#loved the way he was grinning manically at the beginning of the play

[succulentsofa]

genuinely sooo obsessed with the current west end cast of the book of mormon btw

[thr0wnawayy]

Chapter 429 has been my Dabi's Dance

I can't stop smiling.

I wanted to start off by saying thank you. Not to Hori, but to you all. Every last one of you in these tags for your contributions. Be it analysis, re-reads, fan works or simply your perspectives. I look forward to seeing what you will make in the future.

So, Thank you.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. MHA was always in the background of my life and I hated it. I don't watch anime and yet still MHA related media would make it's way onto my socials in all it's obnoxious forms. This went on for years.

And then suddenly, it stopped. It seemed like MHA's craze had died down, I'd still see it from time to time through merchandise but never to the consistency it had prior.

That was until Dabi's Dance was published and the net went wild.

I knew a few things about Endeavor from my past exposure, he was universally hated and abused his kids and wife (to the point she scalded her son in a fit of psychosis).

Deciding I had nothing better to do, I found myself searching to see what kind of consequences would befall such a monstrous character.

Would he fall like Icarus, be torn apart by the public, how would the family he ruined react to the news?.

And then, nothing. No punishment, no reaction. Just dead air.

I recall that my face dropped internally. My blank expression mirrored my phone screen's sterile nature, as it displayed the information in front of me.

He got away with it. So I did some digging and it got so much worse.

Bakugo's evasion of any consequences or damages, coddled and shielded by Hori's inability to go through on anything.

Hawks who murdered a near crippled man on a hypothesis, for the mere crime of having the "wrong" quirk, for not giving up, for being "unlucky"

Aizawa, Hori's little mouthpiece. who decides to play judge, jury and executioner with the futures of students he's supposed to be teaching. Only for the Nedzu and the narrative to allow him, his friends turned into lapdogs that agree to the letter.

The Commission who strive to keep theirrotting husk of a system alive through assasins, child soldiers and indoctrination.

Even if it's gears must be lubricated with blood, even if it means lying to the world and having them clean up the mess. They MUST stay on top, the illusion must be upheld.

I just couldn't fathom how this was seen as a good thing.

And somewhere along the way I began to feel something akin to hate. Not your typical ire, one powered by anger, no.

I wanted to see how low Hori would go, just how horrifically he would mangle a series that everyone had once praised.

I wanted to witness what wonders a jaded community would create, to show what they were capable of (to create and understand MHA in a manner Hori wishes he could even emulate a fraction of)

I wished to see your own expressions of love and hatred.

The thought of witnessing the breaking point, the dust settling to expose all the glaring flaws and infested wounds of MHA. It buzzed in my brain like electricity.

The idea that when all was said and done, you, the people would do what Hori couldn't/wouldn't and forge the bones and salvagble bits of MHA into a story worth remembering.

One where abusers are punished for their crimes instead of rewarded

Where victims can have a voice, feel and grow, carve their own paths and move forward from their trauma.

Where the implications of MHA's rotting and disingenuous society get explored instead of swept under the rug

Where people get a chance.

I waited eagerly for the day it would all fall apart.

So, do you know what I did when I logged onto the tag and saw your posts!?.

I laughed, the shrill giggle in the back of my throat quickly surging into an almost manic cackle. It was like lightning, vindicating and sobering all at once. My face was stretched to it's absolute limits with how wide my grin was. I could almost hear the shattering of MHA's last bit of integrity and I loved it.

The realization MHA's greatest threat was the author himself, It's one that I grasped long ago (as far back as the Dark Dekiru Arc) and I'm sure most of you understood this as well.

But to see that more of you are starting to get it, to realize there's no going back. That as the curtains draw near and the lights begin to dim, there is no other side here. Violence begets violence and Hori's gone past the event horizon.

It feels, hopeful. Perhaps we can build something worth saving.

It's been a wild ride so far and it's still ongoing. Hori's time is long over, it has been for a while now, so I suppose what I'm asking Is:

Now It's Your Turn, what's your play?

_______________________________________

Update:

IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

[tainted-liquor]

'Fuck Around and Find Out٠ ࣪⭑

e42!Miles Morales x BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles! TWs: Miles being a dumbass, sassy men, N-word usage, probs incorrect spanish so pleaaase lmk! W/C: 695 A/N: BERLEEZY REFERENCE EUUUUGHHHH!!

It was a peaceful Saturday, and you and your boyfriend Miles were hanging around in the living room when you got a sudden idea. You were going to make Miles play phasmophobia. "Hey Miles? Can you c'mere for a sec?" You called to his crouched form that was 'miles' deep into the fridge as you powered on the TV. He made his way over to the couch, a mix of confusion and amusement as you slid the headset over his head. "Whatchu doin', ma? What's all this for?"

"Shhhh, just play the game. I wanna see what you think of it," You persuaded as you slid both controllers into his hands. "It's...a new game! Yeah! We're experimenting with genres today. Just follow the instructions aight?" You booted the game from your TV and patiently waited as Miles hoisted himself up from his slouched posture, standing in the middle of your living room as you watched the screen. He looks around the electronic space, muttering a confused "The fuck is...phasmophobia" as he begins toying with the various objects in the van.

You explained the game's goal as he nodded in what he thought was your direction, giggling silently as you grabbed both of his wrists, gently guiding his hands to the necessary items and showing him how to pick them up. "Mami, you know I don't fuck with them fuckass ghosts. Why do you have me playing this?" he chuckles as I show him how to move. "Whaaat? Who said anything about ghosts?" you teased, trying to hide the main enemy of the game to get his raw reaction. "I swore I saw a cross over there, so it's either ghosts or demons...n ion rock with either of 'em. The spirit of the lord is HEEEREEE" he exaggerated as he began to play the game. He spent 30 minutes stuck in the van, debating what he should bring to the farmhouse.

When he finally got into the flow of the game, he was scared as bitch. "Why's it so dark in here? This shit got me tight like why am I doing alla dis in the dark?" He spat as he descended the dark halls with his flashlight. He was already antsy as he took out the EMF reader, watching as it spiked to about four with an annoyed fearful groan. But you decided to take it a step further and taunt him just a little bit more. You snuck up to his side with an absolutely evil grin on your face and breathed cold air on the side of his neck.

He unleashed the most unhinged, barbaric, high-pitched, off-the-rails fearful scream as he swung at his side blindly. He would've knocked you clean out had you not already gotten yourself out of the way as soon as you saw his muscles tense. "CHILL, NIGGA DAMN!" You giggled as you watched your boyfriend fearfully run out of the house. He faded in and out between English and Spanish, losing his shit as he desperately tries to explain to you what he felt, not realizing that the ghost can actually...hear him.

"MAMA BICHO! AAAH- MAMI, SENTÍ SU COLD ASS BREATH DE MI LADO!! NO ME DIJISTE IT COULD BREATH!" He practically yelled as he lifted the headset slightly. You laughed manically at his reaction, watching as he scowled and lowered the headset back to his eyes, only to be scared right back out of his headset by the entity. You watched as he jolted backward, hitting the back of his head rather aggressively on the wooden coffee table. You couldn't help but laugh twice as hard, face turning red as you rolled around on the floor, silently crying and clutching your stomach for dear life. "Shit...! Oh my god, Miles, baby are you okay?" You muttered in between harsh giggles, reaching your hand out towards your boyfriend's crouched form with both hands behind his head. "I will KNOCK. yo ass out." he enunciated as he subtly shook on the floor.

"I'm sorry my love!" you cackled as you scooped what was left of a man into your arms, tears coursing down your face from laughing too hard.

[gabessquishytum]

SO I JUST RECEIVED THIS AD ON TUMBLR:

and now I'm thinking about how omega Hob is now of proper mating age (18-20, whatever floats your boat) and now he must participate in The Hunt.

The Hunt being a 24 hour event where alphas hunt for an omega mate by scent and skill alone. Wearing said outfit, ofc 😉

Hob's a smart omega, he's been prepping for The Hunt his entire life. Some omegas are happy to be caught by the first alpha who wants them, but not Hob. Hob wants a mate he can be feisty with, a mate who will really go the extra distance to chase and try to tame him. His fellow omegas think that's just asking for a mean and cruel alpha but Hob disagrees.

Enter Dream. Dream has been on many Hunts, but either he's never found a omega that smells right to him (or if you'd like angst, his previous mates didn't work out). But Hob. Dream smells Hob as soon as he steps onto the Hunting Grounds and he goes feral. He has no idea who this omega is or what they look like but he. will. have. them. He will murder his fellow alphas if he must.

Hob doesn't make it easy for Dream. They nearly tear apart the entire area with how ferociously Dream chases after Hob and how hard Hob fights not to be claimed. There's fallen trees, torn up grass, a few smashed rocks, destroyed flower beds, you name it. Long after everyone else has mated and gone home, Dream's still chasing Hob with just as much energy as he had the beginning of the hunt.

Finally, in the dead of night, Dream gets Hob pinned down, leashes him, then claims him. It's loud and messy and everyone else thinks Dream's murdering the poor omega but Hob is having a fantastic time.

OH YEAH IM EATING THIS. Absolutely love a completely unhinged tumblr ad by the way.

I can imagine Hob really enjoying/looking forward to these hunts. For an omega he's big and strong, on a par with most alphas. He's fast, he's a little bit feral, and he loves the thrill of the chase. No alpha has caught him yet - they all give up and go home before Hob has finished enjoying the game. All he ever hopes for is that one day, an alpha will come along who can actually hunt him down like he really deserves.

Dream is absolutely that alpha. He's relentless. He may not have huge muscles, but he's got stamina. He can run for just as long as Hob can, and even longer. He's utterly determined to get this delicious, fascinating omega who seems to be playing with him.

Hob is amazed to find that he actually runs out of breath and strength to run!! And by that point he really wants to be caught. He's thrilled when Dream pounces and tumbles them both down to the ground where they roll around in the dirt, biting and holding each other and exploring each other's scents. Hob gets to feel the thrill of getting leashed by his mate! He's so horny he's basically humping the ground to find relief, and Dream is already obsessed with him. HIS omega.

He holds Hob by the back of his neck and pushes him down, and watches as his legs fall open automatically. The scent of his slick is so much stronger, and the harder Dream holds Hob against the ground, the more aroused he seems to get. His attempts to escape from Dream’s hold are more like tests of strength which he really wants Dream to win.

And being claimed in the open air by his alpha is everything Hob has been dreaming of and needing. His body is a perfect sheath for Dream and he knows that he's coming across as slutty and eager, but he can't help canting his hips back against Dream to get more of his cock. Oh, and the knotting? It's a religious experience. Hob's sexy little outfit is torn to shreds and only the leash remains tightly grasped in Dream’s hand.

