#like at this point there’s nothing else for me to do but laugh maniacally

[corkinavoid]

Hey, @confused-they, this is for you and for everyone else who wanted more of this AU. Merry Christmas.

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 4]

[<- part 3]

[Written to 'Tantrum' by Ashnikko]

TW: mentioned mild gore (some inside parts become outside ones, nothing graphic)

Tim can't breathe.

Joker's mad laughter is ringing through the darkness of the warehouse, echoing in his head, the screeching sound straight out of nightmares. Hood should be nearby - as in, somewhere in this darkness along with him - but Tim can't think about that, his own maniacal giggles bubbling in the back of his throat, a grin tugging at his lips.

He has to get up. He has to stand, he has to fight, and it really shouldn't be this hard.

But he can't breathe.

Tim clutches his fingers on the fabric of his suit on the chest, distantly wondering if this is how Danny feels when he is more human than ghost. Probably not, he mentioned that breathing is only optional.

He really wants his boyfriend right now. His fiance. Whatever, he wants Danny, he wants his cold hands on his cheeks and the faint, humming purr of his core that Tim finds nice to fall asleep to, and-

Maybe later. He can't exactly summon him now, not in the middle of a fight, especially not in the middle of a fight with Joker of all people.

There's an angry growl somewhere to Tim's left, staticky through the voice-modulator. Then several sounds of gunshots and a gleeful, taunting yell of the madman.

Hold on.

Tim snaps his eyes open - not that anything changes, everything is still pitch-black around him - and blinks.

Why not?..

It's not like Danny is a civilian. Tim tends to pay little attention to the fact since the King of Infinite Realms doesn't hang out with the whole superhero convention on principle. But Tim is pretty sure he won't mind it this once.

Besides, Tim is so done with Joker that it's not even funny.

A few breathy chuckles escape his throat as he lets his body fully slump back on the floor and brings his left hand to his face, placing a quick kiss on the Ring through his glove. He doesn't need to do that, not really, but it's kind of a ritual at this point, and the gesture somehow makes him feel better.

"Danny," he whispers.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, there's a soft, popping sound, and his beautiful boyfriend is floating right over him, faintly glowing and a little sleepy. Tim is momentarily distracted by his bare feet and pj pants with tiny rockets on them.

Danny yawns and tugs the hem of his t-shirt down as it starts to float. "Whas'sup," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and clearly not fully awake, and Tim's heart melts instantly. He loves Danny. He just... He loves him, okay? He loves that Danny didn't question his summons for a moment, he loves that he came even though he was obviously sleeping, and he loves that Danny is wearing a tee he stole from Tim.

Unfortunately, before he is able to get his shit back together, another sound of gunshot ripples through the air, and Danny startles, blinking himself awake and looking in the direction of it. Then, his eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth makes a soft 'O' shape before he turns back to Tim and tilts his head in question.

"You want me to deal with him? The clown, I mean, not your brother," he asks, and it's so casual and off-handed that Tim actually huffs a laugh.

"Sorry, I was just- I'm really tired of his ass," Tim should probably sit up, this is not a talk they should have while he is lying on the ground. On the other hand, Jason is somewhere out there, and he has guns and doesn't have a clear visual around him, so maybe Tim shouldn't sit up.

Danny hums, "Is that a yes?"

Tim just nods. He is pretty sure Danny can see him despite the darkness. "I promise it's a one-time thing, I don't plan on calling you every time one of local lunatics acts up. I just... I fucking can't with him," he admits with a defeated sigh. But, before he can spiral any further into the abyss of unworthiness, Danny's cold hands are cupping his cheeks, and his icy eyes are looking right into Tim's sky blue.

"Love, I don't mind getting rid of each and every one of your Rogues. Granted, it would probably fuck up the timeline, and Clocky would be mad, but I'd do it if you want me to, no questions asked." His voice is quiet, and Tim has never been more grateful for his domino mask, because he can feel his cheeks heating up and he doesn't want Danny to see the exact effect his words are causing.

"I- Okay," he quietly agrees, and then blinks, backtracking, "Wait, no, don't fuck up the timeline. Just deal with the laughing bitch this once, and that's it. We can handle the rest."

Danny is smiling at him in that adoring way Tim recognizes as 'I really want to kiss you, but it's not the time or place'. Then, he nods and lets go of Tim's cheeks, straightening up in the air, and his clothes shift all at once, like a magic trick.

Gone are the stretched out t-shirt and the pants with rocket ships. In their place, Danny's body is head to toe covered in stars and galaxies that hold the vague shape of armor, and there's a slightly shimmering, blueish-green translucent cape over one of his shoulders.

The Crown over his head, the sentient artifact much like the Ring on Tim's finger, appears from nowhere, and, after a brief pause - Tim swears it was debating on whether or not the situation is worth the effort - promptly sets itself on fire. Blue flames cast long shadows on Danny's, no, King's face, making him look older and his cheekbones sharper.

Before, the boy was only faintly glowing, and, evidently, the others present in the warehouse were too distracted to notice him.

But now, with the flaming Crown casting dancing shadows on the walls of the warehouse, it's really hard not to see the otherworldly being making an appearance.

"Holy fuck," Tim hears Hood's quiet, astonished voice, and almost cracks a grin.

Yeah, he wants to say, that's my boyfriend. Although he suspects he and Jason are having vastly different reactions to Danny's presence. Because Tim kind of wants to take all his words about dealing with Joker back and take Danny home, straight to bed.

...He is going to have to strangle Jason in his sleep if his reaction is similar. No, that's a wrong thought, this is so not the time for it.

"Who are you, flying glowstick?" Joker sounds rightfully pissed off by the interruption, "Does Batsy employ alien kids now?"

Danny chuckles, the starry freckles on his cheeks glowing brighter, "Okay, just because you compared me to an alien, I'm not going to completely erase you from this plane of existence."

Tim snaps his head up.

"Wait, no killing," he reminds, not because he actually cares but because B would throw a fit. Danny brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, he'll stay alive," he smiles at Tim, and to everyone else, it probably looks like stuff of nightmares, sharp, pointy teeth and lips stretched out far beyond human capabilities. But Tim sees it for what it is: a face of mischief.

"Do I get a vote in this?" Jason's deadpan voice comes from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse at the same moment as Joker screeches in rage, "Who the fuck do you think-"

"Nope," Danny pops the 'p', and Tim is not sure if he is answering to Hood or refusing to listen to the clown's monolog by it. Maybe it's both. It's probably both.

The next moment, Danny is gone, disappeared from the place he was floating at, and Tim hears a wet, very unpleasant sound followed by Joker's scream of pain.

"You see this?" He hears Danny's nonchalant, unfazed voice above the clown's pained cries, "This is your rib, bitch- Hey, quit whining and listen to me, it's important."

There's a slap, a rustle, and a sound of ripping fabric, and Joker's voice becomes muffled, like someone put a gag in his mouth.

"You're like Adam now, you know, lacking one rib," Danny continues, "Only I'm not making you a girl out of this one, I'm pretty sure you don't deserve to reproduce. Anyway, going further down that metaphor, I'm the God almighty in this situation, so if you want to keep the rest of your ribs - and the rest of other things that are supposed to stay inside of you - to yourself, you gotta do a thing for me, okay?"

There's some muffled groans that Joker makes in response, then an enraged growl, a sound of a struggle, another slap, and then that same wet, disgusting squelch.

"Two ribs, wow, okay, you're really being difficult about this!" Danny sounds so innocently dumbstruck about it that Tim suppresses a laugh. "Are you listening now?" There's a quiet, choking wheeze that answers him, and Danny sounds quite pleased when he says, "Great."

Tim debates if he should look. He doesn't exactly want to since the sounds provide enough context, but it might be somewhat cathartic for him.

And then the air around him inexplicably shifts, becoming cold and oppressive, weighting Tim down like a heavy blanket and pushing him into the floor. The dancing shadows and the blue light of flames on the walls twist and churn, like taking aim, and Tim doesn't know what Danny looks like right now but he knows he is as far from human as possible, his voice coming with a staticky, echoing whisper, a threatening hiss slithering inside Tim's ears.

"Play your little games all you want, Fallen Jester, but know that you can not win. The punchline to your joke is long overdue, and your soul has belonged to me for quite some time now," his words are cold and uncaring, and in all the time Tim has known his boyfriend, he has never heard him speak like this: with a sense of lazy power, like he is only humoring the people around him.

Like they mean nothing to him.

"I will not kill you, or at least not here and now. My Guiding Star doesn't want to see my hands dirty with your filthy remains. Besides, death is only a moment, and you don't deserve only a moment of suffering," he huffs a short, humorless chuckle, "But, luckily, I am the Eyes of the Universe, the Titan's Bane, the King of the Dead, and everyone will meet me once their eyes fall shut for the last time," there's a smile in his voice now, full of cold and merciless anticipation. Tim feels a shiver run down his spine.

"So just you wait, Jester, and I will meet you on the other side. Then we'll see how whatever is left of your soul is going to spend an eternity."

Tim's ears are ringing with the pure, somehow gleeful hatred that laces those last words. He didn't know he could literally taste the disgust and the promise of pain, and yet, here he is, with a hint of something sour on his tongue.

And then, the heavy, weighted air that has been charged with power is lifted, the shadows and bright blue lights are all gone, and Danny, wearing his pj's and smiling, is standing over him. His feet are planted on the ground for once, and the Crown is gone without a trace, but his t-shirt is still trying to float up. The boy tugs it down again, offering a hand to Tim.

"Wanna go out for a burger since I'm already here in Gotham?"

