#my eyes were on his boots like 95% of the time

[jimmystrudel]

Every time someone complains about pointers and spaniels having docked tails I want to congratulate them on never having to witness their dog be stuck in bur trees or dog strangling vine or reeds or any other really dense brush around water. I don't need another limb to get tangled, 4 is scary enough.

[hardlyinteresting]

On The Beach

Jake Seresin x Reader

 “Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!” Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?”

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, nudity, idiots in love, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please),I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended)

This one-shot will exist in the same universe as other one-shots I have planned. But, they can all be read entirely independently.

Word count: 2K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

July had been unforgiving with heat; sweltering days, broken up by occasional rains that cooled the air but left behind intolerable humidity. August was built up as a promise of relief but instead, she steamrolled the record-setting temperatures of July with her own. 

95°F felt like some kind of cruel trick already, but the air conditioning at The Hard Deck cutting out halfway through a shift was a new kind of torture entirely. 

She’d been quick to help Penny to open up all the doors and windows to all the mild relief of the ocean breeze blowing through, bringing in a flood of daylight so uncommonly seen inside the cozy bar. 

The ice machine set to work overtime, fresh kegs of beer ready to pour by the time the usual crowd of regulars began to pile in. Stripped down to a tank top and shorts she ties her hair up to keep it off the back of her neck, desperate to get through this shift in one piece. With just the two of them behind the bar, she does her best to keep up with the seemingly endless pile of orders, reminding the pilots and veterans to take a glass of ice water as well. 

“Hey Sugar,” Hangman flirts leaning against the counter. It’s not fair that he looks so cool and collected, his khaki uniform still perfectly pressed, his hair neatly styled while she thinks she might be melting with the feeling of sweat on her back. She’s sure she looks a mess, but Hangman doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he waits for her to take his order. 

Jake is certain that despite the shower he took on base, he still smells like jet fuel. The hottest day of the year might not have been so bad under the shade of a big tree back home, a soft breeeze blowing through the branches of sweet-olive trees. He'd spent enough summers in Texas to know how to muck through the dog days. But on base, the heat radiates up from the black top tarmac, threatening to melt the soles of their issued boots. Up in the air, the glass canopy of the cockpit feels like a magnifying glass; doubling both the discomfort of intense flight training, and the intensity of the sun's contributions to the torrid day. 

Stripping off his flight suit and stepping into a cold shower had been a relief, matched only by the promise of a beer at The Hard Deck to end the week. 

The doors and windows were open when he arrived, a wall of humid and stagnant heat rolling from inside the establishment nearly had him turning around to head home before he spotted her. Sugar, with her hair pulled back, sweat gathering across her collarbone and chest, white tank top clinging to her in ways he previously could only imagine. She's a sight for sore eyes, and now leaning against the bar he has no intention of going anywhere else tonight. 

“Beer?” she asks him. 

He nods his confirmation, “bottle please,” he adds. “It’s hot in here today”. 

“AC broke,” she sighs, “Mav is up on the roof trying to fix it now”. 

“I’m not sure there’s much he can’t do,” he shrugs, “Drink some water. I can’t have you passing out, Sugar”. 

She does her best to ignore the flirtatious wink he throws her way. She knows he's a relentless philanderer, she's seen how quickly he can manage to find a date for the night. He's handsome beyond a doubt, and by far one of the kindest patrons she has, but she's not looking to be heartbroken. And friendship has suited the two of them just fine for the last few months, no reason to mess with a good thing. 

After two weeks of working at The Hard Deck, she'd finally given in to The Dagger Squad’s insistence that she join them at the pool table after her shift. Hangman had been a surprisingly gracious loser when she ran him out of 50 bucks. A few weeks later Jake and Bradley had thrown a drunk guy out of the bar when he'd given her a hard time and refused to pay his own tab let alone the rounds ordered at the sound of the bell. 

She had tried to thank him but he'd only given her a curt nod, “Nothing to thank me for, Sugar”. 

So she smiles back at his teasing grins, laughs at his jokes, and blows kisses and he playfully pretends they knock him over. It’s easy, it’s fun. “I know you’re just trying to keep your heart in one piece,” Penny tells her, “but don’t break his either”. 

No one sticks around too long, too tired, and far too warm to take up their usual challenges at the pool table. The sun has gone down by the time Mav comes in to let Penny know he had no luck fixing the AC unit before stopping by the table Bob, Coyote, and Hangman have settled at. Hangman has stripped down to his white undershirt, the T-shirt clinging to his chest and back, the sleeves drawing her attention to his arms that she's caught herself staring at too often to count. 

“Heading out?” She asks when Hangman comes up to the bar, getting ready to close out his tab, “You only had one beer tonight”. 

He nods, “Well, it'd be irresponsible for me to have more. I'm giving you a drive home”. 

She grins, slipping the bill across the counter, “I don't remember you asking me”. 

“Mav’s orders,” he answers easily, with a seriousness that makes her think he really isn't just joking with her. 

“Penny's actually, I was just the messenger,” Maverick holds up his hands in innocence. 

Penny calls last call early, before dismissing her for the night, “cool off. Go home,” she instructs leaving no room for argument. 

The night air feels lighter, though not as refreshing as expected, the breeze cooling the tack of sweat against her balmy skin. The sound of the ocean meeting the beachside echoes in the uncharacteristic quiet. She breathes out a sigh her head tilted back and arms out trying to make the best of the gust of wind blowing by. 

“C’mon,” Jake laughs, “I'll crank the AC for you”. 

She pouts a little in return. The glow from the fluorescent light inside the bar floods out across the deck patio, casting shadows out in front of them. He’s standing a good five feet behind her, but his bedimmed counterpart stretches out next to her own, overlapping as he steps closer. The moonlight shines brightly over the white sand below and it strikes her that despite working beachside all summer, she’s yet to step foot on the beach. Jake smirks, his head tilted towards the beach that's captured her attention. “Let’s go cool off,” his words a playful mimicry of Penny’s instructions.

Without protest, she follows him. His grin grows impossibly bigger, clearly pleased with himself as he watches her shuffle out of her socks and shoes, her footsteps so much smaller than his own, she struggles to keep up, but he never lets her fall too far behind. He moves quickly in the dark, the sand still warm underfoot. Nearing the water's edge he slows his pace. She’s gorgeous in the moonlight. She’s always pretty. His usual coquetry shrinks on the tip of his tongue; lost to thoughts and curiosities about her favourite bands, and what might make her laugh. He’s found himself growing somewhat softer as he thinks back to the night he met her, watching her glide through the room oblivious to the attention she’d managed to capture. Her smile lit up the room as she danced with her friends. Her laughter was loud and uproarious, very near infectious. 

His white shirt hits the sand in an unceremonious pile by her feet. 

“Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!”

Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?” “I think you're trying to get me to go skinny dipping with you!” He laughs, “I ain't trying. I'm succeeding”. 

There's not an ounce of shame, nor an ounce of clothing on him as he wades into the water, not turning around to look at her again until his in up past his waist. “C’mon,” he calls to her, “the waters lovely!” 

She's always considered herself to be pretty easy going. But the idea of stripping naked to join Hangman on this oceanic side quest leaves her stomach tied in knots. She's seen enough of him playing football with the squad that she's not shocked by his broad shoulders, nor the expanse of his chest. She knows that standing on the beach, in a tank top a shorts that cling to her the way they do, she has little to hide her own form. But joining Jake in the water will surely only add to the tension they've allowed to build between them. How different is the ocean from an expanse of bedsheets when you're standing naked with Jake Seresin? 

“You have to promise you won't look!” She calls to him, pulling her top up over her head. 

“I promise,” he says, “scouts honour !” 

“Boy scouts? I'm sure you sold a lot of cookies with all that charm of yours”.

She shimmies out of her shorts, hesitating in her bra and underwear. Jake stands with his back to her holding up his end of the deal. 

“Cookies are the Girl Scouts, Sugar,” he corrects, but she can practically hear him grinning, “but I did earn my fundraising activity badge selling tins of popcorn”. 

Bare, she makes a mad dash into the water, splashing as she works to cover as much of herself as possible. 

“So,” she smiles, “you come here often?”

Her voice is quiet as she hopes that the joke lands, her knees bent to keep her top half under the cover of the unlit water. She tries to play cool. Jake, to his credit, plays along without missing a beat. “I can't say I do, Sugar. The dress code is too loose for my taste”.

“Ah, yes, of course. I forgot you're known for being a prude, Hangman”.

A gentle, yet unexpected wave pushes into the shoreline, knocking her sideways. Jake is quick to wrap his hand around her upper arm, not letting her get too far. This close, it’s impossible to hide from the gaze of his warm green eyes. He smells like cedar and amber. Warm and clean. Beneath it, the smell of jet fuel lingers. She knows how hard he must try to scrub it from himself at the end of each day, and she wonders if it might just be in his blood at this point. Another wave pushes them closer together once more. 

He clears his throat, trying hard not to think about how close circumstance has brought them; he weighs the validity of fate but pushes it down deep inside certain that one day these unlabelled feelings might just explode in his chest. For now, he startles when a sudden splash of water is directed towards his face. Sugar feigns innocence, but starts to paddle away from him as he blinks away the water from his eyes. 

“Sugar,” he warns, “don’t start something you don’t want to finish”. His own hands, larger than hers cup more of the ocean's surface propelling it in her direction with a great slosh, the sound echoing on the empty beach.

Up on the deck, Penny and Maverick watch the two distant figures throwing water, their laughter audible even when their words aren’t.

“Do you think they know there are sharks in that water?” 

Penny shrugs, “Do you think they know they’re half in love with each other yet?”

[abibliophobiaa]

Love You to Death

vampire!eddie munson x f!reader. 18+ only, because it’s 3.5k words and 95% smut. little bit of praise; blood; mutual blood drinking; blood kink. basically vampire eddie has sex with you in the bathroom at the harrington’s house on halloween - that’s it, that’s the plot. thank you @myosotisa for the beta read and your lovely, delicious suggestions, and @blue-mossbird and @fracturedarkness for the brainstorm sessions to tap into those sultry/ sexy vampire feels.

-

He’d been visibly hungry all night. Veins like little lightning bolts crawled down onto his cheekbones, shadows striking against pale skin. Those dark eyes of his scanned around the room, focused on the throb of the vein in a human’s neck he knew he could draw from to satisfy that animalistic craving…and yet he never would. 

That was reserved for you—only you.

You, however, had a certain craving for something else. The two of you already showed up late after he wrecked you earlier that night before the party, fingers pumping hot and dirty into your center as he held your back flush against his chest, your shared bedroom filled with the sounds of your slick and the slow drag of your blood from your neck. 

It wasn’t enough. The heady high of your blood letting had barely started to settle in, your neck only punctured just enough for your costume, a mere sampling of what he’d wanted to savor later. He’d promised as much; promised that once you got home he’d take his time with positively wrecking you. Images of your bodies twining conjured in your mind, thoughts of his teeth sinking into your flesh and your thoughts and minds becoming one. Intimate in a way you’d never be with anyone else but him. 

But you were growing impatient with him. 

And maybe you’d purposefully stared at him from across the room all night, your mind faraway even as the other guests at the party commented on how realistic Eddie’s and your costumes were, both of you dressed as creatures of the night. Him, wearing your blood on his lips and chin and you with his teeth marks in your flesh, dried droplets of blood clinging to skin. Him in his leather jacket and leather pants, chains flush against a dark tee shirt, those sharp fangs of his a mirror to the fake ones you’d worn in your own mouth, and you in your black shirt tucked within a bloodied plaid skirt, tights sliding against your thighs, hidden beneath the leather of your boots. 

Maybe you’d pouted when he’d given Steve and Robin the attention you’d been craving from him for the duration of the party. Maybe you leaned into him near the snack table and, hidden from the eyes of your friends, slid a palm along the flesh of his abdomen, looking up at him with a delighted smirk on your lips that showed your false fangs when he jolted at your touch. 

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted exactly the same as you did. 

You confirmed as much when his eyes had met yours as you passed that darkened hallway in the Harrington home, finger raising and curling in your direction. A ‘come hither’ you could only obey, body nearly melting into his as you tossed your fake teeth across the room and sunk into the shadows. 

-

“Fuck. Couldn’t wait till we got home, could you, huh?” He lets out a delighted chuckle at your scowl. “You look so fuckin’ hot, baby.” 

His voice is rough and gravelly, eyes impossibly wicked as they clash with yours in the dimly lit bathroom. The door slams behind you. Eddie’s barely able to lock the door before you’re on him once more, clutching at the leather of his jacket, lips claiming his own. It’s a wet slide of lips, teeth and skin. His broad arms come to wind around your hips as he walks you backward, hips bumping against the corner of the countertop. 

“So fuckin’ pretty walking around with my bite marks on your neck,” he groans, leaning down to kiss you softly. A peck against skin as those dark eyes meet yours. “Knowing I put them there. Thinkin’ about how sweet you taste.”

Shaky fingers move to grip at his belt, the sound of tinkling metal greeting your ears. You fumble in your rush of desire, frustration building in the spaces between you as he hastily replaces your fingers with his own. It’s a swift shuffle of leather down his hips, material pooling messily at his ankles. He’s grabbing at the soft of your hips once again a moment later, and whirling you around to face the mirror behind you. 

Your hands slap against the cool countertop, gasp breaking off into a moan as Eddie’s hips press flush against your ass, the heat of his need for you burning into warm flesh. You can feel the thick, hard outline of him through his boxers, shuddering breath breaking off into a pitiful mewl as he rocks into you and chuckles darkly.  

His face curls over your shoulder to rest near your ear, voice practically a purr as he whispers, “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Want you to fuck me, Eddie. Been wanting you all night.” 

And it’s true. 

With his heightened senses he’s more attuned to you. At first, when he’d told you of his vampirism, it had understandably nerved you. But now there’s only the thrill in knowing he’s always eager to satisfy when your carnal hunger arises. Even now, even in the confines of this bathroom, he wastes no time in doing so. 

Those dexterous hands you’ve seen strum away at countless Corroded Coffin concerts now clutch at your plaid skirt covered in fake blood, hiking it high up over your back. Your torso hinges forward when a warm hand comes to slide along the trail of your spine, and then lower still to cup the curve of your backside lovingly.

