s first mission in Gotham after the Titans disbanded doesn’t go well. At all. 

WARNINGS: SPOILERS for Titans s2, especially 2.04. Some swearing. Moderately graphic descriptions of a serious injury. Passive suicidal thoughts. Not really much comfort to be had here--Dick’s spiralling, and he will continue to spiral (in the show’s timeline) for many years to come.

stabbed

“Robin. Status report.”

For godssake, B, Dick wants to snap, it’s just the two of us working this job. You don’t have to talk to me like I’m your soldier. The words crowd against his teeth, pushed there by a now-familiar swell of resentment in his chest. Instead, what comes out is: “Everyone’s been rounded up and handed over to the cops on my side. I’ve passed on the coordinates and date of the next big meeting with their boss.”

There’s a brief pause on the other side of the communicator. “Next meeting?” Bruce says, with the same sort of delicate scepticism that he might employ when Dick’s reaching for his third slice of butter sponge cake at the dinner table.

Dick grits his teeth. “Maroni got away this time,” he admits.

“I see.” There’s a snap and a click, and the distinct low hum of the Batmobile powering up. “I expect a full report at the Cave this morning.”

“I’m—” Dick shifts, swallows a gasp.

“… do you need me to pick you up?”

Dick looks down at the blade stuck in his gut and the blood seeping through between the armour plates of his costume, and thinks about it. He definitely needs medical attention but the thought of going back to the Cave, to sit there alone at the centre of its yawning blackness to convalesce, stewing in the ways he had failed—well. Dick can’t even stand the thought of it.

“I’m good,” he says. “Catch up with you soon.” With that, he turns off his communicator before Bruce can reply.

It’s like a string that’s been holding him upright has been cut. He slumps back against the grimy alley wall, breath stuttering with every inhale. The mesh of his uniform and the armour plates are doing a good job in securing the blade and to prevent, well, torrential bleeding, but that’s not going to hold if he starts moving. But if he doesn’t move and get some goddamned help, he’s going to bleed out anyway. He’s fucked unless he can get help to come to him, which—

which—

(we’re over, dick.)

No. No. This is fine. Things could’ve been worse—he could’ve been shot, which could’ve caused a perforating injury instead of merely a penetrating one, more tissue damage, and a greater chance of infection. Given the angle and position of the blade, it likely didn’t hit his liver or his pancreas, which means fewer chances of imminent death-by-exsanguination or auto-digestion. That the knife was able to penetrate him at all through the miniscule gaps in his armour must mean the blade is very fine and thin, so if he can just keep it in place long enough for him to seek help, he might be able to prevent the one complication with the power to kill him: infection.

So, you know. Bar a contrast-CT scan or two, Dick is very optimistic about his chances. He might as well get a headstart on writing that report for Bruce in his head:

In my first mission after losing a close friend and losing my team, I managed to lose a straightforward fight, lose the crime boss I could’ve normally captured in my sleep, and I’m probably going to lose a little bit of my intestine and shit in a bag for a little bit. Just an all-round loser losing things.

Very punchy, off-puttingly whiny, and utterly unprofessional. Bruce would absolutely hate it, but at least it would be something other than the vaguely disapproving looks he’s been giving Dick ever since he crawled back to Gotham like a pathetic thing.

Taking as deep a breath as he dares and securing the blade in his abdomen with one hand, he grabs the lip of a nearby dumpster with the other and begins to pull himself upright. Every inch of movement is like being stabbed all over again—an icy, electric pain that shoots up into his chest and squeezes his lungs. The pain makes his breathing progressively fast and shallow, which just worsens the pain, and by the time he’s able to extricate his mind out of that vicious cycle he’s sprawled on the ground again and the knife in his gut is smearing his blood on concrete approximately a foot away from him.

Well, fuck.

Dick thinks briefly, giddily, about putting the knife back in to plug the hole in his gut, wastes a few more precious moments berating himself for even thinking that, then removes his communicator from his belt. His fingers leave bloody, webbed smears all over the keypad and the screen wavers in and out of focus; he squints and pants and steadily scrolls past his long list of contacts.

To call any of the Lanterns or Superman would mean the Justice League would know about this, and that would mean Bruce would know about this. The Titans��� well, clearly they’re out of the picture. (Donna would probably come and help him if he asks but the thought of facing her after letting her down so spectacularly feels like someone’s flaying the inside of his chest.) Roy can’t possibly make it on time.

That only really leaves Wally. He’s another bridge Dick’s managed to burn, but maybe—just maybe—

This number has been deactivated.

Oh, Dick thinks. His mouth feels dry and slimy, and blood trickles steadily around his now-slack fingers covering his wound. I didn’t know that. He can’t remember the last time he actually called Wally (or Wally called him), when he last remembered to properly sync his communicator with the Batcave and JL servers, can’t remember the last time he remembered to do things other than breathe through the ball of guilt and stress that had taken residence in his chest and smile and fight and eat and wake up the next morning to do it all over again.

Dick presses his forehead to the crook of his elbow, takes a shaky breath, feeling suddenly, soulcrushingly alone.

Minutes pass like hours, and more of Dick seeps out over Gotham pavement, his blood black in the moonlight. His heart is pounding in his chest, his head is gripped in a vise of pain, and he barely has the energy to keep pressure on the hole in his gut. Nausea crashes into him in waves, and at some point, he does throw up bloody bile, his throat burning, his guts feeling like they’re being stirred with a white-hot poker.

He still doesn’t call Bruce.

It’s… it’s probably not a terrible idea to fade away right here. He’s fucked up so much, much more than he’d ever realised, fucked up in ways that seem irreversible, and if his punishment for that is to die, alone and cold, in a dirty Gotham alleyway, then so be it.

so you’re going to roll over and give up. i thought i taught you better than that.

The familiar voice drags a chuckle from Dick. His eyes are open to slits at this point and what he can see is blurry, but he can just about make out Bruce, dressed impeccably in a suit, bending and peering at Dick like he’s a particularly interesting piece of roadkill. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” Dick rasps.

you summon me for a personal crisis at least every other month. Bruce grins sharply. i wouldn’t have wanted to miss this doozy, would i?

“Nothin’ much you can do,” Dick slurs.

that’s true, Bruce agrees. but i wouldn’t be here if some long-suffering survival instinct in that brain of yours isn’t throwing a hail mary so that you don’t kill yourself.

“You’ve never been the reason I’ve tried to stay alive,” Dick says.

oh, good, Bruce says. then what’s the reason? the glorified friends’ club you called a team? the memories of all the people you’ve gotten killed? or maybe the so-called friends who are still alive, when you can’t even bring yourself to even bother to keep in touch with them?

“I—” Dick blinks, long and slow. When he opens his eyes, Bruce is gone. “I don’t know,” he says.

He blinks again, and when he opens his eyes this time, it’s daylight, he’s lying on something warm and soft, and the pain in his gut isn’t nearly as sharp. He can hear a faint, steady beeping. He stares at the ceiling for a long moment before looking to his side and meeting Bruce’s steady gaze.

“You’re in Gotham General,” Bruce says. “It’s been two days since I found you, nearly dead, just off the docks. It’s really unfortunate,” he picks delicately at his sleeve cuff, “that you were mugged like that.”