Tim had never breathed easier in his life. He laughs a little and reaches up, taking his beautifully unhinged boyfriend's hand and standing up.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[inkykeiji]

not sure if this helps but i just read this a few days ago..

https://www.tumblr.com/moodyvoid/746788409535791104/tomura-promising-to-protect-his-leagues-ideals

i totally agree with you tho!! this is so fucking annoying i hate the way they are moving forward with his character!!!! :c

bnha manga spoilers + clari going on a huge rant that is very much tainted by extremely intense and deeply personal emotions

it does not help, but i appreciate you sharing it with me anyway anon <33 thank you for trying to help me feel a little better, genuinely, i really do appreciate it so much!

ugh. ‘his league’s ideals’ aren’t even his own ideals. his entire life has been a lie—was he really a victim of hero society, ever? would he have been a victim of hero society, and especially in the way dabi and toga and twice and spinner were, had he not been given decay? had he been able to completely live out his life normally, without any interference from afo (completely ignoring the fact that, apparently, he wouldn’t even exist without afo and his meddling)?

he’s a fraud. he shouldn’t be the leader of the league. he IS a victim, yes. a victim of a villain, a victim of his abusive father who hated heroes, who is probably more of a victim of hero society than tenko ever would’ve been—so at least there’s that indirect link. but to me, and this is purely my own personal opinion, having decay not be his natural quirk takes so much away from him as a character. i interpreted quirks as a metaphor for undesirable qualities that normal society shuns. as such, having decay be his original, natural quirk, to me, made him a much more fascinating and complex and MESSY character. now he feels one dimensional and boring. all of his ‘decisions’ were tainted by what he thought was true—but none of it actually came from within him, at all, ever. not even a sliver of it. can we even say ‘that was all him’ when we know that the basis for all of those decisions is entirely built on lies and deceit? when literally everything tomura knows, and stands for, and believes, has been built on a lie? when it was all done BECAUSE of the ideals and opinions implanted within him, that don’t have a single hint of truth to them and don’t actually pertain to him or who he would’ve been and what he would’ve suffered at all? i think he genuinely cares for the league, yes. i think he genuinely likes video games, yes. but the reasons and motivating factors behind those decisions are ???????????

i just feel like it would’ve been so much more impactful and sinister for afo to intentionally seek out a child who he KNEW had a quirk that would be shunned and would alienate him from society regardless and then use that trait as a tool to manipulate the child and mold tomura into exactly what he wanted, than to just completely engineer the entire thing from the very start. this single change in detail suddenly alleviates tomura of all responsibility, which makes him feel really flat from a character standpoint. sure, tenko has a great heart or whatever, but i personally am not interested in that. i liked the moral greyness of the league. i liked what they stood for. tomura/tenko having this pure heart within him, or this capacity for a pure heart (ie making these choices to care for and save his little jigsaw of a found family), while also struggling against the shackles society would’ve imposed on him for being born with such a quirk, and the real anger and hatred he would’ve felt because of that, is soooo much more interesting (and relatable!) than tenko just being, what, a decent person? idk.

in other words, none of tomura’s ‘decisions’ hold any weight. obviously, tomura has been groomed and manipulated by afo since he was very young—most of his ideals and opinions were shaped by and influenced by afo. but at least if decay had been his own quirk, there would’ve been a kernel of truth there. that’s all i wanted. just that one kernel of truth.

anyway, sorry i just used your ask to vent and cry about it HAHAHA. i hope i’m explaining myself sufficiently and that my ideas are being expressed adequately and clearly. honestly, i’m having trouble fully articulating myself and why i am so insanely upset over all of this, but in a nutshell these are my thoughts. i feel like i could write an entire essay on why this decision sucks so bad LMAO. sure, his story is tragic. but it also feels really meaningless.

who knows, maybe the manga will make me eat my words, and something great will happen, and i truly hope it does!!! i hope it renders everything i’ve said here completely untrue! but we will see what happens,,,

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ tell me you love me or else ⋆⭒˚.⋆

(cw: f!reader, alcohol consumption, TikTok trend)

Fratboy!Jaehyun, Mark, Taeyong, Johnny, Doyoung, and even Yuta, the most chaotic of the NXT frat brothers, would argue that leaving you and Haechan alone when either of you had consumed any amount of alcohol, was a bad idea. Actually, scratch that, a horrible idea. Nothing good ever came from the two of you being alone with alcohol in your systems.

Today, NXT had been invited to a brunch Greek life brunch thrown by the alumni of the university. Of course, Jaehyun had invited you and of course, you partook in the free mimosas. Since you did it, Haechan did too. Johnny and Taeyong had to help the both of you back to the frat house while you both giggled like drunk maniacs. Jaehyun had other frat responsibilities to take care of, but made you promise you'd answer his calls so he could make sure you were okay.

You and Haechan laid side by side watching TikToks on his phone when a couples prank caught your attention and made you both cry with laughter.

Your phone rang and Haechan sat up with an evil smile, immediately recording as you answered the call. Jaehyun's voice came from the speaker, "hey sweetheart, did you make it back alright? What are you doing?"

"Me and Hyuck are watching a movie in his room," you lie, your words coming out slightly slurred.

"What movie are you guys watching?"

"Shark Tale," you spit out, immediately bursting into laughter with Haechan. His phone falls as you both begin to laugh even harder for no reason.

Jaehyun chuckles at the sound of your laugh, "alright, well, have fun. I'll check on you later. I love you."

"Bye." You reply as you hang up quickly.

You and Haechan keep you laughs in as your phone almost immediately begins to ring again. "Hello?" You ask after putting Jaehyun on speaker.

"You hung up so quickly. I just wanted to make sure you were fine..."

"Yeah, we're fine."

"Okay, well, I love you. I hope you guys are having fun," Jaehyun sighs into the phone.

"We're having a blast, bye." You say before hanging up.

You and Haechan stare at your screen with poorly concealed laughs, just a few seconds later the screen lights up with a FaceTime call. "Answer it!" Haechan exclaims, pointing his camera at your screen.

You slide your finger across the screen. Jaehyun's pouty face is the first and only thing you see with how close his face is to the camera. "Why do you keep hanging up on me?"

You giggle softly, the alcohol making your head feel lighter and everything more funny than it is, “because we’re done talking. Bye.”

You and Haechan start cackling so hard you both begin to cry and Taeyong comes downstairs with a look of pure concern. Again, the phone rings with a FaceTime and you slide your finger across the scream through your tears.

Jaehyun’s face looks less than amused and even annoyed, “stop hanging up on me. Tell me you love me back.”

“Aren’t you busy right now?”

“Tell me you love me!” Jaehyun yells.

“I’m gonna tell Taeyong you’re slacking off right now…” you trail off warningly.

“Oh my god! Tell me you love me or I’m going to lose my mind and ban you from the frat house for the rest of the month,” Jaehyun screams, his cheeks flushing with exasperation.

“You can’t ban our girl!” Haechan slurs as he squeezes his face beside yours to be in view of the camera.

“I love you, Jaehyun,” you sigh with a loving smile.

Jaehyun lets out a sigh of relief, smiling at the view of you through his screen with a smile, “fucking finally! Ok, I’ll be home in a couple of hours. Take a nap and I’ll see you soon. I love you!”

“I love you more!”

“No I love you most!” Jaehyun smiles with a lovesick grin.

You giggle in response, “I love you the mostest-”

“Yeah, you love each other, got it. We’re not doing that shit. Bye.” Haechan deadpans as he hangs up the phone.

[auroreliis]

Imagine reader slipping up & call them the Catboys/Catfamily

They would be so bitter lol

If you called Bruce Catman, or something like that, he would be so confused, I'd love to see it. Jason would laugh, of course, but Bruce would remain stern,"Who is that? Where did you hear that name?" It implies that you were going to say Batman, which is also a big no-no.

Dad, Father, parental figure and Papa (and maybe a few other niche ones) are the only ones allowed. He is not Batman in front of you, only your father. And it BETTER stay that way >:(

Dick would freak out if you called him Catbro.

"NOOOOO NONONONONOOOOOO IT'S BIG BROTHER, OKAY??? BIG BROTHER!!!!", he would whine, with tears in his eyes. How could you do this to him? He's Richard, your dear elder brother. Well...actually, don't call him Richard either...just big brother, okay?

Jason has been called many things by you: Nuisance, asshole, jackass, weird guy who won't leave me alone...you get the point. However, never in his life would he have imagined being called Catbro. His reaction is one of disgust. With a scrunched up face he would tell you to stop. Right away. And don't do it again.

Tim, like Jason, has been called a plethora of insults by you, so just the fact that you talked to him at all makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. If he knows who you're talking to, he really doesn't care what you call him. He would certainly correct you and say,"No, no. I am neither Robin, nor a cat in your presence, okay? It's either Tim or big bro, alright?" He would try to be gentle about it.

Damian would stare at you silently untl you correct yourself. He wil NOT take this disrespect. He is either Damian or My dear younger brother to you, nothing else.

Duke would just laugh awkwardly,"Yeah, haha, whatever you say" He definitely wants to correct you, but is rather hesitant in fear of making you angry.

Barbara and Cassandra would both politely ask you to refer to them as big sister. Since they ask so politely, you cannot help but agree.

Stephanie just starts laughing like a maniac. You end up being so confused...does she...find it that funny? Is she being sarcastic? Why is she laughing so much? It kinda freaks you out. She throws her head back and starts hitting you on the shoulder. Like...It can't be that funny, right?

[anyasathenaeum]

Not really nsfw but a crack-ish fic where Knives is trying to kidnap/threaten Vash's s/o and they just tell him "I fucked your brother, shitlips" and he starts arguing with them (they keep saying it) for at least 30 minutes until Vash shows up.

A/N: Okay this just made me burst into laughter, what a chaotic idea. I LOVE it. Sorry it's short but it's my first ever crack-fic

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Explicit mentions of sex, This is Absolutely Not Serious™, please enjoy chaos and Knives getting annoyed

"You will obey me, or else, I will-"

"You'll what? You won't do anything because jokes on you, I already slept with your brother," You immediately cut Knives off, grinning a bit maniacally at him.

Knives' eyes widened and he just stared at you for a moment.

"What?"

"I slept with your brother," You repeated, grinning even more maniacally. Despite you clearly being in a position of vulnerability, tied up and restrained, you were loving this and decided if you were gonna be unhinged, you would push the envelope as far as you could.

"You... what?"

Knives continued to just stare at you, confusion and lack of understanding clear in his pale eyes.

You let out a borderline-unhinged laugh, "What aren't you getting here, buddy? I. Slept. With. Your. Brother. I fucked Vash, which was amazing, by the way! I'm really glad we finally slept together, it took FOREVER for him to get the hint!"

Knives just rubbed his eyes with his hand and sighed exasperatedly, trying to keep himself calm and still maintain his intimidating facade, "As I was saying, you-"

"Fucked Vash, you betcha I did! Many times, actually!"

Oh, this was getting fun. You wanted to see how annoyed you could get Knives, partly out of the want to just frustrate and irritate him, and partly because you knew Vash would definitely be on his way to save you.

Knives scowled at you and just looked down at you as he got close to your face, anger clear in his features.

"Would you shut up about-"

"Fucking Vash? Never. And trust me, after the kind of sex we had? I'm NEVER shutting up about it ever again."

Knives let out an exasperated yell, "Are you kidding me?! Stop talking about sleeping with my brother!"

"Four times, Knives! Four orgasms in the span of ten minutes, I mean, what kind of man can pull that off?! It was impressive, I felt like I had no bones left in my body, and-"

"ENOUGH!"

Knives bellowed loud enough to actually silence for you, but it didn't wipe away the grin on your face. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh as you saw how red Knives' face was and how annoyed he was.

"What, jealous you aren't getting laid, Knives? I must say, the whole 'murdering the human race' vibe you've got going on might be the reason."

You couldn't believe you were pushing this far, but all your shame was out the window now - it was all or nothing at this point.

"I swear, if you don't stop talking about- about-," Knives spluttered angrily, but you immediately interjected before he could get too far.

"What? Sex? Are you so shy that you can't even say the word, Knives?" You teased mercilessly.

"Why are you two talking about sex?"

Both you and Knives turned to see Vash standing there, looking extremely confused and a bit of an amused expression on his face despite his gun being drawn.

"Get them out of my sight," Knives immediately snapped, just about throwing you across the room at Vash, "I give up. I never want to see them again, they're useless to me. Both of you, leave now, before they start talking about... about..."

"Sex?"

"OUT!"