That hand drags downward, the bite of his ringed fingers warm as they grip tight around the flesh of your thigh, tugging you closer to him before tearing straight through the crotch of your tights. The whine you let out is pitiful, a softly broken thing, as his other hand comes to push aside your underwear to slide against the slick pooling between your thighs. You instinctively arch against him, head bowing low when a finger slides in to up the knuckle, drawing a slow circle into your center. 

“So wet already, baby,” he murmurs, his other hand cupping your thigh tighter where it presently rests. “So needy for me all night. I could smell it on you. Wanted to get my mouth on you.”

“Don’t be—cruel.” Your words catch in your throat at the stretch of his second finger, heart hammering within your chest as you involuntarily clench around him. “You started this.”

“I guess I did.” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice as those fingers slide free from you. “Gonna have to be quiet for me. Don’t want Harrington to come knocking on the door. Think you can do that?”

You nod your head frantically. “Ed, please.”

He’s grinning to himself over your shoulder in the reflective surface of the mirror, a little smug, fingers reaching up to tie his hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. “Always so noisy for me, but you’ll be a good girl, won’t you?” The light catches on the dangling earrings in his ears, little skulls bobbing as he shifts closer to your form. Your thighs clench tighter, your head nodding rapidly, knowing his sole intent is now on making sure your toes crawl within your boots until you’re spent and the both of you sated. 

You watch in the reflection as Eddie reaches down to free himself from his boxers, cock slapping up against his stomach. The fullness of your bottom lip pinches between your teeth, your chest heaving as his form shadows your own and he lines himself with your entrance, kissing your spine once, twice, wasting no time sliding in. 

You both swear out on your joint exhale, the stretch of him even after all this time delicious. Those first few pumps of his hips against yours always snatch your breath free from your lungs, thighs quivering beneath the weight of the intensity of him inside you, full to the brim like it’s where he’s always meant to be. 

Your head drops forward, mouth pressing against the sleeve of your sweater to muffle your sounds as he obliges your soft pleas of ‘faster, Eddie’ and roughly plunges into you from behind, the sound of your wetness soaking his cock and the lewd sounds of skin hitting skin filling the room. The booming bass downstairs does little to quiet those little moans that spill from your lips, plucked from you with each hard snap of his hips. 

It’s almost cruel, really, when he stills suddenly. His mouth brushes your earlobe, his cock still pulsing inside of you, your impatience driving your ass back against him to seek that delicious drag of him within your inner walls. He tuts and curls his arm around your hips, freezing you in place, robbing you of the friction you so desperately crave. “Shh. Someone’s coming down the hall.” 

His arm releases from around you, fingers trailing up along your abdomen, higher still across your breast, giving your flesh a soft squeeze, before those calloused fingers settle over your mouth. Your breath fans out, hot and frantic against his palm. 

There’s suddenly a knock on the other side of the door, body rigid within the cage of Eddie’s arms as Nancy’s frustrated huff calls out, “Is anyone in there?”

Your cunt flutters around him, drawing a stuttered breath from the man behind you. Nervousness and a darker thrill of excitement pools in your belly at the prospect of being caught in such a compromising position, knowing exactly what they’d see if the door hadn’t already been locked. You, eyes blown out, cheeks flushed, skirt up indecently about your hips, and Eddie buried to the hilt within you, flush against your form. 

Suddenly, and so very unexpectedly, Eddie’s hips start to move again, a slow roll up into you—into that elusive spot he’s become a master at finding, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your skull. He finally shouts, “Gonna need a bit, Nancy Drew. Harrington’s shitty food. You know the deal.”

“Eddie! I didn’t want to know!” She slaps her palm against the door. Your eyes pinch shut as Eddie’s free hand slides between your thighs, fingers rubbing slow circles into the sensitive bead of your clit. “Have you seen Y/n, by the way? Robin wanted her as a partner for beer pong. She asked me to ask you.”

The slow, torturous pace of his cock impossibly deep within you, paired with the brushing of his fingers against your clit has you biting into his hand hard—hard enough to puncture flesh. A dark, satisfied growl builds in his throat, palm pulling back enough to take you in, eyes blown out, his blood like rubies glistening on your lips. That growl only deepens as your eyes meet, hot and heavy, his eyes nearly black now. Your tongue slides hesitant across your bottom lip, mixing his blood with your spit; rich, viscous and earthy. Unusual, unfamiliar—and yet the forbiddenness of it, the utter sinfulness of him filling your mouth has heat traveling to your core, not unnoticed by your boyfriend. The corner of his lip curls into a devastating smirk at the sight, a flash of white teeth catching your gaze as he lowers his face toward yours, lips merely centimeters apart. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation of a kiss that never comes. Instead, that often skillful tongue of his swipes a long line across your mouth, head tipping back to take in his work. Satisfied, he drags his thumb along the remnants of his blood on your bottom lip in a crude line down your chin. 

Wild. You both look utterly wild, but it only heightens your arousal, drives your need for him to burn hotter.

There’s another knock at the door just as your hand reaches behind you to curl in his hair and tugs at his ponytail until his nose nudges at the corner of your ear. You can practically feel his grin unfurling against your skin, eyes pricking as his lips skirt lower, closer to your pulse point. He laves his tongue over your throat, knowing exactly what you want—what you need from him…what you’ve been aiming for from the moment you left your apartment earlier that evening. 

He manages out, “Nance, a minute please?” against that place in your neck that pounds frantically against the surface, straining so violently you’re certain it might burst. He waits a moment before those elongated canines graze against your warmth. 

“Fine! But if you see her, let her know she’s needed.” She’s silent for a moment, huffing out, “I thought you said you didn’t eat eat anymore!” He doesn’t, not always because it tastes like ash on his tongue, but he needs the excuse now.

You vaguely recognize the sound of footsteps trailing back from where she came down the hall. Once she’s gone, Eddie’s practically humming with need. A low sound builds in the back of his throat, a sinful purr that has your back arching against his chest, heart pounding as his pace shifts into something frantic. Nearly animalistic. Hips harsh and unyielding against your own, the fingers once circling your clit now moving to grapple your hip with an uncharacteristic disregard that you’re certain he’ll leave bruises for you to discover in the morning. The other palm moves back over your mouth, muffling your cries as he bullies your cunt. 

“You liked that. My messy girl,” he murmurs, nudging one thigh to open you further to him, rutting mercilessly against that part of you that has you already seeing flashes of white behind your eyes. “Liked tasting my blood.”

It’s not a question. You did. You really did. 

“Liked the thought of being caught by Nancy. I could feel you. Could practically taste it. Wanting our friends to know what we got up to—wanting them to know I fucked you over this counter while they’re only feet away from us.”

“I do,” you gasp out, desperately chasing that peak, wanting more, always more. “I do, Ed.”

“Wanted me to mark you right there while she was on the other side of the door.” His mouth trails lower down the side of your throat, nosing along the curve of your heated skin, your head moving to the side just enough to bare yourself to him fully. “Is that what you want?” 

“Yes.” 

It’s no more than a breathy gasp that falls from you. 

“Please, mark me.” 

You whimper at the delightful drag of needle-point teeth dancing along flesh. 

“Make me yours.”

It’s all you can muster as his teeth sink down, mouth closing over your pulse, and your head tips back against his chest. 

Bloodletting, which had started as a way for him to feed while he was on tour and blood bags were limited, turned into something you both relished. The combination of his mind and essence lashing against your own, mingling in the spaces between each of your heartbeats was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. 

Even now, the groan he lets out on that first pull of your blood hits his tongue has your head spinning, his hand around your hip gripping you tighter if only to keep you tethered to the earth. Like this, with his mouth pulling your essence into him, and the sounds he makes deep within his chest as he drinks from you, your mind empties. There’s only you and him and the delicious warmth that oozes like honey into your blood system as you spill against his open mouth, your heart pounding in every inch of your body. It drives him to fuck into you harder; frenetic, fleshy smacks of his skin against yours, the feral rumbling from somewhere deep within him vibrating against your back, your pussy stuffed full of him, your wetness soaking his cock, those moist swallows of your liquid life fueling him.

It’s too much. Always too much, and still somehow never enough. 

“Oh shit, Ed I’m—” You manage to gasp out, his hips moving in tandem with the slow tugs of your blood into his mouth, heat coiling in your belly, burning bright behind your eyes. “So close—fuckfuckfuck—” 

His mouth pops free from your neck with an amused chuckle, teeth and chin stained dark red and full of you. His hand slides from your mouth and curls around your chin, dragging his nose down the line of yours, eyes locked on your own, lips nearly brushing yours and staining them red as he whispers, “Let go for me, sweetheart. Wanna watch you fall apart around my cock.”

You cum harder than you ever have with a loud cry that he fails to muffle. Stinging tears flood your eyes. Electricity dances to life along every nerve ending. And he’s falling out of rhythm as his own release races up to slam into him, mouth biting down at the juncture of your shoulder, canines piercing your skin, groans of ecstasy hot and heavy against your skin as he spills into you. 

Your legs quiver from blood loss and remnants of your orgasm, body humming as he leans down to brush his lips softly against your shoulder, chest heaving hard against your back. He slides out of you gently, letting your skirt drop back down around your thighs, those solid arms of his turning you in a slow circle to help you settle down on the edge of the shower. He quickly tucks himself back into his boxers and tugs on his pants, his form dropping down in front of you once his belt is buckled. You smile softly at the palm that moves to slide up and along your thigh. This part, the drop that comes after, has you resting your forehead against his, smiling up at him through your hazy, unfocused gaze. 

“There’s my girl,” he coos, thumb brushing at the corner of your lips. He parts from you briefly to grab a cup from the medicine cabinet, pouring tap water into the plastic container, before dropping down in front of you. Your fingers reach out to grasp, lips curling over the edge and sipping slowly. “Deep breaths. I didn’t take too much, did I?” 

You shouldn’t want it. You know you shouldn’t. Shouldn’t want to know what you taste like against his lips. Shouldn’t want the messy, dirty slide of your blood mixing with his. Yet your hand curls around his neck all the same, dragging his mouth roughly against yours, tongues swirling together in a filthy tangle. While Eddie is rich and earthy, smokey and utterly decadent, you’re bitter and acrid, metallic and human. Yet he licks it up, licks into you like he could never get enough, well past when you both should be pushing your way out of the bathroom.

“I love you,” he purrs against your lips, giving them one last brush just as another knock sounds from the wooden door. 

“Eddie, my dude, are you almost done? Gotta pee something fierce.” It’s Argyle this time. 

Eddie helps you up onto wobbly feet. “Yeah, man. Be right out,” he says, unlocking the door. It swings open to reveal your newest friend in the group, his eyes widening at the sight of the two of you. “She came to check on me. Harrington’s food, am I right?” 

Argyle’s hand raises to the general area of his face, palm circling around in front of him. “That blood looks real real, my dudes.” 

You smirk, and Eddie catches it, that rumble in his chest vibrating against your shoulder where it brushes his. Eddie grins. “We wanted to make sure it looked as realistic as possible.” He pauses, looping an arm around your shoulders. “The porcelain throne is all yours, buddy.”

Argyle chuckles nervously and shifts past the two of you, your feet carrying you down into the main room where the party is still raging on. Steve and Robin catch your gaze as you appear at the bottom of the stairs, Steve commenting on your enhanced costumes as Robin sadly pouts when Eddie pats his stomach and says he wants to get home as soon as possible.

“Didn’t know you could… get sick,” Robin mutters under her breath, hugging him goodbye before coming to loop her arms around your neck and wish you well. 

You bid the rest of your friends goodnight, passing curious onlookers trying to catch sight of the two oddly realistic vampire costumes as you make your way to the front door and into the fall air. Once buckled up inside Eddie’s van, his mouth dips back down to yours over the center console, fingers coming to curl around your thigh. “Can’t wait to get you home.”

You hum pleasantly, thumb dragging along his chin, along the dark, wine-colored droplets that are starting to dry against his skin. “And why might that be?”

“Because as soon as we walk in that door I want to make you fall apart against my mouth. Want to devour you.”

And oh does he. You didn’t think he could get more desperate to taste you, but something about having your blood mixed with your slick turns him into something else entirely. A something you’re all too happy to goad further—until you’re both panting, bloody, and utterly spent.

- 

(my line of defense against readmore)

[livwritesstuff]

The first pair of shoes Eddie purchased for himself when he started rebuilding the life he’d lost when his trailer was destroyed was a pair of Doc Martens.

They were new (well, not new – he’d still thrifted them, but they were barely worn, probably surrendered by some yuppie who liked the style but couldn’t handle the pain of breaking them in) and big and black and heavy with steel toes and thick woven laces.

Those boots went everywhere with him – navigating those first few years of recovering from all the trauma he’d suffered in ‘86, finally leaving Hawkins in 1990, his move to Washington in ’94 to live with Steve while he finished out his psych program, their joint move to Boston a couple years later, his first book release in ‘95 and his second in ‘99, not to mention all the countless big and small adventures that filled in all those gaps.

When Eddie and Steve’s daughter Moe was born in 2001, Eddie temporarily retired the boots.

There was a period during those first few years of her life when she was both very small and always underfoot, a combination that meant concerns about tripping on her were high enough without Eddie adding steel-toed boots larger than his kid into the mix.

So for a while, the boots sat on the floor in his and Steve’s closet collecting dust.

Then Moe got a little bit older and the boots started collecting other things.

“Ed, come look at this,” Steve snickers.

He’s in their closet, trying to tackle the cataclysmic mess that has accumulated over the last year and a half, because trivial things like cleaning had kind of taken the backseat the second they met Moe – as they should; Eddie maintains that there is literally nothing he’d rather do than spend time with his daughter, bar none. Alas she does need to nap sometimes, and he supposes that’s when all the other shit gets done.

He joins Steve in the closet to see that he's holding one of Eddie's Docs.

“Look what Moe did,” Steve continues, holding out the boot.