Location, time, cover story—Bruce is nothing if not efficient and to-the-point. Usually Dick strives to match that discipline with his own, but his thoughts are too scattered, his chest too hollow, to really try. He just grunts in response.

Bruce frowns and leans forward. “You were bleeding out for hours and you didn’t try to call anybody for help—in fact, you lied to me about being injured at all. This is beyond being irresponsible, Dick—this is outright reckless.” He pauses. “I thought I taught you better than that.”

Dick thinks he knows the response to this. It’s not usually difficult to get out, even when he’s injured like this. But there’s something devastating about going to sleep thinking you’ve lost everything you’ve ever had to lose, and waking up to find that you were wrong about that last part.

i thought i taught you better than that.

Dick’s eyes burn, and tears drip steadily into his hair.

Bruce looks stricken, just for a moment—he reaches out, touches Dick’s hair—says, “Dickie,” like Dick’s twelve years old again and desperately, shatteringly alone and Bruce is still visibly trying—

He gets up, a little abruptly. When he speaks, it isn’t with the Batman growl, but with the mildest quaver, something that goes well with his rapidly-greying hair and deep lines bracketing his eyes. “I’ll go fetch Alfred—I’ll let him know you’re awake.” With that, he leaves the room.

Dick closes his eyes.

[veinsandknuckles]

It's a bad life if you don't weaken, pt 5 (Tallahassee/Reader)

You had found a house. You’d found plenty of houses along the way, but this one looked especially promising with its two stories, a tall foundation that left the front door as the only entrance you’d need to guard, wide fields spreading out in every direction to lay bare anyone, dead or alive, who might try to sneak up on you. There were old tire marks in the soil running towards and away from the building, the latest set belonging to a car parked awkwardly against a wall with leaves and debris scattered on the roof - no one living was staying here.

Tallahassee tried to kick in the door and made a wonderful scene when it swung open without any effort, leaving him to land face first on the hallway carpet.

He looked so baffled and crestfallen when he got back to his feet that the three of you laughed at him even harder and he turned tail and ran on into the house until he found a door that hadn’t already been kicked in by some other survivor. You heard a crash, boots running across wooden floors, then another crash. Columbus and Little Rock entered after him and fanned out like a well practiced SWAT team to make sure Tallahassee’s display hadn’t awakened anything.

You carried in the bags, pushed the door back into its frame and secured it with the hallway cabinet and, gun at the ready, went to explore the next floor up. Those fools were making a lot of noise down there but you were sure by now that the house was empty. Thanks to their eager bad-ass antics, you had first choice of bedrooms.

Tallahassee came up the stairs once he’d gotten some of the smashing out of his system and he froze in the doorway to the master bedroom, his grin twisting into a mask of utter grief.

“No,” he breathed.

You were sprawled on the king-size bed, arms crossed behind your head, legs stretched out and luxuriating on the soft sheets. With a smile, you made the bed bounce and there wasn’t so much as a squeak of complaint from the springs. Three of you could have fit on the bed without brushing up against each other. “Oh yeah,” you purred. “This house was a great pick, Tallahassee - I can really see us making ourselves at home here.”

The other two finally caught on to what was happening and followed close behind. Little Rock elbowed Tallahassee aside and cursed at you. “Come on! I’m not sleeping on the floor again - Tallahassee, tell her.”

“Oh, wow,” came Columbus’ voice from somewhere down the hall, “this room is so nice! Hm, doilies.”

Little Rock bolted immediately and through the walls you could hear her flinging herself onto the bed in there and shouting “dibs!”

Tallahassee’s face was dark, and he glanced towards where your hand rested on your gun. “I could have you over my shoulder and out of here quicker’n you could get the safety off of that thing, missy.” He drew himself up with injured dignity and pressed a hand to his chest. “But I... am a gentleman. A gentleman with a sore neck and aching muscles and very long limbs.”

You raised your eyebrows and wondered if you could bring him back to the idea of lifting you up bodily. “Yes, that’s what we all call you behind your back. Gentleman.”

He shook his head. “You know, I give you kids everything I have and I get nothin’ but lip in return. I despair of your generation.”

Tallahassee did that a lot, drew attention to his own age and the gap between his and yours. He was welcome to fish for reassurance about his own all he wanted and you usually obliged, but lumping you in with the other two?  “Watch who you call a kid. Columbus makes me feel ancient by comparison.”

He looked at you oddly before he smiled. “Figure of speech, sweetheart.” Something made him pause, as if he was weighing up his options. Then he sighed with exaggerated melancholy. “Well... if you won’t take pity on me, I’d better find somewhere else to bunk up.” Tallahassee touched the brim of his hat to you and walked off with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder before you could gather up the nerve to point out the bed was wide enough to fit both of you. ----

In the end, there were enough bedrooms to go around and then some - this house had obviously belonged to a real old fashioned country family. No one wanted to speculate further than this in any real way, but Little Rock made fun of all the framed photographs she found and amused herself by throwing them out the window, trying to hit the roof of the old abandoned car. Maybe she was working through something.

The other survivor(s) hadn’t stayed here long enough to ruin much. Their footprints had stained some carpets and there were broken egg shells and empty packets of food clogging the kitchen sink, but all of that would have expired by now in any case and in the cabinets there were cans, spices and nonperishables galore. There was also a corpse in the sitting room, but it was the still sort, so you pulled on some long rubber gloves, grabbed the edges of the rug it was lying on and dragged it, half wrapped up like a perversely over-stuffed burrito, slowly out and down the front stairs.

There were a few offers of help, but you wanted to stay busy so you declined, found a bucket and some soap, opened all the windows wide and eventually with a lot of elbow grease and retching, got the worst of the stink and the goo out. Tallahassee kept himself busy and alone in the rest of the house doing something mysterious, Columbus and Little Rock split up to rest a while and came together in the kitchen to cook and after a good few hours of quiet, hard work you felt your stomach rumble as the smell of death was replaced by the (honestly speaking, only barely) preferable smell of food.

It was amazing how quickly the unacceptable became commonplace - if you couldn’t learn to build an appetite with maggots crawling on your hands, you would have starved a long time ago.

When it was all done, the four of you sat down exhausted on the porch to the first hot meal you’d had in ages. The table was covered by an old sheet, there were wild flowers in a jug of water, there were beers to drink and the already empty bottles held flickering candles that picked up some of the slack from the setting sun. Someone, perhaps all three of them, had obviously had a hankering for the domestic and right now it didn’t seem like the sort of thing that any of you wanted to mock.

Tallahassee had gone to work with hammer, nails and whatever wood he could find and had already boarded up most of the windows that could be reached on the first floor. Everything that could and should be done today had been done and there was as much stillness and safety now that there would ever be again. In short, this was exactly the time when at least one person would be gearing up for a breakdown. The silence around the table could be excused while everyone was still ravenous and busy shoving the weird combinations of pickles, spam, noodles and preserves into their mouths but it worried you when things slowed down and there was still no talking. Something had to be done.

“Anyone feel like they’re going nuts?”