When the knot finally deflates and the cum is drooling down Hob’s thighs, they limp out of the hunting grounds with manic grins and big hearts in their eyes. Hob is on top of the world. His alpha is so strong and determined and he's gonna give so many babies and they're gonna be feral in the woods together every year to celebrate <333

[maxblonda]

vulnerability and the william carter puzzles

i've been looking at the william carter puzzles for the upteenth time this week after i got back into playing this game after months and i know a lot of people notice the changes in the portrait in maxwell's apartment (and the only time iirc he's ever seen canonically using light magic as opposed to the shadow magic he's known for but that's another post for another time) as the sequence of images goes on.. but only after looking closer have i noticed that before and after charlie first enters, the picture is that of both her and maxwell, right? that's not a surprise to anyone. he has that picture as well as other pictures of the two of them in his apartment and in the fireplace scene in the beginning of the "inevitable" musical.

but what has only just caught my eye after years of this image sequence being out is the fact that i always assumed that after maxwell returns to his apartment in person that the picture behind him turns back to normal. it doesn't. when he picks up charlie's hat mournfully, there's a different magician in the picture next to his assistant. that's not maxwell- at least not maxwell as the persona he puts on that's far more secure and confident in himself. next to charlie in that picture frame is william carter. the same unsure, nervous magician he was before he reinvented himself. but despite maxwell's sadness, there's an endearing, dopey smile on the stupid, foolish man behind him. the man who no one ever really bothered or cared to watch, unlike the amazing maxwell of san francisco, whose magic feats are nothing an average person could even imagine.

unlike maxwell, william's body is turned to face her, and his hands are not behind his back. his hands are palm up, and their figures overlap with one of his arms behind her head. he is not smug in his grin. he's not looking at the camera, but at her. because it was always about her, wasn't it? maxwell closes himself off, not expecting the warmth that she brings, or the way she makes him laugh, or the way she all but jumped into his arms with glee when he unveiled the poster announcing their next magic act.

but charlie's seen right through him. because it was always about him, wasn't it? but her gaze, her new knowledge has left him vulnerable in a disquieting, upsetting way. a narrative no longer in his control. we don't even know if he ever read the contents of the letter charlie wrote, or if he was in the right headspace to even process her genuine concern and love to him. the most he can do in his powerlessness is to bring the manic scribbles from his study out into the picture in the main room of his apartment. the picture that reflects a man back at him that he never wanted to be known as ever again. a stupid smile, a foolish innocence that makes him want to yell "can't you see i'm about to lose everything?!" because someone else knowing about the existence of Them, no matter their benevolence, is a recipe for fucking disaster. so he scratches that face right out.

for a man so guarded, the shadows are more than happy to give him what he wants. the man in the picture left behind after he and charlie disappear into the constant makes it clear that he's left william carter behind in the rubble of the real world for good. and it's not a big deal. that william carter died in a train crash years ago anyways.

the king of the constant isn't the pitiful william carter. the crown weighs heavy on the head of king maxwell. and charlie is relegated to the darkness that she was convinced was merely a powerful illusion. the same darkness she was afraid of as a child.

and the only way they will ever take the stage again is with the former assistant watching, lying in wait where no one can see her as the disgraced magician and failed king reenacts a their old lives with none of the grace and all of the anger she has (and They have) held inside for not letting her in. for not being brave enough to be vulnerable.

[lilyrizzy]

slightly delayed day 4 of the 12 days of maxiel advent calendar! for @catofthecanals289 from our alzheimers universe! set in the same universe as this and this.

“Daniel, you have to, of course, aim higher.”

It’s as though the words snap everything back into focus while Daniel tries to remember anything getting blurred in the first place. 

In front of him, rows of red-nosed clowns topped with frizzy orange hair stare down at him. Them, he’s not alone. There’s something heavy in his hand. A baseball, he realises. He looks between it and the lines and lines of manic grins, and then Max’s face. His voice is full of laughter, so Daniel must be okay.

“What-“ Daniel begins, but it’s too embarrassing to ask what am I meant to be doing. Max just told him.

Max steps closer to him, his smile already flickering at Daniel’s obvious hesitation.

“Daniel?” He asks, cautious in a way Daniel doesn’t like. He doesn’t want Max to stop smiling.

The flashing lights of the arcade dance at the periphery of his vision, red, yellow, blue and then red again, as a mechanical imitation of circus music plays in a loop. A cheery voice reminds him over and over to down the clown.

“Sweetheart.” The word sounds like a question again, but at the same time unfamiliar. Wrong. “Schatje,” Max says then, and that’s- That’s better.

I love you, Daniel thinks, an electric shock of realisation that is as manic as their surroundings, like maybe it’s being felt for the first time. Then, the settle of it into the familiar warm weight in his chest tells him the truth; I’ve been loving you for a long time.

Wherever they are, he’s safe here.

Daniel turns back to the clowns, noticing now how they aren’t real and are just faces painted onto bowling pins. He does what Max told him to, and throws the ball higher.

To the applause of strobe lights and chiptune, he wins.

Throwing his hands into the air, he lets out a noise of delight in time with Max’s behind him. Ki ki ki, aye, a corner of his brain echoes, but he can’t make the words trip onto his tongue.

“Good job,” Max tells him, his hands a warm weight on Daniel’s waist. A champagne fizz fills Daniel’s belly like it’s maybe been a long time since he’s been touched there, but- No. That can’t be right, because Max loves him too.

I love you, also, he always says. Daniel wishes he would say it now. He can see that it’s true in the softness of Max’s eyes as he pulls him in to kiss him congratulations. Daniel wishes--

--

--Daniel’s hands are twisted into soft purple fur. At first he thinks it’s a jumper, but then his fingertips catch on the crinkled material of the horn, and it’s obvious what it is. A unicorn. For his sister’s baby, maybe.

As he searches the murky waters of his head for her name, his eyes catch on the landscape flying past him. Too vast and green to be Monaco, the car moving too fast. Monaco is the orange glow of car break lights, sitting bumper to bumper and swearing under his breath. He’s not the one driving now, but he doesn’t know who is either.

“Daniel?” The man says his name when Daniel glances at him, so it can’t be a stranger.

“Where are we going?” Daniel asks, cuddling the unicorn a little closer. It feels nice under his palms.

“Back to the ranch,” the man says. His eyes are very blue and pretty, but thinking that makes Daniel’s stomach twist. He shouldn’t- He has somebody who wouldn’t like him thinking that about somebody else, he’s sure.

Daniel nods. They’re on the left side of the road, so-

“I need to get ready for the race,” he says, with more confidence than he feels, but that must be why they are in Australia. The Grand Prix. Except, the weather outside the window doesn’t look quite like autumn. Looking down at himself, he realises he’s not wearing anything with the Red Bull logo, which means he’s probably late. “Christian is going to kill me if I miss practice.”

The man’s face does something complicated that Daniel doesn’t understand. Daniel is about to ask for his phone to call someone- Laura, he thinks his assistants name is maybe- when the man speaks again, his voice softer than before.

“The race has already happened, don’t worry,” he promises, but his voice is shaky. “I’m taking you home to get some rest.”

“Very good,” he says again, which is a little unhelpful, but then he adds sounding a little more genuine, “Everyone is very proud of you.”

“Oh,” Daniel says, feeling a little stupid, but also relieved. No one can be angry at him if it’s his time off. Unless he fucked up on track. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Did you watch it? How did I do?”

He watches the man’s hands tighten on the steering wheel for a moment, his eyes fixed firmly on the road.

Happy butterflies beat their wings inside Daniel, flying between his stomach and his chest. He made people proud.

“Gangster,” Daniel says with a grin, and because he can’t resist being cheeky, “did I beat Max?”

But saying his name out loud as the butterflies wilt to lead weights at the bottom of his belly. Daniel is pretty sure Max should be here, so where is he? The guy spoke about the ranch, and the ranch means family time, which means Max time. Max is- Max is-

Daniel turns to look at the back seat, but it’s empty. He tries to remember when he last saw Max, but where his face used to be there is only a fuzzy outline framed with a Red Bull cap. He touches a hand to his head and finds only his own curls under his fingertips.

“Where’s my boyfriend?” He asks the man again, his voice high now with panic. “My boyfriend, Max, where is-“ Then he breaks off to swear, because no one is supposed to know. Max might be angry that he told this man.

“Easy easy,” the man soothes, his nice blue eyes back on Daniel as his hand makes an awkward jerk forwards, and then backwards again, as though he was going to try to touch him. “Easy, Daniel, it’s okay, I promise. Max will-“ He breaks off to smooth his face into a gentle smile. He really is so pretty. “Max will be at the ranch. I’m taking you to him now.”

Daniel studies the man’s face for a moment. He seems nice, and Max loves Daniel, and Christian is proud of him today, so they wouldn’t let him get into a car with someone they didn’t trust to look after him. Besides, something in this man’s face has Daniel trusting him.  His mouth is kind. There’s a mark just above his top lip.

“Have we met before?” Daniel asks, surprising himself with the question. When the man’s smile turns sad again, Daniel tries to laugh apologetically. “Sorry if that’s a dick question mate, when you’re famous it’s- It’s easy to lose track.”

Strangely that gets the man to laugh. Daniel can’t help but join in as the sound tugs at the loose threads of his mind. Sunshine streaming through tall windows, the glitter of the sea just beyond them. Chasing a spotty cat down a hallway.

“That’s okay,” the man says, “I have driven you lots of places before, do not worry.”

His words are the final piece Daniel needs for his hammering heart to slow. Pitifully, he finds himself lifting the plushie to his face to press his cheek against its softness. It’s even nicer than when it was against his hands. He’s going to-

“I’m going to give this to Max,” he says, words muffled a little. “He- I- I think he’ll pretend it’s silly, but secretly love it. He’s a little shit like that.”

Max will like it, Daniel is sure. Max will like that Daniel was thinking about him.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Christmas Cheer

Pennywise x GN Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Christmas music, blood, gore, supernatural elements, a bit of predator/prey, fingernail trauma, thigh riding, threats, alien anatomy, noncon, forced orgasm, facial, really dumb Christmas puns, Pennywise is a tiny bit sweeter than I usually write him.

(This is my secret Santa gift for the lovely @fingersinmyhair )

~~

‘Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring tingle tingling too (ring-a-ling-a ding-dong-ding!)…!’

Every nerve in your body twitches. This song, this fucking song has played nearly thirty times during today’s shift. You swear you’ll go postal if you have to hear it one more god damned—

“Have a great day!” you chirp, handing the customer their purchases. They don’t even acknowledge you, too wrapped up in the flurry of last minute Christmas shopping.

The smile immediately slips from your face.

‘It’s the most wonderful time of the year…!’

Fuck this holiday.

***

Your shift complete, you cannot get to your car fast enough. Chilly air bites at the exposed skin of your hands and face and snow crunches underfoot as you make your way through the mostly empty parking lot. Your breaths curl white before you in the darkness, only the odd streetlight to guide you.

Inside your vehicle is hardly a relief, and a thick layer of frost has settled on the windshield. Great.

The engine rumbles to life as you attempt to rub warmth back into your fingers. The radio starts up—that’s weird, you’d had it synced to your phone on the way to work—

‘…he sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows…he knows…he knows…he knows…HE KNOWS!’

You freeze, alarmed when the song begins to skip, the crooning voice growing deeper and more menacing with each pass. The back of your neck prickles, your eyes growing wide the longer you stare at the radio. This doesn’t make any sense. How could it be skipping like that…?

Wild cackling suddenly explodes from the speakers and you startle. Hurriedly you dive forward, fumbling with the radio and clapping your free hand over your ear as the laughter rises to deafening levels. The click of the knob plunges you into silence, save for your gasping breaths.

Desperately, you try to rationalize what just occurred. They had some kind of technical issue at the radio station. Your car’s wiring is on the fritz. It has to be one of those, right?

Yet, as you pull out of the parking lot, manic laughter still echoing in your head, you can’t shake the eerie feeling hanging in the air. You drive in silence, too afraid to try the stereo again.

Turning down your street, all the familiar decorations flash and twinkle, your neighbors apparently never short on Christmas spirit. You feel a little guilty you hadn’t decorated this year, but there simply hadn’t been time with your work schedule. You hadn’t even put up a tree.

Foreign red light illuminates the last houses on the block. Someone must have put out new decorations, but why so close to Christmas? You nearly pass your house, your frazzled mind not registering what it sees. Slowing to a crawl, your jaw falls open.

The snow blanketing your lawn glows red, reflecting the…Christmas lights splashed across the front of your home. The lights form the shape of a face, if you can call it that. Eyes blink and lips curve in an unnerving grin, too wide and too toothy to be natural. Worse, every single bulb is red, and not the typical, cheery Santa red. These are an evil, deep crimson that bathes the entire block in ominous color.

Someone must be playing a prank, right? But who would have the time and skill to do such a thing? Your neighbors certainly don’t know you well enough to joke with you like this, and your friends are all working, as far as you’re aware. Who then…?

Dumbfounded, your nerves buzzing, you pull into the driveway and turn off the engine. Cautiously, you slide from your car and approach your front door, the flashing red lights reflecting off your keys as you work the lock open.

You’ll just go in, find your gloves, and then figure out where these decorations are plugged in to shut them off. Taking them down will have to wait until tomorrow—

Inside your home is deathly silent. You freeze, acutely aware of your own breathing. Even the blood rushing in your ears sounds like a tsunami.

Outside, red lights blink and reflect off something on the floor…something wet. You take a step closer, bending down slightly and squinting. Realization hits and you recoil in alarm.

It’s a large boot print, but instead of being clear like melted snow, it’s red. Red like the lights outside. Red like blood. Your gaze is drawn to the others just past it, a trail of them leading further into your house.