[fraugwinska]

Guys, here we are - my first try at VOX x Reader! ;> Who knew we would be here one day? And it's all thanks to @macabr3-barbi3, for whom this bribe was intended, but we'll graciously share it with you ;> Don't worry though - I am a Deer Girl through and through. Just with a side of TV Slut now (once in a while)

Vox x Reader : Hatefuck prompt - 18+ - Minors DNI!

Pretty Desperate

"Sir, your 6 o'clock is here."

"She can fucking wait, I need another five."

Vox rubbed at his temples, staring down at the monitor in front of him as Papermint quickly retreated from the control room, the clipboard the little shit always carried clutched in front of his chest. He had dreaded this particular meeting the whole day.

Alastor's bitch, the little assistant he had hired not a month before had been nothing but trouble. And if Vox was honest, not only to him, but also to Alastor himself. The Radio Demon had been completely clueless to the goddamn puppy crush the assistant had on him.

It made Vox sick.

Little Miss Nobody wasn't even that hot! Just an average looking demon. A bit short, not really muscular, no wings, no tail, no tits, nothing special, except for a pair of twisted horns and a somewhat nice ass. Following Alastor around like a lost dog, carrying his coat, running errands for him, all the while fluttering her lashes and smiling coyly at him, thinking nobody noticed.

Except Vox did. He fucking noticed, and he wanted to throw up.

He could understand, honestly, why the assistant had the hots for Al. His friend was charming, had a killer body, and his voice was a goddamn treat to listen to, especially when he got all excited and happy about something. His laugh was loud, a tad maniacal, and it always made Vox shiver to his bones.

But the problem was, the feeling wasn't mutual. Alastor wasn't into his assistant. Didn't have the hots for her, and wouldn't want to get between her thighs even if she shoved his microphone in her cunt. Al had never even touched her, or anyone else for that matter. Vox knew that, from first hand experience, and still he hated this bitch. He hated how she thought she had any chance with Alastor. And he hated her because he didn't have a chance with Alastor either.

Not that it was her fault per se, but still. She had some audacity, to even think to have a chance when Vox hadn't even gotten past a fucking friendly pat on the shoulder yet.

"Fuck!"

Papermint flinched, and Vox felt his lips twitch, the little shit had entered again without him noticing.

"Mr. Vox, your-"

"Yeah yeah, I know, send her in. And get me a drink, and make it a strong one."

He nodded, hurrying to get the requested drink before opening the door to let Alastor's assistant inside. She had a stack of folders under her arm, and a nervous look on her face. She had a thing against the Vee's, especially him, and it made him want to strangle her, even though he knew that his overall appearance, the sharp angles of his screened head and the cold look he always gave her was most likely the reason for her nervousness.

"Mr. Vox-"

"No small talk, get to the point. I'm sure Alastor wouldn't have sent you here if it wasn't something urgent."

"O-oh, of course. There was a... situation, I was instructed to deliver these to you, while Mr. Alastor has gone to check it out."

"And he didn't bother calling?"

"It was quite sudden, and he wasn't sure if you would answer your landline."

Vox grunted, Alastor's refusal for any modern technology past fucking landlines and telegrams was getting on his last nerves more and more, but there was nothing he could do about it. If he wanted to live in the stone age, that was his business.

"Hand those over and get out.”

"I'm afraid I was instructed to stay until you've taken care of them."

"As fucking usual."

He knew for a fact that Alastor sent her here only to annoy him. Those papers didn't need checking, Vox would only look over them and stamp a little print on the front saying 'Approved', and they were done. But his friend loved to tease him, and ever since Vox had voiced his dislike against his assistant, Alastor had gotten a certain morbid joy out of pushing him to work together with her.

"Yes, fuck, whatever. Let's get this shit over with. Come in, and shut the door behind you."

At least she kept her mouth shut while he skimmed over the content of said papers, drinking from the tumbler filled with what tasted like Gin. For once she wasn't being annoying, and she didn't stare at him defiantly the way she usually did. She looked defeated in a way, the usual sass in her stance missing as she waited, silently and unmoving next to him, hands folded tightly in front of her. Odd.

"What's the matter, dollface? Alastor finally told you he'll never fuck you?", he smirked, turning a page and scribbling his signature at the bottom of the page.

He heard a quiet, shaking breath, and for the first time since she entered the room, he looked directly at her.

Her eyes were burning red, and Vox hadn't realized she had been crying, but she clearly was. Silent, thick tears escaped her eyes, running slowly down her cheeks, leaving trails where her finger wiped them off hastily.

"Oh, seems like I've hit the bull's eye. Fuck, doll, stop crying, I get that he rejected you, but that's just pathetic."

"Leave me alone. What does it matter to you anyway?", she whispered, more tears running down her face.

"Like I care, you'll run back to Al with your little tears and tell him how much you're pining for him, how desperate you are. Maybe that's a bit of his kink and he'll actually consider it, who knows. You might get a pity-fuck with one of his voodoo-minions at the end, is that what you want?"

He expected her to respond, expected her to either throw something at him or slap his stupid grin off his screen. He certainly hadn't expected what happened. She sobbed and slapped a hand across her own face, silencing the heart-wrenching noise she emitted. But Vox had to watch how her whole expression just crumbled, he watched her face turn red, and how she wiped over her face furiously, swiping away more tears that were still coming.

For a few moments, Vox sat frozen in his chair, unable to process the situation. The paper in his hand was crumpled in his grip. It wasn't a little crush, that was painfully obvious. Fuck, what was her name again? Did she like Alastor for real?

"Alright, shit. You, uh... sit down."

He pushed another chair forward with his foot.

"Wh-why would I..."

"Because you don't really look stable on your fucking legs, and I hate this bullshit already, so come over here, take a fucking seat and pull yourself together."

She made a face, sniffling pitifully before crossing the short distance towards the chair.

"How long?"

She bit her lip, a bitter laugh escaping her as she sat down.

"Ever since I've started working for him."

"Oh wow, that must be so hard on you, sweetheart." Vox voice dripped of sarcasm. He leaned over to her, shoving his half-full glass of gin in her direction with a scrutinizing smile. "Try seven decades, then we can talk."

For the first time her lips turned upwards, not quite a smile, but the scowl wasn't there anymore.

"You're no better off than me."

He scoffed in response, filling the tumbler back up to the brim. She took it carefully, taking a few sips from the translucent liquid. Vox eyed her for a moment, wondering if she would spit it back out. Okay, she wasn't that ugly. Her lips were nice and puffy, pink, a color not that usual in hell, almost human-like.

"Maybe not, but at least I have the decency to not follow him around like a lost dog. That's just sad."

"You're one to judge."

Vox laughed a humorless laugh. "Oh-ho. Have we found our backbone, doll? I actually hate you a little less like this. It gets boring, the whole spiel with the kiss-ups constantly trying to lick Alastor's boots... or anything else."

"He never notices anyway."

"Nope. Doesn't notice shit.", Vox takes the glass from her and empties it in one big gulp.

"And still you hate me."

"Of course I fucking hate you."

"Why? Because you want him for yourself? Because you can't stand it that someone else wants him? That I want him?"

Vox snorted, the sound a bit static-y, and she flinched.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart, I don't give a fuck about what you want. He doesn't give half a shit about you. He doesn't want you - End of the story. But if he did, he'd deserve much better than you. You're a whiny little bitch, you follow him like a kicked puppy, and you're a fucking annoyance. Al can do better than that."

Her wet eyes burned with fury. Huh. The bitch had a little bite in her after all, good to know.

"Fuck you, you're no better. You're an arrogant, narcissistic, stuck-up prick, you think everyone loves you and worships the ground you're walking on, you act all high and mighty, you're a bully, a control freak and a manipulative asshole."

He had to admit, she hit a few bullet points herself. But that didn't mean he liked her. He stood up, taking a step towards her. Her face was tinted red, anger clear in her round face. Now that was something he could work with.

"At least I don't cry about it like a pathetic little loser."

She was crying again, angry tears this time, her eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on her lips. Fucking perfect.

"I fucking hate you, too."

"Good."

Vox leaned over her, gripping her chin harshly. She flinched, and a new tear rolled down her cheek, falling on her blouse and wetting the dark fabric. She was trembling, but she wasn't moving away from him. He smirked, his hand wandering up, fingers digging into her cheeks painfully, and then his lips were on hers, hard and rough. She tasted salty from her tears, but there was a certain sweetness, a bittersweet note of her own, and the faint taste of gin. She made a small, protesting noise, but her hand gripped his arm, holding onto him tightly.

He broke the kiss, staring down at her, her lips swollen and reddened, her cheeks flushed and stained with tear marks, her eyes burning with hatred.

"Get on the desk."

He grabbed her and picked her up easily, setting her down on the large table. He grabbed her chin again, and she glared at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed, but a deviant smile on her face.

"Fuck you."

He smirked.

"Exactly."

The blouse tore like paper when he ripped it open. Her tits were actually nice, not as big as he was used to, but round and perky. She was panting heavily, and he had a feeling she hadn't expected this turn of events. Well, neither had he, but right now, Vox couldn't care less. All he cared about was his rage-filled desire to fuck this shitty feeling out of his system and the invitingly wet stain on her panties as he shoved her pencil skirt up her thighs, the way she squirmed and arched her back slightly, silently begging him to touch her. He leaned over her, capturing her mouth again, and he couldn't help the smirk at the way she kissed him back, a tad aggressive and demanding. His fingers pushed aside the soaked fabric, rubbing her clit lightly. She moaned quietly, breaking the kiss. Vox didn't waste a second, pushing a finger inside her.

She was hot and slick, and she was fucking tight. Vox groaned, and she whimpered, a high-pitched noise that went straight to his groin.

"Look at you, so wet already. What would Alastor say if he saw you like this, moaning like a cheap slut for another guy?"

He grinned, thrusting the finger harder and adding a second. She was almost dripping, the noises his fingers made were obscene, and it was fucking hot.

"He'd scold me for downgrading myself to someone like you."

Vox laughed as he added a third finger, bending them skillfully to hit just the right spot. "Oh please, you're a mess, doll. Your cunt is dripping, and you're trembling. And still you're trying to be a snarky little bitch."

He rubbed her clit again, and she gasped. He had to admit, her pussy was probably the best one he had felt in a while, and it was definitely the most fun he had ever had with a woman. Usually it was all him calling the shots, the women he fucked were usually dumb and eager to please, and not really capable of sassing him back the way she was doing now.

"You're one to talk, finger-banging me while having a hard-on. Is it because fucking his assistant is the closest you'll ever get to fucking Alastor?"

He didn't give her the satisfaction of a reply (of course he had a good one), but instead he removed his fingers in a swift swipe, ignoring the way she whimpered at the loss. He undid his belt and zipper, freeing his aching cock, his newest, upgraded model. She stared at it, wide-eyed, and for the first time, she actually looked intimidated, unsure... scared. Vox grinned satisfied, stroking himself a few times.

"Don't worry, dollface, it'll fit, and it'll feel really good. And the best thing - if you stop your constant bitching, maybe I'll even make you cum."