Well, that made them sit up. Columbus coughed and Tallahassee froze, fork half way to his open mouth.

Little Rock sighed. “I mean, yeah. Obviously.”

“You ever gone proper camping, like strapped into a heavy rucksack?” You addressed the question to her since she’d made the mistake of replying first.

“Ew, no. I had better things to do than subject myself to ‘nature’.”

Tallahassee kicked her chair under the table and she jolted and gave him the finger.

“Well,” you pressed on. “My point is, when you take the pack off and sit down, that’s when you feel how tired you are. And it’s almost impossible to lift the thing back up again after.”

Silence descended again. No one looked like they disagreed with you or were in doubt of what you were getting at. After a moment, Tallahassee opened another bottle with his teeth, took a drink, belched and said, “that’s a fair point, princess, a good analogy.” There was no knowing whether he meant it or if he was being sarcastic.

“You’re saying we shouldn’t get comfortable here,” said Columbus. He hadn’t looked away from you since you started talking, which was rare for him.

“No... we’ve got plenty of supplies, this place looks safe enough and the propane tank is almost full. I think we need to rest. I’m just worried, if we’re not focusing on moving and surviving...”

“Well, my plan,” Tallahassee said and leaned back in his chair, “and you’re more’n welcome to join me, is to get absolutely, incoherently, pants-shittingly hammered. Ain’t nothing in this world can’t be solved by drinking.”

“Drinking what? Did you find liquor and just... hide it from the rest of us?”

He smiled and trailed his fingers lazily up and down the neck of his beer bottle, and you’d gotten completely off the subject but everyone was talking and ready to strangle Tallahassee, so for the moment at least the crisis was averted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he drawled. “Bet you wish you’d given me the master bedroom now...”

“That’s such a great plan, Tallahassee,” said Little Rock, each word dripping with insincerity and with only lemonade in her glass. “And are you finally going to let me have some? I mean, I can find other ways to let off steam, if you think that’s better. I still say your hat could use some glitter... who knows what I’ll get up to while you’re passed out in a pool of your own vomit.”

Tallahassee drew himself up, puffed out his chest and held on tight to his hat. “I swear to God, you so much as touch this hat and I’ll show you what your own kidneys look like.”

“I’m practically 13! Give me a goddamn beer!”

“Actually, you’ve got almost another three months.” Columbus looked thoughtful. “Wow, I’d better start looking out for some toy stores...”

“Toy stores? Are you deaf? I’m a teenager.”

“Hah!” Tallahassee cackled. “Give me a break - you’re barely out of your diapers. Oughta get you some velcro shoes, I’m sick to death of watching you struggle with your laces.”

Little Rock turned her indignation back on Tallahassee and he welcomed it with open arms.

You’d never articulated this thought to yourself before, but he really did rile people up on purpose and you were beginning to see why. It might very well have started as a way to keep them at arm’s length, but he had another reason now - better they were angry at him than sad. Or numb. As the saying went: don’t mourn, organise against the idiot who hogs the booze and farts on your pillow ‘to remind you of home’. It wasn’t a very nice favour he was doing them but you couldn’t help feeling cheated that he never needled you the same way. It’d at least meant he was giving you some attention.

...Christ, you must be getting desperate indeed if that’s was the sort of attention you were willing to settle for.

“Tallahassee.” Columbus’ voice was soft but firm, and he glanced over at you. “Bring us your stash and pour Little Rock a very small drink.”

“Make me.”

“I don’t have to make you. You’re outnumbered. I favor a nice merlot, myself, but I will settle for whatever you’ve got.”

[agentnico]

Unhinged (2020) Review

For all the numerous cliches that you’re smacked in the face with in this film, I actually cannot believe no one said the word ‘unhinged’ at least once. Not once.

Plot: Rachel (Caren Pistorius) is running late getting to work when she crosses paths with a stranger (Russell Crowe) at a traffic light. Soon, Rachel finds herself and everyone she loves the target of a man who feels invisible and is looking to make one last mark upon the world by teaching her a series of deadly lessons. What follows is a dangerous game of cat and mouse that proves you never know who you're driving next to.

Strap your seat-belts and prepare for a ride of your lifetime, this is the film to see! Academy Award winner Russell Crowe gives us his best and most nuanced performance to date. A character study so detailed, a personality with so many layers, a psychological delving into one’s mind that goes deeper than A Beautiful Mind......see Crowe play, wait for it.....an angry man!! Okay, let’s be honest, whoever had high expectations for Unhinged after seeing the trailer is obviously stuck with having butterflies in their head, which is okay, if you like butterflies then that is a-okay in my books, you do you, but my point is that Unhinged is the typical throwaway action thriller flick and the throwback to the 80′s films of its genre you’d expect. It’s ridiculous, overtly stupid, and as Deadpool would say, offers an endless “steaming bowl of foreshadowing” from beginning to end. 

This movie takes the dramatic theoretical principle of Chekhov’s gun and dials it to 101%. For those who may not know, Chekhov’s gun is the idea that every element in a story must be necessary and irrelevant elements should be removed. Elements should not appear to make "false promises" by never coming into play. So say someone mentions that in the first act of a play or film there is a gun in Mr Johnson’s left hand drawer of his desk. As such, there is an expectation that by the end of the final act that gun will be fired (be that it may be shot by Mr Johnson himself or some random kid named Toto from Guatemala), or else that reference at the beginning becomes needless to the overall story and as such, deems to be unnecessary. Chekhov’s gun is basically an editing tool to make written and visual pieces more concise and to the point. However, Unhinged takes this to another level, by having every darn object that is mentioned be used later on in the movie in exactly the way you predict it to. For example, the mother mentions to her son about Fortnite and he starts telling her this random gaming tactic you can do. What do you know, that is exactly the tactic they use at the end to fight off the very very angry man that is Russell Crowe. Or there are these candy-cane scissors that are referred to a gazillion times throughout the movie, and sure as hell, they come into physical play at the end. It’s this ridiculous constant foreshadowing that makes the movie so laughably predictable, however this kind of works to the movie’s benefit, as it’s so much fun seeing this film play-out and literally adhere to its expected and foreseen conclusions. As this movie began, all I could think of was that foreshadowing kid from Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story proclaiming “Ain’t nothin’ bad going to happen today!”

There is definitely a message that the director is trying to challenge the audience with. His movie seems to be a passionate plea to have more patience and compassion with others in a harsh society where everyone is under constant pressure, because you never know what the other person is going through. However you inadvertently find yourself undermining this message when Unhinged turns into a series of cheap shocks and sadistic violence. And this by no means is me downgrading the film; as Donald Trump recently said in that embarrassing interview with Jonathan Swan, “it is what it is”. The movie is very self-aware of its corny and over-the-top nature, and thus does not shy away from accepting that it is at the end of the day just a forgettable yet hugely entertaining thriller. It’s the typical switch-your-brain-off type experience. As such, that is fine, since as cinemas slowly reopen and welcome viewers back into the magic world of the movie-going experience, we honestly don’t need anything too mind-challenging to enjoy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m anticipating with excitement whenever Christopher Nolan’s Tenet finally decides to grace our screens, but for now, having been through a lockdown and a worldwide crisis, an R-rated The Simpsons: Road Rage film fits the bill with perfection. As I said, I can knit-pick this film to shreds if I wanted to. Whether it’s the unrealistic police response, or Crowe’s maniac being unkillable, taking shots to the shoulder and stabs into the brain as if he were enjoying a Sex on the Beach on, well, a beach. Speaking of Crowe, though no Oscar contender here, he very much dedicates himself to this role, being appropriately angry and scary, Hulk-raging left and right like its nobody’s business, and sheering out cheesy villainous dialogue with the gusto and drive you’d expect from the Gladiator actor. Honestly, only other person I’d want to see in this role is Nicolas Cage for obvious unbiased Cage-rage reasons, but Crowe provides exactly what we want from him!