Whipping around, you reach for the door handle and twist, intent on escape. You’ll race to your car, call the police. Maybe you can stay with a friend—

The handle doesn’t budge. Baffled and winded by barely contained panic, you jerk the door and throw your entire body weight into another twist. Your sweaty palms slip on brass. It’s like the whole knob has been frozen in place.

You pull, kick, and beat on the door with your fists, but they could be feathers for all the good it does you. The wood doesn’t budge.

You’re trapped like a rat.

How is this happening?

Hastily, you pat your pockets in search of your phone. Your heart sinks when you find them empty. It’s still sitting in the cup holder of your car.

Slowly, you swing back around. You’ll have to try the back door next, but this requires you follow the bloody tracks deeper into your darkened home. You swallow thickly, heart beating a tattoo against your ribs.

You tip-toe forward, careful not to step on any noisy floorboards. Every sense heightened, you’re acutely aware of the disturbing absence of sound. You should hear the hum of the refrigerator, the buzz of the heater, the drip of water from the leaky sink, but the only sounds come from you as you creep down the hall. The hair-raising feeling of being watched keeps your head on a swivel and your skin crawling.

The living room is up ahead. A few more steps. Then the kitchen and back door are just beyond. You can do this.

When you step into the room, you must clap your hands over your mouth to stifle your horrified scream.

Illuminated by the flashing red light pouring through the windows is a massive spruce tree, a tree that wasn’t there when you left for work this morning. Instead of tinsel and baubles dotting its branches, dripping innards hang and twist through its needles. Right at the top, completing this macabre imitation of a Christmas tree, sits a severed hand—a star.

You stare in shock, rooted to the spot in bone-numbing terror. Blood drips from intestines and patters onto the wood floor below. Who would have…could have done this? Whose body parts are those?!

You need to get out of here—

Before you can force your legs into motion, a cheery giggle echoes around the room. Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes drawn to the fireplace. It had come from the chimney….

Rustling. Soot puffs from the fireplace. Your chest heaves, your heart stuttering.

Long, white fingers—gloves—sneak out from the chimney to grip the facing, one hand, then another. The muscles in your chest freeze, terror choking you.

Next comes a blood red Santa hat perched atop a wild tuft of orange hair. A cracked, white forehead emerges from the gloom, followed by a pair of glowing, golden eyes trained directly on you.

You can’t move. You’re frozen in disbelief and dread as the entirety of a lanky body unfurls from the fireplace, joints popping and cracking as the creature stands upright to face you.

It is tall, menacingly so, and dressed in a tattered, soot-covered Santa suit. But what draws your gaze is its visage: It’s painted white with streaks of crimson curling over yellow eyes to its mouth. The same color stains its nose. It’s like clown makeup….

Almost.

The impossibility of it all leaves you reeling. This man, this thing…it isn’t human. Of this, you’re certain. Your mind races but no thoughts stick, no plan for what to do. You teeter on the edge of hysteria as you internally scream at your seizing muscles to move.

You jolt when the creature inhales deeply, unseen bells jingling when he moves his head. Drool, thick and viscous, spills from his fat lower lip to drip onto the floor like the blood raining from the grisly tree. The red mouth curls into a wicked grin.

“Gingerbread and cocoa. Just in time for Christmas,” it says, voice lilting. Raising a hand, it points one spidery finger toward the spruce. “Do you like the tree? Pennywise decorated it all by himself.”

Finally, your limbs react. You spin on your heel and sprint, a choked shriek tearing from your throat when maniacal laughter echoes through your home. It’s the same laughter that had filled your car not an hour ago.

You stumble, grip the wall, use the leverage to launch yourself around the corner, only to skid to a stop when you find the front door has completely vanished. Only a wall remains, smooth and white like the rest.

Panic, panic, what do you do, where do you go—

Long fingers wrap around your ankle and yank. You crash to the floor with a cry and a heavy thud, palms stinging where they catch your weight. Whirling around, you find your leg clutched by the intruder. Its mouth spreads far too wide across his face—much like the mouth lit up on the outside of your house. It grins at you with too many pointed teeth.

You loose a blood-curdling scream when you’re dragged back down the hall. You writhe, scream, flail, claw at the floor until your nails crack and break off, but the grip around your ankle holds firm. The clown, unaffected by your struggle, simply drags you along like Santa’s sack of gifts, whistling the tune of Jingle Bells all the while.

He deposits you before the gruesome tree, your shirt growing damp and heavy as it soaks up the blood that has pooled. Frantically, you attempt to push to your feet but the clown pounces, hateful cackling filling the room as he grips the back of your head and shoves your face into the wet floor. The overpowering stench of iron fills your nose and you gag, your cheek sliding in gore the harder he presses.

“W-WHAT DO YOU WANT?” you sob, your feeble attempts to buck and wriggle thwarted by the clown’s weight against your back. More chortling, close to your ear this time. The scent of its carrion breath and the chilly drool smeared against your ear makes you tense and retch in disgust.

“Poor Pennywise never gets any Christmas presents. Always left off the list, always forgotten. Boo hoo hoo,” he sings, feigning sorrow. He shifts and shoves a thigh between your thrashing legs until the limb is flush with the apex of your thighs. The sudden warmth right against your most sensitive parts pulls a yelp from your lips, your eyes growing wide as saucers.

“Rut against it, little treat, or Penny will tear your face off. I bet it tastes like cookies. Cookies for Santa!” You whimper and furiously shake your head, but the prick of needle-teeth against your cheek has you raising your hips and grinding.

You snap your eyes shut, doing your best to ignore the heat that blooms in your gut at the contact. As though he can read your mind, the clown gleefully giggles and matches your rhythm with pressure from his own leg. You grit your teeth, a pathetic little sound lodging in your throat.

“A good toy! The pretty toy wants to moan, wants to float up, up, up and away! Pennywise has a little angel for his Christmas tree, hmmm?”

“N-No, no,” you whine, your tone more desperate than you wanted. Your face heats up, hips rocking of their own accord, want burning in your gut, your underclothes growing wet the more you leak. This is wrong, this is sick, what are you doing, stop this, stop, you’d rather die than admit this is good….

Wouldn’t you?

“Time for Pennywise to open his present!” The clown rears back, grips ahold of your pants, and rips. Fear tips the scale over desire, a scream leaving you in a rush, struggle renewed.

His weight quickly returns and pins you to the slippery floor, jagged teeth setting against your ear. He hisses, “Bad toys get broken. You’re not a bad toy, are you?”

Frantically, you shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. Pennywise grips your jaw, the sound of fabric tearing making you jolt. Out of the corner of your eye you watch as his fingers elongate, the tips of black claws piercing through white gloves. They come to rest just under your ear, sharp points threatening.

Pressure against your center instantly draws your attention. Something thick and hot writhes against your entrance. You choke on a cry and begin to fight, only to gasp and still when claws scratch bleeding lines down your neck.

“Show Pennywise what a good toy you’ll make.” A shaky breath hisses between your teeth. The drooling head of what you now understand to be this creature’s length prods then burrows into tight muscles. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as you’re stretched and filled by the clown’s seemingly endless girth.

Finally, his hips come to rest against your ass. Pennywise sighs, his painted nose nuzzling your hair, a breathy chuckle puffing against the shell of your ear. “Soft and sweet and allllll wet, just for Pennywise, yes?”

He gives a quick thrust. All the air you hold in your lungs leaves in a huff, embarrassingly wanton sound following close behind. The stretch is incredible, discomfort toeing the line of pain. Still, it’s satisfying, being stuffed so full where you need it the most. It’s too much, yet so delicious your eyes cross.

Slow rocking of hips gradually turns to harsh snapping until you’re scooting forward along the slick floor. Each thrust makes you keen; so dizzy are you with sensation you hardly register it’s you making the racket. In your ear, the clown grunts and growls, hidden bells jingling with the pistoning of his hips.

With his grip on your face, Pennywise tips your head so he can drag his tongue through the blood dribbling down your throat. He licks up your cheek, noisily slurping up tears. “Pennywise was right! Tasty little snack, a tiny treat. Swallow you in one bite, he will, ohhh yes….”

Pleasure mounts. You reach the precipice so quickly you don’t even have time to protest. A feeble, “Wait, wait,” leaves your tongue in a garbled mess when the pressure deep in your belly explodes. Ecstasy ripples under your skin, your toes and fingers curling, an unchecked moan filling the room.

Pennywise growls, the sound ominously deep and rumbling, like some primordial beast. It vibrates against your back and sends a frightening thrill up your spine. He rips his cock from your spasming channel and flips you onto your back. You manage to snap your eyes shut a millisecond before thick ropes of sugary-smelling cum paint your face and chest. Accidentally, you swallow what lands on your tongue, the taste so overpoweringly sweet you gag once again.

Breath reeking of rotting meat washes over your skin and you quickly wipe away the seed coating your eyelids. You find the clown’s painted face inches from your own, golden eyes gleaming in your darkened living room. Gloved fingers—no more claws—smear spend across your cheek and shove more into your mouth. You grimace, your tongue slick with the flavor of cotton candy on steroids.

Another insane laugh, another flash of shark teeth. Will he kill you now? Add your guts to the tree? Swallow you whole?

“Frosted my little ginger snack, didn’t I?” he jokes. You stare, bewildered, terrified, exhausted, and trembling from head to toe.

Long fingers pat your cheek, tap, tap, tap. The clown jumps to his feet, boots clicking together. He bends backwards, bones snapping deafeningly in your quiet home. Long legs swing up and over, his body twisting and bending unnaturally until he’s sliding back up the chimney. The clown winks once before disappearing from view.

Then, silence.

You barely breathe, listening intently. Is he…?

‘JUST HEAR THOSE SLEIGH BELLS JINGLING, RING TINGLE TINGLING TOO!’

You jump and scream, hand flying to your chest when your television flicks on, volume at max. Sleigh Ride blasts through the speakers, the screen fuzzy static.

Groaning, you slump backwards, head thumping against hardwood.

Fuck. This. Holiday.

[southerndragontamer]

Happy Halloween 2: Tricks and Treats

Halloween was known for being the time of year for costumes, for pranks and candy, for scary stories and for those who practiced magic to find a zenith of power from the veil between worlds being at its thinnest.

Of course for you, this meant you were at home for the night, porch lit for trick or treaters with a big bowl of candy and baked goods nearby and while you waited for anyone to show up you were watching scary videos. More specifically you were watching Mark’s and Jack’s older Darkiplier and Antisepticeye videos. What could you say, you loved the pair of dark sides and their stories even if Dark’s was more fleshed out at the moment, Anti’s was catching up with the lore from Anomaly.

As you switched from Raspy Hill to the start of Sister Location, you shivered as it suddenly felt like it got colder, as you heard the hum of your lights increase. You pulled the blankets more around yourself in response and tried to tell yourself you were being silly, you’d done this before and there hadn’t been anything like this. It was just the excitement of the holiday getting to you.

But for a split second you could’ve sworn there was an extra giggle in the video from the glitch.

When you switched again, this time to Dark’s part in ADWM, there was definitely an electronic almost static hiss and the lights dimmed a bit more than usual…you felt chills down your spine. You could’ve sworn for a second there was a smugness to Dark’s smile when he appeared. You had the urge to go check the breaker and out of worry for the wiring, you paused things and did so. Your flashlight scanned over the breaker box, nothing seemed out of the ordinary and when you touched any outlets they were room temperature so you didn’t think anything was in danger of catching fire, which relieved you as you went back to the living room.

You blinked, the video you’d had your phone on had changed to the PAX video for Anti. You hadn’t changed it before you left, had you? You must’ve though there wasn’t any other way for it to have switched, you shook your head and told yourself you were getting caught up again. But while it was there you clicked play.

When Anti said that you’d found someone to replace him, there was this sneer to his face that hadn’t been there last time…he spoke with more of a snarl. You swallowed down the instinctive rebuttal as there wasn’t any way for him to hear you anyway and this was an old video it shouldn’t be changing…Then Anti suddenly laughed, a feral grin stretched across his face and you felt your stomach drop as his voice whispered in your headphones.

“Are ye so sure o’ tha’ puppet~?”