He rubbed the head of his dick over her clit, the LED's on it brightly illuminating her core in a blue hue, and she let out a strangled moan at the sensation. Her face was red and flushed, her eyes half-lidded, and she looked so goddamn sultry with her legs spread wide and her pussy glistening.

Vox grabbed her hips, pulling her close until her ass was at the edge of the table, and then he lined up his cock.

"Last chance to back out, sweetheart."

He couldn't believe his own words. Was he really offering her a way out? Why did he even care, he was the one with his dick out, and she was the one that would have to take the consequences of this whole hate-fuck-thing, he'd be fine either way.

She looked up at him, her face determined.

"Alastor always told me you're all talk, no action. Was he right?"

Oh, this little bitch was going to regret that. He pushed inside her, his cock sliding in easily. He was big, and she was so fucking tight, it was incredible. She cried out, a sharp, high-pitched sound.

"Too much action for you?"

She didn't answer, instead she was trying her hardest not to move, her hands firm on his shoulders, and Vox had to give her that, she did a good job of staying still, only the slightest of trembles visible on her legs as she willed herself to relax around him so he could move.

He was throbbing inside her, the walls of her cunt pulsing and fluttering painfully around him, and it was taking everything he had to let her at least adjust and not just fuck her right into the table. He was still holding her hips, the tips of his fingers digging into her skin, probably leaving marks, and he was sure that the force with which he was gripping her would leave traitorous, colorful bruises. Markings, his markings on Alastor's bitch. The thought made him shiver, sending electric currents down his spine as he pulled out slowly, the drag deliciously torturous. And then he thrusted back in, all the way. Hard. Her pussy clenched deliciously around him, and Vox threw his head back, a silent moan leaving his throat as he moved in and out, feeling her stretch and contract around his length, sucking him in greedily.

He felt his body overheat, electrical current flowing through him in intense pulses straight to his dick, adding another sensation to the already wonderful tight, wet, hot feeling enveloping him. He might need a little fix-me-up, it had been a while since someone got this much of a reaction out of him. The room was quiet, only her rapid panting and the sound of her cunt swallowing his cock with every pull filled the air, the noices slick and sloppy. Vox pressed one finger firmly on her clit, making her arch her back as he began circling it, the heels of her feet pressing painfully into his lower back as he increased his pace. His own breathing was starting to become labored, short puffs of static leaving him.

"Say his name", he heard himself demand, the sound of his own voice was low and static-y.

"Wh-"

"You fucking heard me, say his name. Call for him while I'm fucking you, come on, princess. See if he cares."

He increased his pace, hammering in and out of her, the air was heavy with the thick smell of sex and arousal, and she was becoming louder, keening, gasping, mewling.

"Fuck you.", she gasped.

"Wrong, try again."

Vox slowed, changing the angle to thrust right up where it made her shake. He smirked when her toes curled. "Come on, I know you can say it, I'll make it easy on you, I'll say it with you: A. La. Stor."

With every syllable he pumped into her a bit harder, the electricity from his fingertips stinging her clit, and the extra sensation had her shudder, a shaky moan leaving her throat. Vox wasn't giving her any chances to catch her breath, the air was filling with the familiar buzz of static electricity, the screens inside the room began to flicker as more and more electricity flowed from the TV overlord into her body, to her limbs.

"Oh my...fucking god... Vox!"

Her hands dug into his suit, and then she gasped, a beautiful, long, drawn-out moan ripping through her chest as her back arched, her heels digging harder into his lower back. She shuddered, violently, and came, the feeling of her pulsating muscles sucking him in combined with his fucking name rolling from her lips completely doing it for him. With one last, well placed thrust, and her voice in his ears calling for him and not Alastor, he buried his dick deep inside her cunt, riding out his own orgasm with small, careful thrusts, hissing quietly as her tight walls were milking him for all his worth.

He leaned forward, his forearms framing her on the table, and he huffed. Fuck, that was intense.

Her whole body was buzzing with the electrical currents he was putting off, and her muscles were tense as she willed herself to breath, gasping softly. Vox smirked and released a bit more power just for shits and giggles, just enough to make her gasp again, and he watched as her lips formed a tiny 'O' as the currents jerked every muscle in her body, making her walls tighten one more time around his softening dick and forcing another soft grunt from his own lips. He let off after that, knowing how tiring it could be.

He carefully pulled out, watching a mix of his cum and her own juices dribble out of her cunt, and he huffed at the sight, giving a quick rub to her swollen clit to push the rest of his cum inside.

She laid motionless for a second, staring at the ceiling blankly, and Vox was just wondering whether he had actually fried her brain, when she shifted, pulling her panties back into place. She looked up, and her almost human eyes found his digital ones, a very soft, amused, almost fond look settling on her features.

"You are really pathetic." She pushed herself off the desk, wobbly on her knees but upright while she pulled her skirt down and tidied her clothes, putting the ripped blouse back together as best as she could. "But I have to hand it to you - you know how to fuck."

Vox grinned smugly. "Baby, what do you think got me where I am now?"

"Mhm. Anyway- that was fun. Very entertaining, as Alastor would say. Might need a new blouse though."

She gathered the signed papers in front of her chest to hide the gaping hole exposing one of her tight breasts, opened the door and gave him a last glance over her shoulder, an impish smile on her round, flushed face. "I still fucking hate you."

For a few minutes, Vox remained behind, a dumb grin on his lips. He should really ask for her name at some point, he guessed, especially if Alastor planned for him to work with her again.

Hopefully in the near future.

[cod-dump]

Hear me out 141 + any other operators taking that military taser training. It's just in my mind. Price conducting it because he has already suffered it before 🙏 and him forcing everyone else to do it ( very consensual they were bribed )

Ghost being the big guy blank face through the whole thing. But inside he's screaming and twitching.

The others are up to you...

( gaz in the background laughing and bullying everyone because he's price's favorite )

Ghost: Took it the best out of everyone. Stone face the whole time but had hellfire in his eyes. Took to so well that Laswell (who was the one handling the taser) wondered if the taser actually worked. Everyone gave him space afterwards, not wanting to invoke his wrath.

Roach: Screamed. Screamed so loud that Nik and Price (who were holding him) winced and almost dropped him. Gaz and Soap were laughing like maniacs as Roach laid on the floor in defeat.

Alejandro: Dropped the quickest out of everyone but remained silent the entire time. Laid on the floor for a bit before jumping back up like nothing happened. He ran around the room for a bit before he finally sat down next to Roach.

Rudy: Much like Ghost, he had hellfire in his eyes but didn't have a stone face or kept standing. Didn't drop as quick as Alejandro but still dropped pretty quick. Started cussing Alejandro out at some point because he was the one who convinced him to do this.

Valeria: Didn't make a sound as she lowered to the floor. Twitched a lot before she finally could stand, groaning loudly when she finally got up. Definitely debated on punching Alejandro for daring her to do this.

Graves: Decided to do it to show off only to scream as he was lowered to the floor. He definitely didn't sound like he was being tased (more like an extra in a old shitty movie) when he screamed and Gaz and Soap were hysterically over this while Graves was red in the face.

Alex: Screamed 'ow’ repeatedly as he was lowered to the floor. Continued to say 'ow' after it was over, too. After five minutes it became clear he was fucking around and had to be hauled up because he refused to get up on his own.

Soap: Was very confident before he got tased. Screamed gibberish which sounded like something you would hear in a porn movie. Almost everyone started laughing hysterically while Soap refused to look away from the floor.

Farah: Sounded like she was possessed when she was tased. No one could understand what she was saying as she was lowered to the floor. Apparently she glared at Roach like she was going to kill him, resulting in Roach refusing to come near her.

Konig: Screamed loudly (but not louder than Roach), dropped after a moment and took Nik and Price down with him. Ghost had to help get him back up while Nik and Price tried to push him up. Gaz was cackling the entire time.

Horangi: Cussed the whole time in Korean. Had a firm hand on Nik and Price as they lowered him to the floor. When someone reached out to help him up he smacked their hand away and continued to lay there. Had to be dragged off the mat.

Gaz: Had to be forced to stand still. Was dancing in place in anticipation because Laswell was taking too long. Screams as he fell forward, stiff legged the whole way. Called Price a monster as he laid there, everyone laughing at him.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Draco Malfoy, twelve years old, who sees his father sneak a small book into eleven year old Ginny Weasley’s cauldron at the bookshop.

Draco, who recalls seeing it before at the Manor and knows very well this book is important for the Dark Lord.

Draco, who steals the book back and sneaks it into his pocket while his father isn’t watching.

Fast forwards a few years to Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts, when he’s on his mission to assassin Dumbledore, a task he’s been given by the Dark Lord himself.

Draco Malfoy, who gets caught in the hallways one night and dragged by the ear into professor Slughorn’s ongoing party, at the hands of Filch. Draco, who overhears a snippet of Snape’s conversation with Slughorn and Harry Potter himself.

Draco, who can’t help but gain suspicion when he learns that Harry Potter is suddenly a master in potion making, which would explain how he managed to win the Polyjuice potion earlier that year…

Draco, who remembers sneaking a glance at Potter’s Potions book and seeing scribbles all over it, and slowly connecting the dots.

Another suspicious book at the hands of Harry Potter. Draco suddenly worrying about the horrors the things written in this book could do…

Draco realising that he could use said horrors to his advantage, and at the same time manage to steal the book from Potter and make sure he won’t do anything he’ll regret with it (not that Draco’s worried, or anything. Simply curious.)

Draco, who one way or another manages to steal the book one day, flipping through the pages while his eyes widen.

Draco finding a curse he definitely wouldn’t mind to use…

And then…

Drarry microfic (Angst) by @yourlocalbadgerscales ~ Sectumsempra

“I know you’re up to something, Malfoy!”

Draco spins around, suddenly alarmed by the voice behind him, a voice he knows more than well… he doesn’t even have the time to wipe the tears off of his face as he turns his back to the sink.

“Tell me.” Potter slowly takes a few steps further into the bathroom, and when Draco grabs a hold of his wand and points it at his face, at those unfairly green eyes, Potter does that same with his. “Tell me what you did to Katie! And to Ron!” Potter looks… shook. He staring at Draco with confusion rather than anger written all over his face. And Draco hasn’t even started revealed anything to him yet. Not that he’s planning to.

Draco has had enough. He casts a silent but strong spell Potter’s way, and a lamp explodes behind the other boy. Potter gasps, waving his wand through the air and aiming a spell of his own right at Draco, who blocks it with ease. His breathing is fast and loud in his ears as he sends a spell to make the bins behind Potter explode, completely ignoring the loud cries from Myrtle. Potter, for some reason, is still silent while fighting.

Potter’s next spell misses, he trips, and Draco doesn’t hesitate a second. He lifts his wand.

“Crucio!”

And even now, Potter doesn’t scream. Draco learns why pretty soon.

Potter lies on the floor, his hands covering his face, as if that would help against the Torture Curse. But he isn’t writhing with pain, he isn’t crying out loud. Suddenly he jumps up again, holding his wand firmly in his hand once more. He points it at Draco, whose mouth is agape.