At the end of the day, cinema is a means of escapism, and as a flick to remind people of why cinema exists, Unhinged is not going to motivate audiences to run back to their screens, yet it will provide you with the nonchalant short-shelf-life popcorn entertainment with enough suspense, grit and a tad whimsical that results in a fun adrenaline filled ride. 

Overall score: 6/10

[deepsixsquid]

With the Final Fest, a battle between the forces of Chaos and Order, on the horizon, two squids, Nocchan (Right), and Doppel (Left), prepare for a confrontation to settle things... Or, so they think...

*The sun sets on Moray Towers. Nocchan, having finished her solo training for the day, lays back to watch the helicopters fly by with her Inkbrush at her side. However, as she slowly drifts off for a nap, she senses a presence nearby that quickly catches her attention*

*Doppel, a squid who came to be after a fateful incident involving a powerful identity crisis, the charged energy of a booyah bomb, and Nocchan’s, at the time, distorted mind. The two have clashed once before in the past, when Doppel’s desperate search for answers, to questions that surround her very existence. lead to an all-out fight between the two that practically destroyed a section of Wahoo World in the middle of the night. Although the battle ended in a stalemate, Nocchan’s words “You make a good *other*” have stuck with her since then.*

*The skull-faced squid takes a deep breath as thoughts of their last encounter float through her mind.* “Ya know, I probably don’t have to say this but, I know you’re there. C’mon, no sense in hidin’ Don’t worry though, I’m not really in the mood to fight right now.”

*Doppel adjusts her headphones before making her, slightly nervous, approach. Resting her Dynamo roller in her lap, she takes a seat next to her counterpart. A few moments of tense silence fills the air before Nocchan speaks up* “Somethin’s on your mind.... can’t exactly say what but, I can feel it. You alright, there?” “I...I was just thinking...It’s almost time, right? For the next one, the LAST one...and I just can’t shake this feeling that something’s going to... Something MIGHT happen. To you, to me, to...all of us, when it’s all over. And...I.. I don’t know, it’s weird.” *After a sigh, Nocchan can’t help but chuckle* “Heh, maybe. With the way things are goin’ you think this might be the end of the world, or somethin’! Chaos? Order? Man, who woulda guessed it? After all the silly little things we fought for? THIS is how it all goes down! The big finish! Not too sure who’s pickin’ these things but, I’m really feelin’ this one!” *Doppel looks towards the setting sun, choosing her words carefully* “About that... I know this is probably a dumb question but...You’re going for Chaos, right?” *Nocchan lowers her skull bandana to reveal a smug grin* “I know I don’t need to say it but, uuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah. It was an easy choice~!” *Doppel lovers her headphones, letting them rest around her neck* “Heh, thought so.... But, I gotta ask, why? After everything you’ve been through...wouldn’t you be tired of all that? The things you’ve seen, the things you’ve DONE would probably drive most people crazy. I mean, even THINKING about those things would probably give anyone chills!” *Nocchan proudly rises to her feet, facing the sunset, with her arms folded* “Well, you’d know better than anyone around here, I’m like like ‘most people’ Hell, I don’t think there’s anyone in Inkopolis who comes close to me~! And I could never get tired of it~! Everything I’ve been through, heh, it only made me stronger! I’m still here, still kickin’, nothin’ can take me down!” *With a deep sigh, Doppel picks herself up* “I guess...that’s true. But, there’s something that’s kinda getting to me. All the Chaos you’ve been through...I can see it, sometimes. I can FEEL it. There were those moments where...even you would have to admit that you were-” “Hold it right there... Okay, so maybe there were one or two times where I MIGHT have been a little over my head. BUT, I still won, didn’t I? Still here, ain’t I? ...I’ve got nothing to be afraid of!” “But, think about it, think about those times. One wrong move...and that could’ve been it for you. Sure, you won but...those were REALLY close calls. You can’t push your luck like that... Not forever” *Nocchan’s bravado visibly fades, and her voice takes on a more serious tone* “...Soon, I won’t need luck. Maybe, just maybe, I never did. I overcame everything in my way with my own power, my own skills. Luck? Pft, I don’t need it.” “Are you crazy? I-I don’t even know where to begin! Th-the things you’ve seen, the people you fought!? Some of those things were too much...even for you! Remember the statue? NILS?” *Doppel clenches her fists, grits her teeth, and braces herself* “...Remember Riza?” *Nocchan’s eyes widen at the mere mention of that name. Riza, aka Agent 3, was someone Nocchan looked up to as one of the strongest in the world. Riza would ultimately become Nocchan’s greatest rival after being the first person the skull faced fighter ever lost too in a brutal one-on-one fight. After dismissing her, Nocchan vowed to become someone Riza couldn’t ignore, a mission she took very seriously. After training for years, Nocchan caught wind of, and chased, Riza through the shady underground, through a series of deadly chambers and obstacles, which lead to their last encounter, atop the NILS statue that was about to wipe out the entire planet. There, after a climactic battle, Nocchan unleashed the strongest splashdown she could muster, a move that she called “Apocalypse Splash” that pushed her body far beyond its limits, obliterating the weapon, and almost destroying herself, in the process.* “I am not scared of her. You should know that. I’m stronger than her, and I have PROVED that. Why would I have to be afraid, huh? If she wants a rematch, I’ll be happy to take her on! And if anyone else wants a piece of me, they’re welcome to try too.” *With closed eyes, Doppel turns her head* “But, you almost.... you almost lost too much just to prove that though. You can’t... You can’t do that again. You can’t put yourself on the line just to prove your own strength. What would happen if you mess up? What if... what if you find something that you can’t handle on your own? You fight for Chaos but, what if, one day, Chaos throws you against something that’s too strong for you?” *Nocchan picks up her inkbrush, grips it tightly, and rests it on her shoulder* “Then I’ll fight it. That’s how I got this far, right? I’ve fought everything so far, why stop now? I can handle it, and I WILL handle it. I haven’t slowed down yet, and I don’t plan on it now.” *A small tear forms in Doppel’s eye as she reaches for her Dynamo roller* “I... I can’t let you do that. I WON’T let you do that. If talking sense into won’t work then... Then I’ll have to-” *Nocchan lifts her skull bandana over her face and points her inkbrush at Doppel* “Fight me? Again? Fine...But you better give it everything you’ve got” *Doppel adjusts her headphones back on top of her head. Tears beginning to run down her face, as energy gathers in her right hand, forming a booyah bomb* “One day, you’ll go too far. Either you realize this... or I’ll stop you, one way or another. Besides...I still have questions for you” *Nocchan’s right arm starts to glow, slowly building energy for a charged splashdown* “I’m not one for Orders...” *Once again, silence fills the air, only to be broken by the sound of the two fighters rushing towards each other. Each ready to strike the other down in one move. In a moment of hesitation, they both stop in front of each other, Doppel’s bomb and Nocchan’s fist, two devastating attacks mere inches from their target’s hearts. In an instant, both combatants let their energies fade, only to begin swinging their weapons at each other.* *In a flurry of vicious attacks, Nocchan and Doppel’s duel takes them all over Moray Towers, each looking to get the upper hand and deal a decisive blow. In the midst of it all, their battle has left trails of ink and destruction that go in all directions, signs of clashing swings, remnants of detonated splat bombs and trashed sprinklers, all leading to the center of Moray Towers, where the two stand in a very heated deadlock, now underneath a bright full moon* *Despite how much time has passed, neither Nocchan, nor Doppel, show signs of fatigue. only rising aggression and determination. With their weapons locked, Doppel makes one more attempt to appeal to Nocchan’s sanity* “There has to be some part of you that knows...that you can’t go on like this! There has to be! Just listen to me!” *However, her pleas only strengthen Nocchan’s resolve as she starts to push Doppel and her Dynamo back by one step* “I promised myself that I wouldn’t quit, no matter what! And NOTHING is going to make me go back on that! You hear me?!* *Seeing no other option, a spark ignites in Doppel’s eyes, a pale purple aura envelopes her body and her weapon, giving her the strength to push Nocchan back a few steps* “If you won’t listen to reason, then-” *A turquoise energy, akin to lighting, begins to arc around Nocchan’s body, causing her to glow* “I’ll do what I have to-” *Both step back from each other, charging their respective specials in an instant, and dash towards one another, looking to end this battle, here and now. The resulting clash of energies, a tremendous, and violent, explosion, is enough to knock out power for a few city blocks for a few minutes. In the darkness. Nocchan and Doppel struggle to their feet, both needing to lean on their weapons to remain upright. The surrounding lights flicker back to life and shine down upon them as they use what little energy they have to walk past each other and quietly declare...* “We’ll finish this...at the Final Fest...”