You threw your headphones off, paling as the realization that you were in the middle of something you really should not be and yelped as a clawed hand broke through the screen of your phone like it was little more than water. You threw your phone as the lights flickered and started to flare green and then red like an alarm.

Anti glitched his way out of your device in a way that looked painful considering how small the screen was, his form flickered between the more animalistic and more calm fury he’d shown recently, scar dripped with almost black blood as his eyes either green eyeshine or a manic green and blue or black, locked onto you.

You bolted and he cackled, the sound piercing and made your head ache to the point you almost collapsed, you were half blind in panic as you ran through your own home to try to get to the backdoor. It felt strange all of a sudden, the wood creaked and groaned and seemed to warp under your feet, the static and white noise was right behind you. Lights popped and glass shattered from the overload of power that was forced through them with a near hungry hissing growl.

“Ye can run but ye can’t hide from me puppet~”

You felt your lungs begin to burn, your blood roared in your ears and you couldn’t speak from the terror that constricted your throat, the static felt like it was right at your back. Anti was closing in on you, you had to get away you didn’t want to be caught, you sprinted and leapt for the doorway.

The ground suddenly fell away underneath your feet as if it had never been there, a furious, brain scrambling sound that was almost a roar almost made your ears bleed as clawed hands swiped against the ends of your hair in an attempt to grab you as you fell into cold black that surrounded your home.

The air was stolen out of your lungs, you didn’t have any time to scream as wind whipped around you and you subconsciously flailed blindly in an attempt to try to catch yourself. But of course in the void there was nothing to grab onto, instead a hand clamped around your wrist and almost wrenched your shoulder out of its socket. Your head snapped up, wide eyed as you began to pant now that you weren’t in an endless free-fall into oblivion…to meet Dark’s gaze.

The shadow smirked at you as he lifted you to the patch of land that appeared underneath him. It looked like glass…or maybe a frozen lake, it shined like a black mirror…and let you go. You panted hard, trembling as your body tried to leave the adrenaline fueled survival state you’d just been in. There was a soft tsk, and your chin was being tilted up just so to make eye contact with Dark as he softly rumbled.

“You poor thing, so terrified…Anti’s always been a brute on these nights. You’re fortunate that you weren’t solely in his camp hmm darling?”

You shivered softly and swallowed, you didn’t really know how to react to any of this even as on reflex your cheeks tinted with heat. You felt calmer now, the last of the panic left you as he talked like a hypnotic charm. Dark stroked your chin just once before he stepped back, his touch lingered on your skin. You took a deep breath and stood up as you refound your wits, about to answer him when there was a cascade of static and green flared into black as Anti manifested on the other side and prowled over to reach Dark.

“Oh no ye don’t ye icy bastard! They’re mine!”

Dark chuckled and smirked, hands behind his back in his usual position as he responded back with a twitch of his lip.

“Your name isn’t on them Anti, and they quite literally fell into my hands. Am I supposed to just ignore that?”

Anti bared his teeth in a feral manner, crackling with energy as his body flickered and glitched and you couldn’t really look at him for long or your eyes almost crossed.

“Fockin yes! Ye know what my strings feel like and they’re covered in em!”

You looked down at yourself confused and partly in shock and concern and gasped a little as you saw green strings coiled around your wrists and body, you felt them tight around your throat like a choker. Dark’s scoff made you look up to the arguing Egos.

“And you know what my shadows feel like, and they’re also covered in them.”

Your eyes widened more as you saw them as well now, wispy smoke-like shadows curled around your body just like Anti’s strings, the two forces were mixed around, the static sparked against the frost that the shadows created. Clearly, neither of them liked ti share, which was proven when Dark sighed and let out a growl at the same time.

“It appears we’re at an impasse, they’re equally claimed.”

Anti didn’t speak in words but the visceral sound of fury he made in response made you clamp your hands over your ears to try to stop the pain that erupted in your mind. Your vision swam in and out of focus after it stopped and you whimpered a little, unsure if it was the aftermath of whatever pulse had been through your body or if it was the fact that you were in the Void but Dark and Anti didn’t..look normal.

Anti was a mess of static, glitches, multiple eyes of different shades of green, black or blue even brown, and too long limbs with knife like claws, too wide grin with too many teeth, for a few moments his neck looked like a second maw, as his body contorted and twisted you felt nauseated.

Dark was almost the same shade as the abyss around you all, outlined in red and blue that was cracked and fractured and held together like broken glass, three pairs of eyes, one blue, one red, one outlined in a faint silver, his body looked too big, too much in the space and you felt squished.

You couldn’t really…focus, it felt like too much for your human mind, the next second the two of them flickered back to ‘normal’ human bodies again. Masks back in place. They looked at you, then each other and then they both smirked.

“Looks like you have to make a choice darling.”

“We do not share puppet, yer lucky I’m even entertainin t’is shite”

You looked between them and your heart sank slowly in your chest and you swallowed hard. You didn’t know who you should pick…what would happen if you made the wrong choice…but you had to. The clock was ticking, unless time didn’t exist here? Time was broken for the both of them after all.

There was a soft hum and it was both of static and shadow as they waited for you to speak up, to make a choice between them. Between Dark’s cold nature that spoke of blunt truth, that you’d be treated like a bird in a gilded cage who would hardly notice when something happened. Or Anti’s unpredictable nature that was hard to tell whether he lied or told the truth, that you’d be treated like a plaything who would need to pay attention.

This was a twisted Trick or Treat….and you had no way to know which would be which until you picked it.

[kanazawa-division]

The sun was beginning to set on a certain homicide detective's birthday. Joey was currently hanging out in his living room playing a video game when the doorbell rang. Pausing his game, Joey walked over to the door and opened it. Bouncing in front of him was Kaoru Shinozaki.

"Quicksilver! Happy birthday!" Kaoru cheered, showing off a bag with the gifts she brought with her.

Stepping inside, Kaoru gave Joey a quick hug before shoving her the bag with her gifts in his hands, a manic smile spreading across her face.

"I got you a few gifts, including one that I personally built myself." Kaoru gleefully explained, waiting for the blond haired Otaku to open his gifts.

"Uh….Kaoru? When was the last time you slept?" Joey questioned, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"It's Monday, right? So last Saturday. Not the one that just passed but the one before. Don't worry about me, though I'm fine!" Kaoru flashed Joey a thumbs up. "Don't worry about me. It's your birthday, so go on." Kaoru motioned for Joey to open her gifts.

Joey just stared at Kaoru as if she just didn't confess to going over a week without any sleep. It explained a lot, and Joey just knew she was running on fumes and enough caffeine to kill a full-grown elephant. However, considering she came all the way out to Kanazawa to drop off his gift, Joey quickly pulled out the first gift and began to open it.

Inside the first gift was a collection of graphic tees, each one with something quite weird on it. Joey laughed as he read what was on them. His personal favorite was the shadow wizard one.

"I was strolling through TikTok when I saw these, and I knew you'd get a laugh out of them." Kaoru wheezed.

"They are pretty good." Joey agreed, putting them aside and pulling out the other gift Kaoru had given him, opening it.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something." Kaoru muttered to herself.

Inside the second gift was a lightsaber. Joey could feel a huge grin spread across his face as he picked the sword up, swinging it around. Seeing a button on it as well, Joey pushed it.

"JOEY! WAIT! ITS..." Kaoru shouted, trying to stop him.

It was then when Joey heard the infamous sound of a lightsaber turning on with a bright purple beam sprouting from the handle. Only to watch in shock as the lightsaber sliced through his living room curtains like butter.

"...real." Kaoru finished watching Joey's curtain fall to the floor. "Well…that was something."

Joey could only stare at the lightsaber in his hand, wondering if what he just saw was real.

"Kaoru, what the hell?" Joey questioned his mad genius of friend, his mind wondering how he was gonna explain this to his boyfriend.

"In my defense, I've spent the last week awake and giving you a real lightsaber as a gift seemed like a good idea." Kaoru defended. "Speaking of lack of sleep. It seems like it finally catched up to me. Damn I probably should've listened to Yuriko. She's gonna give me shit for this."

It was then that Joey watched as Kaoru tilted forward a bit before she collapsed onto his living room floor, and much to his relief, a loud snoring could be heard from her prone form. Joey blinked, not sure what to do when he suddenly heard a chime from his phone. Pulling it out, he quickly saw a message from his old friend.

Hey Joey! I'm coming over soon to drop off my gift. - Lyall

“….Joey.”

“…..Honey sugar sweetie baby bear.”

Mamoru repressed the urge to both sigh and cringe at the convoluted nickname as he stared blankly at his blonde boyfriend who stared back with just an equally blank expression except Mamoru could clearly see the amusement dancing in his lavender eyes.

He loves his boyfriend, truly, he does, but sometimes he worries about the company he keeps, not to say that he doesn’t trust Joey or don’t want him to have friends, of course not, but ever since Joey joined the Division Rap Battles, it seems like the shenanigans that would sometimes occur increased nearly tenfold.

The horribly singed and ruined curtains they had just put up was a testament to that.

Mamoru pinched the bridge of his nose while Joey grinned sheepishly. “To be fair…you did say that we should get new curtains…”

“We just put those up!”

“….yeah, I know, that was a shitty excuse, even for me.” Joey deflated with a sigh as he placed a pillow under Kaoru’s head, he had placed her on the couch after she had passed out but not before being grilled by Mamoru on what the hell just happened, why is Kaoru unconscious in their living room, and why are the curtains so badly damaged, which lead them to now.

“Is she going to be okay, at least?” Mamoru asked, keeping an eye on the unconscious Kaoru, while she was more of Joey’s friend, the two of them do manage to get along well, especially since they both work with computers. Joey looked at the purple haired girl and nodded, while he hadn’t known Kaoru for a long time, he was familiar with the girl’s horrendous sleeping habits…minus the sleeping. “Yeah, this happens a lot, she’ll be fine and besides, a friend of mine is coming to pick her up in a little bit.”

Mamoru nodded, somewhat satisfied with his answer before turning back to the curtains, really he wasn’t that pressed about it and honestly he found the situation pretty funny, he knew that hijinks and the like would become the norm when dating someone like Joey but it seems that everyday seemed to find a new way to keep him on his toes.

Joey, seeing where his boyfriend had set his sight on, moved to where he was and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling his neck and looked at him with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry about the curtains, I promise we’ll replace them.” He said and Mamoru shook his head and lifted a hand to ruffle Joey’s blonde locks, “Don’t worry about it, they’re just curtains, what I’m thinking about is how badass that lightsaber is, you do realize you definitely need to go as Luke Skywalker this Halloween right?” He smiled and Joey grinned widely, pressing a huge kiss to his cheek.

“Babe, I love you so much but we both know that I’m a Han Solo guy.”

Thank you for the gift!

[keira-kaz2y5]

Ok so finally found the time to watch episodes 7x02 - 7x04 with my mum. (I’ve already seen them all at least twice, this was her first watch)

The whole episode I was kinda nervous but super excited.

Can I mention again here that she previously did not ship buddie at all, said me and people these days are “always making things gay when they’re not” and said they were “just friends” and the Ravi Buck Eddie sewer call she reiterated this statement saying “see? They’re just good friends” after buck’s clear jealously, which, fair. Yk it can def be seen as friendship— unless you’re open to the fact characters are allowed to be queer and not stated, and also that he’s been played as bisexual since s1 with sooooo much TEXT and SUBTEXT abt it—

When it finally got to the loft apartment scene I was shocked it had come round so quick (I swear that episode felt longer when I watched it alone), and immediately I felt my heart beating a lot faster in anticipation. At the buck Tommy kiss, to my surprise she reacted by grinning wide smiling like in disbelief and stayed like this until they pulled away and we saw buck’s reaction then she sorta manic laughed at buck’s “that works” I think out of disbelief and shock and amusement at buck’s starstruck reaction, “… Saturday? 🥹🤩”and his joke about fake mouth static.

Then as Tommy was walking out and talking about a date my mum said “that’s gonna make.. Eddie, really… mad.” (She was distracted listening to the rest of the scene and dialog)

😆 so her initial reaction was soooo much better than I’d expected/feared!! (From here it turns into kinda a trauma dump with 911 about I realised I’m so so so repressed.. read at ur own risk lol!)