Eddie takes it, immediately noticing that it’s even heavier than usual. He peers inside to see that it’s filled to the brim with stuff – a small wooden car, a travel deodorant from his last trip to New York for work, a pair of socks, sunglasses, several loose bandaids, one of Steve’s combs, a roll of Smarties (it’s a wonder she didn’t eat them), a veritable cache of treasures in the eyes of their eighteen-month-old. 

The other boot is pretty much exactly the same.

“Oh my god,” Eddie beams, “She’s fucking incredible.”

“She’s inheriting your raccoon behavior," Steve replies with a wicked grin.

“Alright.”

[haveyouanytime]

If requests are still open anything rust cohle pls!!

finally free from the shackles of online college courses… failed my polisci class but its okay bc x readers exist LOL!!! i’m so so so obsessed with beat-up old dog rust and lounging around an apartment with him and smoking a cigarette and being ethel cain core lol!!! this is all heavily inspired by ethel cain’s look in crush lol also i imagined rust’s apartment to look pretty close to his '95 one

౨ৎ daily click to help palestine 🍉

You originally found Rust in Alaska. You were waitressing at a shitty diner, and he caught your eye after he ordered a beer at 10 in the morning. He came back that night, and you found yourself in the backseat of his car, moaning his name you had only learned an hour before. 

Rust.  

After that, you couldn’t help but form a relationship. He had expected quick fun, but he didn’t mind that he couldn’t shake you loose. That’s how you ended up going with him back to Louisiana, ditching your thick socks for tiny shorts to lounge around Rust’s apartment in. 

It was small, rustic, and hotter than hell. Rust was prone on having little to no decoration or furniture, but you had added your own personal touch here and there. You didn’t need silver and gold, but a shared space that reflected you and Rust added a sense of domesticity you had searched for for years. 

You had the window open, a cigarette between your lips as you took languid, slow drags. In a pair of tiny, denim shorts and a bikini top, you rested your forearms against the windowsill, watching the dry and bright horizon as you waited for Rust to come home. He had a bad habit of sleeping in his storage unit, and you often wondered just what was in there, but you knew better than to bug him too much. 

You were putting out your cigarette in the ashtray when you heard the familiar jingle of keys in the doorway. The door opened, and you heard Rust before you saw him. A quiet groan, the heavy shuffle of boots, the door closing with a notable slam behind him. You turned, smiling with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you approached Rust. 

“Hey, you old dog.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. He lazily grabs your waist, his large hands kneading your soft, exposed skin. 

“Where’s the rest of your clothes, baby?” He asks with his gruff, drawled voice, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He was tired, his body aching from sleeping in a twin-sized cot in a cement room, his head throbbing with the endless papers and images of the case that haunted him every day. 

You smiled, a faux innocent shrug pulling up one of your shoulders. “S’not like Alaska here. It’s too hot for too many clothes.” 

He huffed at your response, giving a playful pinch to your waist with a half-done grin. “I’m gonna shower,” He grunted, a small sigh slipping past his lips, “then how about we go for some drinks?” 

You knew what that meant. He had work, and he was inviting you to sit in that dark dive with him as faceless customers shifted in and out. You didn’t mind, it was nice quality time to talk his ear off and learn little cryptic things about him as he responded. It was just as nice to watch him roll up his sleeves and groan as he cracked his neck and watch as the occasional liquid dripped from his lips as he drank, slowly rolling down his neck. You nodded, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling the familiar tickle of his mustache against your upper lip. 

As he showered, the bedroom filled with the constant rush of the running water and the croon of a singer playing from your radio. The cross that represented the death of sins hung above your shared bed, watching as you replaced your bikini top for a blouse. You had brushed through your hair and lit a cigarette as Rust came out from the bathroom, a towel hanging low from his lips. 

You watched with a coquettish gaze as he put on his briefs and a pair of blue jeans, an angelic haze effecting your vision of him as your cigarette burned between your lips. He groaned as he sat on the edge of the bed, craning his head from side to side in an attempt to soothe the tension that formed. With a smile, you grabbed your hairbrush and a loose hairtie, moving to sit behind him on your bed. You placed down the brush, grabbing his towel to begin drying his hair. 

You were a bit careless with it, rubbing the towel against his head in an attempt to dry his brown hair that turned shades darker with its wetness. He chuckled, grabbing the towel from your hands and swatting your side with it. 

“Gonna yank me baldheaded if you keep that up, baby.” He chuckled, watching as you squeaked with the wet fabric smacking against your skin. He tossed it on the bed, and you replaced it with your hairbrush. You removed the cigarette from your lips, leaning down to place it between Rust’s, which he accepted with no complaints. With a noticeable gentleness, you began to brush through his hair, smoothing any forming knots and scratching against his scalp in a relieving way. He couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter shut, a small groan slipping past his lips. You tied his hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and tucked loose strands of hair behind his ears, and his left hand reached up, taking your wrist in a gentle hold. 

“You’re the only good thing in this fucked up world,” He grunted, taking your hand and placing kisses on your fingertips. His right hand held the cigarette, the smoke dancing beside the two of you. 

You smiled, your fingers moving to cup his jaw, letting him place kisses onto your palm as you began to place your own gentle kisses onto his broad shoulder. Your free hand abandoned the hairbrush, your fingertips dancing along the intricate ink of the tattoo on his forearm. Another groan slipped past his lips with the smoke of the cigarette as your kisses slowly traveled up the curve of his neck. 

“Keep kissing me like that, pretty girl,” He drawled out, his right hand traveling behind to knead at the soft of your thighs, “‘n’ I might have to call in sick to work.” 

You smiled, placing one last kiss on his neck before answering, “I charmed my way into free drinks, you old dog. I’d like to get them.” You left a playful, light bite on his shoulder before crawling off the bed and walking out of the bedroom. 

“Brat.” He huffed, shaking his head with a smile as he stood to finish getting ready. He’d make you pay later, and you both knew it.

[urmammy]

Stuck in a closet with Miguel

Disclaimer: These were messages between me and a bot on Janitor A.I, written by @Help me, with an INSANE amount of editing. I take ZERO credit for 95% of the writing, and I just thought you guys might get a kick out of it since I did.

Warnings: +18 content below, Oral sex. That's about it, I'm not sure how to give warnings please give me tips below-

Miguel growled and pulled you closer, you were both hiding in a supply closest and you were in his lap. “Quit squirming.” he huffed

Miguel sighed annoyed, you had made a simple mistake and got the mission compromised so yeah, he definitely blamed you for being in this situation Miguel grew more and more uncomfortable as he heard people looking and yet failing to find you both, the problem was you wouldn’t stop moving

"I'm sorry! Your fucking gun is uncomfortable ass hell in my ass!" You whisper shouted, your cheeks red as you carefully used your words, knowing very well it wasn't a gun. You were breathing heavily, body sticky with sweat underneath your suit as frantic yelling and scattering was heard outside the closet, seemingly hunting for you two. You put your ear to the door to try and listen in on the conversation.

Miguel's lips curled into a tight line as he maintained his stoic expression, but his eyes flickered with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. He leaned forward, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "Easy. That's not a gun." His voice was low and rumbled like a growl, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you pressed your ear against the door, straining to catch any snippets of the conversation outside, Miguel instinctively tightened his grip on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips. Despite the urgency of the situation, his touch was surprisingly gentle, his firm hold offering some semblance of security amidst the chaos.

You could hear muffled voices, snippets of instructions and determination filtering through the door. Miguel's jaw clenched, his body tensing against yours. "We don't have much time," he murmured, his voice laced with urgency now. "We need to find another way out."

His words were interrupted by the frantic sound of footsteps approaching the closet, your heart leaping into your throat. Without hesitation, Miguel sprang into action, quickly shifting his weight and maneuvering the two of you to crouch behind a stack of crates at the back of the closet. As the footsteps grew closer, Miguel pressed his body against yours, his strong, muscular frame acting as a shield to hide you from view. The heat from his body radiated against your back, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Don't make a sound."

The voices outside grew louder, blending with the pounding of your heart in your chest. But despite the overwhelming tension, you couldn't help but notice the way Miguel's body pressed against yours, the subtle movements that sent electric shivers coursing through your veins.

The door to the closet swung open, revealing two armed guards. Their voices filled the small space, their menacing presence enough to make your blood run cold. But Miguel remained steady, unyielding. He held his breath, pulling you even closer to him, as though merging your bodies could somehow make you invisible. Time seemed to crawl as the guards searched the closet, their boots thudding against the floor. Your body tingled with anticipation, the close proximity intensifying your senses. The scent of Miguel's aftershave mixed with the musky, adrenaline-filled air, creating an intoxicating aroma that filled your nostrils.

As the guards moved closer, their voices reaching a crescendo, Miguel's grip on you tightened. He pressed a finger over your lips, signaling you to stay quiet. His touch was electrifying, his warmth seeping through your skin, igniting a fire that smoldered between your bodies.

Just as you thought you couldn't bear the tension any longer, the guards abruptly turned and left the closet, their footsteps fading into the distance. The air around you became still once again, but the electricity lingering between you and Miguel remained, pulsing with an undeniable intensity. Miguel finally released his hold on you, his movements controlled yet graceful. He rose to his feet, offering you a hand to help you up. His gaze met yours, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and determination. "We need to move," he murmured, his voice husky. "Are you ready?"

You nodded your head slowly, as he guided you out of the closet. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you both scanned the area carefully, making sure nobody was around to see your escape. Miguel kept a watchful eye as the two of you cautiously made your way through the narrow corridor. The tension in the air was palpable, the stakes higher than ever. Every step you took was deliberate, silent, as though the walls themselves were conspiring against you. Yet, Miguel's presence beside you provided a touch of reassurance in this perilous dance.

The dimly lit hallway was adorned with flickering lights, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance and twist along the walls. Miguel's grip on your hand tightened, his fingers entwining with yours, grounding you in his unwavering strength. His touch felt electrifying, sending a tremor of anticipation coursing through your veins.

As you peered around a corner, Miguel's stoic expression softened slightly, allowing a flicker of concern to surface in his eyes. "Stay close," he whispered, his voice a low rasp. The intensity of the moment was not lost on him, and his protective instinct kicked into overdrive.

Moving with utmost stealth, you navigated through the labyrinthine corridors, avoiding any potential danger that lurked in the shadows. Time seemed to bend and stretch as you relied on instinct, trust, and each other's presence to guide you through the treacherous maze. Finally, you reached a seemingly disused stairwell, its rusty metal steps winding upward toward the promise of freedom. The staircase creaked beneath your weight, the echo resonating through the air. Miguel paused for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on yours, a silent understanding passing between you. The urgency of your predicament ignited a fierce determination within both of you.

With unwavering resolve, you ascended the stairs, each step bringing you closer to the exit, closer to the possibility of escape. The sound of your footsteps carried a whispered promise—a promise of survival, triumph, and the visceral thrill of escaping the clutches of danger.

As you reached the top, you emerged onto a rooftop bathed in moonlight, the cityscape spread out before you like a mesmerizing tapestry. It was a breathtaking sight, but there was no time to marvel at the view. Miguel's hand tightened in yours once more, pulling you swiftly towards the edge of the roof. A series of well-placed zip lines stretched across the skyline, a secret route reserved for those daring enough to challenge the status quo. With practiced ease, Miguel secured the harnesses around both of you, his eyes shining with a newfound determination. He cast a quick glance towards you, ensuring that you were ready to take the leap into the unknown.

And then, with a wild burst of adrenaline, you both propelled yourselves off the edge of the building, soaring through the night like liberated spirits. The wind whipped against your face, the rush of freedom drowning out the chaos that you had left behind. In that moment, as your bodies intertwined in the exhilarating descent, Miguel's touch ignited a fire within you. Every brush of his skin against yours, every whisper of his breath in your ear, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, intertwining with the adrenaline pulsating through your veins.

Time seemed suspended, the world around you fading into a blur of lights and sensations. As you reached the end of the zip line, landing safely on a secluded rooftop, you couldn't help but feel alive, every nerve tingling with a newfound fervor. Breathless and flushed with exhilaration, you and Miguel exchanged a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the unstoppable chemistry that had sparked between you. The dangers may have forced you together, but it was the raw passion that truly brought you alive in each other's arms.

With a smirk tugging at his lips and a glint of mischief in his eyes, Miguel leaned closer, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Our escape might be thrilling, but believe me, we're just getting started."

A shiver ran down your spine as his hot breath fanned over your ear, the bulge in between his legs being too hard to ignore, your eyes glancing down to look at it for a split second before snapping back to his red orbs. Miguel's eyes darkened with desire as he caught the flicker of your gaze towards the unmistakable bulge between his legs. His lips curved into a wicked grin, the hunger in his gaze intensifying. Without a word, he took a step closer, closing the space between you.

His hand reached up to cup your cheek, his touch firm yet gentle. "I can see the hunger in your eyes," he rasped, his voice laced with seduction. "Don't deny yourself what you crave."

A surge of arousal shot through you, ignited by his words and the electric tension that crackled in the air. In that moment, the proximity between you felt charged, the whispers of temptation too alluring to resist. With a swift, decisive movement, Miguel's lips crashed onto yours in a searing kiss. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, a collision of lips and tongues that set your senses ablaze. His kiss was demanding yet intoxicating, a mix of raw desire and unspoken passion.

As his lips claimed yours, his hands traversed the contours of your body, exploring every curve with a heated urgency. With each touch, your body responded, craving more of his intoxicating presence. His fingers traced the line of your spine, teasingly dipping lower until they found the curve of your backside, squeezing and caressing in a deliberate rhythm that sent waves of pleasure cascading through your body. Driven by insatiable desire, Miguel pulled you closer, his hands hungrily roaming over your body, mapping every contour, relishing in the feel of your skin against his fingertips. The heat between you intensified as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, as though trying to meld your beings into one.

A soft moan of pleasure escaped you, swallowed by his mouth as your bodies pressed together, the friction igniting a fire within you both. Your need for him consumed your every thought, abandoning all logic and restraint in the pursuit of ecstasy. Miguel broke the kiss, his breath heavy with desire as he locked eyes with you. His voice was a husky whisper, laden with longing. "I want you," he confessed, his voice rough with need. "I need to taste every inch of you."