[wevegottogetaway]

The one where the night turns sour but then it turns sweet

Y/n’s kitchen is a mess. Pots and pans queuing up to be washed. Crumbs from her morning toast lingering on countertops. Veggies peelings from her infamous zucchini/ground beef lasagna she’d made for lunch still hanging out on the cutting board. But no matter how bad the battlefield in her kitchen, y/n herself is an even bigger mess. A proper wreck she would say if she wasn’t so absorbed by the problem at hand. Pacing her small apartment, phone clutched by her ear, she is one nerve away from having a mental breakdown.

She doesn’t have the time to take care of the deplorable state of her kitchen though. Not when her boss is scolding her like some punk kid caught stealing from the till, about a work catastrophe that she didn’t even cause. And that’s without saying that it’s fucking Sunday past 6pm and her best friend Harry is meant to be arriving anytime soon (the thought makes her hiss each time she so much as glimpses at the pile of dishes still dwelling besides the sink). It’s been a good 30 minutes since the screaming had started now, but y/n has yet to get a word in edgeways. Instead she silently implores her boss to stop swamping her with his unrelenting fury for both her sanity’s sake and the fact she’s expecting company. 

"This is unacceptable y/n, your stunt just might have put our most precious client’s account in jeopardy and you aren’t even present to fix this fucking mess." Of course I’m not present you dumbass, it’s Sunday she wants so desperately to yell back. She will most certainly get fired if she levels her tone to her boss’ though, so she takes a long breathe and answers in the most put-together voice she can muster.

"Mr Griffith, I still have Mr Nicholson’s file on my computer. I promise I will do all that’s in my power to rectify this situation." Technically it’s not her concern. She knows she didn’t do anything wrong, but she’s fairly new to the company and fairly young and in today’s society that fairly accounts to having to prove yourself. Maybe saving the day will be the small push she needs for her hard work to get legitimate recognition. 

"If it’s not fixed by tomorrow 10am you’ll regret ever footing step in my company y/n."

"Duly noted Mr Griffiths, enjoy the rest of your week-end," she retorts before hanging up. It is probably way to abrupt as a farewell, but y/n feels like her ears would have started bleeding had she not cut it short. Shoulders hunching in a dejected manner, she merely has the time to reach the kitchen before her doorbell rings. 

"It’s open!" she says barely loud enough.

Then Harry serenely strides in, having already discarded his coat in the closet by the front door. As soon as he takes in her sight though, he knows something’s wrong. It’s not so much that y/n is an open book (the first time they met he thought she was quite the enigma), but Harry likes to think he’s been around long enough by now, to be well versed in decoding y/n’s kinetics. So instantly he recognizes the stiffness in her posture, can discern her usual in-thoughts frown from the migraine one she’s wearing right now, and already forecasts some kind of bad news just by the way she’s fiddling with her fingers. 

"’S wrong, love?" he inquires with concern, and y/n absolutely hates that she’s about to put a damper on his night too. Loathes it even because of how soft he looks, standing a few feet from her, wearing a cozy navy blue jumper. His cheeks are slightly pink-tinted from the sharp weather raging outside, and she can tell he refrained from taking her hands in his when he voiced is worry because he knows they’d feel like icicles on her skin at the moment. Y/n sighs as she finally plunges her tired eyes in his shining emerald ones.

"God, I’m so sorry Harry, you have no idea how much I want to just hang out with you but something came up at work and-"

"At work? But it’s Sunday!" he cries out somewhat indignantly.

"Trust me, I know… But apparently there was a huge screw-up and now the office is in some kind of uproar, my boss is this close to kicking my butt out of the company and now I have to fix it-" Y/n explains frantically. She’d surf on the wave of anger during the phone call with her boss but now that she’s off the adrenaline high, she’s just a massive bundle of nerves ready to implode. 

Lowering her head in her hands defeatedly, she flinches at the sudden contact of Harry’s freezing hands on her arms (just like he’s predicted but he decides the moment really calls for it). "Slow down, angel. Can’t be working yourself up, ’s bad fo’ your ‘ealth. ‘Sides, I’m sure we can work summat out" he adds while rubbing his thumbs over her shirt soothingly. Y/n then tilts her head back up and makes eye-contact once again as she paces her breathing in long inspirations. Once she’s recuperated, she brings her own hands under Harry’s forearms and gives him a morose smile.

"I really need to do this Harry, I don’t have much choice." Seeing how distraught she looks, Harry simply nods and swallows his disappointment. "I don’t know how long it’s gonna take, I have to make a few phone calls and that might be all there needs to be…or it might take the whole night. I don’t know, we can raincheck or if you want to wait around for a bit… It’s up to you." She knows it’s not fair to keep him around if she’s gonna spend the next few hours rubbing elbows with her computer and her phone instead of him. She knows she should let him go for the night and reschedule but she misses him so much. They haven’t seen each other in a while and, well, y/n’s heart always has a mind of its own when it comes to Harry (against her better judgement). So instead she leaves it to his choice.