But then of course I went and fucked it up by getting too excited and blabbing.

(I voice memo recorded this whole scene to get her reaction) she asked me about how “so he’s (buck) saying he thought he was jealous but it wasn’t of Eddie it was of him (Tommy).” And I sorta spiralled saying yeh because that’s how he saw it in that moment because he’s trying to figure out what these new feelings are and who they’re for etc and went down the rabbit hole of Tommy being gay from the start (army, ‘begins’ episodes..) and so on and my mum heard like 4 seconds of this and stood up and collected dishes and stuff and walked away saying I was getting too much into it (fair, my adhd does tend to make me mentally jump subjects fairly quickly in ways it doesn’t make sense to other people)

But she never really has healthy conversations with me about queerness, don’t get me wrong I love my mum and she isn’t like throwing me on the street for saying I’m bisexual, but she also isn’t exactly having healthy conversations about it with me either. She prefers to avoid the conversation a lot and stay silent about it, so the repression is real and tbh I didn’t even realise how repressed I was until about 3rd December 2023 I saw a picture of two women kissing and I fully went “oh shit I’m bisexual, I almost forgot I liked women”. Yeh. The repression is so real.

I then went on a Pinterest spiral downloading women photos and made an album on photos app to put it all in so that I had that place to go to and look and I would never be so repressed that I forgot again. I have since been much happier and more queer and open within myself

(For reference this is the picture)

(This is the photo album - not my photos, all from Pinterest)

(Note: I am a teenage girl)

And the only other time I realised I was repressing it, was on holiday with my auntie that I see like once a year, when she teased me about a girl I’d spoken to from a street vender thing and I realised that “oh this is normal” like, families should tease me and be comfortable about it. (Although they don’t tease me about boys much either so..)

Because my family never feel so open about my sexuality to be that comfortable. Whenever the subject comes up it turns into almost an argument because they think I only think I’m gay because I hung out with two lgbt girls for 3, 4 years and they were my only close friends.

Apparently the gay is contagious 🤣

My Nan is homophobic, she’s “of a different generation” apparently and can’t change. She’s not super bad about it but does make comments like “it’s wrong” so I never really talk about it. My brother had the “my friend is gay so i can’t be homophobic” mentality, and also believes like my mum that im only bisexual because of my old friends.

But fr they don’t say it’s a phase specifically but they sort of play it off like one saying I only “think that” because of them (my friends at the time — who I’m not even friends with anymore)

And one time watching the hen and Karen begins episode with the nasa lab explosion- when we get that make out scene between them, my mum laughed and said she was uncomfortable because it just looked “unnatural” and I know she said this because they were a bit fumbly in the scene, knocking things over and kicking off shoes and both plus sized women, but that reaction has just stuck with me since. Because it’s still a beautiful moment and yes they look different to typical people making out but it’s still sexy and a vibe but also I am a plus sized woman, so yes that could be my future. Another time before this when there were some HenRen scenes in bed my mum said to me “is that what you wanna do, cuddle up to some woman in bed like that 🤨” and I was sooo unprepared for that question and sorta went ‘uh yeh no yeh but not like them two because Hen isn’t my type yk but yes’ and she went 🧐 hm ok 🤷‍♀️

These things have stuck with me

And also when I had a therapist last year the one time I mentioned being bisexual and she that’s something we should talk about I completely shut her down and said it’s fine nothing to talk about and looking back… man I was repressed. Like dayum.

And now I realise I have so much to say.

And the tipping point for all this, is the bi Buck canon, of course. Only 3 days ago but feels like a lifetime already, just the portrayal and the delivery and perfection and sentiment of it all hits so hard, especially the fan reactions, but also actor and director and journalist reactions and everything Tim has had to say on it including Oliver and Ryan interviews. And it’s made me so emotional about it all, I can’t even express how genuinely happy to my core i was the first 2 days every second, and I was dancing around my kitchen, grinning every 3 minutes when I remembered… it was bliss. I felt so seen and happy and loved, appreciated and respected and represented. It’s unreal. Especially the joy and care Oliver has given this.. i can’t explain. It’s so validating.

Within myself I feel much more at peace, and I have realised that in fact I was repressed, and still kinda am.

So bringing it back to the start was that after watching this with my mum I tried to express to her how much this means and the backstory and what’s going on online about it with the directors and actors and everything but I hardly even said a thing and she kept saying how “it’s just a show” “it’s 9-1-1!” “You’re getting too much into this/too attached” even when I tried explaining how queer storylines is something we have to search for to watch in media, and how this will change media from now on and the representation.. she kept walking away, trying to change the subject and invalidating it all saying stuff like

“it’s just a series! You act like it’s a real person!” “You do, you get carried away with it.” “Ok Keira 🙄🚶‍♀️.. yeh! You’re just getting a little far-fucking-fetched” “right… Keira.” “It’s just a show!” Me: “It’s more than a show.” “In your head it is.” “You’re just going on”

Bear in mind I wasn’t actually going into depth, I was stating how this is a big thing and said literally what I’ve written here, like this is 30 seconds of me talking. Because I wanted to have a healthy conversation about it all, but clearly it didn’t work and i should’ve just been happy with the smile reaction and left it at that.

I tried directly pointing out the problem, too, saying that she never wants to have a healthy conversation with me about it all, to which she replied the “it’s just a show/you’re getting too much into it” part and when I addressed that this family is slightly a little bit homophobic but none of them will admit it she was laughing and going “it’s 9-1-1! It’s 9-1-1!” “(I) make it out into some big drama” (I wasn’t raising my voice or anything I just wanted to have a conversation about it with her, she was the one raising her pitch) and how I’m “just taking it all to another level!” Me:‘Because it is at another level, this is so huge for the industry and the queer community’ “oh god, Keira.. you make such big dramas out of it,” (me literally not being dramatic at all, just wanting a nice discussion about this and both the reactions of fans/non-fans/people, how it’s done so well—compared to other storylines and shows— and the impact this will have on so many things) my mum:… “you always twist me to make it out that I’m some horrible person” to which I responded “well no, because you’re not but you could be more healthy about it, you always laugh it off or change/avoid the subject” (me talking about queerness in general, not 9-1-1, to which she replied) “nanna gets like this over Coronation Street! And I just don’t understand! It’s just a show.”

These quotes she said are direct because I audio recorded everything. Probably not in the right order bc the explanation is a little messy what can I say it’s adhd like I said 💅😵‍💫🤷‍♀️😅

Yeh so I guess this is turning into some Reddit thing like AITA am I the asshole for wanting a healthy conversation and for my family to be more comfortable about queerness in general as well as my own (bi)sexuality but also it’s just me expressing how tonight went to anyone who’s stayed to read this. Maybe I should go back into therapy. It’s just my old therapist I never really told her the deep things but also finding someone new that works with me is expensive and exhausting. So it’s been a hard night but I will still rewatch the scene to find happiness in it all again. I just want to wait until I’ve slept it off so I can be fresh and remember the happiness and validity I felt on friday & sat

[doyl1st]

A long, rambling post about Ignatius.

Ignatius (Iggy) Duncan is Isaac's younger brother. He's a goofy, kind, and sweet man with an almost childlike innocence to him, despite his bloody backstory and violent tendencies. He'll never hurt an innocent person, but if he feels like you deserve to have your nose broken, he'll break it. The thing is, though, he'll do it with a smile on his face. Not a malicious grin or anything. Just this silly, almost dopey little smile.

Iggy is as much of a manic chaos goblin as Isaac is, if not even more so.

As detailed in my other post, he and Isaac have a great many things in common.

Where they differ is in their interests and specialties. Isaac is a man of science who loves math, engineering, and languages. He's got three PhDs and a doctorate. Art and music are totally lost on him, though. He likes them, but he's no good with them.

Iggy, on the other hand, dropped out of college three months in and started working at a record store. He's still extremely intelligent, definitely a traditional genius in his own right, but his true brilliance resides in music. Iggy's the sort of guy who can compose symphonies in his head and play any music he picks up. He's also the kind of guy who genuinely listens to everything, his favorite genres being energetic rap and the heaviest metal known to man.

He considers himself to be the Facility's failure, and has kinda low self esteem. That's really what's defined him for most of his life, allowing others to worm their way into his head. Isaac was a manipulator, but Iggy was manipulated.

Like I mentioned before, Iggy worked at a record store after dropping out of college. It was a really nice gig, expanding his knowledge and interest in music and teaching him a little bit about how the real world works. It didn't last too long, though. The store went under after only a few years and Iggy was lost again.

He was found after a bar fight that ended with him breaking the jaw of a gangster, some dude working for the local mob. That probably would've been the death of him, if the guy's boss hadn't been impressed by it. He brought Iggy into the fold, feeding him plenty of lies about how they weren't all bad.

Iggy wasn't stupid. He knew the guy was just telling him what he wanted to hear, but that was alright with him at the time. The guy was nice to him, made him feel like he belonged somewhere, and that's something he's craved since childhood.

At first, things weren't too bad. Iggy would run errands and do favors, doing pretty much whatever he was told. Then it graduated to him being something of an enforcer. If his boss told him to hurt someone, he'd do it. Iggy might've been only 5'4", but he had one hell of a right hook. He was fast, too, and not above using dirty tricks or improvised weapons in a fight. When it began, his boss would tell him some kind of lie about how the guy whose leg Iggy was breaking deserved it in some way, but eventually he stopped bothering. He knew Iggy would do what he asked even without an excuse.

Eventually, that progressed into Iggy doing hits for the guy. Same story as the last. He'd tell Iggy the guy deserved it, and Iggy would listen. The first few might not have been lies, if only to acclimate Iggy to it. It was hard for him in the beginning. He threw up after the first one. Cried himself to sleep. But over time, it got easier. Knowing the men he was killing would do the same to him if given the opportunity made it easier, too. Iggy eventually began to rationalize it as if they were playing some kind of game. If they die, he wins. If he dies, they win. If you're in the life, you're fair game. No hard feelings either way.

Iggy wouldn't say he necessarily liked killing, but he did enjoy the thrill of knowing he might die if something goes wrong. He's an adrenaline junky just like Isaac, but the difference is that Isaac likes daring heists and outsmarting his opponents. Iggy likes shoot outs and fist fights.

His life in the mob ended with a raid that landed him in police custody. It was almost immediately obvious that Iggy wasn't just some run of the mill crook, and after some talking, some phone calls, and negotiating, some kind of deal was made.

Iggy is now, effectively, a secret agent. He's on a tight leash, but he's at least free. Isaac's deal actually used Iggy's as a basis, but Isaac doesn't find that out until years later when he and Iggy reconnect because of a shared case.

Like Isaac, Iggy has continued to grow and evolve as a person after being forced into a safe environment. He's learning how to become his own person, how to exist without someone telling him what to do. It's difficult, considering some high ranking official is still doing that, but still. He still has a pretty warped view on life and death, but he's at least not as apt to kill as he used to be. With a good enough reason Iggy can and will chase someone down with a fire axe.

He's still pretty eager to fight, though, and now that he's had some formal training, he's a lot more effective. He'll never hurt an innocent person, though. Never, ever, ever, as he'd say.

Iggy's unofficial theme is Insanely Illegal Cage Fight. Even the title is fitting for him.

[nocentis]

let her kiss his brand...

He sees her in the way that bees see flowers; the way that leaves see sunshine.

╳┆Honey spilled over the horizon and painted the high tide. Gilded fingers twisted into the amber silks draped upon the throne of cloud, wrapped them up in their glittering palms, around their wrists, and the day's ruler hoisted themselves slowly to claim, leaving blood and syrup in their wake. Their white robes did little to shield their pride; their radiance. There was something to be said about that immeasurable beauty and the karmic toll of viewing it. The price of a look, one held long enough to truly see, was to surrender the gift of future sight. There was something to be said about the periphery. Something about those colors, that warmth, that marvel, and how maybe close enough should be good enough, and why couldn't it be? Something about the cost of love, something about moderation, and maybe something about the comfort of cowardice.