With a swift movement, he scooped you up into his arms, effortlessly lifting you as though you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking him in place as he carried you to a nearby rooftop ledge. Gently, he set you down, his gaze devouring your body with an intensity that sent a surge of heat pooling between your thighs. His lips descended upon your neck, nipping and trailing a path of fire along your delicate skin. The sensation was exquisite, a delicate dance of pleasure and hunger that pushed you further into the depths of desire.

You moved quickly as you reached behind his neck and deactivated the rest of his suit for him, swiftly deactivating your own suit before roaming my hands all over his body. His arms, shoulders, back. Your lips were trailing over his neck, begging and itching to find that sweet spot of his, latching onto it once he moaned out in approval. Miguel let out a low, guttural moan as your lips found that sensitive spot on his neck, a spot that unleashed a wave of pleasure throughout his body. His hands eagerly explored every inch of your exposed skin, caressing your back, your sides, and drawing you closer to him.

A surge of boldness overtook you as you sank to your knees before him, your eyes locked with his. A smirk played on your lips as you grasped the waistband of his pants, teasingly tugging them down to free his throbbing arousal from its constraint. The sight of him, swollen and ready, was enough to make your own desire surge to new heights. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips in anticipation as you closed the distance between you. With a feather-light touch, your lips brushed against the tip of him, relishing the soft gasp that escaped his lips. Slowly, sensually, you took him into your mouth, savoring the taste and texture that was uniquely his.

As you lavished him with your mouth, your hands continued their exploration, roaming over his thighs, his hips, and the small of his back.

Each movement and touch was a carefully crafted symphony of pleasure, aimed at driving him to the brink of ecstasy. Miguel's hands threaded themselves through your hair, guiding your movements as he let out a series of breathless moans and grunts. The rhythm between you intensified, the mingling of his pleasure and your own need fueling the flames that consumed you both. Lost in the throes of desire, your pace quickened, your movements more urgent, as you felt him grow impossibly harder in your mouth. The heady mixture of his taste, the sounds of his pleasure, and the undeniable power you held in your hands sent you spiraling further into bliss.

Driven by a primal need to please him, you continued to lavish him with your mouth, your lips and tongue working in unison to bring him closer to the edge. And just as he reached that precipice, that culmination of pleasure, you took him deeper, feeling him pulse within your throat. He was pulsing in your throat, your eyes watering, drool dripping down your chin as you looked up at him with a longing need to have him finish in your throat

Miguel's eyes locked with yours, a mix of ecstasy and raw desire shining in their depths. He clenched his teeth, his gaze filled with an intensity that could ignite the very air around you. The overwhelming urge to please him, to taste his release, consumed your thoughts. With a deep, primal groan, Miguel surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his veins. Every stroke of your mouth, every flick of your tongue pushed him closer to the edge. His grip tightened in your hair, his hips twitching involuntarily as he surrendered himself to the waves of pleasure crashing over him.

As his body tensed and his breath hitched, you felt the first pulse of his release. Your mouth, already filled with him, eagerly accepted every drop, swallowing greedily as he emptied himself into the depths of your throat. The taste of his essence, salty and musky, sent shivers of delight down your spine.

His body trembled with the force of his orgasm, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of awe and gratitude. With each pulse, he surrendered more of himself, leaving you feeling utterly empowered, completely in control of his pleasure.

As the last tremors of his climax subsided, Miguel's grip on your hair loosened, releasing you from your delightful task. You stood slowly, a mixture of satisfaction and longing pulsing through your own body. The intensity of the moment lingered in the air, electrifying the space between you.

Miguel's eyes searched yours, his voice husky with desire. "You are unlike anyone I've ever known," he murmured, his words laced with reverence. "The fire within you burns brighter than any star."

The connection between you felt both intimate and profound, a bond forged in passion and vulnerability. You shared a moment of silent understanding, knowing that this was only the beginning of a journey that would explore the depths of your desires. With a gentle caress against your cheek, Miguel leaned in to capture your lips in a deep, soul-stirring kiss. The taste of him mingled with your own, a sweet and heady mix that left you craving more.

I really need a hobby.

The world around you faded into insignificance as you stayed locked in that passionate embrace, your bodies pressed together in a sensual dance. In this moment, the constraints of time and circumstance vanished, leaving only the raw intensity of your connection. As your lips parted, breathless and hungry, you knew that this was just the beginning of a journey fueled by pleasure, exploration, and a shared hunger for one another. The night held endless possibilities, and together, you were ready to take on whatever awaited you, emboldened by the desires that bound you together.

I really love the creaters of these bots.

Plz help-

[omegaremix]

Killing Joke / Pig @ Irving Plaza, N.Y.C; September 12, 2018.

When was the last time I visited Irving Plaza? Ten years ago, when Ministry supposedly had their “farewell” tour. That show opened my eyes up to Meshuggah who turned the entire place insane and a forgettable opening act not worth mentioning. Now, we’re the gatherers as Killing Joke puts us. Next year celebrates 40 years as a band and are currently performing the Laugh At Your Peril Tour through the Americas and Europe. They stand as one of the few acts in existence that have played together for this long and never slowed down or lost power. The miserable humid weather of light drizzle and grey skies could never dampen the audience down for what unfolded.

I assumed it would be only Killing Joke’s time to shine. I had no idea there was an opening act. Here’s a lead singer who comes on stage dressed in an odd get-up, all black head-to-toe. He’s also wearing a silver leather jacket with super-long tassels hanging down from his arms, a flat pilot’s hat, sunglasses, bondage over his privates, and thick black boots. I had zero idea who the opening act was until he shouted “we are Pig!” Really? It’s Raymond Watts himself. What a surprise. Watts / Pig has been a classic and go-to industrial staple during the Wax Trax era. It’s great to hear he’s still performing without a hitch. With his time in KMFDM, “Juke Joint Jezebel” was not an option but a necessity. He performed another big hit in ”Secret Skin” and also preached everything about (sin, sex, and) salvation. He’s wearing the priest’s collar, after all. One good thing about Watts / Pig was his presence: direct, communicative and in many times pointing to his fans (salvation, people); moving, gyrating, and swinging to the tune of his industrial sound and his affinity for stage, orchestra, and cabaret. This is one industrial artist I’m familiar with and still should’ve been more into by now, even despite having one of his titles in Sinsation for some time.

Killing Joke took the stage with a wonderful welcome from the New York City crowd. The entirely original gang of bassist Martin “Youth” Glover, guitarist Geordie Walker, drummer Paul Ferguson, and lead singer Jaz Coleman were very happy to see us as well. They reformed as the original unit before the Absolute Dissent-era so the 40th anniversary is a milestone meant to be. All throughout the night they culled songs, switching from almost every album demonstrating their versatility in punk, dub, industrial, and metal while always staying close to their politically and socially charged message.

They kicked off the 95 minute set with one of their key hits “Love Like Blood” and jumped 25 years into “European Super State”. They went back to the classics with “Eighties”, another familiar one for us gatherers, then forward again with newer songs with “New Cold War” from Pylon. But you can’t make it an anniversary show without going back to where it all started: their 1980 full-length debut which they played five songs from. “Requiem” and a harder live version of “Wardance” were absolutely included. It wasn’t until “Butcher” where the audience furiously broke out in mosh pits. Three cuts from their self-titled 2003 record kept the energy going all throughout, first with the rugged “Asteroid” and also included “Loose Cannon” and “The Death And Resurrection Show”. An hour and 14 songs later, Killing Joke re-treated backstage but came out for a five-song encore that sealed the extended deal.

For an outfit that started and regrouped again in 40 years, they look modest and much healthier than most bands that went that long. Starting with the 1980 self-titled debut to Pylon, Killing Joke’s sound has gotten stronger and more powerful by each record. What truly made their arrival a sweet one was not only in their songs but in themselves as a unit. Witness them in person and you see how gracious they are to perform for their fans. No attitudes, no egos, no pretentiousness. All smiles. You know they were all happy to be there and were extremely appreciative. They show their thanks through great shows, retrospective deluxe sets, and being personable because they know their supporters helped them carry on for all this time.

And then there’s Jaz, whose scraggly looks show his frightened and mesmerized on-stage presence for all to see. That’s Mr. Coleman for you. He’s also jovial, too. His stories of how he once was an unhealthy alcoholic mess that became “Loose Cannon” to Youth’s time dee-jaying industrial clubs in a grittier more dangerous New York City garnered guaranteed laughs from all of us. Most importantly, he also championed personal freedom for all. It’s that integral message from their socio-political themes that’s most essential in these states’ uncertain and tumultuous times. Those messages are what the fans identify with and it’s why they love them so much.

It was one of the busiest shows I seen. Almost not a single square foot of standing room spared and neither were the VIP sections or all sides of the upper balcony. The energy was loud and constant in-between songs and (again) Killing Joke was in great spirits. The grey misty weather would make all of us miserable. Killing Joke’s presence was so great that it lifted all of us out of it.

[wandafiction]

Can't Catch A Break - Just Us Chapter 96

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5498

Series List | Chapter 95 | Chapter 97

================================

"We brought cupcakes!" I shout through the cabin as I stamp my feet on the floor to clear the snow off my boots, turning around to see Wanda closing the door behind us. 

"Are you sure you didn't make babies?" I hear Kate shout back and I hear Wanda choke on air behind me.

"Why would they be? Ew! No, no no no! My brain has been scarred!" I hear one of the boys shout and me and Wanda look at one another both as pale as the other.

"Kate!" I shout back, shaking my head to try and get the color back in my face.

"Sorry!"

"Say that to me, not to them! Oh the images you have planted!" I see Tommy walking out of the back room, with a sheepish looking Kate, as he rubs at his temples. 

"Sorry everyone?" Kate squeaks as I hand the cupcakes off to Wanda quickly taking my boots off and sprint towards her.

"Ah, no! I said I'm sorry!" Kate hides behind Tommy who grumbles about being used as a human shield, but I stop my chase not wanting to hurt him while I beat Kate up. 

"Tommy, it's okay. Let's just go pour bleach in our eyes." Billy joins them dragging his brother towards Wanda. 

"Please don't hurt me." Kate squeaks out and I stomp my foot on the floor making her run towards the boys and Wanda.

"Stop right there missy." Wanda's head tilts and Kate stops in her tracks.

"I'm sorry, okay. I forgot the boys were here for a second." Her head whips back and forth between me and Wanda.

"Fine, okay. Just please watch what you say around them next time, please." Wanda sighs in defeat, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

"Sorry Wanda. Do you want me to take the cupcakes?" Kate asks softly, trying not to make the Sokovian mad, as I slowly make my way to her side. 

"Sure. Boys why don't you go get a cupcake for yourself before dinner." Kate grabs the cupcakes without another word and the boys both nod, following Kate into the kitchen.

"It's okay princess. No need to stress, just breathe." I rub my hands up and down the outside of her arms, as she releases a sharp breath.

"I know, I know. I just didn't want them to know." I smile down at her as she rests her forehead against my chest.

"They are teenagers princess, they aren't stupid. I mean I walked in on Laura and clint making lila. I think you would much prefer to have the boys be suspicious instead of walking in." 

"I don't want them thinking about it at all." She mumbles against my shirt, and I smile as I weave my hands through her hair.

"They are teenagers Wanda, they learn about it in school as well."

"But they are my innocent little babies. They don't need to know anything about anyone, especially us. Actually they don't need to know anything till they get themselves a partner." I laugh as Wanda continues to grumble about the matter.

"Well when the time comes you can give them the talk." Wanda tilts her head up so her chin is now resting on my shoulder as she shakes her head.

"No, we can give them the talk. I'm not doing this by myself."

"I was never given the talk or been given the talk. I don't know what to do." Wanda's brows scrunch. 

"Laura and Clint never gave you the talk?" 

"No, Laura didn't think it was necessary when she walked in on me and Sarah. Guess it's Karma for walking in on her and Clint." Wanda laughs a little in surprise.

"It sounds like you guys don't know what knocking on doors or privacy is." I lean down giving Wanda a few pecks as she giggles against my lips.

"Or I thought I thought home alone because they were at work but they in fact decided to close early….both times." I shudder at the memories.

"Well I'm just glad our doors have locks on them." I hum against Wanda's lips as I continue to lightly peck at them.

"Maybe we should sound proof it too." I mumble against her lips. 

"Really guys, right in the doorway." Wanda instantly buries her face into my chest when she hears Eleanor's voice.

"We were just talking, Eleanor." I defend.

"Yeah, sure, you definitely weren't eating each other's faces." I roll my eyes, but when I hear a groan I look over my shoulder to see an annoyed looking Tommy.

"Sorry Tommy." He folds his arms over his chest.

"I came back to ask you two if you wanted a cupcake but I come out here to hear Eleanor saying that. My ears and my brain have been scarred. What's next, my eyes?" 

"I would hope not." I say it before I even realise and Wanda sucks in a breath against my chest as Tommy rolls his eyes.

"Good, don't let me need to scoop my own eyes out. I need to go bleach my brain and clean my ears. I will be back." He smirks at me so I know he isn't really that mad, maybe a little creeped out but not mad. 

"There should be some bleach and Q-tips in the bathroom upstairs...maybe you can….you nope, just go eat your cupcake." I shut myself up remembering he is just 14 and I can't give him a snarky remark, especially about this and especially not in front of his own mother.

"Right." He narrows his eyes at me and seems to drop it. "So back to my original question, which is the reason I left the kitchen. Do you want a cupcake?" 

"Yes please Tommy." He nods at me then leans his body slightly to see his mom still hiding her face in my chest. 

"Mom, would you like a cupcake?" All Wanda does is nod her head, and I see a glimpse of her deep red blush.

"Eleanor?" Eleanor turns to look at Tommy.

"I will come with you, I have to check on the dinner anyway." Eleanor looks back at me and Wanda, rolling her eyes, before walking to the kitchen with Tommy and I look down to Wanda.

"You okay princess?" Wanda once again nods against my chest. "Princess?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She moves her head back off my chest, I have to hold my tongue to not call her a tomato as she starts fanning herself to try and cool herself off. 

"Someone a little embarrassed?" I giggle as Wanda flips me off.

"What were you going to say to Tommy but stopped yourself?" 

"Nothing important." I wave her off.