He doesn’t have to think twice before agreeing though. "‘Course, love. I got nothin’ to do anyway so might as well do nothin’ ‘ere." 

He makes it sound like it’s whatever, but truth is, he’s been looking forward to this for days. The last couple of weeks have been filled with so many work commitments and deadlines to meet, now that he has the next few off he’s just yearning for a casual night of take away, rom coms and cuddles if he’s lucky. And maybe his resilience has also something (a lot) to do with the pang lashing out at his heart at the thought of postponing their reunion. He won’t relay that information to her though.

"How ‘bout you go ‘head an’ do what it is you need to do, and I, can go buy some sweet an’ sour chow mein from that Chinese place ya always raving about?" he offers softly.

"It’s okay Harry you don’t have to do that, you’re supposed to be enjoying your time off, not run other people’s errands."

"No, none o’ that, angel. It’s no bother, I promise" he reassures her. "That way we’ll have more time for a movie or summat." 

Typically, y/n wouldn’t give up that easily. She can be quite a stubborn feisty little thing when pushed too far. However, tonight she’ll have to pick her battles if she wants to have all her wits to clean her colleague’s goddamn mess. So she lets out a small ‘fine’ and drops her arms back at her sides. Harry gives her one last smile for moral support before he’s turning back towards the front door. As she hears him shuffling his coat and boots back on, she bites back a small smile of her own. She’s really lucky to have him, she thinks, not for the first time. All the more reasons to keep her blossoming feelings in a secret box, never to be opened by a certain 6 foot curly-haired British brunette who wears his heart on his sleeve and never fails to make her feel warm. 

The sound of the door shutting is what pulls her out of her trance, before she despondently makes her way to her coffee table where lays her laptop and cellphone. Bracing herself for the upcoming crusade awaiting her, y/n puts her work glasses on and gets down to business with a small glimmer of hope that her night will end as originally planned. 

When Harry comes back — not only holding dinner but also bearing a family-size package of M&M’s (he knows it’s her guilty pleasure and he thinks she really deserves it tonight) — the first thing he hears is y/n’s stern but diplomatic voice. He never really gets to witness this side of her, all professional and ‘takes no shit from nobody’ attitude, so he’s a little curious when he finally makes his way to her living room. And well, God helps him if he doesn’t find sweet y/n pacing her place head high, shoulders back and fiery eyes, to be really hot. Quite the contrast to her usually warm and relaxing aura, but still, the pang in his chest resumes with greater intensity. 

"Mr Nicholson, your reluctance to further collaborate with Lyon Investment Factor is absolutely understandable considering we’ve played a part in the precarious situation that just transpired. I fully acknowledge the newfound mistrust you might feel towards our company, but if I may point out to you - and with all the respect that I owe you - despite its misstep, Lyon Investment has demonstrate its ability to operate quickly in the face of a critical emergency."… "Mr Nicholson,  I was hoping the past 24 hours would have comforted you with the knowledge that you can rely on our company to deflect any other foreseeable complication that may occur."…"Thank you Mr Nicholson. This goes without saying that I offer you my most sincere apologies on the behalf of Lyon Investment."

Harry thinks she’s genius. Using the very own mistake of the company to show its impeccable response to crisis and problem-solving abilities…that is downright brilliant. A really coup de maître of sure. Whilst it’s true they fucked up, they (or more like y/n) also managed to efficiently resorb the problem at hand. Mr Nicholson’s company is not in any harm’s way anymore, all thanks to her fighting long and hard to right the wrong that had been done. Harry’s heart is bursting with pride and awe as y/n smoothly wraps the phone call up, comforting Mr. Nicholson times and times again to rest assured that Lyon Investment wouldn’t let anything bad happen to his company.

It’s only once she half-throws away her phone on the couch that y/n takes in Harry’s return. She’s usually really good at sensing his presence but the last 30 minutes drained her to the bone. He looks even softer if it’s even possible. Head tilted on the side as if he’d been observing her this all time, he seems somewhat thoughtful. And for a few one too many seconds they just gaze at each other and bask in the silence. Then Harry finally breaks the intensity with a soft chuckle and a smile.

"Jesus, angel, ya look like ya need a hug," he says while putting the bags of food on the kitchen counter.

"Ugh. I’ll be honest, not my best night so far."

"Good thing I’m ‘ere to make it all better then. I even gotcha M&M’s to end things on a sweet note. Know ya can resist ‘em," he proudly announces and y/n might as well turn into to a puddle as his feet with how sweet he is. Sweeter than the stupid candy without a doubt.

"God, Harry you’re the best. I’m so glad you decided to stay" she admits while getting close to him. She could really use a hug, he knows her so well. And a hug it is, as she doesn’t even need to say anything before he engulfs her between two strong arms and a soft chest. Reveling in the feeling of his hands running down her back supportingly, she just breathes him in the most inconspicuous way she can. She doesn’t know it, but he does just the same.

"You work so ‘ard, angel. I’m so proud o’ you." The sentiment makes her smile in his neck, and when she leans back out of his embrace and takes a look at him, she thinks her night is not totally ruined. 

"Thank you Harry, it means a lot" more than you know, she could add. 

Finally ready to let the festivities begin, they are then making their way to the kitchen. Harry helps pulling out the plates and cutlery since by now he’s just as familiar with her kitchen as she is (despite it being a few months since the last time they did something at hers). 

"So, what ‘appened at the office that they had you kickin’ asses on a Sunday evenin’?" Harry asks while serving them both some of the sweet and sour he’s bought. 

"Barely kicked anyone’s ass" she grumbles. "If anything, I’d be lucky not to get mine kicked tomorrow at work."

"Didn’t sound like it. You were so…" Harry starts saying as he tries to find the right words, "…confident and intransigent when I ‘eard ya on the phone." She smiles once again at the dripping fondness in his voice. 

Plates in hands, they revert back to the living room and make themselves comfortable on the sofa, cautiously sitting not too close but not too far either from each other.

"Nah, you just caught me when I was tired, frustrated and frankly? angry. I’m just glad I didn’t go ballistic on him…then we would have truly lost Mr Nicholson and this time it would have been entirely my fault," she says before shoving a piece of sweet and sour pork in her mouth.

"Wait, you mean you ‘ad nothin’ to do with what ‘appened?"

Y/n lets out a long sigh at Harry’s confusion. First, because yes, technically she could have stepped out of the problem — though her boss could probably care less about her innocence in the matter — and just enjoy her Sunday evening as arranged. Second, because somehow she knows Harry will disapprove. He already thinks she’s working to hard and despises her office for not acknowledging how absolutely brilliant she is (granted, he’s probably a bit more than biased on the subject). 

Now that he asked though, she can’t get out of it. "Technically speaking? No. I was the one investigating Mr Nicholson’s new investors and when I noticed something odd with one of them, I wrote a note on the file so that Shirley would take matters into her own hands. When I came by her office to pass on the file though, she was distant and barely listened or looked at me. I mean you know how she’s always been with me…" Harry slowly nods as he recalls many a night  where y/n would rant to him about Furie Shirley whose only purpose is apparently to turn her time at the office into her own personal purgatory. "I still told her about the note, but apparently she failed to do something about it because next thing we know, Mr Nicholson’s account is missing a few pennies." 