Winter and Spring began their waltz, slowly slinking ‘round and ‘round with fingers interlaced high above their heads, eyes locked in lovers’ snares. Winter, condemned to play the role of callousness; of indiscriminate reaping, and Spring, the tender, the nurturer, tasked with the labor of rebirth. They found their compromise in the snowdrop’s bloom; in its frozen dew. They found it in the chill of the morning and the warmth of the afternoon, in the cool breeze, in the jewel-toned sky and the first blades of grass yet bitten by frost.

It must’ve been love, he thought, for what else could compel the harsh hand of Winter, cold and cruel as it was, not to strike, but to dance? It must've been love, he thought, because when Winter slipped from her grasp, Spring, in her loneliness, would begin to weep. Beautiful things bloomed from her pain, and so her pain was expected, demanded again and again. It must've been love that drove Winter to destroy those sorrow-sewn fields so that Spring would come back to him comfortably, and so just for a little while, they could find peace together.

Today, they were dancing.

╳┆The swell in his chest shined through his broadened shoulders, the length of his neck, the lift of his chin. Still, the habit of treading brazenly, maskless, through stone-laid streets, was one he’d yet to pick up. His formal pardon hadn’t barred the eyes from prying, and it certainly hadn’t muted the whispers. If anything, they’d only grown louder, more opinionated, so he'd yet to find comfort in the breeze's naked palms.

The repetitive swish and clang of his garb and the thud of his armored boots against the cobbles were familiar enough to become mute to the mind, like absorbed by his black-bleeding subconscious. Gone with it, the songbird’s tune, the whistle of the breeze, the sway of the trees. But not today. No, today he heard it—the way the wind howled in harmony with the river’s steady rush, the beat of his own pace, the trill tittering above, the cheerful chatter of life—like it was his first time. In a way, he supposed it was. Every other time he’d walked this path, he’d walked it with closed eyes and wool-stuffed ears, in thrall to the rotten echoes of his own mind. But not today. No. Today, his chin held high, as his spirits did.

He must have looked every bit the manic fool that morning, sliding through the doors of the Fairy Tail guild at the first wink of sunlight, sporting that glued-on grin he'd still yet to unstick, with nothing more to present than a pair of mismatched daffodils and their attached note. Thankfully, Mirajane and her sister, Lisanna, were already in-house preparing for the day ahead, undoubtedly taking advantage of the peace and quiet of the empty hall while they still had the opportunity. Though naturally surprised to see him so elated, they were both pleasant in their greetings and eagerly agreed to deliver his message (though he was nearly certain they were teasing him about his intentions with their fair lady Erza).

His cheer was met equally and enthusiastically. Both sisters were practically teeming with glee by the time he turned to leave, giggling and covering their mouths like they knew something the rest of the world was yet privy to. While he found their giddiness puzzling, he surely welcomed the departure from gloom; from the doom-written reeds he so often dragged in. It was nice, he thought, to share weightless words, to have a laugh, to venture beyond Winter's shadow into the first light of Spring.

From there, he'd practically skipped to his next task. Never in so many years of travel had he received such bemused faces from passersby. He'd actually paused once to check his skin, just to make sure he wasn't actually glowing. Heaven knew how long it'd been since he felt something so carefree as genuine excitement. Long enough that he found it uncontainable. Long enough that it felt like sunshine in his chest, crawling up his throat, bursting through his teeth.

Mrs. Ito was no exception to the day's pleasantries. She'd always been kind in the short time he'd known her. Recently widowed, she decided she had too much house and not enough home, in her own words, so she moved in with her eldest son, his wife, and their children. He'd met with them all one evening for dinner (Mrs. Ito wanted to know to whom she was handing over her home), and even after stories were shared and intentions were laid, he was met gently with understanding smiles, warm hands holding his own, and Mrs. Ito's hushed, "It's time to go home, son."

When he arrived to pick up the keys—his keys to his house—she greeted him fondly, like they'd always known one another. Her son stood in the doorway as he exchanged the gift of home with a box of market candies, his smile slowly melting like he'd finally found the bitter side of sweet. He'd waved goodbye with a promise to visit again soon, but as he turned towards his new tomorrow, he missed the pinch in Mrs. Ito's brow and the tears that followed. He missed the shake of her shoulders as her son ushered her back inside and the red-rimmed eyes that lingered on his back.

His elation carried him through thinning streets and into the countryside. Horse-drawn carriages passed him by with blinders on, kicking up dust and bouncing rocks off their spokes as they went. The folks tending their land paused to spare him a sprinkler's glance. Just around the bend, there sat a humble brick house on a quaint piece of land. Its stone pathway stood out in the sparsely grown, mostly browned lawn, and it drew a path straight towards that painted-red front door. The very same one that he was now standing in front of, staring at.

The key poised betwixt his fingers had been left to steep in his pocketful of sunshine long enough for the heat to transfer, and now it was burning, blistering his skin, and it felt something like rejection. Like the soul of the land had its hands on his shoulders and was shoving him backward. Like he wasn't meant to be here. He was never meant to have this.

But he wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

He tapped the door with a single knuckle, just to see if it'd turn to ash. It held steady, materially, before him, just the same as it ever looked. Its bricks spoke no threat of crumble, its roof showed no sign of collapse, and yet none of it truly felt real. Even as his head bowed and his forehead pressed into that cool crimson, even as he traced the ridges of the keys in his palm, even then, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

A moment of silent prayer. A deep, grounding breath. Eyes open, back straight, he finally found the will to turn the key. The door slowly creaked open, allowing light to pour in through the front door.

His lingering joy was a sweet wine on the brink of spoil, turned to vinegar in his gut. The morn's candied shell cracked between his teeth and its well-concealed bitterness flooded his tongue like it had been waiting for the opportunity all along. It leaked from the corners of his still-smiling mouth, even as his lips began to twitch; even as heat brimmed his eyes and tears threatened to spill. He stood in the doorway, still, watching the walls of that front room stretch higher and higher as the moment dragged on, like he was waiting for something—something like Karma—to come along and destroy it all, strip it all away; to take from him again, as he'd taken from so many others.

He forced himself to step inside, to turn, to close and lock the door behind himself.

And then it was quiet. Devastatingly so. Gone were the wind, the leaves, the birdsong and the horses' trot. Static rushed in to fill its place, skating rings around his ears, and his periphery began to blur, his chest to ache—oh, he felt ill, and the dam threatened to burst, and his throat tightened until he audibly choked. A hand rose to cup his neck, and another to cover his mouth, stifling his upward bubbling sob as heat rose to cloud his vision. He sunk to his knees as the first tears fell, crushed by the weight of overwhelm, one hand scratching helplessly against hardwood while the other heeled at his bleeding eyes.

How audacious could he be? Already living on borrowed breath, daring to walk the path of the benevolent man. Now he dared to seek normalcy for himself, to smile gleefully while so many still woke in a cold sweat, in terror, at the sight of him, and others would never wake at all. A sick joke. He hardly deserved a proper burial, much less a place to lay his head, and yet he wanted it still.

He turned and sat with his back pressed against the front door, and he tried to find comfort in the nothing. He tried to find comfort in the emptiness, the darkness, the hollow and desolate, but the shadows had autonomous hands. Those mangled fingers were rotten down to blackened bone and had mouths where their nails should've been, and they'd been picking at the threads of his mind's drawn curtain, picking, pulling, unspooling, until they made their hole big enough to climb through. When they finally reached him, they were dripping ink like blood, wrapped up in memories' silk that they used to bind him where he was.

How long had it been? He was a child when he'd last called a house like this his home, before the raid. If only his mother and father could see him now, what would they say? Would they smile? Would they cry? Would they be proud of their son, even to this day, with all years considered, and would they love him still? Would they hand their heads in shame, or would they lift their chins in disgust? He never got the chance to know them well enough to answer those questions with any certainty.

His head thumped against the wall, tears trailing unbidden as he stared through the ceiling. His breath shook as he exhaled, voice straining when he pleaded directly to God, "Please," his face curled inward and he nearly choked, "It's more than I deserve, but please, may I have this?"

But it wasn't God who'd condemned him. It wasn't God who'd damned his soul to roam, so God need not answer.

The silence was a swarm that eventually overtook the sounds of his wet misery. The numbness accompanying that insidious peace was a welcome shift. It gathered over his shoulders and draped from him, robe-like, as he finally rose from the floor, intent on washing his face.

A few short steps brought him to the bathroom. He blindly palmed at the wall until he found the switch. Light sprung from the top down, bathing the back of his hand as he turned on the sink. He let it run over his fingers until warm and watched years-old blood run off and stain the porcelain. The water he gathered in his palms was soon spilled over the flesh of his face and beyond his sleeves.

While the salt may have washed clean, the evidence of his deluge clung to the skin beneath his eyes and around his nose in Pollock pink. That much became obvious the very second he met his own glassy stare, though its juxtaposition to the hot iron's bite made its consequence seem all the more fleeting. The tips of his fingers idled against his still-dripping skin, at first tracing the risen path, then covering it. He tried to imagine what he might've looked like without it. Would he look more youthful? Would he look kind when he smiled? Would children be less afraid when he waved to them?

He supposed it didn't matter. The choice was never his to have. That glowing sunset crest lived inside of his eyelids, lurking there, daring him to blink. Within each lapse, he saw the devil's eyes. He saw split-curl smiles and broken teeth outlined in stolen blood. He heard the devil's laugh, shrill and gleeful and giddy, and felt its dank breath against his neck, and he felt its hands curling around his ankles, his wrists, his arms and legs, puncturing his skin with nails of obsidian glass, and he felt it climb onto his chest, crack his ribs, and he felt his face begin to sweat, even though he was so, so cold.

It was so, so cold. White cold. And he was awake. Wide-eyed, shocked mute. His skin shrieked as its moisture fled, and it began to peel away, to bubble and blister and burn—God, it burned, and the smell—

Knock-knock, knock!

His visitor's early arrival nearly sent him out of his skin. He quickly turned the water off and killed the light, and he hoped that his sorrows stayed in the drain depths where they belonged.

The door swung inward, and she was there, waiting patiently, graciously, for him like she always had. His breath turned to dust in his lungs.

In her hands, those inverted daffodils dressed in yellow and white, not a petal out of place. Gold spilled over her crown, revealing that halo he'd always known was there. The breeze tossed her scarlet flames about semblant of Venus, and rosey lips sat in their gentle curve, smiling softly at him, yet before they could split to spill a greeting, he'd already begun to pull her towards him. As he wrapped himself around her, his eyes began to burn again, and the second he felt her hand at his back, returning his embrace, he broke, and the tears spilled forth once more. His head fell to rest against her armored shoulder, and through the rain, he began to laugh.

She pulled away to view him at arms' length, mouth slightly parted as though a question had come to peer through her teeth. He wiped at his face with tremors in his hands, chuckling softly when Erza finally shoved out, "Tears?"

"It's silly, really," he holds up the keys, "I'm overwhelmed."

It didn't take her long to put it together.

Warmth graced his jaw with the weight of a whisper, so faint he'd thought surely that he'd imagined it. That is, until it struck again, soft and sweet against his cheek, beneath his eye, his forehead. His eyes blinked open as she sunk back to her heels, bashfully peering up at him through the veil of her lashes; waiting for him to do something, anything.

The raucous buzzing faded into a melodic hum like the swarm had finally found its queen.

His blood sang as it rushed red-hot through his shoulders, crawled up his neck, and began burning its way through the skin of his face. The ear-popping clarity of his thought-storm's sudden abandon left him staring mindlessly with eyes much too wide and jaw much too lax, narrowly remembering to breathe, until her shy expression began to melt into something more reminiscent of unease, like she was preparing to flee.

Perhaps a touch too quickly, he grabbed her hand, careful to keep his grip loose enough that she could pull away if she wanted. Slowly, surely, his opposite hand reached to tuck her hair behind her ear, and his palm cupped her cheek in a silent plea not to retreat from him. A silent plea to stay here, right here, in this moment, in his grasp, just a little while longer.

And she did. She stayed. She smiled gently, warmly. Her head fell to rest against his chest and she leaned into his sway. There, in the silence, they found their rhythm. They began to dance.

"Welcome home, Jellal." -------------------------------------------------------------------------- @mamorigami

[unbloomingmoonflower]

track 4. 𝔻𝕚𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕕

If you should ask for my dying breath

wouldn’t know how to say no

The memories of the smiling entelechy created by another were visceral. From the innocence that slowly faded from her eyes to the madness of the last time his eyes had lain upon her. 