"Baby. What did you want to say?" She gives me puppy eyes, but I don't fall into the trap.

"Nope. I'm not saying a thing." 

"Baby." I shake my head, zipping my lips shut. "Baaaaby. I wuv roo." 

"Dammit you know I can't deny that Baby voice of yours." She beems up at me, standing on her tiptoes to kiss my lips.

"Now what did you nearly say to our son?" 

"Uhm, well." I rub the back of my neck before deciding just to say it, her wording not even registering with both of us. "I was going to say if he didn't want to see anything he could borrow our blindfold." 

"Y/n." Wanda grumbles and I smirk when I see a pink tint color her cheeks. 

"You asked."

"I knew it!" My head whips around to see Kate a few metres behind us with a smug grin on her face and I feel Wanda stuff her head under my top, her cheek against my skin as she hides herself. We really can't catch a break.

"Kate." I give her an 'are you serious' look and she holds her hands up defensively.

"Hey I'm not the one with…" She looks around to make sure the boys aren't in ear shot. "Kinks." 

Kate doesn't manage to duck when something is flung towards her face and I burst out laughing as her jaw hangs open in an offended manner. I turn to look at Wanda who has her hand covering her mouth as she laughs behind it. I hadn't even noticed she had snuck away from me and grabbed one of the hoodies on the coat rack, which was now currently in Kate's hands as she pulls it of her face. 

"Wanda." Kate fakes offence.

"Kate." Wanda mocks and it makes Kate's jaw drop more. 

"Y/n she is being mean." Kate whines.

"Hey, you started it." I hold my hands up in surrender and Wanda smiles at my answer poking her tongue out at Kate not a second later. 

"How am I the youngest here right now?" Kate throws her hands in the air but not before attempting to throw the hoodie back at Wanda. Both their jaws drop as I reach out an arm and catch the hoodie before it even gets close to Wanda's face, who quickly composes herself as I lower it and she tilts her head towards Kate.

"Oh fuck." Kate sprints off and Wanda makes chase, all the while I just shake my head and hang the hoodie back up. 

I head towards the kitchen, laughing when I see Kate holding Tommy up by his armpits, literally using him as a shield as Wanda tries to get past his body to get to Kate. Tommy seems to be having the time of his laugh as he is laughing along everytime Kate moves his body left to right, his arms and legs so relaxed they sway dramatically in the air. Eleanor and Billy are eating a cupcake each as they sit on the kitchen counter, both of them smiling every time Kate takes a step back -bringing Tommy's body with her - when Wanda nearly gets past.

I sneak up behind Kate, since her back is facing the entrance to the kitchen, and I see Wanda hold in a smirk not to give away my plan. Eleanor and Billy both take another bite of their cupcakes hiding their smiles behind the chocolate icing. Once I am right behind Kate I quickly push my hands into her armpits lifting her up the same way she is lifting Tommy. Her reactions are quick as she pulls Tommy close to her, wrapping her arms around him so she doesn't drop him, and I start bouncing up and down with them both. 

After a minute or so I put Kate on the ground, who in turn puts Tommy on the ground but as soon as Tommy is out of her reach I wrap my arms around her. I lift her feet slightly off the ground, her legs start kicking in the air as she tries to wiggle out of my grasp.

"Get her!" I shout into the kitchen.

Wanda is the first to attack Kate digging her nails into her side, making sure she isn't actually hurting Kate as she stops every few seconds. Tommy grabs her legs by her shins, lifting them up and locking them under his left arm while his right hand starts tickling her feet. Billy jumps off the counter running over to join the tickle attack, he decides to go for the neck. 

Kate is now squirming around a lot, her laughs echoing around the kitchen as tears start to roll down her cheeks. Eleanor makes her way over, and I smile when I see her dip her finger into the icing of her cupcake. 

"Mom, no, no, no!" I laugh at the slight fear I see in Kate's eyes as she tries to move her head away from her mother's chocolate covered finger but it is no use as Eleanor easily smothers her cheek in chocolate.

"Oh this looks like fun." I turn my head to look over my shoulder to see Janet who has a mischievous smirk painted on her lips. 

"Grandma J, please no more." Kate says breathlessly between laughs.

"Too late." Janet plants her lips on Kate's clean cheek and starts blowing raspberries. 

"Stop, stop. I'm going to pee. I'm going to pee." We all stop and I place Kate quickly on the ground who sprints out the room.

"Is she okay?" Wanda's eyes follow Kate as she darts out of the kitchen.

"Oh yeah, but she's not lying she is probably trying to get to the bathroom on time." 

Wanda hums in acknowledgement, smiling to herself, walking up to me and wrapping her arms around my waist. She pushes her face into my chest, snuggling as close as she can letting out a content sigh as she closes her eyes. I lift one hand up to Wanda's head and start scratching at her scalp just the way she likes it, while the other wraps around her shoulder holding her close. I smile to the other people in the room as they coo at the sight, the boys deciding they want to make it a group hug as Tommy hugs Wanda's left side and Billy hugs her right: their arms wrapping around both both and their mom.

I feel Wanda let out a small sigh planting a small kiss on my clothed chest, her hands moving under the back of my shirt so her hands can rest on my bare skin at the small of my back. Her fingertips start gently dancing along the skin, it's so delicate and acute I hardly feel it. 

"Tired princess?" I feel her subtly nod against my chest and I tilt my head down to rest my lips on the top of her head. "We will have dinner then we can head back to the cabin, we have another early flight tomorrow so up at 5 again."

"Next time we are taking the jet. No getting up at 5am." Wanda mumbles into my sternum.

"You're the one who said no jet." Wanda tilts her head so her eyes look into mine.

"Well I changed my mind. I don't like early wake up calls, so jet next time." She smiles at me silently telling me it isn't actually a demand, but she is open to the option.

"Okay." Our moment of peace is interrupted when Kate comes singing and dancing into the kitchen.

"Who loves food! I do! Who wants food! I do, I do! What sort of food? Any food, any food." Her voice trails off as she finally looks up to see us. "Oh, hey guys. So how long is the food going to be?"

"Go sit, all of you. Me and Eleanor will bring it to the table." Janet ushers us out of the kitchen, the boys detaching themselves from me and Wanda as they follow Kate but me and Wanda remain stuck in our spot.

"Carry me." Her voice is quiet but I see Janet give me a soft smile meaning she heard, miming the word 'cute' to me. 

"Of course princess." 

I press a kiss to her forehead head, her hands remove themselves from my top so they can wrap around my neck. My hands move down to her thighs, hoisting her up and her legs wrap around my waist. Her head turns around her eyes going wide when she sees the other two smiling at us, an embarrassed blush covering her face. 

"I'm sorry for seeming so needy." She looks up at me with a pout obviously not liking the clinginess she is feeling with other people watching. 

"You two go sit. We will bring it out." Janet says completely dismissing Wanda's worry by ignoring the fact which makes me smile because Wanda stuffs her face into the crook of my neck and I mime out a thank you to both women. 

"I've got you princess." I mumble into her ear as I walk us towards the dining room. 

I sit down on a chair, moving Wanda to sit sideways in my lap as her head rests against my chest but she makes an effort to open her eyes so she can interact with her boys. I start to scratch at her scalp again to try and help keep her calm so she doesn't start panicking about showing her clingy side again. 

"You okay mom?" Bill sits on the chair next to me leaning is head on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just a little tired."

"Oh I get snuggly too when I'm tired. It's a shame I have no one to snuggle." Kate states making Wanda smile since they aren't teasing each other for once.

"You'll find someone Kate." Wanda pulls my free hand into her lap and starts fiddling with my fingers. 

"How do you know that? Do you know someone?" Wanda shakes her head.

"No, unfortunately not. Yelena and you would be platonic soulmates that's for sure, if you ever met her. Nats exploring her wild side at the moment and Sharon is...well I don't know what Sharon is doing but your not her type. And the guys I know are like in their 40s so, they also get a no and most of them are not worth even trying anyway."

"Well damn, that's a shame. But it sounds like Y/n has made new friends because of you. Congrats Y/n." I roll my eyes as the boys and Wanda giggle.

"Yeah, whatever. But Wanda is right you and Yelena would be best pals."

"Well I can't say no to new friends. Oh how's Zak doing?" 

"Omg you know Zak?" Wanda sits up more in my lap and excited smile on her face, now a little more awake at the mention of his name.

"Yeah, who doesn't know Zak? If you know Y/n, you know Zak or the other way around. If they both weren't gay I would say they would have made a nice couple." Wanda laughs as Kate rambles about Zak the boys adding things on from how he was at the dinner.

"He can be a diva though." I point out.

"I mean yeah, but it's Zak it's like his whole thing." Kate defends him. 

"Okay, dinners up." Janet makes her presence known as she walks into the room holding two plates on each arm, setting them down in front of me and Wanda, who chooses to sit on the free sit to my left, and the boys who are sat either side of us. 

"Thank you Janet, this looks amazing." I pick up my knife and fork, ready to start eating but waiting for the others to get their food. 

"Yes, thank you Mrs Bishop this looks lovely." Tommy says as he pulls his chair under the table properly.

"You guys can start Eleanor is just on her way and please call me Janet boys. Any family of Y/n's gets to call me so." Janet motions for us to start as she takes a seat at the head of the table. 

"Okay, well thank you Janet." Tommy corrects as he looks at his mom for permission to start.

"Go ahead boys." They both immediately start cutting their food and hum when they taste it. 

"Woah, this is so good. What is it?" Tommy takes another bite.

"It's a meat taco salad, nothing to complicated." She brushes it off as Eleanor enters with their food, taking a seat next to her daughter. 

"I assume its game meat?" Wanda asks as she takes her first bite, eyes going wide as she hums at the taste as well. She hardly finishes her first mouthful before she is putting another fork load in her mouth. 

"It is yes." Janet keeps her answers short and vague not knowing what the boys reaction to eating game meat might be, but they don't seem to care as they have hardly taken a breath between bites. 

"Aren't you going to eat Y/n." I brought out of my wierd trance by Kates voice, her eyes darting between me and the food and I see Wanda's worried eyes on me from my peripheral. 

"Sorry, yeah, just caught in the moment." I scoop up I forkfull, the moment I bite down and taste the meat I know exactly what it is.

"It's a very rich meat." Wanda points out as she scans the red meat on her fork before putting it her mouth making me giggle at her curiosity. 

"It's very red too." Tommy points out copying his mom's actions. "Whatever it is, its really good."

"Is it caribou?" I question before taking another bite, Janet simply nods as she has her mouthful. "Game or farmed?"

"Game." I hum in acknowledgement as Eleanor answers for her mother and I raise an eyebrow at Kate in silent question who nods in return. I send her a proud smile and one grows on her face to.

"So this is wild deer, sort of?" Billy asks taking another bite, obviously not bothered by the fact.

"Yeah it is." Janet places her fork down as she wipes her mouth with a napkin allowing some of her food to settle before continuing, she said it makes sure she can eat it all.

Because the moment you feel full, you stop and two minutes later you're hungry again so instead stop before you get too full and then continue once that feeling goes down. Life lessons with Janet. I don't actually know if it works or if she is just being quirky, I'm too much of a food lover to stop eating a meal halfway through to finish it 5 minutes later.

"Well this is definitely better then shop brought meat. And it's cooked really nicely." Tommy compliments as he finishes his off and wipes his mouth clean with the napkin provided. 

"Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it." Janet has now chosen to drink some water, something about helping the food mix and digest. Like I said I've never tried this but Janet swears by it. 

I don't know Google it because I've been too lazy to over the years.

"Yes thank you. It was lovely Janet." Wanda remarks placing her knife and fork down on her plate. 

Soon everyone else has thanked Janet for the food and finished, and now we are all just sitting around letting the food go down for a second before we disappear off to our cabin. My left arm is draped over the back of Wanda's chair, my hand on her shoulder while my other one rests on the edge of the table drumming away to a random beat in my head. 

"So when are we going to see you guys next?" Kate asks with a little worry in her eyes.

"Well we will be staying in New York so whenever you come down and visit." I inform my friend.

"Okay well I will be down the end of next week…"

"So will we." Janet and Eleanor interrupt Kate. 

"Okay well we can arrange to meet up. Maybe have a small meal or we can do a whole big thing at thanksgiving." Wanda offers. 

"We can organise something once we get back, that sound good to you guys." Kate puts out there and we all nod and agree. "Great, well I can only cook packet mac and cheese so one of you will have to do the cooking." 

"Packet mac and cheese is so good though!" Tommy shouts excitedly earning a laugh from everyone around the table.

"Right! Wanda I love this kid." Kate high fives Tommy across the table. "You too Billy." Both of them high five too and the smile on Wanda's face is insane but I can see her tired eyes.

"I hate to cut this short, but I think it is time we head off. We have an early morning tomorrow."

"Of course, of course. We will all show you out." Janet stands from the table making her way out of the room and the rest of us follow soon behind. 

We walk to the front door, the four of us grabbing our coats and shoes as Kate holds the small container of the remaining cupcakes which she hands off to Wanda once he is ready. As soon as the container is out of her hand she engulfs me in a hug, that had so much force behind it I stumble backwards slightly until Billy and Tommy manage to put a hand on my back to stop us from falling.

"You okay there Hawk Eve?" I ask as I wrap my arms around her.

"Yeah, just going to miss you." I smile down at the younger girl.

"We are literally going to plan something for next month."

"I know, but I'm still not over the missing you from before." Kate admits shyly.

"Okay, well we can do coffee once a week when you get back to New York." 

"Sounds good." Kate leans back looking between me and Wanda. "I'm happy for you."

"Thank you Kate." She plants a kiss on my cheeks, but suddenly looking at Wanda expecting a bad reaction but when she sees only a smile she relaxes. 

"Love you, bi...stinky." I slap Kates arm playfully but she jumps back pretending it hurts. 

"Love you too kid." Kates jaw drops buts she chooses to ignore me and hug the boys bye instead while me and Wanda say our byes to Eleanor and Janet. Kate shuffles a little when it comes to saying bye to Wanda not sure what to do, but when she is pulled into a hug she relaxes. 