“What?” Draco can’t help but let out a frustrated curse.

“Seems like something went wrong with your spell”, Potter says simply.

Draco casts Cruciatus again, and again. Potter winces both times but doesn’t seem to experience any pain whatsoever. Draco’s blood boils at the sight of his face relaxing slightly.

“You have to mean it, Draco. The Cruciatus. Or else it won’t work, won’t cause me any harm at all. Has your auntie Bellatrix learnt you nothing?”

Suddenly Potter’s face is radiating pure rage again, and Draco grips his wand tighter, memories of a furious aunt Bella standing over him as a kid, laughing maniacally as she casts Cruciatus on him over and over again, until he’s nothing but a crying mess on the Manor floor… the memories, the memories…

Draco gathers all the fury he has in him, before attempting to cast the spell again, aiming at Potter’s chest… but somewhere in the middle he changes his mind, and before his brain catches up with his lips, he’s uttered another spell. He sounds confident as he screams it at the top of his lungs, and his hand slips only a little.

“Sectumsempra!”

A sudden sharp intake of breath, cutting through the air as a razor blade as the spell hits… not his, but Potter’s…

Potter’s eyes are halfway shut before he falls to the floor, a glimpse of green catching Draco’s eye half a second before he sees the red blood. And then Potter is lying face down in the water flooding the bathroom, and Draco takes a step back, breathing heavily.

He counts to two, and then he sees the blood again. This time he sees it in the water, a big pool of red starting to show in long streaks of red as it surrounds Potter’s body and soaks his clothes.

“No, no… no. No!”

Draco quickly recalls seeing the blood pour out somewhere near the right side of Potter’s chest, as the spell had just hit him. Draco stumbles forward, almost tripping over himself and then over Potter’s lifeless body as he falls onto his knees. The blood in the water reaches him within seconds, and he whimpers at the sight of it. “No, fuck’s sake, Potter, Potter!” He fumbles as he does his best to turn Potter to face him, and when he finally succeeds he’s quick to run his fingers over Potter’s shirt. He immediately finds the spot where the blood is the darkest. The spell has hit the right side of his ribcage…

The whole time so far he’s been chanting Potter’s name, letting it slip over his lips like a prayer to anyone who is listening, and now his desperate cries for help grow louder. “Potter… Potter no, listen, you have got to answer me! Potter!”

He can hear Myrtle screaming behind him. He doesn’t know how he feels about being found here, like this, but Draco finds it hard to care. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do. Potter’s face is pale, his lips parted and pale as well. Draco tightens his grip on one of Potter’s arms, pressing the other hand to his chest, trying his best to be as gentle as possible so he doesn’t cause any more harm than he already has.

Potter’s eyes suddenly open slightly, and Draco’s chanting stops. The hand he’s held on Potter’s arm trails up to wipe strands of wet, charcoal hair out of the pale face looking up at him. Those green eyes are hauntingly empty of any emotion.

“Hold on, stay with me”, Draco mumbles quickly. “Don’t die on me, for fuck’s fucking sake, don’t die on me, fuck I didn’t mean to fucking kill you, why did you have to come in here in the first place? You’re an annoying prick who doesn’t deserve to fucking die, Harry, don’t die, He wants to… himself… I’m not supposed to… Draco, calm down, calm down. Harry!”

Myrtle’s screams have turned into loud howling mixed with sobs. Potter’s eyes fall shut again and he lets out a muffled groan, his head tipping from one side and then to another. Draco keeps frantically wiping strands of hair from Potter’s forehead, being careful not to make the round glasses slip out of place. Potter has closed his mouth, his lips pressed together before falling slack again. He’s showing signs of still being alive, then, thank fucking Merlin. Draco’s hands are shining with blood. Potter’s chest is heaving. Draco keeps muttering the boy’s name under his breath, Harry, Harry, Harry…

After what feels like an eternity, someone enters the room, and Draco collapses in the water next to Harry while his whole body shakes with uncontrollable sobs.

[writing-for-life]

Behold: Morpheus’ Laugh

Hurrr hurrr hurrrrrr…

So we are starting with the reread of The Sandman issue 12 (“Playing House”) in our community today, and in that issue, you’ll find one of the two times Morpheus laughs. Not smirks or smiles, laughs. Out loud (not my video):

And as someone who read the comics for the first time 30 or so years ago, I actually don’t know what I expected. I always had a head-canon that he is just super repressed and actually can laugh like a normal… person (for lack of better term). He just doesn’t very often and is a bit out of practice. And I stick to that head-canon to this very day when I write fic.

BUT then Overture happened, and they gave us this:

I was like, “WTF kind of laugh can this possibly be if Hope is actually scared of it? And if it even makes the beetles run away in terror?”

And then the Audible happened, and my facial expression roughly translated to this upon a first listen:

That’s it? That’s the scary laugh? And what is going on with that grunting? It also doesn’t seem… scary? Just your ol’ maniacal laughter. I find it quite contagious though once he’s really going for it, but it could also be the total absurdity of it all…

But it’s somehow grown on me, because as a former MT actor, I get how absolutely awful it must be to do this when you have nothing else to fall back on but your voice.

And can I just say that this… THIS…

…was a total cop-out? They cheated us out of a stellar performance… experience… whatever.

Also: James McAvoy is great in the Audible. It’s a very different take from Tom’s, but he has the character spot-on in my view and leans a bit less into the sad emo cat, which I honestly like.

Bonus points: Your RP is great, James (much better than mine 🤣), but no matter how hard you try, the Scottish accent is coming through here and there (it’s incredibly subtle—it’s the vowel shape for me, like e.g. the OO). And as a fellow (half-) Scot, I can only say: I am incredibly taken with the idea that Dream has a little Scottish accent. Just for me. As a treat 😜

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 11

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH. 11

“One paddle-paddle, two paddle-paddle-.”

“HEYYY! Miss me, little brother?”

“...What the f-”

“It’s ironic! You used to smother me, with your dependency and lack of originality. Now I’m smothering you, by keeping you in a cage. It’s poetic, in a way.”

“...What are you supposed to be?”

“It’s just me, Stanford Pines. I’m definitely your twin brother, and not a maniac who kidnapped you because I can’t admit when I’m wrong or accept that I push people away.”

“Naw, you’re not him.”

“I assure you-.”

“No. Whatever you are? You’re not the guy who's been keeping me down here. You’re something else.”

“Oh?”

“This some… Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation? You one of those hive mind aliens that possess people? Or…?”

“Sixer was right to not underestimate you, conman. Let’s just say I’m a friend.”

“I’ve heard that before, but I recognize another wiseguy when I see one. What do you really want?”

“Why are you in denial, Stanley?”

“Denial is my fourth best skill, actually. It’s right above hoeing, and right below theft.”

“...Ignoring that. Why do you keep insisting you’re not Stanley Pines?”

“Show me the proof, guy.”

“You and Stanford have the same face.”

“Some people are just like that.”

“You have no memory of having a family, but Fordsy here has a gap in his, a gap you could slot into so easily.”

“Lot’s of families ‘lose’ members to homelessness.”

“Sounding a little bitter there, conman. Got personal feelings about that?”

“People aren’t ‘lost’ to homelessness, they’re forgotten. For the comfort of everyone else; for people who love to wax poetically about how other people struggle, but don’t have the stomach to look at it with their own eyes.”

“Well, well, well, well, well-.”

“Buddy, you get a nickel every time you say that?”

“Funny. What’s also funny is your ‘deep insight’. You’re so mad about people like you being forgotten, and yet… You forgot you.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why are you afraid of remembering? Are you afraid that you’ll remember loving people who couldn’t be bothered to remember you?”

“You seem to think you know a lot about me. Why don’t you tell me?”

“I think you cling to this ‘hardcore vagabond with no past’ persona because it’s convenient for you. Because it’s less painful for you. I think you wanted something so bad at one point that it consumed you, and when you couldn’t have it, there wasn’t anything significant left of you.”

“Wow. That’s quite a theory. Wanna hear the one I have about you?”

“Hit me, conman.”

“Oh, I wish I could. My theory is that you’re a lonely, nosey, parasitic little bi-.”

*‘Ford’ presses the mute button*

“Sorry Stanley, but I’m getting the last laugh here- and you’re giving me the bird. No, two birds. The audience will never know if you’re actually doing that, or if I’m just saying that you are.”

(...)

“Hey, Doc?”

“Yes, Stanley?”

“You know how I normally don’t ask you questions about your life because you’re crazy and I’m here against my will?”

“...Are you about to ask me a question?”

“Did you make a Faustian bargain with some eldritch abomination?”

“...What?!”

“Or… Do you use cocaine? I’d believe either, but I can help you with that second one if that’s it; you see, the key to kicking the habit is-.”

“Stanley. Why are you asking this?”

“Because last night something possessed you and tried talking to me about my feelings. But it failed because I don’t have any. What was that?”

“...Nothing possessed me.”

“PhD, you are terrible at lying.”

“Nobody possessed me! You must have just been dreaming.”

“No, I don’t have dreams. I only have nightmares about being suffocated. Or the IRS. Or the IRS suffocating me.”

“...What?”

“Are you a Warlock?”

“A- a what?”

“There’s this game that dorks play - and there's elves, and wizards, and stuff. Warlocks are those guys who use magic, but they have to get it from otherworldly entities. Are you that? Is that what you are?”

“...You are talking about the tabletop roleplaying game, Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons?”

“Yes.”

“You.. play that?”

“No. I never played it.”

“But you know the mechanics?”

“Some of it. Just the basic stuff. None of the actual- I don’t know, rules? Something something something D38; something something something THAC0.”

“How do you know?”

“I dunno, I don’t think too hard about it. Anyways,  so you’re a Warlock and you’re hiding it because your patron, boss, eldritch pimp, or whatever you wanna call it is gonna be mad at you? Is that what this is?”

“Stanley, please. Stuff like that is simply… fantasy.”

“Oh really? This is coming from the guy who has an anatomically accurate poster of a dissected fairy that you drew yourself.”

“...You can see that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s right over there.”

“Stanley, you should not be able to see that. It’s too far away, and you’re not wearing glasses or contacts.”

“Doc, I don’t need glasses.”

“You have needed them our entire lives, just like I do. You have a bad habit of breaking them, or not wearing them because you think you won’t look cool.”

“Shows just how much you know. Are you gonna tell me what that thing last night was? Or are you going to keep changing the topic and hope that I get too distracted to follow up?”

“Nothing happened last night. I’m not a warlock. I can’t believe you lied to me all those years ago when you told me you ignored all of my long talks about the finer mechanics and lore surrounding DD&D. And you should need glasses.”

*Ford goes upstairs*

“Well, guess I have nothing better to do than to take a nap. I wonder how the IRS is going to suffocate me this time…”

To be continued…

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 18

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 618

Masterlist

(Help I'm running out of Joe gifs)

Listen if you still need a minor smut warning at this point, you're reading the wrong fic.

You are so comfortable right now.

You are sprawled on my couch. You're reading Brief interviews with hideous men. You are wearing a very loose green shirt that keeps slipping off your shoulder, so you have to pull it back up.