 He was sundered, yet he remembered it all. The way his heart shook with love, envy at another who stole her heart, and the way she had overcome all of his senses. 

She was fractured as well, his lovely fairy, with her hands coated in blood and her wild, manic laughter. Those silver eyes that showed compassion were devoid of such emotion. Anything she had been before, she was no longer. 

Yes, Fandaniel wanted the world to end, wanted to die all the same. It was only fitting that he should die alongside his obsession. 

Only Lilith had her own agenda. He knew this. She didn’t care for him, not in the slightest. And Fandaniel knew full well that Lilith was only toying with his emotions to have her own ends met. It was due to him that she was able to find her shard, after all; as he had, as Amon, fought the Xaela that embodied the innocence Lilith had before.

Even now, Lilith stood before Zenos and himself, and Fandaniel couldn’t hold himself back from the smile that threatened to split his face in two. “Ah, m’lady, you’ve come to see us. Surely, you’ll assist us in Lord Zenos’ goal?” he said by way of greeting. 

Silver, indifferent eyes shifted to Fandaniel as Lilith deigned to take a seat, setting her own scythe across her lap. Slender fingers grazed the blade, close enough to cut her own skin but nary a drop of crimson was shown. “I merely came to see my precious nephew. Has your hunt for my shard bore you fruit?” she hummed. 

Zenos’ own icy stare bore into the woman claiming to be his aunt. He never knew his grandfather had a sister. She was never spoken of, no history of her ever existing. And yet, she knew of the beginnings of the empire as intimately as if she had been watching it the entire time.

And from her demeanor with him, Zenos was certain that she had.

However, when Zenos remained silent on his answer, Lilith gave a short, cold laugh--and the sound sent ripples of delight through Fandaniel. “I’ll take that answer as a no, it has not,” she mused. “Ah, my dear nephew. You should give up that singlemindedness. Yet, I shouldn’t really advise that, having a single mind myself. Your predecessors as well.”

Getting to her feet now, Lilith sheathed her weapon onto her back. “If you do kill my shard, ensure to leave her intact. I’d like to take back what is mine, nephew,” she told Zenos.

Unable to help himself further, Fandaniel all but glided to Lilith, wrapping his arms about her waist. “My pretty little fairy. Will it anger you greatly if I play with your shard for a little while?” he purred, a wicked grin on his lips. 

“Do as you please, Hermes,” was the ravenette’s short reply. “However, if you damage her in any way before I make the merge...I will kill you.”

“Ah, m’lady, your coldness wounds me. Yet it is what I find so irresistible about you.” Fandaniel nuzzles his face against Lilith’s neck, trailing his lips to her ear. “And yet, I will not hesitate to give you my final breath if you should ask it of me.”

“Die on your own terms, Fandaniel.”

“Oh, but I will. I have quite a plan in store. I hope you won’t miss it.” 

Releasing Lilith, Fandaniel could only continue to grin even as his obsession strode away into the darkness. He could marvel her beauty from afar, while continuing his plan. 

It would be a spectacular show and he was going to ensure it came to fruition.           

[munsontm]

aftercare:   for our muses to participate in aftercare together — from steve 🥺

@harringtontm & @musecraft / NSFW

Planet Caravan went through a fourth replay in Eddie's head. That song was the best way to describe how he felt and where he went when his and Steve's bedroom scenes got heavy. And after pushing himself through a fourth orgasm for his and Steve's pleasure, he plunged into a headspace that, in his opinion, was the closest to feeling like he'd taken drugs. Sometimes, he flew through endless skies where stars shined like eyes and the earth was a purple blaze; other times, his head emptied. Eddie liked both states, but the space fantasy had gotten him good tonight. He wanted to spend his time of ecstatic bliss in that beautiful place.

Eddie hummed the song intermittently while a very naked Steve carried an equally naked him into the bathroom to clean up because he couldn't stand, let alone think a coherent thought. His limbs were like jello, and they ached, but the really good kind of ache reminded him of how good Steve fucked him until his brain went to another plane. Eddie briefly giggled at the rhyming of brain and plane, imagining his literal brain getting on some fantastical space jet to Venus. So cool.

The abstract joy suddenly disappeared when Steve set him down on the bathroom counter to run them a bath, taking the comforting heat of his body with him. Was he going to come back? On instinct, Eddie reached for him like he did when they drifted apart during sleep or when they were caught in the manic crowds at a club. It made him think about the nightmares where he reached for his love only to find a mutilated corpse. A whine slipped from him, making Steve turn back and rush across the short distance in their bathroom to him, pressing in between his bare thighs. The warmth that was wholly Steve returned to Eddie like sun rays, and he buried his face in the broad hairy chest with a content sigh. "Stay," he muttered quietly. "Don't leave me, baby. There's no air in space."

Steve chuckled. "We have to stay in the caravan, right?"

Eddie nodded, eyes daring to flicker closed until his boyfriend tugged his face up by the chin to check on him and ask his colour. He replied green after a long moment where his fingertips absentmindedly rubbed patterns through Steve's chest hair. Of course, being the world's best boyfriend, Steve wanted to make sure and asked him for the third time that evening if he'd liked the rope play, to which Eddie nodded but said his skin felt a bit raw, that maybe they needed softer rope. Steve agreed after inspecting his wrists and ankles, delivering little kisses to the burns with apologies. God, thank you for Steven Harrington.

After some further wind down in Steve's arm and praise for how well he did. Eddie was okay, not thrilled, to let his boyfriend begin running the bath and get him some snacks. Plain water didn't quite cut it for Eddie when coming out of his headspace, so Steve always brought him a fruity juice box instead with his crackers. He sat quietly, sipping on pineapple, orange, and lemon, idly swinging his leg about and watching Steve add the fancy bath oils to the bath water. The song had almost ended, reality pushing its way back in. But Eddie didn't mind so much, especially when Steve was bent over the tub. "I can see your chocolate starfish." That earned him an amused look. He grinned mischievously; clearly Eddie Munson had returned to earth.

"Eat your crackers, brat," Steve said, standing to brandish his dad pose like a real weapon and looking reminiscent of Michael Angelo's David, except with a much bigger cock. Fuck. He was perfect.

"Yes, sir!" With a mouthful of crackers, Eddie saluted his love, shimmying off the counter onto sturdier legs and to the bathtub, all with the same grin still in place. Although, he didn't miss a concerned Steve almost diving across the bathroom to catch him, afraid he might fall on the hard tile. Now, Eddie was just going to have to kiss him for that, like a million times.

[robynlilyblack]

Warning label

Remus Lupin x fem! reader

Summary: Remus was always the shy marauder but after countless years you know the truth...he's more chaotic than the rest combined

Warnings: swearing, established relationship, post-Hogwarts, mentions of food, eating and Remus’ chocolate addiction, kissing, Remus being wonderfully chaotic, domestic fluff

A/n: 1.8k, i love this so much, thank you for the request! please enjoy x

Navigation | Remus Lupin Masterlist

You had one eye on Remus the moment he entered the flat, a frantic look on his face that screamed I’ve done or about to do something rather chaotic. It took him a good minute to realise you were in early, sitting on the couch and quietly reading your book.

His face morphs from manic to giddy the moment he spots you “Hi” he greets stopping just before the couch “Are you in the middle of a sentence or scene?” he asks warily like the sweetheart he is, but when you shake your head he practically pounces on you

“Rem!” you squeal, book long forgotten somewhere nearby as Remus tucks his head into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around you while your pinned beneath him

“What? Am I not allowed to hug my girl when I miss her?” He asks when he pulls back, tone playful and teasing as he stares down at you

His dementor wasn’t much of a surprise anymore, that shy boy you fancied from afar wasn’t so shy after all. Turned out Remus was more the quiet confident type…well accept when it came to his looks or his condition, but you and his friends were there to help with that. He was, funnily enough, considerably flirtier than Sirius when he got going, his affections and sweetness wonderfully overpowering at times

You giggle “You saw me this morning” you argue, although you had to admit without him around it always felt like you were missing something

He grins leaning down again to litter kisses between his words “And…that’s…too…long” he finishes with your lips

You copy his actions “And…you…are…squishin'…me” your voice laced with giggles

His eyes widen comedically and he quickly sits back on his knees, allowing you to prop yourself up with your elbows

“Sorry bun” he lets out a little chuckle, cheeks tinting

You just smile “It’s okay, I wouldn’t have minded if I didn’t need to pee” you confess, sliding your feet out from between his legs

“You going now?” he asks with a cute little pout on his face

“That a problem?” you wonder with an amused smile, rasing your eyebrows

“Yup. You can’t go” he shakes his head, moving onto his butt and encouraging you to straddle his lap 

"Why can't i go" you cross your arms, not one inch of you annoyed but you play along

"Because I said so...please" he says firmly before adding the purest, quietest 'please' at the end

You do it, his grip so gentle you could easily escape and when you’re settled his hands find your hips. He nudges his nose with yours, before capturing your lips in a slow, sweet kiss

“Did you really need the loo by the way?” he pulls back for a moment, eyeing you

You nod bashfully “Yeah...but I knew I’d get kisses if I didn’t go” you confess and he laughs

“So, you're saying you'd piss yourself if it meant I gave you kisses?” he poses

“No comment” you shift on his lap, in truth you were already holding it in because you wanted to finish the chapter, which meant now you were really afraid you really may pee

“You really need to go, don’t you?” he whispers and you nod “On you go bun” he kisses your cheek

You smile, granting him the same kiss as you climb off of him and beginning to head towards the bathroom when you spot it

“Rem?” you stop in your tracks, half way from the couch to the bathroom, staring at the entrance way

“Yeah bun?”

“Why is there rope and a basket at the front door?” you turn to him

His eyes widen “Fuck!” he stands up “The cat!” half running over to the door and grabbing the items “Pee quick then then come help me”

“One” you hold up a finger “Don’t ask me to pee quick because that’s too much pressure” you finger points towards him then and he can’t help but chuckle at your adorable mad pout “Two, you’re just assuming I’ll help and three…cat?” you shrug looking more baffled than mad now as your brain is trying to do the Remus logic over why he needs rope of all things 

He holds up his own finger, tapping your nose with it at every point causing it to crunch and he to smile at it

“One” tap “I’ve seen you go lighting fast when you’re late for work. Two” tap “Of course you’ll help because you can’t help yourself, the mystery is too great for you to sit out…and three” that tap earns a playful swat from you “I left the window open in the bedroom while I was showering and the cat got in and I may or may not have scared it and now it’s stuck on the little pole thing a couple floors down” he explains quickly and if you weren't used to his rambles you wouldn't have understood a word

“But why do you need rope?” you question 

“Pee” he orders softly, not answering the question and just points to the bathroom door before beginning to step towards your bedroom

“Rem” you call out with a giggle as he leaves through the door

“Just pee bunny I’ll explain in due time” he calls back

You took a second to laugh at your boyfriend. This wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever done, in fact you could even argue this was rather mundane to some of the things he got you roped up in back at Hogwarts.