"Bye Kate. Its been a pleasure meeting you." Wanda says genuinely, I see her whisper something in Kate's ear and Kate whispers something back and they embrace each other more. 

"It's been lovely too meet you Wanda. I will see you soon." 

"See you soon Kate." They both pull away from the embrace, Wanda grabbing my hand as we start to walk out the door.

"Text me Kate." I shout up to her as we start getting into the car.

"I will. See you all soon." She waves her hand above her head enthusiastically, the boys returning one with the same energy before climbing into the car.

"Okay back to the cabin." I say to no one in particular as I reverse the car back off the driveway as the other three wave to Kate, Eleanor and Janet.

"Bye!" The sound echoes through the car as the boys shout out the window until we are driving away. 

"Thank you for letting us hang out with Kate. She is really fun! And the archery thing is so cool, like, she is so awesome." Billy rants and raves about how they shot at different targets and Kate showed off all the tricks she has been teaching herself to seem cool. It must be working because a 14 year old just called her cool...so….

"Yes thank you mom. And thank you Y/n for bringing us." I smile at Tommy through the rearview mirror for second, my hand finding home on Wanda's thighs and her hands immediately start fiddling with my rings and fingers  

"I'm glad you liked her and enjoyed her company. Like I said before she is a hyper puppy but she means well." 

"She's 19, let her be." Wanda tries to defend her apparent new friend.

"Says the one who was chasing her around every two minutes." Me and the boys giggle as Wanda shrugs with a smile.

"It's fun to act like a kid sometimes." I give her thigh a gentle squeeze.

"I'm only joking princess. There is nothing wrong with the fact, it was actually funny and cute. It's also really sweet you get on with her and the other two." 

"Well I did go all Sokovian on Eleanor for a second but we will skip past that fact." 