You slept over last night. You were in my bed. Your hair was sprawled across my pillow. It's basically normal now, but I still consider it special.

I'm cleaning. You tried to help me, but I told you not to. You're tired. You've had a rough week at work.

Besides, it's not your fault I've let this place go lately. It's nearly Halloween and I haven't cleaned properly since late September. That's on me.

I dust shelves and I vacuum and I return things to their rightful places, but my eyes keep slipping to you.

You are not wearing a bra.

You notice me watching, but you only smile and look back at your page. I can't believe you can read at a time like this.

“Good book?” I ask.

“Great book,” you answer. “I bought it at this amazing bookstore.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Mooney's rare and used. You ever been?”

“Can't say that I have.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. Then, you put your book to the side and open your arms and I go to you.

Making out on my couch is better than cleaning. Having sex on my couch is better than just about anything. There isn't a lot of space and you wrap your legs around me to keep me in place and our intermingled, ragged breathing is loud in my tiny apartment, but I know from experience it sounds even louder in your shoe box.

When we're done, I get up and go back to cleaning. You pick up your book again, uncaring that you are only in your shirt and nothing else now.

This is our routine. We can be doing just about anything and take a break for a good fuck. If we'd had sex in my bed, it would have been making love and we might have stayed and cuddled for a while after we were done, but the couch is too uncomfortable for that and the sex was quick and rough and you like that, you like it a lot. And, (Y/n), so do I.

Another few minutes, and you get up and stretch. Something cracks, and you wince.

“You okay?”

“I stayed in one position too long.”

You disappear into the bathroom and I take a moment to tidy things around where you've been resting. Your panties go in my pocket. You'll just think it went behind the furniture somewhere. You keep replacements around here, but they are all clean and this one is wet because while I was cleaning, you wanted me. You always want me. You are a sex maniac. But only for me.

The apartment is pretty clean now. I'm happy with it. You come out of the bathroom and tell me I did a good job.

“Thank you, ma'am.”

“I guess now you'll want a reward.”

I shrug and grin. You roll your eyes a second time and stand on your tippy toes to kiss me sweet and slow.

I humm.

“Okay, that was a pretty good reward.”

“I'm glad you think so,” you say.

There's a knock. You dart to put on jogging pants while I go to open the door. It's Paco. His mother isn't home and he forgot to bring a key when he went to his friend's house this morning. I let him in and you make him a snack and ask him how school's going.

This is our life. This just might be our life forever.

[toomuchracket]

I just took my baby for his first vaccinations 😔 so now I'm picturing dad Matty crying alongside his babies when they get their jabs, and even if they didn't show any signs of feeling poorly he'd make sure he was holding them all day and never put them down just incase they started crying

oh sweet boy, give him a cuddle from me!! talking about baby boys... both you and matty are there when alex gets his jags (sorry i'm scottish i can't say anything else), and he's kinda clinging to you when you get to the doctors anyway so you hold your baby while the vaccines are administered - he just lets out the most awful whimper when it happens and starts crying, which sets matty off too because he hate hate HATES seeing any of his babies in pain (that includes you). and then YOU start crying because alex immediately only wants matty to hold him and looks at you with utter betrayal like "mummy how could you let them do that to me"; literally, the whole rest of the day (well, until he needs fed), your son will not even look at you, which would be funny if it wasn't so heartbreaking. but you can't deny that it's lovely watching matty be so soft and gentle and loving and attentive with his boy, holding him to his chest and kissing his fluffy little head and stroking his back while he sleeps, checking his temperature in between making him laugh and changing him and just doing absolutely everything for him. when matty resorts to eating lunch with one hand while holding the baby, you're like "are you at any point going to put him down or nah", and he's like "no 🥺 i don't want to see him crying again, it was horrible. and i don't want to see YOU crying either, darling - he'll snap out of it, you know. he loves you so much", and you smile and kiss matty's hand like "more than you do?" and he's like "well No that would be impossible. but really, babe, he'll be fine in a little while". and he's right - alex is making grabby hands for you within the hour, squishing your face and giggling like a maniac as if nothing ever happened. bless him <3

[minsungchronology]

My Personal Opinions on Minsung's Dynamic (2023)

Disclaimer: I am not trying to pass off my opinions as facts. This is my personal interpretation of what is laid out right in front of us. I could be completely off base because I don’t know these guys personally, so take this with a grain of salt and feel free to disagree!

I feel like this is the year where they’re as blatant as they possibly get.

This year, a lot more eyebrow raising moments come about. Ironically, a lot of them completely go under the radar under more popular moments (I.e: the neck kiss) that can be explained away as normal skinship (Han has kissed other members on the neck before) or even fanservice.

LK and Han seem a lot more settled into themselves as the year progresses. However, a lot of the habits we’ve seen of them have not changed one bit. The way they act (in concerts especially) directly parallels to how they were during all of those fansigns back in 2018. They’re always goofing off together, always finding ANY kind of way to interact. Sometimes I don’t even think they realize they’re in their “own world” at times cause it seems so habitual at this point. Someone who has seen the group in person has said it’s a lot more (extreme?) if you drift off to the side and pay close attention to those two.

This year (I don’t put fan sightings or airport pics, except the Jeju one lmao) there’s been an array of fan sightings (+ a few direct stories of their hangouts) of them during their off time as well. Like in previous years, they always seem to find a way to spend time together outside of work.

Now for a moment that I haven’t seen being talked about a lot:

Apart from their concert shenanigans, I think this one is one of the most telling. It’s during the YT live they have before Lollapalooza with Seungmin and I.N – the one where LK has the zoomies. LK asks Han for his hotel room number and Han laughs because he obvs can’t give it away on live (a lot of people freaked out about this but that’s not the part that made me raise my eyebrows at all, there was nothing questionable about that imo). It’s Seungmin’s reaction, rather. As soon as LK/Han are within a closer distance and Han responds, he literally scoots up closer to the camera to block them and stays frozen for a while. I tried to think of any other reason why that happened, but nothing else seems to come to mind.

Moments that got a kick out of me:

Han stomping his feet as soon as LK strips off his coat (for him, not for the fans 😭😭😭) during Sydney day 2, as he was watching him through the big screen.

LK being V.I.P to Han’s muscles and blatantly checking him out before Han covers himself up during the one of the later dome tour concerts.

Han twirling his butt for LK (im not making this up) during the soundcheck before the second Los Angeles concert and the look LK gives him as he’s approaching. 😵‍💫

And the long-awaited moment I’ve been itching to talk about. Maniac Tour - Sydney day 1.

Hooo boy.

There’s a lot to unpack, but I don’t want to go into details at all, for good reason (I think it’s pretty clear if you watch the clips). The way they were acting throughout that concert had me speechless, like they couldn’t turn off their giddiness for one second. Take a shot every time Han’s butt gets smacked/touched in that day alone. LK getting on YT live a couple of days after and trying to explain the ~lower body workout~ they had. If you notice how nervous he was trying to explain himself- 😵‍💫

Han couldn’t even sit down prop– *gunshots*

But anyways, it’s the most sus moment between them I’ve ever seen.

And 5-Star promotions. It was a time when Han was feeling noticeably under the weather. If you watch all throughout that period, Lee Know is so attentive and watchful of him. While Han strikes me as a “words” kind of person (case in point: their 2 kids show episode, Han was doing most of the talking lmao), Lee Know comes across as an “acts of service” type of guy. You’re not really going to hear him wax poetic about the members, but you’ll see his love for them through his actions. This is so evident here. You can see how much LK cares about him; the love he has for Han has always been so obvious, since the beginning.

From what we’re able to see, LK never seems to pressure (or even playfully tease) Han to act a certain way. He lets him be, all while being super attentive and being playful/funny as a way to make him feel better.

Also, Han being the one to write and share “Want So Bad” (+ the times during the tour where he pointed at LK when fans would show him husband/boyfriend/girlfriend posters; I wasn't able to find the footage paired w/ the posters of those moments unfortunately) makes all of this so bittersweet. Especially when you look back at his reactions towards LK in 2018 with anything “flirty” or potentially anything that toes the platonic line (i.e: the feelings discussion in the 1st 2KR). Having that little insight really pieces a lot of things together, especially when you go back and watch their moments from previous years. Again, they've come so far. 😭😭

My personal opinion:

I believe this is the year they want us to know, or rather the fans who have long suspected something going on between them.

Here, they’re at their 5th year of being idols (almost 6 years as a group). At this point, they know just how much they can get away with. The act of shipping is pretty ubiquitous amongst different groups because of the conditions we see them in (members are in constant close proximity with each other and we constantly see them interact). Which makes it easy for fans to partake in the act of shipping. These guys have been shipped with each other (and with other members!) for years now.

Skinship, Shipping, and “Bromance” isn’t exactly discouraged at all either. There’s a long history of fans shipping idols together, within and outside of their groups. Fanservice surrounding this is also widespread. I’ve followed enough groups over the years to notice certain/similar patterns amongst the shipping side of the fanbase and the idols concerned.

Which is where Minsung come in.

A few of the things they do (or the group as a whole, rather) can be passed off as just that (some of the 'ments at the Japan DOME concert tour come to mind), but a lot of things we’ve seen over the years cannot be explained away with FS or even SKZ-typical skinship and flirting. The “slip-ups” (I.e: Sydney day 1 lmfao) and the consistent patterns of their behavior I’ve compiled throughout these videos (I.e: LKs behavior in 2018, 2022, and 2023, especially) are at the tip of the iceberg.

There’s the “you’re my boyfriend, too” moment. The reason why I believe it made the final cut in the vlog was because it’s directly quoted from a show (also telling of how clever LK is). A moment like this could easily be written off as FS, however, it’s their reactions to it all that make me believe it’s legitimately a safe but clever way of saying something (before the more blatant Want So Bad was even written). As soon as LK jokingly says that his Gimpo friend is his boyfriend, he looks straight at Han and says “right?”, as if trying to egg on a reaction from him. Han visibly looks taken aback, like he was almost about to choke on his food, probably not expecting LK at all to say anything like that. But Han (probably also familiar with that quote) says “What about me?”. And LK responds accordingly.

Also, Felix/Changbin did a SKZ record love duet a couple of years back. Chan also suggested Felix do one with him during a (2KR?) episode. He recently released one with I.N too. It’s not exactly foreign to them.

Artists of the opposite sex collab on love songs/duets all the time. But I obviously don’t think any of the other members are more than platonic in any way shape or form because they don’t have consistent actual eyebrow raising moments that can’t be explained away with SKZ’s usual brand of jokey and/or playful flirting (i.e: CB/HJ’s dynamic), their no-boundary skinship, or run-of-the-mill fanservice that’s not unusual in the industry.

Opinions on the 2 Kids Show Episode (cause someone asked me about it and I thought it would be appropriate to add it onto here):

FIRST THINGS FIRST…

I am shocked by the near lack of teasing from Changbin. I thought he was going to go all the way with the teasing (in a similar fashion LK did with Felix and CB). He did get a few couple of things in though (Like how Han said he was too tired to go back to his dorm after he hung out with LK even though they live a floor apart) and CB being like “ooooh wow that’s a creative excuse”.