You remembered the first time it happened, not even two minutes into your third date, coming out your common room when you were dragged through the castle, happily dragged of course, but your growing legs were a lot shorter than Remus’ back then.  The reason for your 8am run was Remus had found a new passage during his morning rounds and just had to show you first…which did result in an unhappy dear and puppy when they found out

After that the things just kept getting more chaotic, something which suprised you but didn't hate, in fact you loved and began to welcome the randomness

You did your business in lighting time and when you entering your shared bedroom you saw Remus flicking the rope upwards and over a pole like he was Indiana jones

“Hi” you greet when you join his side, nudging your head into his upper arm

He turns to you with a smile “Hi bun” he smiles, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead before he holds out the rope without any other context 

“What's this for?” you wonder as you awkwardly accept and hold what you now realise looks like climbing rope

“A pulley system” he says simply as he checks the other end

You were less confused and more mildly concerned at that “A pulley system?” you probe, making sure you heard it right whilst simultaneously entertained

“Yes” he nods, glancing at you 

“A pulley system?” you repeat with more scepticism

“Yes” he glances quickly again, the same sweet voice

You let out a laugh “Rem one of two things are gonna happen with this plan. The first results in both of our deaths, and the second leaves me with rope burn and a dead boyfriend…neither are particularly great” you tell him, a funny kind of smile on your face

He faces you fully, that lovable grin of his in full view “No silly” he scrunches his nose, finger gently flicking down your nose “It’s for the cat” he tells you, holding up basket

Your mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, expression turning bashful as he copies your ‘oh’ before wrapping the rope around one of the basket handle loops, twisting it around the rope before doing the same with the other, making a little cat elevator

“Also…” he eyes you “Rude. I’ve been eating dark chocolate recently…being heathy” he bobs his head voice teasingly mocking yours at the end

“Sorry” you keep one hand gripping the rope while the other wraps around him, head ducking under his arm “So mean of me”

“Terrible” he quips, charmed. Giving you a quick squeeze before pulling away

“How can you ever forgive me?” you say a little theatrically, trying to hold your giggles

“Help me save Arwen” he states, inspecting the rope before dropping it out of the window

“Arwen?” you inquire with a smirk, beginning to lower the basket while Remus pokes his head out the window

“Cute right?”

“Yeah, super cute. Very lord of the rings” you say sweetly, movements haulting as you realise “You already…”

“Bit lower bun…sorry” he interrupts before apologising for the intrusion

You do as he says “That better?” he nods hand curling behind him to signal you to keep going “You already named her?” you ask, continuing lowering it until Remus holds up his hand to stop

“Perfect” he comments clearly watching for Arwen climbing in “Yeah course” he smiles to himself “Bunny?” he calls, tone raising at the end

“Yeah?” you copy it

“You like cats, right?” he asks and you smile, already knowing where he’s going with this

“You want to keep her, don’t you?” 

He blushes, head turning to look at you “Little bit” he admits “Can we?” his eyes turn puppy like, that innocent look paired with those honey eyes is guaranteed a yes and he knows it

“As long as she wants to” you say and his eyes light up, a huge smile taking over his face

“I love you” he declares looking directly into your eyes

Your heart flutters, you know he means it in a I love that you accept how weird I am kind of way but you can't help but tease just a bit

“Because I'm letting you keep the cat?”

“No" he matches your teasing "Oh she’s in” his eyes flick back down, noticing Arwen getting in and he bounces a little on his feet 

Merlin he was so cute

“Rem can you…” you don’t need to finish, he’s alright moving behind you to help “Thanks” you say, slowly pulling up your new fur baby

He kisses your temple “Always” you can feel his smile, cheek settling at the top of your head

“How did you scare her by the way?”

“Ugh” now you can feel his cheeks going pink, the heat radiating off them “I was singing to bowie when I was coming out of the bathroom…with my hair still a little wet and pushed up at the front to pretend I was him and that seemed to scare her” he confesses, needlessly adding the extra details

You press your lips together, holding back your laugh at how cute he is

“Wow...even cats need a warning label for when you're around” you eventually say after composing yourself

“Ha ha” he says nudging his head into yours slightly, more than used to the joke by now

The first time you said it accidently freaked him out, causing him to jump up from your cuddly position ranting about how you knew and leaving you baffled

Let’s just say it wasn’t the way Remus meant to reveal his lycanthropy. Luckily over the years he was able to laugh about it, the term and joke of him needing a warning label used from then as a term of endearment. A way of letting him know how cute and funny you through his chaotic nature was

“I love you too by the way…just in case you didn’t know by now” you tell him, a quaint little smile on your face at you look up and around at him

The smile he wears is beautiful, even after all the countless I love yous it still gets him every time

“Had no clue…maybe you should tell me again” his smile shifts cheeky, one eye on you and the other for the basket

“I love you” you repeat

“One more” 

“I love you dummy” you giggle through it

His mouth drops open “Rude” he scoffs with a little smile

“I love you?” you make it up, words timid and like a question yet somehow firm

He looks at you for a moment

“Forgiven” he says placing a kiss to your nose and forehead before adding a quick "And I love you more"

Your attempt at arguing that he was wrong, that you in fact loved him more, was cut off when the basket appears with the cutest ball of fur poking her head out of it

Yeah...you were definitely keeping the cat

Thank you for reading 💛

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

Snow Day (An Alcina x Reader Fanfic)

“Found you!” You jump with a start as Cassandra grabs you by the shoulder. You glare at her. “Congrats on finding me, but was the scythe at my throat really necessary?” you ask as she took the aforementioned weapon away from your throat.

Cassandra pouts. “You’re no fun, Maman!” She links your arm playfully and led you down the hall. “Now we just need to find Daniela! Nerd’s probably in the library, reading Wuthering Heights for the 50th time.”

It was a beautiful winter’s day at Castle Dimitrescu. Your wife Alcina Dimitrescu had braved the snowy weather to check on some deliveries. While she was gone, it was up to you to entertain your adopted daughters.

So naturally, you had to play Hide and Seek.

You had already found Bela hiding behind the portrait of her mother in the atelier. Now all that was left was to find Daniela.

“We should split up,” you say. “We can cover more ground that way.”

Cassandra grins manically. “Good idea! We’ll make a hunter out of you yet! I’ll go check the east wing, you go for the west!” With that, she vanished in a swirl of flies.

You head down the hall, glancing behind suits of armor and objets d’art to search for your youngest. Suddenly, you see a glimpse of red hair peeking out from behind the velour curtains. Not a very good hiding place. Surely she’d read Hamlet enough times to know that.

You sneak up behind her, intending to get back at her for the amount of times she’s scared you by jumping out at you in the hallways. As you get closer, you see her looking out over the village. A group of children are in the midst of a snowball fight, squealing as they run over the breast of the new-fallen snow to avoid the frosty missiles being pelted at them. You see from Daniela’s profile a wistful expression has clouded her features.

“Daniela?” you ask gently. She whirls from the window and begins wiping furiously at her eyes.

She turns to face you and beams, her wistful expression vanishing as if it had never been there in the first place. “Oh, there you are Maman! Sorry, I guess I just got a little distracted!” She looked back at the window, where the children’s mother was ushering the little combatants inside, probably for a cup of hot chocolate. “I guess that’s everyone! Can we go for another round, Maman? You found me last, so that means I get to count this time!”

You smile indulgently at your youngest. “Of course, love.”

*****

Later that evening, you and your wife Alcina are lying in bed together, basking in the afterglow after having made love. Your head is on her chest, your body nestled comfortably in the curve of her hip. She runs a hand through your hair. “You’re getting that faraway look in your eyes again, draga mea,” Alcina says, kissing your bare shoulder. “A lei for your thoughts?”

You turn to face her and she rests a hand on your waist. “While you were gone, the girls and I were entertaining ourselves by playing a round of hide-and-seek,” you explain. “When I found Daniela she was staring out the window...at a group of children playing in the snow.”

Alcina’s aureate eyes cloud over and a pained expression crosses her face. “Oh,” Alcina says quietly. “I see.”

She looks away quickly and when you turn her face towards yours, you find her eyes are brimming with tears.

“What is it darling?” you ask gently. “Talk to me.”

“It was the winter after I first took the girls into Castle Dimitrescu,” Alcina begins to explain. “There was a blizzard the night before and Bela and Cassandra came to me suddenly in my office and told me they couldn’t find Daniela anywhere. Daniela and I had had an argument the night before when I told her it was too dangerous to play in the snow. When the girls came to me, I immediately knew what she had done.”

Alcina takes a shuddering breath before continuing. “I bade the girls to stay inside while I searched for Daniela. It was still snowing pretty hard by the time I went outside. I could hardly see ten feet in front of me, the snow was so thick. I tripped over something and when I looked down, I saw her.” Alcina’s voice began to grow thick. “My Daniela. My baby. Lying facedown on the ground. Right next to the snowman she had built.”

You run a hand along her back, tracing your fingers over her spinal column to help calm her down. “It’s all right, my love. You don’t need to tell me any more if it’s too painful.”

“No, dearest, it’s all right,” Alcina says, smiling weakly before going on. “I picked up Daniela and rushed her inside as quickly as I could. I piled blanket after blanket on top of her and ordered the maids to make a fire. But she was so still and her body was like ice, her lips a pale blue.” Alcina sobs. “I thought I had lost her until she suddenly leapt up in my arms. And when she came back, she was so happy. She couldn’t wait to tell me all about the snowman she had made.

“I don’t think I remember being so angry. I shook her hard, telling her to never do that to me again. I wanted to make her realize how dangerous it was for her to go outside, but when she looked at me again, I saw fear in her eyes of me. For a moment, my own daughter was afraid of me.”

Alcina’s body is heaving with sobs and you take her in your arms, kissing her brow before resting your chin on top of her head. “Darling, that was so long ago. You and Daniela have long made amends since then.”

“I know,” Alcina says, as you lift her face up and gently wipe the tears from her eyes. “But every winter since then I get this pain in my chest when it starts to snow because I know how badly Daniela wants to go outside. I know Cassandra and Bela feel it too.”

You think for a minute and then suddenly an idea comes to you. You put on a dressing gown and head over to the telephone. Alcina sits up as you turn the rotary dial. “Darling, what are you doing?” she asks.

You hold up a finger to tell her to wait. The line connects and you hear a soft voice say, “Pronto?”

“Donna! Bona sera. Listen, I was wondering if you could help me with something…"

*****

“Can I open my eyes yet, Maman?’

“Not yet, dearest,” you say as you guide Daniela along down the hall, her eyes covered by a blindfold. ”Just a couple more steps and we’ll be there.”

You look behind you and your other daughters have similar blindfolds on, hanging on Alcina’s arms for support. Alcina looks up at you and gives you an encouraging smile.

“Maman, you know I hate surprises,” Cassandra complained.

“Just be patient,” you chide. You come to a stop in front of the library doors. Gently taking Daniela’s hands in yours, you have her push open the double doors. Alcina herds the rest of your children inside and the doors close behind you.

You and Alcina take the blindfolds off your daughters and you hear Daniela gasp and clap her hands together in delight.

Donna has truly outdone herself. The library has been transformed into a wintery landscape. Big fluffy snowflakes pour down from the skylight although it is closed for obvious reasons. In the middle of the dais, there is a skating rink.

You are surprised to see Moreau and Heisenberg there too along with Donna and Angie. “Well, we knew how much this would mean to the girls, so we wanted to be here to see their reaction,” Heisenberg said with a grin.

You stand to the side and lean your head against Alcina’s side as you take in the scene around you. Daniela is happily making a snowman with Moreau and the fish-man proudly sticks a fisherman’s cap on top of its head. Cassandra and Heisenberg are in the process of making some heavily ramparted snow forts. Bela takes Donna’s hand and leads her to the ice rink. Donna is nervous at first but Bela gently guides her along the ring hand in hand until she feels comfortable enough to skate on her own. Angie, in the meantime, is skillfully doing triple axles seemingly without any effort. Honestly, nothing about that doll surprises you anymore.

Alcina takes your hand in hers and kisses the back of your hand. “Thank you, my darling,” she murmurs against your knuckles.

You smile up at her. “You’re welcome, my-”

The moment is interrupted when a snowball hits Alcina on the shoulder. Alcina whirls around and you are not the least bit surprised to see Hesenberg doubled over with laughter.

Alcina’s thunderous expression softens and she simply gives Heisenberg a smirk. She then reaches down and forms a snowball of her own. Heisenberg realizes the grave error he has made when Alcina straightens and lobs the missile at him. It hits him straight in the stomach and he drops like a stone to the ground.

You glare at Alcina. “Well, he started it!” Alcina says defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

Donna soon starts getting a headache from the effort of holding the image of the illusory snowscape and the other Lords have to leave as well. Daniela surprises the dollmaker by giving her a big hug before she leaves. By the time the door closes behind her, the library is reverted to the way it was before. You turn to your daughters and see they are happy, but tired from the snow day.

Alcina smiles at you and takes a book from one of the shelves. She settles down in her favorite wing-back armchair in front of the fire and the girls gather on the floor around her. You settle yourself in her lap and kiss her cheek as she opens the book and starts to read. “One morning Peter woke up and looked at his window. Snow had fallen during the night. It covered everything as far as he could see…”