"Jesus y/n, why dyou go through all that stress ‘f you weren’t even responsible for it?" Harry does’t understand. Is it because her kindness is so, that she couldn’t say no to those who need her help? He’s seen that happen quite a few times in his time with y/n. Once they’d been walking to the cinema when some old lady asked y/n if she could watch her dog while she was grocery shopping. They’d waited for over 30 minutes outside the store and barely made it in time for the movie… It was just one of those things that made her y/n and that always left Harry endeared. 

"I just…Harry you don’t understand how hard it is to make a place of my own in that office. I’m young and new, and people are still not completely trusting my competences…so yeah, sometimes I have to go the extra mile to show them; make them see that I deserve to be there, because I love my job and I worked hard to get in that company in the first place. But I’ll be damned if I don’t put my whole in what I do, it’s the only way I’ll get recognition for it. I just owe it to myself." 

At this point they’re both facing each other on the couch, food abandoned on the coffee table. There’s a pregnant pause but none of them are willing to put an end to it. Y/n, because she’s trying to decipher what’s going on in Harry’s head, her eyes going back and forth between the two of his. Harry, because, well, the butterflies in his chest are so strong he can’t act like a functional human being right now. She’s just so beautiful: chapped lips, disheveled hair, eyes circled with exhaustion and all. She’s the cutest mess he’s ever seen and he can feel his heart winning over his reason. Can’t resist the magnetic pull he’s always experienced when near her. Can’t stand by his initial inhibition anymore.

Ever so slowly as to not set her off, he leans in, lips slightly opened because breathing through his nose is too complicated of a task at the moment. He’s got the smallest frown like a remote part of him realizes what he’s about to do and braces itself for the aftermath. He comes to a halt millimeters from her lips as a silence way to give her one last out, but when her own lips part to let a shaky breathe out, he just closes the infinitesimal distant remaining between the two of them.

Then it’s just lips tenderly waltzing to an unchained melody of unraveling secrets and muted feelings set free. The kiss is a silent conversation between two relieved souls who can finally be unconditionally honest with each other. Harry can’t believe it’s really happening as he cups her jaw in his hand, thumb delicately brushing over her cheek. As soon as their lips made contact he’d closed his eyes to fully soak up the moment. He just can’t get enough. He loves the softness of her skin under his fingers, the feel of her irregular breathing against his face and the way her hands have moved to rest around his neck and clutch at his sweater. He’s never felt more connected to her in that moment. 

Alas, every good thing has to come to an end, and all living beings need to breathe. Reluctantly so, they both lean back an inch playing with the idea of going for a repeat, before coming to the realization of what that kiss means. The shift that will undeniably result from it and the necessity for them to talk it out. Harry decides he should speak first since he was the one to initiate it all. 

"Umm, I’m sorry…but not really" he finally says huskily with swollen lips and flushed cheeks (and this time the weather has nothing to do with it).

That’s enough to break the tension as they both start laughing softly, foreheads touching. After their laughters die down Harry gives a small push to her head, to which y/n responds with one of her own. Her mind feels fuzzy, her self-control slipping away bit by bit. She can’t tone down the smile that’s tickling her eyes, can’t prevent the goosebumps from erupting all over her body and can’t get her fingers to stop fidgeting. She’s taking comfort in the fact that Harry’s not doing much better body language wise.  

"You kissed me" she states after clearing her throat. 

"I did." 

"Sooo, what was that all about?" she inquires quietly but still beaming. He chuckles at that, desperately trying to find a way to buy himself time in order to formulate a proper answer; one that conveys how much he likes her without scaring her off.

"Well, we get on really good, don’ we? From the beginnin’. An' it’s like, you became really important to me so fast, an’ I value our friendship. So much, angel. An’ because o’ that, I could never get myself to make a move because the worst case scenarios always ou’weighed the best one. I just couldn’t, an’ still can’t afford to lose ya."

Y/n is amazed. First because his words are music to her ears. It’s what she’s been craving to hear from him for months. Second, because she’s never seen Harry quite so…shy. After confessing his feelings, he looks down at his lap as if still not a 100% convinced that she reciprocates the sentiment. So y/n gingerly takes his hands in her, threading her fingers between his.

"Harry…I don’t think I could ever cut ties with you. Feelings or not." Realizing how that may sound, she adds frantically. "Not that I don’t have feelings for you, because I do." She pauses. "I really do."

There was a rawness in her voice that wasn’t there seconds before. Now it’s her turn to feel the weight of months of secrets taken off her shoulders. And when she feels him squeezing her hands and takes in the radiant smile on Harry’s features, she thinks this is the right this to do. 

It seems Harry’s confidence has returned as well, if the small smirk making it’s way on his face is anything to go by.  Then he’s wrinkling his nose and slowly shaking his head from side to side. "Damn, we’re just bloody idiots, aren’t we." 

"Apparently so, yeah" y/n answers before they start giggling in unison. 

"So, where do we go from there?" she asks once they settle back in a more serious mood.

"An’ where ’s it that we are, darling?" Well, not serious per se for Harry who’s apparently still hanging on the banter.

"Ugh, Harry you’re a pain."

"Ohhh, so 3 minutes ago you were kissin’ the hell out o’ me an’ now I’m a pain? Can’t find the logic in tha’, love."

"What?! I wasn’t kissing the hell out of you! And may I remind you, you started kissing me, not the other way around."

"’S right, love. I kissed you heaven, ‘cause ya were just too damn beautiful." She can’t help the blush coloring her cheeks, as she listens to his charming words. "The way I see it, I like you, an’ ’t seems like you like me back…so let’s just be together an’ see where it goes. No pressure, no expectations. Just what feels right, ‘kay? An’ no more hiding what we feel from the other. An’ I got unlimited access to your lips"

"Yeah okay, I think I could live with that." Y/n answers before kissing him again.

This time there is more playfulness involved; they know this will be far from the last. Hands are also more curious and less hesitant as they tug at hair and jaws, and just overall roam the new surface they were given to explore. It gets to the point where their smiles are getting in the way, but they have a hard time parting anyway. They are just basking in the kind of moment where wishful thinking becomes tangible reality and the longing for mutual affection is finally sated. 

When they finally lean away with unsteady breaths, they are still grinning like fools. Then their eyes align and they are struck by the two fold nature of the moment. Everything has changed whilst everything is the same. They hold the same adoration for each other, share the same kind of banter, use the same techniques for moral support (this isn’t the first sweet and sour emergency procedure Harry has had to perform). And yet, they now flaunt smiles wide enough to annoy bystanders, transparent eyes that no longer hold mystery and unrestrained movements led by the simple desire to be closer to the other.

"Wanna watch a movie then?" Harry asks absentmindedly as he's caressing her cheek.