I’m also surprised, but not surprised by the vague description of “Want So Bad” from Han. First, during his Q&A on bubble, and then during the 2KS episode. To me, that speaks volumes. Especially when you compare it with how Han normally speaks about his work and with how other members (who also did love songs) spoke about their own duets. 

And them saying certain things about their bond, but then kind of contradicting themselves minutes later is interesting??? A lot of things were kept vague-ish throughout the episode - compare with Felix/Changbin being more open/specific about their friendship and joking about certain things like the pre debut kiss vs Minsung being more lowkey-ish.

If Minsung just released “Want So Bad” without doing much of anything questionable, then I would honestly believe they are just friends because, again, love duets aren’t exactly foreign to the group.

But take all of the genuinely eyebrow raising moments + the love song (and its more specific lyrics, i.e: the cosmos flower mention; get closer I'm not playing around) + the near lack of/vaguer discussion compared to other SKZ records/try to compare their "discussion" to I.N/Chan's and Felix/Changbin's + Han specifically saying as he went over the lyrics he was reminded of LK. It paints a pretty damning picture IMO.

Which is why I believe they’re using whatever they have within their means (the pervasive shipping culture, the industry’s familiarity with fanservice, other things that overlap with what other members have done/said in the past like the the duets, etc.) to say as much as they can possibly say without damaging their careers and possibly the careers of the people surrounding them.

[blackjackkent]

After some consideration, I've decided to open this post with video of both the pre-Orin fight cutscene and the subsequent one, because honestly I'm not sure screenshots do full justice to how epic and dramatic the whole thing feels. And although Rakha's face is not terribly expressive a lot of the time, I feel like I really love her expressions during both these scenes.

(Don't ask me why Minthara is on the altar during that second video. It happened even when I took her out of the main party group and I assume it has something to do with Lae'zel having been freed during the combat. :P )

-----

As Lae'zel's final blow sinks into the Slayer, Orin screams. Rakha watches dispassionately as blood begins to splatter the floor, the changeling's monstrous god-given form beginning to dissolve.

A strange, wheezing, maniacal laugh echoes around them, and then with a liquid noise like meat being eviscerated by a cloud of daggers, Orin collapses into a final puddle of bone and blood.

The scent of gore fills Rakha's nostrils. Her vision twists and blurs and her head pounds; she has faced many battles that woke the beast in her head, but none has felt so viscerally good as this. She wants more, she wants Orin back to kill her again, and again, and again...

Yes... the beast roars. Our sibling falls. No one stands in our way. The world is ours for the taking, for the cutting apart...

"Rakha!" She hears Wyll shouting her name from beyond the magical barrier that separates them. He sounds urgent, frantic, terrified - but she hears him as if at a very great distance. She feels dizzy and nauseated.

Lae'zel, at her side, doesn't look much better. As the adrenaline of her unexpected freedom begins to fade, she sways sharply to one side, putting out a hand and grabbing Rakha's forearm to steady herself. The gith peers at Rakha with a bleary, unfocused gaze.

"T'rac'shka...?" she whispers. "You found me."

Rakha nods blankly. "There was... no question..." she whispers - but she is sure Lae'zel knows her well enough to hear the lie in the words. There have been so many questions, so many struggles, so many points at which she could have turned away, given over to the beast and its bloody hunger. Even now, it would be so easy to turn, sink her dagger into Lae'zel's chest, watch more blood and more and more and more pour out onto the altar of her father...

Her breath quickens, catching in short, harsh gasps. No. I came here to save her. I came here to stop Orin. I came here to... to...

"Master..."

Sceleritas's mewling voice pierces through her thoughts; she jerks her head to one side, drawing a sharp breath, trying to clear her mind. She can barely focus her eyes on the little imp where he stands on the altar Lae'zel so recently occupied.

He grins his skeletal, maniacal grin at her, spreading his hands. "You are the chosen one."

He steps forward, that horrifying grin widening, and some unseen force lifts him into the air, levitating a few feet off the stone floor. "He is near..." he croons tunelessly. "He comes for you..."

His body arches back and a dagger blade bursts outward from his chest.

There is no hilt to the dagger, no hand wielding it, just the pure savagery of the metal slicing through flesh, the blood bursting upward around it. Then another blade cuts through his stomach from nowhere. Then another in his chest. One through his arm. One through his throat, arcing a wide blast of crimson through the air. And beneath him the blood begins to pool, and pool. and pool...

Rakha can smell nothing else, see nothing else. The rest of the world, even Lae'zel at her side, seems to fade away, and she is conscious of nothing at all except that pool of brilliant red blood and Sceleritas's mutilated body reflected in its shining surface.

And then the reflection... moves...

"I expected the other," Bhaal hisses. His voice is low and gravelly and dark, not unlike Rakha's own. His glowing eyes stare up out of Sceleritas's dessicated face with a cold, disdainful smirk. "But you live. And her blood is returned to me." Those eyes fix on Rakha's, twin beams of piercing, inescapable light.

There are those, Rakha thinks - distantly, beyond the haze of bewildered, violent hunger - who are looked at by their father and feel pride, or joy. Not here... not me... not this...

He looks at her like a tool that he has just finished polishing, a blade whose edge is sufficiently whetted.

"I have a gift for you, Child," he says coldly. "You will use it to lacerate this world."

Narrator: A gift from your god, your Father. An offering of his affection for you - or confirmation that he owns you.

Her head aches and her fists clench at her sides. She can feel the beast struggling to take control of her, one last time. Kneel, it says. Kneel and accept his blessing. None will stand before us. There will be no more struggle, no more pain... just blood and blood and blood...

In this moment, there is no Wyll or Lae'zel, no Jaheira or Minsc or even Minthara to guide her. There is just her and those glowing eyes in that sea of red, and the hunger for destruction that aims to blot out every other part of her.

It is what she was born for.

But she is not the thing that Bhaal created. Orin has seen to that, as have the companions - the friends - that she found after. She has crawled her way out of amnesiac oblivion and light has crept in at the cracks, in spite of all the darkness her father intended for her. She is not that thing, that beast that Orin became. Not anymore.

She is a brutal broken thing with blood on her hands, and she has failed as often as she has succeeded. But she has been befriended, and she has been loved, and she has loved in return as fiercely as her shattered heart would allow.

"I refuse," she rasps. The words feel like sandpaper in her throat as she battles against herself to force them out. "I... will... be... free... of... you."

A chill sweeps through her whole body, followed by an agonizing inward scream as if she's been struck by lightning. Bhaal's bloody avatar snarls, his lips curling back off his teeth.

"You refuse me?" His voice sounds like a serrated blade now, a barbed hook sinking through her flesh. "You are my spawn! Your veins course with my unholy blood. Your life is mine! Accept your inheritance, or I will reclaim it!"

Something is starting to boil and bubble under Rakha's skin, hot and cold by turns, ripping at her inwardly. She clenches her jaw, struggling to hold onto a clear thought, onto that fragile certainty that is the only thing keeping her to this course. Faces flash through her mind, her friends, her companions. Wyll - warm eyes in the sunlight, and a soft touch at night when the dreams came...

"I don't... need... any of this..." she whispers. "The only... family I know... are those who... fight... by my side..."

"You were made to conquer!" Bhaal shrieks. "To devour! You reject my blood, and so I will reclaim it!"

He lifts one clawed hand, clenches it into a fist with a sharp, jerking motion, and Rakha screams.

The pain erupts, bursting through every vein, every artery. Blood begins to pour from her nose, from her eyes, to seep out from her skin and through her clothes. She is on fire, she is made of ice, she is being torn asunder into her smallest pieces. The beast in her head howls and roars and drags its claws against her mind as it is pulled taut and strangled.

She hears Wyll howling her name, Jaheira cursing, Lae'zel frozen at her side and bellowing a tirade in githyanki-- but they are all beyond her reach, all locked in place while this punishment plays out.

And she screams, and screams, until her throat goes raw with it, and her father watches with placid fury as her body lifts into the air, spasming and twitching.

"I will make another who is worthy," Bhaal growls.

This is the end... Rakha thinks distantly. This is how I die. With my father's blood ripped from me and the beast dragged clawing from my skull.

Free.

It is the last thing she thinks clearly. Then there is only the pain, and she screams, and screams, with agony and fury and ecstatic, hysterical relief...

...and then she dies.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

For the AU-gust Mashup:

Fili x Reader + Fairytale + “Just look at me. Forget everything else.”

No pressure at all! Thank you in advance for considering the request! <3

Words

Fandom: Lord of The Rings - The Hobbit Ship/Pairing: Fili x Reader Trope: Fairy Tale - Curse Note: Prompt is in the ask. Thanks @sotwk I don't have the occasion to write for Fili near enough. SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE. Warnings: Curse, losing your voice, not being able to communicate, near death experience. Word count: 1 954 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

The summer had barely begun, when you met him. At first, you thought he was an illusion. A trick of your mind. Clear eyes, blonde hair, he’d carried himself just like you thought he would. The Crowned Prince, they called him. He had introduced himself as Fili. Nothing more. He came and went to your stand on the market place. Over the course of a few months, he had become a vital presence in your life. Just as you did in his.

To your agony, none of you would speak of it aloud. In your mind only, could he hold you, could he be with you. The status was one thing. The other was how people called you: the witch. Fili would never refer to you in such a way. He once called you a “soft-spirited soul who could cure any wound”. It had made your heart beat so fast you thought he would surely see the beats on your skin. But, the herbs you used and the unguents? It was common knowledge, yet it was not as widely used as it should have been. It was considered a women’s trade first and then was replaced completely by modern medicine. They did not keep your stall empty though. Even, on occasions, some people would come to you for more than just healing. For a kind ear and a cup of ale. That was why it did not surprise you when the tall and grand man came, in his white robes and equally beautiful staff. He did not say his name but you would remember his face forever. An intricate affair of wrinkles and bones showing under his skin. It was as if he’d been taunt over an overused canvas. You had seen worse ugliness, worse gnarly members, deformed by arthritis or unfair accidents. It was nothing new and you thought nothing of it.

“What may I help you with tonight, traveller?”

His robe was stained on the hems, earth and what you assumed was crusted mud over it. He did not move, only following your movements across the room with intent. His lips seemed to be moving, but no sound came out of them. Uneasy, you sat down and offered a cup of warm tea, just brewed. He stayed motionless.

“You look just like her, you know? — What?”

The jolt almost made you knock over your tea. The last time someone compared you to anyone else was when your grandmother was alive. Could he have known her? Or was he toying with you?

“You like just like your grandmother…” He stepped into your space, closing in on you. A chill ran down your spine. He had known her then. “The same eyes, the same face, those same treacherous lips…” He grabbed onto your chin, a harsh grip forcing you into meeting his eyes. You were so scared you did not dare move a muscle. “And you will pay for her lies and her filthy words.”

He released you, your body meeting with the floor in a violent attempt at getting away from him. His staff pointed at you, he mumbled incoherent words. Then, some all too coherent ones.