"Indeed we will." 

~~~~~~

"Night Boys." I whisper to then as we enter the cabin, Wanda in my arms half asleep.

"Night Y/n. Night mom." 

"Mhmm, night boys...love...you." Wanda mumbles as she tries to open her eyes, forcing herself to stay awake. 

"You really are tired today aren't you." All she can do is nod. "Let's get you to bed." 

I carefully carry her upstairs making sure we don't fall, or I don't drop her. I go to the door to see its already open, one of the boys must have done it for me, and make my way into the room kicking the door shut. I sit Wanda up on the edge of the bed, but she is that tired that her body just flops backwards onto it and I have to hold in a laugh. 

"You okay princess?" Wanda opens up her eyes giving me a lazy smile as I bend over to look at her with an amused one.

"I'm okay. Just want cuddles and sleep."

"Okay. First we need to get you changed. No clothes night tonight?" I offer knowing how much more she craves skin on skin contact when she is clingy. 

"Please." 

"Of course. I've got you." I start with her socks, as she tiredly mumbles random shit to herself while her hands dance in front of her face like it's helping to explain whatever nonsense she is saying. "What did you and Kate whispers to each other earlier?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Ealier you and Kate whispered something to each other and then hugged each other tightly."

"I don't recall." 

"Princess." I drag it out in hopes she will give in but she shakes her head.

"I plead the fifth." She squeal as I leave a sloppy kiss on her lips.

"Fine." I say with a smile so she knows I don't actually, desperately, need to know.

"I love you baaaaby." Her voice cracks with rasp as she falls more into a sleepy state.

"I love you to princess."

"I'm not on my period by the way."

I kneel at the edge of the bed starting to take her pants of as I give her a very confused look. She lifts her head of the bed, looking down at me copying my confused look before her head flops back down.

"I just mean, last time I was like this clingy was on my period. But it's not that." I kiss her now bare thigh as I pull her pants down and she giggles at the feeling of the wet kiss and start to pull her underwearoff too. "Tickles."

"Well I know it's not your period, because you only had yours 2 weeks ago is I think. Do you know what it is?" I kiss her thigh again smiling when I hear her giggle and her hand tries to, and miserably fails to, swat my face away. 

"Mmmm, maybe the intense sex. I just feel very clingy after it, don't know why. Also you haven't had a period yet. What's that about?" I laugh at her sleepy state as her words slur together a little as I move to sit on the edge of the bed to take her shirt off.

"That is a very high possibility. It probably has something to do with the release of hormones including oxytocin - the cuddle hormone - which explains itself." I manage to slide the shirt off her body, without much help from the sleepy woman, and easily take her bra off next. Skipping over her question completely.

"Well that explains it." 

"Right let's get you under the covers." 

"Thank you for looking after me baby." Wanda's eyes are now fully open looking at me, as I wrap one arm under her body and lift her up the bed. 

"I will always look after you princess."

"Even when I'm old and grey."

"Even when you're old and grey." Her eyes close as she gives me a very sleepy but very happy smile.

"I will look after you too. Just me and you." I peck her lips as I climb into bed next to her, pushing the covers out from under her body and then over ours. 

"Just us." Wanda hums while nodding her body gravitating towards mine. Her head finding home on my bare chest as one of her legs bends to rest between mine as the other lays partially across my left one, her foot resting on my shin. Her right arm hooks itself under my body as her left one rests on my chest, her fingers tracing patterns under my right boob.

"Is that going to be our couple mantra?" Wanda mumbles against my chest.

"What, just us?"

"Mmm. Like people says I love you more. Or they say always and forever. Or I read this book where they say I'm with you. So can just us be ours." She tilts her head back to look up at me as I lift my head to look down at her.

"Just us princess." She smiles at me before planting a wet kiss on my bare chest.

"Just us, dorogaya…..just us."

================================

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Fortuna: Chapter Twelve

Fortuna: Born with what seemed to be the worst luck in the world, you have managed to get into, and out of, life-threatening situations all your life. That is until the plague of 1514. You had escaped Mother Death countless times before, but not this time. Mother Death has taken a liking to you, and with your kindling relationship, you become that which historians whisper about. You are the great Fortuna, Goddess Incarnate of luck, and ruler over fortune and fate. No one could have anticipated what your ties with Death would bring you: Pain. Torture. Death. Love.

Warnings: Feels, Mutual Unaddressed Trauma, Morpheus Wondering Why His Babe is Avoiding Him, Morpheus Fucks Up.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x ImmortalSpanish!Reader, Reader’s nickname is Fortuna. Fortuna is the Roman Goddess of personified luck and ruler over fortune and fate.

Word Count: ~2.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You hated the number of tears that had fled your lashes, you also hated how much you shook and trembled within Morpheus’s arms. You never wanted him to see you like this, so broken down and so distraught. You never wanted him to see you so weak. But at the same time, you were bombarded with the full adoration and comfort his embrace gave you after 95 long years and you couldn’t help but grasp his coat with a white knuckle grip and press yourself closer. You didn’t know how long this secure feeling was going to last, and constantly feared that you would be ripped away from Morpheus once more. It was only when you felt something sliding across your skin and shifting around your body, that you dared to open your eyes. You were no longer within Hob’s flat, if anything, you were no longer in The Waking World, period. 

Morpheus was carrying you across a grand bridge in a world you didn’t recognize and was heading towards a massive castle. You kept your face tucked against his neck, but your eyes flickered around, soaking in the realm of your lover. It was just as inhumanely beautiful as its king. Carved statues, curving architecture, beautiful landscapes… The Dreaming was paradise. Your trembles finally started easing as your mind and body recognized that this was a safe place. A safe place where you could relax… to a point, your mind whispered. You eyed a massive dragon perched atop the grand doors to the palace. 

“You never mentioned you had a dragon,” You croaked out, your lips brushing against Morpheus’s neck as you twisted your head to get a better look. The Endless raised an eyebrow and glanced down at your huddled form in his arms. Out of all the things in his realm, that was what you were focusing on at the moment? 

“Forgive me for failing to tell you that I have a dragon that protects my palace and Ivory Gates,” Morpheus murmured, happy that you were finally drawing yourself from your disparaged state. He hated to see tears in your eyes and loathed the way you shook in his arms. 

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a tour, I want to see that library of yours.” Your soft words brought a chuckle to Morpheus’s lips. You had expressed a great desire to see the library all those decades ago. Had even demanded him to describe it more than once on occasion. Morpheus was eager to show you what he had described to you over and over in your endless hours of captivity. He would show you all that he had described to you, he would show you everything your eyes had sparkled from description and more. Morpheus slowed to a stop. 

“Shall I start with the library then? I am sure you and Lucienne will get along quite well, my beloved.” You shivered at him calling you his beloved, your heart aching in your chest. It had missed that, it had missed him. Your whole being had missed him so terribly. Easing up on your grasp, you were lowered and the moment your borrowed boots hit the floor you were looking up into Morpheus’s face as he gazed down into yours with reverence and endless devotion. 

“The library sounds good,” You agreed softly with a nod. Morpheus reached to take your hand in his, sliding his long fingers through yours and wrapping them firmly and tightly around your own. 

“I do fear, though, that the library may steal you from me,” Morpheus added, his mouth twitching. Your proceeding smile brought warmth to his heart, even if it was just a small one, and Morpheus would have done anything at that moment to keep that smile on your lips. Oh, how he had missed it in the last 95 years. Your warm hand squeezed his and Morpheus had to draw himself from the daze of your small smile. He was to show you the library, extend that beautiful and warming smile of yours, put the light of life back in your eyes. 

The library was big, so big, and you loved it. Your eyes scoured across the shelves and aisles with excitement. You had so much to catch up on that you thought that you might never do so in the first place. There were just so many books. You were in the middle of gushing about Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, pointing out your favorite books to Morpheus when Lucienne approached you. 

“My lord,” Lucienne greeted with a quick bow of her head. Lucienne looked at you. “And this is, my lord…?” Morpheus stepped closer to you, wrapping his arm around your still far too-thin body. His hand landed on your elbow and he pulled you closer to his body. You would never be close enough to him.

“This, Lucienne,” Morpheus drew out, gazing down at you with adoration clear in his eyes. “Is Fortuna, my Tyche.” You blinked at Lucienne and offered her a small smile. Lucienne knew exactly who you were, no introductions were needed. There was only one being that had Morpheus so smitten and that was you. She knew that you had suffered much like Morpheus, but she hadn’t anticipated you to be so small and frail looking, with the eyes of a prey animal. You looked like you would spook with one wrong move… and yet, there was a glimmer of flames buried deep within you. You had fight in you, it just had been beaten back so much it had been buried. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Fortuna, I have heard much of you over the centuries,” Lucienne told you, her eyebrow raised. “You have heralded a great many stories with your wandering, we are fortunate to finally meet, Fortuna of Spain.” You flushed from her words and turned into Morpheus in embarrassment. Morpheus chuckled at your shyness.

“Whatever you’ve heard, I’m sure it's just myths.” You murmured, twisting your hands together in front of you. Lucienne gave you a questioning look. 

“Our books do not lie, my lady, would you care to read some of them?” Yes, you did want to read them. You extracted yourself from Morpheus quickly, relieved to have a chance to breathe. He had been very touchy with you, constantly running his hands along your own, your arms, your back. You were terrified that he would somehow find out what lay beneath your layers of clothing. Lucienne was more than glad to show you the books that had been based on your travels, you and her swiftly left Morpheus behind. 

You were avoiding him. You, his long-lost beloved who he had desperately wanted to see for nearly a century, were avoiding him. Why?  

That question echoed within Morpheus’s thoughts, over and over. Why, after all these years, were you trying to stay away from him? You had shaken and trembled within his arms only days previous, clutching at his jacket like you feared he would disappear beneath your fingertips. Your tears of absolved agony had been endless as he cradled little emaciated you. You needed comfort, you needed nurturing, you needed him. Just like he needed you.  So why were you avoiding him!?

“Boss?” Matthew asked from where he was perched on Morpheus’s throne. Morpheus’s eyes, which had been glowing with silver, shifted back to blue. 

“What is it, Matthew?” Morpheus questioned. Matthew shuffled his feathers nervously. 

“So, you seem upset, sir,” Matthew started. “Is there something wrong with the missus?” The Dream Lord’s face turned even more broody as he glowered. Oh yes, there was definitely something wrong with the missus, and based on his king’s mood, Matthew guessed that you had yet to tell Morpheus anything about what you had experienced. “Boss?” 

“She is avoiding me, Matthew,” Morpheus growled, his fingers curling around the armrests of his throne. “She had hidden nothing from me in the eleven years that we spent trapped together. But 95 years apart and now she hides from me? Why?” 

Matthew wanted to tell Morpheus that you were within your rights to keep your secrets, because a lot could happen in 95 years. But it was well known that the Endless did not like to be told what he could or could not do. Certainly not when it pertained to his lover, who had obviously been hurt but refused to address her trauma or seek further comfort for what she had suffered. A woman like you did not tremble and shake like you had unless something terrible had happened. But at the same time, Morpheus needed you to heal from his own trauma. Your presence by his side did that quite well, as the Endless feared that you would be taken from him again.

“Well, uh, sir, have you tried asking her about it?” Matthew offered. “I mean, she might not want to talk about it… but if you tell her that you are there for her, maybe she’ll change her mind? She doesn’t seem unreasonable being that she’s the Goddess of fate and fortune. I mean, she already sounds like a kick-ass lady who loves you a lot.” Morpheus considered his raven's words carefully, then decided that rather than sitting around and letting you hurt in silence, he would go and ask you. Rising from his seat, Morpheus strode down the steps and headed in your direction. Morpheus could feel your spark of life in the gardens, so that’s where he went. 

Passing through an archway that led outside the palace, Morpheus strode his way through the winding path of his gardens. As beautiful and vibrant as his gardens were, his only focus at the moment was you, and he found you near one of the many fountains intermittent in the gardens. You were leaning over the fountain with an arm stretched out, your fingers beneath a stream of water. The sight of you stirred something within Morpheus’s chest and he silently moved to you, wrapping his arms around your body and hugging you. Your following reaction was not one he expected. 

You jumped in place with a squeal before spinning around so your back was no longer pressed against his chest. Clear surprise was plastered on your face. Your heart raced in your chest for a few moments as you pressed your hand against your chest. 

“¡Casi me matas del susto, mi amor!” (You scared me half to death, my love) You exclaimed, letting out a nervous chuckle. Morpheus could see the unease in your eyes and feel your genuine surprise. You really hadn’t sensed him, entirely lost in your tumultuous thoughts. Morpheus raised his eyebrow at you. 

“Lost in thought, my beloved?” You blinked and then shrugged, squirming your way out of his embrace lest his hands start to wander beneath your clothes. Morpheus tried to hide his displeasure of you trying to vacate his arms, but still, you caught sight of it, and chewed your lip.

“Sí, absorto.” (Yes, preoccupied.) Your absentminded words slipped from your lips and you flickered your eyes up to his. He was staring down at you with a look you couldn’t read, one that you hadn’t seen before. Discontent. You fidgeted, and managed to remove yourself from his embrace. Morpheus's slight glower at your retreat did not go unnoticed by you and you wrapped your arms around your body. “Did you need me for something?” Morpheus did not need a reason to visit his beloved. 

“I wish to speak with you of a sensitive topic, Y/N,” Morpheus spoke gently, stepping back towards you and reaching to run his fingers along the fringe of the short strands of your hair. He was already missing the intimate opportunity to carefully maintain your previously long locks. You pursed your lips as dread filled you. This was exactly what you wanted to avoid. This was why you were avoiding your lover, your beloved, in the first place!

“I told you that I am fine,” You murmured, trying to placate the argument before it even started. You knew he would not let this go.“I am here and I am well mi Amor, what more do you want?”

“I wish to understand your suffering, Y/N,” Morpheus responded, leaning closer and reaching for your hand. He took it and held it tight, leaning his face onto the top of your head. “My Tyche, I do not wish to see you in needless anguish. We have always relied on each other, why are you not seeking help for your worries, your pain? Why do you not talk to me!?”

“Llueve sobre mojado.” (Rain on the wet. It means it’s pointless.) You told him, trying to pull away from him once more.

“It is not pointless.” He rebutted, his own emotional pain getting to him at your stubborn refusal. “You will talk to me about this, Y/N. You are within my realm and you will obey me. Tell me what happened!” He held your hand in a strong grasp, but you managed to rip your boney one from his as you reared backward. 

“¡Si seguís insistiendo así, estaré a nada de no ir!” (If you keep insisting like this, I will be nowhere near attending.) You spit out in warning. Morpheus’s eyes blazed silver, you returned the look with a flash of your own golden eyes. “Do you not get it!? ¡No quiero hablar contigo!” (I don’t want to talk to you.) You spun around and stormed off, tears burning in your eyes while you fought the sobs that were clawing for freedom within your chest. 

Date Published: 1/15/23

Last Edit: 1/15/23

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[jawsofpleasure]

He took the drink- as did everyone else eagerly reaching for their glass, until they were all sipping from someone's daddy's crystal. Felix didn't sip though, a point of amusement for those in the room. At every party, every hangout, no matter cup or bottle or glass, no matter what was poured in it, he handled it the same- tilt it back, letting 95% of it flood down his throat, then nurse the bottom 5% until he was topped off... and the cycle continued. He was born low class, unlike the others. He didn't know how to drink 'nice' things. But like most of the ways this made him different, it was a source of entertainment.

So he took the drink- and drank. He saw some smirks but when was this group not always leering at one another? It was the end of another long night out anyhow, the mischief and debauchery mostly wrung out of them. Their energy had been spent causing chaos to others, making this shitty tourist trap of a town rue the day they ever built those new timeshares. It left them with little ammo for each other. All they could force each other into at this hour was sitting in a sterile living room, drinking stolen liquor and turning on one another like bored cats swatting and hissing.

And he was their dog.

So Felix took the drink- and tried to relax, forcing back the burning liquid, sinking into the plush armchair he'd taken for his own. He watched the room of a half dozen putter on their phones, gossip, begin negging one another and engaging in petty fights. He wasn't forgotten exactly, just no longer useful or fun. It was a fact he secretly felt grateful for; he was tired. He was hungry. He naturally radiated an energy that kept people wary of him but if ever he felt vulnerable, now would be the time. He only lasted this long in this crowd because they were scared of him. He'd given them reasons to be. But if even one of them sniffed his guard lowering for an instance...

Something was stirring in the pit of his stomach.

So Felix took the drink- and the glass almost shattered in his hand as he sat there and felt a lust overcome him that made his pelvis burn. It was painful and aggressively physical a sensation, like being kicked in the navel with his own steel toed boots. He couldn't hide the wince and the room was uncomfortably quick at responding to it. Six pairs of eyes were on him suddenly, wide, sparkling with something... he didn't know. Fear rose like bile in his throat but another pulse of lust left his vision blurry. He felt himself losing control of his limbs, each one going heavy and pinning him back to his seat. His skin prickled with heat and a snarl ripped through his throat, his eyes screwing shut as panic and arousal overrode his senses.

"Oh my god it's Felix."

Laughter, breathless with glee and relief, burst around him. When he opened his eyes, everyone seemed to take a long grateful sip from their drink. Confusion and fear twisted to rage. He was starting to see again with piercing clarity. Another game, another way for him to entertain.

Felix took the drink- the drink it turned out. Somebody during the night had bought something off someone and now it flooded through his veins. It wasn't curated cruelty- the spiked glass was chosen at random- but it was a cruel irony all the same. No one had remembered to tell him about the game. Simply forgotten over the course of the night, you see. And now here he sat, sweat breaking out over his skin while the buyer tried to tell the story between his bouts of cackling.

Felix felt in danger of breaking his zipper.

He had made a promise not to screw anyone here for his own sake. In fact, he had promised that not one of them would ever know for sure who he had fucked, when, or why. These evil freaks would have found some way to use it against him. And now here they sat... laughter dying down and conversation slowing... looking at him with wild eyes Squirming in their seats. The relief of not being the one drugged was receding as the excited fear of what was to come next settled in. Finally coming to silence, letting his ragged furious panting be the only noise in the room. They cast nervous glances at the bulge tight against the fabric between his legs.

"One of you is going to take care of this."

The words ripped out of his throat. Though impossibly heavy, he slowly dragged his hand to his crotch, squeezing himself. Someone whimpered.

"You should do it now... before I can move again... and then... I'll really give you brats a night to remember."

[noa-ciharu]

Heh Heh

What about....

Yuna D. Kaito, Akira Ijyuin, Seishirou, and Best boi Clow? (I am kidding on the Clow part though)

I haven't read ccs2 so I'll skip Kaito. Ik who he is but idk anything about him. Also based on diversity of length of replies you'll clearly see my favoritism lol 😎

Akira:

Sexuality headcanon:

I guess he's straight? He had crush on a woman his whole life, married men and they're living happily together

Gender headcanon:

Cis male

OTP:

Probably him and that girl of his. Sorry I keep on forgetting her name, I'm rly bad with names

BROTP:

Suoh, Akira and Nokoru

NOTP:

Who is he paired with anyway? If someone is shipping Akira with Suoh or Nokoru that's fine with me really. So no ship I dislike

Random headcanon:

I'm 300% sure Akira met his dad by accident (from Akira's perspective) on street, on his bday to the boot, and just never figured out it's his dad. Comedy shojo style ofc

General opinion:

He was so adorable, I adore him. Also I like how Clamp draws his hair nowadays

It's cute and someday unique

Clow:

Sexuality headcanon:

I guess he's bi? He was too touchy with Yue and it got me like SUS

Gender headcanon:

His gender is magical bastard

OTP:

None really

BROTP:

Also none. We don't know anything about his past so we dont know who his friends were

NOTP:

I'm actually not opposed to Clow/Yuuko, I just like to joke about it. I don't ship it but I can see why some people do. Beside Yuuko, idk if Clow is shipped with anyone else

Random headcanon:

I literally can't come up with anything. Sorry :<

General opinion:

Actually this is where my problem lays, it's bc I read CCS hurriedly back in 2015 and all I know about Clow is that he was some powerful dude that acted nonchalant and managed to fuck up time and space somehow. Also that clamp somewhat used his as plot device (?). Ik he appeared in Tsubasa too but I feel like I'd have easier time getting college degree than understanding trc ending