"Think I wanna go for something more stimulating actually." That draws back his full attention faster than she can say ‘hands off mister'. She wants to wipe the smugness off his face (tough she secretly loves it), but decides she can beat him at his own game as she leans forward until her lips are brushing the tip of his ear. "I’d rather kick your ass at Scrabble again if you don’t mind."

And really Harry wasn’t expecting that and he has to close his eyes and pinch at his nose to rein himself back in. "That was one time, love. You beat me one time. By 5 points. An’ I was down wit’ the flu. Besides, wit’ the stunt you just pulled I wonder whose ass needs reshaping…" He counters while taking a bite of his own at her earlobe. 

"Behave, Styles." 

"Yes ma’am" he obeys but not without leaving a tender kiss to her neck. "So, you get the game, I get us tea?"

"Atta boy" y/n can’t help but teasing before dismounting the couch and heading for her living room closet.

30 minutes later, they are both sitting, facing each other on the floor, sides resting on the front of the couch. The Scrabble board is wedged between their legs, half completed and it’s y/n’s turn to place her letters. She’s got a giant smirk on her face that Harry has yet to notice in his imperturbable concentration. He’s determined to prove her wrong, she knows. Y/n has always found his competitive nature to be quite adorable. Especially when things are not looking in his favor and he gets that deep frown on his face and maybe even pouts a little if he’s trying to impress a certain someone in that moment. 

That’s why once he finally looks up at her, his face changes color radically. There is no doubt she’s onto something, and by the look of it, her next move might be signing his defeat.

"Nuh uh, you don’t ‘ave a Bingo." It’d be the only reason for such a reaction on her part. He just knows her so well.

"Oh what was that again Mister Scrabble King? I’m sorry, I got distracted because, I, have a Bingo, all thanks to that S you just put down. Amazing, no?" All the while, she starts putting her letters down sporting a shit-eating grin. Harry doesn’t know what to say as his eyes fall on the songbird she’s just spelt, so he pouts just like she knew he would. 

"’S fine, sweetheart, just givin’ you a head start. Don’t want the defeat to hurt too bad." He’s such a sore loser, but that’s no flash news for y/n. She’s quite use to it actually, and has learnt by now to just roll her eyes.

"Sure thing, Styles, sure thing. Just play if you can’t except defeat."

They keep playing, sipping tea every now and then, y/n watching him like hawk over the rim of her mug. Because she knows he’s planning mischief. He’s playing far too innocent and being far too okay with the fact he’s only got two of her three-digit score. 

It happens merely ten minutes later. Y/n is pondering over her choices, she’s got letters do spell both rate and tear but she can’t decide what’s best. (She can’t figure out that double and triple letter score nonsense like Harry does. He just always placing 2 letters in odd places that give him 34 points in one go, while she wastes her gray matter away trying to come up with seven-letter words just to end up with 12 points. It’s infuriating, really.)

The place has been eerily quiet for the past few minutes and with that thought she pauses her internal debate. It’s been quiet for too long. When she looks up at Harry, he’s sporting the same smirk she was a few moments ago. 

"What?" she asks incredulously. "What!?"

"Got a bingo, darling." And really, she hates it when he calls her that because he always uses it in a patronizing tone (always meant for teasing, it goes without saying). 

For a moment, y/n is overcome by the same feeling of discontent she’s had to deal with at the beginning of the evening. She really thought she was about to beat him this time. Now if he wins, she’ll be twice as bummed because she would have been so close and Harry will never let her live this down. Instead he’ll be constantly raving about how no-one can beat him at Scrabble even the strongest of contenders (and y/n sure is one of them, even he will admit)

But then Harry starts laying down the letters on the board and she has to blink twice to make sure she’s reading right. Damn, this is a first. She never thought he would revert to this.  

"Um, Harry?" He hums in acknowledgement. "That’s not a word."

"Sure is, pet. I use it all the time." He answers so nonchalantly, like everything is normal and he’s just so right about this. 

"Alright. Use it in a sentence then." He looks up at her with the same smirk.

"Throwin’ me under the bus, love? ’S not very nice. I didn’t question you when you nailed ya bingo." She’s seeing right through his stall-the-conversation game though.

"That’s because I had an actual word, you ass!" She exclaims outrageously. However, her smile hasn’t vanished from her face, because this means she’s still winning. He’s just being a sneaky little shit about it, is all. "Come on Styles, I wanna hear you use that stupid word of yours!"

"Damn, you’re a lioness tonight. Didn’ know I outta bring me some bodyguard to save me from your claws." Once he sees the deadpanned look she’s giving him, he puts on a fake thinking face, right hand around his chin and left arm crossed over the other. "Fine, let’s see… Hum…I…"

"Harry" y/n says in a stern voice. She can’t believe he’s still trying to get out of this.

"This situation is grootling? I am grootled?" He can’t even take himself half-seriously, knowing he was busted the moment she first read it. As they share a look, they’re like two pressure-cookers on the edge of explosion: eyes creased and cheeks puffed out from trying to rein in the fit of laughter that is begging to be relieved. 

There’s no avoiding it though, boisterous cackles filling up the room, it feels like a massive relief for y/n. Relief from the work pressure she could still feel in her joints. Relief because she wouldn’t change the night for the world. Relief for the fact that Harry’s still her best-friend and can still make her laugh harder than anyone ever. Relief at the thought that she’s found her person. One that supports her in every thing she does no matter what; that is there for casual (at least in her book) Scrabble games but who doesn’t shy away when she’s at a vulnerable point and needs someone to hold the pieces back together. 

So without a care, she crosses the game board, completely disrupting the pieces, and kisses him. Knees against his thigh and fingers messily tangled in his hair, she presses her soft lips to his with vibrant intention and Harry, albeit surprised, is embracing her blazing affection to the fullest. Circling her waist with one arm to bring her down and forward on his lap and carefully holding her neck with his other hand, he surrenders himself to the warmth and pleasure running thought his bloodstream. All too willingly succumbs to the flames licking at his heart and tingling the tips of his fingers. And lets his instinct guide him through the kiss, as he pours his feeling into it unabashedly. 

After making their lungs starve for oxygen once again, they break the kiss in one last giggle. 

"So, if only for future anecdote purposes, what does grootle mean?" Y/n asks before capturing her lower lip between her teeth. The game is screwed now, pieces all over the place except on the board; but she doesn't regret screwing it up herself even when she was that close to finally shut his bragging cake-hole. She’d rather do it with her lips anyway.

"Fuck, gimme a mo’ angel. Just kissed me breathless, an’ this time ’s true." A blush immediate creeps up her cheeks at his words, so she dives and hides her face on the crook of his neck. The action has him chuckling as he runs his hand up and down her back and thinks of his next answer.

"Ya see, grootle is a fascinating word. Can be an adjective, like in ‘I’m so fucking grootle to have you, I can’t believe you’re lettin’ me be yours’. But it can also be a verb as in ‘you’re amazing an’ I wanna grootle the shit out of you’ if ya know what I mean," he adds with a smirk and raises his eyebrows twice flirtingly. 

"God, you’re such a dork, Harry." 

"Just shut up and come kiss your dork." He simply answers while pulling her to his lips and y/n thinks she’s had worst nights.

➪ Masterlist