“Blood of the blood of my enemy, I hereby punish you. For your grandmother broke my heart with her words and it will break yours too! You will remain speechless, until someone confesses their love for you. Only if they do and you love them in return, the curse shall be lifted. A day and a night you shall have before the words strangle you. Hear my wrath, blood of the blood and know your time to be shortened.”

A maniacal laugh echoed through the room, white and grey fog sneaking through the door. You raised your head and he was gone, heaps of smoke the only sign he was there at all.

The next morning, you were mute.

———— It had taken a heavy toll on you. People could not understand why from one day to the next, your voice had gone out. The weather could not explain it. You couldn’t any more either.

Of course, Fili chose that day to show up. He did not exactly chose, for it was the first time in weeks he had managed to have some free time. Naturally, he arranged to come and see you.

“Hello.”

The smile you offered was…odd. Uneasy. He wondered what he could have done to deserve this thin lipped, excuse of a smile. You were always so quick to smile brightly, even in the early hours of the morning, eyes stinging with the last remnants of sleep.

“Are you not going to say it back?”

He rose an eyebrow, more out of curiosity than animosity. You tried. You really, really tried to tell him. But the clients were growing impatient and the line was growing thick behind him. Upon seeing you interact with them, gestures and half guessed prices, Fili realised you were not choosing not to answer. You could not. In an impulse, he jumped over the stand and joined you behind.

“Hello, good sir, what might we do for you today?”

The dandy man blinked once. Twice. His eyes kept going from you to Fili before choosing to ignore the fact that the future heir to the kingdom was now selling herbs and creams on the market. You could not stop him even if you had wanted to. Before you could try to intervene, he had already taken it upon himself to help you. He pushed you back and sat you down on your chariot. He did not stop, not for one minute. The whole morning he served and listened sometimes turning to you for confirmation. You intervened once or twice, and that was that. How long did he observe you to know almost as much as you did? From where you were you saw him leave his heavy pelted coat, warmed up by the activity. His shoulder blades barely hidden behind a linen shirt, became a good distraction to the feeling of helplessness within. Your fingers twitched once or twice, wanting nothing more than to reach out for him. You knew you couldn’t. But one can always dream. Right? Suddenly in lack of clients, he turned to you, chest rising rapidly. A hint of hair peeked from under his collarbones and you had a hard time focusing on his words.

“Now. How did you lose your voice?”

A real worry started to gain his face even as he smirked. He could not fool you anymore. His eyes started studying you, as if your face could tell him what had happened.

“Did you catch a cold?”

You shook your head and sighed. This was going to be impossible to explain. Suddenly, you sprung to your feet grabbing his hand. If he had been in his right mind, he would have stuttered and crumbled internally at that. Luckily he wasn’t and merely blushed when you did. Your hands were showing him something.

“Something to write?”

Excitedly, you nodded. He pulled a piece of paper and a charcoal out of his pocket and handed them to you. In quick words, you explained the situation to him. As he read on, his heart kept sinking. He knew his attachment to be love. Fili had known for quite some time. Regardless, if you did not feel the same then it was a doomed story. The deadline was growing closer as each moment passed and he was losing his mind. He kept pacing trying to find another way out of it. There was none. Even if he had gone to Gandalf - the sorcerer of the Kingdom - it would be too late before he’d come up with a solution. His only hope was to tell you how he felt. In the unlikely odds, that maybe, you would not reject him. If not, he’d make your last day a feast and a paradise. The taste of grief melted in his mouth. He swallowed it soon. In a whisper and an extended hand, he called you to him. When you took his hand, shaking and hesitant, his heartbeat accelerated.

If only he knew. His face told you everything. You could see his resolution disappear with every passing moment. He had no solution. So, he did not love you in the end and the dreams you had about living together were just dreams. You almost cried when he pulled you in, embracing you in his arms, his warmth. He could not look at you and you could not blame him for it.

“It’s time I told you…”

You held your breath, a deep sigh shaking him. He took your face in his hands, gentle and tender.

“I am afraid that all those months I have deceived you.”

Your heart sank again and as you struggled in his hold, he stopped you.

“Let me finish, please.”

You nodded, tearful sobs already on the edge of your lips.

“I have not been honest. From the very first time we met, I knew. I knew I would come to love you. I did not stop it. I knew our stations would not match. It didn’t bother me. It still doesn’t. I don’t care if you don’t love me back. I need you to hear this…”

Tears ran down your cheeks. He had to be lying. He had to be. How could he say such lies when you were in this deadly situation? How could he toy with you like this. Again, you struggled against his hold and he gripped your shoulders. Through the cloths his heat was both a fast poison and a powerful balm.

“Just look at me. Forget everything else. Forget where we are. Just listen to me.”

You did. You looked at him and his sea-coloured eyes. A deep feeling of content took root inside of you. Maybe if you were to die by tomorrow, enjoying him was not the worst thing you could be doing right now. So you did as he said and focused on his voice, his eyes, his neatly braided beard. Your fingertips combed gently through it and it made him stutter for a moment.

“I love… No. I adore you. You will not die today, I will not allow it. Never will I allow it. You cannot leave me like this. There were shadows in me before, now there’s only your light. Yours and no one else. How you did it, I will never know but I love you. I love you, and I will always love you until the end of time… —I love you too.”

Your voice croaked as if it had been unused for years. It startled both of you. An immense joy washed over you and you jumped into his arms, breathing him in, basking in his warmth. He held on to you so tight, it was sure to leave marks. The market around you was unchanged but you were. He looked at you dead in the eye, a mere centimetres from your face.

“Never, ever, do that again. —No promises.”

You laughed and squealed when he mumbled about “promises” and “worried sick” and you being the death of him one day. Quickly, in between two rants you pulled him to you and kissed him. He continued on for a good moment before he realised what had happened. He blushed furiously, the corner of his lips lifting. Soon, your lips found his, gently. He wanted to enjoy that kiss and all the others coming afterwards.

People around you, were sure to have something to talk about the next day.

On the other hand, you would choose to be nowhere else but right there in his arms.

All their words be damned.

[slunch]

“My name is Esker,” the person said. He didn’t remove his mask, but now that they were indoors in better light Nora realized she was speaking to a young man. “I need you to help me understand where in the city they might be.”

“One day to find two kids in the entire city!” Nora said. “Don’t you have some spell or something to track the hand?”

The man steepled his hands in front of him on the table. “I am a very good magician. If the wards on her arm were faulty, I would be able to find it immediately.”

“But it’s not,” said Nora, catching on.

“That’s right,” he said, nodding encouragingly at her leap of logic, “it’s not, because I am a good magician. My radiance wards on the arm are like a dam: water only starts gushing through in the moments before the dam collapses.”

“Uh-huh,” said Nora, cracking the bottle. “Want a drink?”

“No.”

Nora shrugged and retrieved a mug from a side table before pouring herself a generous portion. She sipped it and her face curdled, and she tilted her head before reconsidering and taking a larger gulp.

“How do you you know they’re still in the city?” she said, topping up her mug.

“My dragon is watching the gates from the sky,” Esker said. “He can stay in the air for another day before he needs to eat again.”

“Does he have a name?”

The young man shook his head and stared out the window. “It does not translate well. ‘Arm’s-length Wind Romance.’ He belongs to my father.”

“But he sent you,” Nora said.

“It was my mistake, so he sent me,” Esker said, eyes hard. “Many years ago, there was a town at the western foothills of our, ah, dragon-”

“Dragon-blight,” said Nora helpfully. His eye twitched.

“Yes. Some years ago, several thieves tunneled into my workspace through a seam in the rock and stole something.”

“What did you do back then?”

“I wanted to stop them, but I was forbidden. My father let them take it back to the town, where it poisoned everyone.”

“But you can stop it this time?”

“I will be recalled if I cannot.”

Nora narrowed her eyes. “But you’re immune to the radiant poison.”

“Yes.”

“Then just immunize everyone else.”

“It doesn’t work that way!” Esker’s eyes bugged out over his mask and he surged forwards with palms slammed on the table.

“Hey, easy!” said Nora, raising a protective hand over her drink as the figure opposite her slowly sat back. “I don’t know anything about magic.”

“Do they let any commoner wear a focus in this town? You…do not seem to understand the urgency of the situation.”

“Oh, this thing? I mean, what?” said Nora, who had genuinely forgotten she was wearing the hair clip and realized too late that she shouldn’t have confirmed the question.

“You can cast.”

“Nah, no way...” said Nora, waving away the pointed accusation as if she were humbly brushing off a compliment.

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Show me,” he hissed, and the air crackled. Nora leaned back.

“Fine, fine. It’s just this one little thing though,” she said, gesturing vaguely with one hand and scratching the back of her head with the other.

“If you look closely, you will see that there’s nothing in my hand,” she continued, holding out one empty hand across the table. Esker obligingly looked down to scrutinize it as Nora palmed the poker chip in the hand behind her head.

“Now, watch.” And she spoke the spell and jabbed her outstretched fingers forward into the chestpiece of the leather armor.

A geyser of blood erupted from the contact point and drenched Nora’s face and hair as Esker scrabbled backwards, batting away her hand and falling back onto the floor. She laughed uproariously as he rolled away.

“GOT YOU!”

The panicked dragon-rider was trying to simultaneously staunch the false bleeding and draw a dagger. Nora drained her mug and slammed it back down on the table, grinning maniacally with a blood-covered face and the euphoria of perfecting a cast at the right time. She realized she didn’t care if she lived or died after this moment.

Esker finally stopped and looked up with rage glinting in their eyes.

“Is that all you can cast?”

Nora nodded, still grinning. The illusory blood was already beginning to vaporize. Esker slipped the dagger back into the sheath and there was a click as some mechanism locked it in place.

“I should have contacted the other one.”

“I hate that guy,” Nora said scornfully. “He can’t even do magic.”

Then she turned her head towards the young man sitting across from her. “What can you cast? I’ve been taking you at your word this entire time but I haven’t seen you toss out a single spell.”

“Let’s go outside,” he said, and motioned to the half-empty bottle of Bartleby’s Fortified Gold-Label Reserve. “I’ll need that.”

They tramped out of the gatehouse back to Nora’s original post. A thin night mist had descended over the river and muffled the rest of the sounds of the city. They stood on the cobblestones above the deserted docks and Nora hefted the bottle.

“Toss it in the air over the river,” said Esker. “Better if I don’t know exactly where it’s going.”

“Hold on,” said Nora, and drained it. Then, still holding the sticky bottle by its neck, she flung it into the air. They both watched it tumble end over end up into the mist.

The dragon-rider raised a languid hand.

“So what-” she began before the sound of a metallic whipcrack interrupted her. A white horseshoe shot into the air, faster than an arrow, and smashed the bottle in two. Esker spoke more quiet syllables, and two more projectiles flashed from his fingers. They pulled the mist as they went, carving two swirling tunnels directly towards the falling halves of the bottle.

The next two explosions of glass were muffled in the gloom. There was a soft patter of shards falling into the river.

“Hoo!” said Nora. “Teach me that!