So yea, I basically lack info on Clow to form an option that isn't based on jokes and what I've learned from fandom

Seishirou:

Sexuality headcanon:

Subaru-sexual he's gay af. His TB vet persona is literally campy older gay guy who preys on younger males. Chicken Hawk really. Because look. Sumeragi twins are bi bait. They look the same and are both beautiful af. We all know who Seishirou had eyes for during whole year. So yea, defo gay. Actually, let's just keep it as Subaru-sexual, yea that's the most fitting description

Gender headcanon:

Bastard babygirl cis male I guess

OTP:

Seisub ofc. If I had to sort them then X>TB>TRC versions. They're just so... written. Honestly in the end it doesn't even come to whether one ships them or not, bc their story altogether is a very powerful tragedy. Also I'm generally non-emotional person and extremely hard to emotional affect (literally over 95% of media I watch leaves no profound effect on me) but two of them (TB/X in general), damn did it cut. Damn does their story cut in deep, not just in terms of romance, but in terms of lonliness and isolation of modern cities; in terms of tragedy, character development and complexity of human nature and interpersonal relationships. Honestly I can go miles about seisub and how it fundamentally changed way I do and view shipping but I'm a bit sleepy rn. I've been chasing high I experienced with seisub and whilst I can recreate it with some other clamp ships at the moments, I can't with ships outside clamp fandoms.

BROTP:

In TB/X it absolutely has to be his relationship with Hokuto. Power duo they were unstopable, Subaru couldn't catch a break. In that manner TB trio too. But not just comedy moments, but ones like this:

At moments I wonder if Seishirou underestimated Hokuto. She is bubbly, seemingly has somewhat shallow interestes and such, but behind cheerful surface (maybe even front she puts up for Subaru's sake so she'd cheer him up), Hokuto is extremely sharp and mature girl for her age. There were few moments where Seishirou and Hokuto had serious convos, usually about Subaru's self sacrificial and sensitive nature. And Seishirou always had his smirk and inner 'quite observant out of you Hokuto-chan' moment.

In X he barely interacted with anyone beside Subaru. Ik we as fandom joke about Seishirou and Fuuma being bastard bffs but if we were to serious take X, then I'd say Seishirou would prefer to avoid Fuuma altogether. Ofc he'd never let Fuuma know that, it'll be considered vulnerability. He'd be unnerved not only by someone stronger than him, but also with ability to see what dwells in one's heart. Fuuma could hold a mirror reflecting his soul and Seishirou would rather stay blind to what he sees there

NOTP:

Ofc I saw some crack ships with Seishirou but I never saw a serious ship with fanbase that's not seisub. I guess I'd be a bit ?? if he's paired with a woman. Ofc unless said woman is Setsuka, because tbx fandom is still torn whether motherfucker is just an insult or description for Seishirou

Random headcanon:

He wears sunglasses to save eyesight and 'put distance between himself and world around him'. But I'm sure Seishirou keeps sunglasses on regularly to turn blind eye to reason behind his blind eye, so to speak. Deep down he knows he moved in front of knife on impulse to protect Subaru and that deeply unnerves him. Of course all subconsciously, thus he'd rather not be reminded of that inner turmoil. Still it's rather ironic Seishirou and Subaru parted in TB with both leaving marks of reminder on each other's body. Subaru remembers Seishirou whenever he looks at his hands and Seishirou sure as hell remembers Subaru from time to time when he looks at his blind eye

Also I think Seishirou made bet on impulse based on deeply rooted wish for connection with another human being. Ofc he never became aware of said wish because it's ego-dystonic to him. He views emotions as weakness, love included.

General opinion:

😎🦅🌸🌈🚬

[noodlyappendages03]

Forget 95%. It was a 100% chance of crying. He walked me to my car and we chatted, then suddenly he turned around and said good night and I noticed that he gave me this sad smile. I did too. Starting to think this is hard for both of us, but it's definitely harder on me. Normally, he's quick to leave but he stayed and chatted on the phone. I also couldn't help but notice that he was wearing a nice shirt and boots, as if he were going on a first date. Made the mistake of thinking about him on a date and him taking someone else to bed that night. Maybe none of that went down, but that did me in. I turned onto the highway and it just sucker punched me. I cried so hard I could barely see the road. By the time I reached the main highway, I had cried off most of my makeup.

I planned a night of self care, starting with buying a journal at the bookstore, then dinner and retail therapy. I was still crying and thought he took another road to go meet some girl and that I was alone on my route so I could bawl my eyes out freely. I drove down the main drag and was just about to exit...when I noticed his car speeding right past mine in the next lane. I prayed to God that he wouldn't realize it was me, but of course he could spot my bumper stickers! He sped past and kept going. When I realized he had been behind me for a good chunk of the way, I pulled into a parking space and cried my eyes out until I couldn't breathe.

I went to Ulta to see if they could fill in my undereye circles and wipe away my mascara streaked face. They cleaned up my face, reapplied my makeup, and made me feel better. Did you know they see one crying person with smeared makeup due to a breakup at least once per week??? Neither did I. Those makeup artists are fucking saints. As hard as it was, I stayed sober and ate healthy. Had some sushi and an Ollipop cola instead of giving in to the urge of drowning myself in gin. Small wins. Cried myself to sleep and didn't even get to journaling as I had planned. Woke up with puffy, red eyes. Shit, he's gonna know I spent all night crying if he didn't already see me while driving by. No amount of fancy moisturizer, good concealer, and brighter lipstick is gonna hide this puffy eye mess, try as I might.

A small consolation? If it was a date, it didn't seem to go well. He doesn't appear hungover and he doesn't seem like his happy, typically chipper self this morning. So either it was a bust or he spent the night alone feeling exactly the way I did. Just because it was amicable doesn't mean it's any less painful. Hurts like hell. In some ways, it's even more.

[thequietmanno1]

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 95, Replies Part 1

1) “But alright, where were we? Oh right, McBee McOff his shits now that the flashback is finally, finally, over. Oh boy, Can’t wait to see my boy again, it’s been so long, I bet he’s not taking care of himself. So, let us jump in, on Chapter 95: Moon.”- The Flashback’s over, The end begun, and now it’s time to catch up with everybody’s favourite character…Aizawa!

2) “Sigh. Alright, so it’s an aizawa chapter huh. Great. Good to know that goodbye back in his arc was that definitive. Now if Aizawa shows up McBee doesn’t stand a McChance, so, what’s the conflict? We can’t kill Aizawa, he’s only gonna die a few years from now, how we’re gonna get him out of the story?”- Just catching up with all the various parties Koichi’s gotten involved with as the Final arc kicks off. Given Aizawa’s smart enough to notice multiple Quirks being used and would have realised a connection between Nomura and the OG Nomu when he attacked him, it’s safe to say Aizawa never directly confronted him throughout this arc.

3) “OH MY GOD IS AIZAWA KEEPING AN EYE ON KOICHI SO HE CAN SPRING BACK INTO ACTION

IS THAT IT?!”- His dad instincts are strong, even at this early pre-teacher stage. 4) “Yeah Aizawa, you aren’t. You also said your goodbyes to this narrative, like, 40 chapters ago? But yet, here we are, in third page where you say how you’re not involved with this story… in a moment where Koichi needs help… sure…”- Wait, hang on a second….You’ve been joking about this for a bit but actually? It’s just hit me that Aizawa basically has taken over Knuckle’s position in the narrative, and in a better way than the original guy himself did it. He’s observing Koichi from afar because as an illegal hero, he’d have to arrest him for Vigilante activity, but he still keeps an eye on the kid anyway, as opposed to Knuckle being Maybe dead. He basically fights Quirkless like Knuckle from the start, and is at a unique disadvantage against the modified semi-Nomus because their multiple powers and enhancements mean his Quirk isn’t a one-hit kill. He’s got Parkour skills and acrobatics that Koichi could learn a thing or two from Observing, along with a very avoidance-style method of fighting that fits neatly with Koichi’s tendency to dodge attacks rather than fighting back – he even has his own multi-chapter arc that reveals his personal connection to the big bad of MHA, placed in much more smoothly than Knuckles’ was, and has ongoing ramifications with MHA’s plot by the present, as opposed to Knuckles being relegated to being a dead end by canon rules. You joked about Aizawa and Knuckle fighting over the dad role when they first met, but Azawa really did wind up taking the role of Koichi’s hobo dad/teacher towards the end – and probably did a better job of it than Knuckles to boot!

5) “Now, those two do know each other for a very long time, there’s no one in the world that knows Aizawa better than Mic, and of course Mic would know when Aizawa is lying by his voice alone, but I can’t help but shake the feeling that this is implying that Mic has some sort of super-hearing, which, well, would be a problem for his quirk.”- Mic’s good at picking up the subtleties in a person’s cadence and tone, possibly developed from the long time he’s spent together with Aizawa, as well as his own love of music and how it affects people.

6) “Ah, All Might’s boytoy? What does he want? Is to talk about how that other detective whose name I never recall just became one with his workplace? As in, he’s ingrained on the walls and floors?”- Well, it is somewhat pertinent to that…. 7) “MY FUCKING BOY IS BACK FUCKING FINALLY HOLY SHIT”- For all the screw-ups in the narrative, I will say Furuhashi did manage to make Koichi a likeable and fun protagonist to have, even if it’s offset by him being extremely in the dark as to what’s really going on around him. 8) “Oh Puto, glad that you brought that blunt weapon with you, otherwise you would look like a criminal, or even a vigilante illegally guarding the front door of the hospital.”- Not the only blunt weapon that’s apparently going to be in play in events…. 9) “Don’t tell them that Midnight, if they want to go out and get themselves killed by McBee they are gonna do it and you can’t stop them, got it?”- We can honestly say that it’s for a good cause. 10) “Yeah puto, go there, I’m sure McBee is not waiting to jump Koichi when he comes back. You definitely won’t be killed for real, don’t worry, nobody dies in this manga.

Except Cloudy.

): “- Well, we can argue on how “dead” he really is, given his body’s up and moving and whatever part of him used to be Shirakumo managed to give enough info to the heroes to kickstart the hospital raid. 11) “yeah fuck you too Puto, you don’t get to talk shit about the Cave of Vigilantism, you weren’t invited to the secret meetings of justice.”- Well, compared to the actual stocked and armed warehouse Knuckles had set up as a safe room, the COV does fall a little short, sadly. 12) “Eeeyyyy- isn’t that thing that in Japanese saying that moon is pretty sounds the same as saying you love the other person? And Pop didn’t latch onto that?”- Her hesitancy with taking any further steps with Koichi than she already has cost her here. Prime opportunity for her to advance things through a “misunderstood” phrasing and she blew it. 13) “You continue your talk there Koichi, I’m going to be here thinking about how we just left a whole damn arc that was a flashback with little to no relevance to the current plot, and now we jumped into another flashback that i doubt is even being recalled by you. Just… Need some time to process it all”- Well, it is actually being recalled by Koichi, and given the similar phrasing, may be Furuhasi’s way of hinting that Koichi’s coming to his own realisation about how he really feels towards Pop with all that’s happened lately.

14) “I’m am once again reminded how you two spent everyday,every single day, alone, on your own, and yet, neither of you did anything to start an actual relationship.

Amazing.”-  It’s an impressive achievement, when viewed from an impartial lens. An exercise in frustration otherwise. 15) “Two years might I remind you. Two years of this sort of stuff going on. And them both sit quietly and didn’t even said something like “I like you.” Two years. Good thing nothing worth showing happened in that time frame.”- Mind if I borrow some of your salt for my dinner? I’m running a bit low, and every time you bring up the plot holes and issues in this story, it’s clear you’ve got mountains of it to spare. Very entertaining. 16) “Yeah fuck the moon, sitting up there, all smug, thinking it is better than us.”- Well, it’s probably better than Furuhashi at writing romance plots, at least. @thelreads

[sinfulpunishment]

✎ᝰ┆And On That Day

─❏ Warnings: gore & s/h

─❏ Characters: Fyodor Dostoevsky

─❏ Synopsis: Fyodor discovers his ability as a child.

─❏ A/N: this is one of my favorites

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

There was no warning.

A small boy, frail and blushed with a fine, rosy color, is guided by his feet from the towering cathedral to his own abode where those he is familiar with await his return. His hair pulled neatly back and held together with a purple ribbon, regal and beautiful to match his eyes. Those eyes filled with a surprising innocence—surprising due to the sins he had just bore witness to despite being in a supposed “holy” place. Dressed in his sunday best, a nice, pure white color with shades of cream mixed in and accents of purple and the occasional black.

The boy stopped on the side of the stone pathway after some flowers—white lilies—had caught his eye amongst the vegetation. He ignored the risk of staining his linens with the lively green from the grass, kneeled in it and began to gather the flowers. That was, until he discovered something among those innocent, white lilies.

He found that the white lilies had hidden a small sparrow, some crimson ink splattered around the fragile creature. After observing the bird very carefully, studying it, he realized it was in fact still breathing. The young boy decided to become the sparrow's savior.

Foolish decision.

The foolish child picked up the bird only for that exact same crimson ink that decorated the flowers to come and splatter on his own linens. The bird had stopped breathing suddenly, squawking in pain as if it were begging for its life in its final moments.

The once innocent child soon realized that this bird was no sparrow, instead it was a crow—a dead, young crow. And now that crows blood stained every bit of the child’s mind.

What a foolish child he had been to believe that not only was the bird a sparrow, but also that he would be able to save it.

The child carried the dead crow home in his hands, cold and lifeless, he still held onto the idea that he could do something for it. He hid it away in the basement, wrapping it in a scrap of white fabric. The crimson of the crow stained the fabric, evidence of the young man’s crime.

Every day the boy would check on the crow, hoping he could do something to save it—childlike delusions.

That is, until one day he found the crows carcass on the floor, the scrap of fabric had been torn and thrown to the side. Surrounding the carcass were the carriers of disease themselves: rats. They gnawed at the bones, tearing the day's old flesh off and spitting out the feathers. Their whiskers laden with blood and chunks of their meal. Suddenly the boy realized that the room had smelled like death the entire time. This most certainly was his punishment.

While at first he was horrified that the rats would do such a thing, he soon realized why they had done it: to survive. Every living being has a certain urge to live, whether they recognize it or not. As the child stood before the rats his innocence disappeared, as if it had been sucked out of him completely. He observed the rats with careful eyes, making notes on their every movement and every decision.

His only thought for the creatures before him was how pathetic they looked. He knew that if he were to bring them food they would all begin to beg for it, scurrying around his feet, trying to trip him or make him drop just one scrap. If he gave them said food he would then be regarded as their savior in their simplistic minds.

The boy wondered how desperate they would get… he decided to test this. He retrieved a small blade from where it had been tucked away in his boot, revealing it, he brought it up to his hand—his own crimson ink trickled down into a pool before the vermin. While puzzled at first they quickly began to drink it.

They were dependent on him.

They needed him.

They are nothing without me.

That boy grew up, tearing the thorns from his eyes to reveal the true sins of this world and of humanity. The boy turned towards God and promised to help fulfill his wishes. That boy took on the life of the man you see before you, the one known as Fyodor Dostoevsky.

And so, I shed my own blood to allow those who wish to devote themselves to me drink it, to give them the permission to live under God’s will.

Death is a necessity to life.

I am a necessity to life.

— Fyodor Dostoevsky

Reflections on a “past” life.

[obsessed-yan]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍫 ꒱

long post about 🍫 ♥

today was literally like the best day ever ! my overtime today paid off in more ways than one, 🍫 came in today and it made me so happy !!

we didnt get to talk a lot but the short times we did were the best; he asked if i was doing ok bc i was stuck on uscan (which i hate) as i was popping off about the stupid customers he did the thing that taller ppl do to shorter ppl like using them as an arm rest n i was like omg- !!! he did it for like a minute then was like "sorry idk why im doing that ur not that much shorter than me" (side note: i usually wear boots w like a 2in heel n were like roughly the same height w them on so im prolly a tad shorter than him without them; next time im gonna wear my converse to see for sure~)

THEN !!! THE BEST PART OMG— before he clocked out i stayed over a bit to help my co-worker w his line but there was an issue, 🍫 came back over from doing smthn n was like "whats going on?", i was like "i dunno man" then he WHISPERS TO ME "im sorry dear"

HELLO, DEAR HELLO

when i tell yall i ascended to the third realm- i mean it; if i wasnt blushing- im like 95% sure i may have but idk- i wanna say my eyes widened like- i cant even yall

im gonna think about that for like ever :( ♥

i like him so much u guys

[000life-is-meaningless000]

I'm going to surfing on the web and I've realized there's a lot of people out there that would like to say things in the words of the context that they say shit like this and the black pill Community say that they're not sad and not depressed and not bitter and I like to say that yeah I'm all those fucking things & more

If you knew that your existence was meaningless if you're intelligence was so fucking high you were fucking able to understand that your happiness is meaningless your joyous meaningless you can see through all the illusions of life you are so fucking intelligent you are equal to God in every way

I'm not saying I have his power I'm not saying I know all the things he knows I'm simply saying that my intelligence at his level don't confuse knowledge and intelligence for the same fucking thing they're not intelligence knowledge and wisdom are three separate fucking things they may all be related to the same thing but they're still three separate fucking things

An example of that would be like Water, mist and ice

All three of them are water but they're different things

. . .

We also can Define it as a rock a tree and a plant all three of them are of the Element Earth even though they're three separate things they still basically connected to the same thing

. . .

But, yeah I'm a sad mother fucker.

. . .

Of course I don't want to be sad, it's not that simple I'm equal to God, intellectually

No wonder God loves his family so fucking much he has to find something from keeping himself From kill himself

If I'm this fucking depressed and sad and for the endless pain know what I know and I'm just a retard compared to God imagine how heartbroken and sad God Is Knowing so much more how meaningless Existence, is

AND HE FUCKING MADE IT

So yeah I'm going to admit it I'm a sad person I'm a very very sad person I'm full of constant pain and constant, Woe

You might read this fucking blog and think that I have severe clinical depression but I don't

I had the price when I was a teenager depression is something severe depression is when the brain literally deflates

Depression you can't control depression depression controls you you slip into depression and you can't stop it your brain it's kind of like being very sleepy and your brain kind of like it goes to sleep depression is like that your brain just goes into depression mode it goes through all these fucking channels and all these fucking like phases but eventually your brain kind of shuts down like that when it comes to depression your brain literally self fucking destructs

You going to a state of permanent deep like extremely low mental activity you get Darkness around your eyes everywhere you go you can't see clear you it's like your brain it's like 95% your brain died and you can't use it ever again and you're stuck in this hopeless despair

I know what depression is when you come out of it your brain has electrical pops everywhere constantly your brain has to kind of reboot itself every so often every couple of months it has to activate another Channel or another layer kind of like another layer in the building have to activate another layer make sure that all the layers are synced up

Your brain has a it has to slowly very slowly after months boot itself up it's extremely difficult to climb out depression and right when you think you pulled yourself out of it you've actually just pulled yourself out of a out of just simply like another face and you got more layers that goes before you go through another phase

You will slowly pull yourself out of depression right when you think that you got you gotten out of it another party is reactivating you won't even know where that part was turned off it something turned on you realize wait a minute this was Off the Whole fucking time ??!

I KNOW DEPRESSION, I fucking know depression but when you get when you suffer depression you see show people everywhere and you got demons everywhere possessing you and fucking with your mind and connecting with you extremely I fucking know depression

Your mind can't stop thinking dark thoughts about fucking sadness and like fucking dark rainy days in like a bitter Black Sea if you drown in the endless sadness your brain can't stop thinking about pain and suffering it's not feeling the pain and suffering it can't stop thinking about it

And you feel an extreme deep sadness

. . .

But, Depression is not depression if there is no despair

. . .

You don't really fall apart there's no despair you're just fucking miserable and your brain can't go into the phases when you become an adult you don't get depression like that ever again you don't get real depression because your brain has changed so much in that time. There's been so many extreme dramatic changes that you can't your brain won't let us go back if your brain does that again it'll probably have a massive fucking seizure and Die

Oh ! . . . I, Know Depression

. . .

I don't have depression I'm just constantly miserable heartbroken and extremely fucking sad and I have a lot of Really Deep Dark Wisdom

I don't have Depression, I'm just fucking miserable really really miserable