#my organs grew teeth and are eating themselves

[dromaeo-sauridae]

there is no advil.

[hungryteeth]

hangdog humanity

"...i hear my mother’s voice. she’s praying for me. though i have proven to be forsaken by his lack of presence for me — for her sake, for her well-intentioned heart, that if he listens to anyone, he listens to her."

tw: dark.

chewing my cheeks. pulling up scabs on my scalp. feeling where my curse bores into each hand-wrought mutilation on my skin.

i hear my mother’s voice. she’s praying for me. though i have proven to be forsaken by his lack of presence for me — for her sake, for her well-intentioned heart, that if he listens to anyone, he listens to her.

if anything divine appears, it’s a contemptuous movement. dislodging my brain at the occipital bone. in layman’s terms, decapitation.

born as the representation of the lovers, i carry someone else within me. talking ghosts, whispers in my ears. scolding me, “you cannot have us both”. they hate each other. they fight all the time. screaming in the other room, hearing the audible kissed-fist connecting to the other’s cheek.

i try to call for help but my rapid shallow gasps numb my hands and lock my jaw.

throwing itself against the walls of my head is no savior but a killer-god. it works in my wounds, not like salt in a ritual, but as a flavor in the sacrificial feast. the lamb that i am, last seen with blood spilling through a toothy grin.

the threads i spin in my web in the avoided corner of the highest part of the ceiling. despite where i am, i am no closer to heaven, than the average woman with her scarlet letter bore on her chest. born naked, innocent, and unaware. only to be condemned to be burned alive in a bag.

all of you pull at my threads when i descend from my web. shouldering the curse of this existence, so that others may glue themselves to my ruin.

forget alchemy, even the gods in motions have doubts and they take out their hangdog humanity on me.

small, meek, and weak. when i return to my corner, i ask, “how do others pray?” bone, tooth, battered knees. formerly afraid, now it is october and i must wear the webs i’ve woven.

these lacerations are hard to catch, often scurrying, hiding under the couch to continue to hurt. falsifying the “innocuous” organic nature of sepsis being for the “greater good”. the aforementioned being the death mask worn in my regularly-scheduled programmed executions.

the outlying terrain of the exiled who foam at the mouth, out-of-touch, between promise and apology. the affection that i am afforded pricks at my skin like the euthanasia needle. viscera calcified, solidified.

if i spoke these poems aloud to all of you that i have fed generously, greedily, gluttonizing, with my undying love — it would reach you as quick as my kerosene-doused head could set alight. of course, your responses would not reach me in time, before i was burned to the fated ash.

these private things, these hidden closets of screams. the shape of my hunger must be horrifying to look at. since each time it is faced, desertion is the guaranteed, routine response.

my presence is unavoidable, devout belief in self-sacrifice. self-destruction. preferring death over eating too much of what i love, having to subsist. stripped, bare-boned, and hunted, unprotected by lack of purpose if i devour all of it.

to the raven awaiting me, as i grew close, just two-feet away — when we stared at each other for those ten seconds, sharing your prophetic gaze. dispossessed, burning your occupancy into my triple-chambered heart. lover, sinner, and the holy-spirit.

anguish pillowed and bedroomed as if customary. serving tear-gas, tears, and tea at the splintered dinner table.

the ritual slaughter is never pure. mangled by the same rabid dogs i was born into the same pack with. it didn’t hurt, since i had already died. no one noticed.

when it finally comes, betrayal began as a small intimacy, teeth against teeth. the scant pathway into the dark, pacing back-and-forth, contemplating the meaning of my unconscious-assured and troublingly-confident stride to oblivion. before stepping the second foot into the nihility — paralyzed like the doe in the headlights that i am, all because i swear i almost heard you call my name.

[doopdevil]

I have to say this how would Otto react to reader having Venom (the character) with her/him/them?

sinister 5 villains x g.n.!reader | s/o with venom symbiote hcs

MASTERLIST

warnings: cursing ; venom eating people

pairings: otto octavius x gender neutral!reader ; max dillon x gender neutral!reader ; norman osborn x gender neutral!reader

word count: 1,376

summary: it’s time to let the man you love know about another person in your relationship. Or rather, alien.

a/n: venom is an icon. i forgot to add them to my masterlist but i do accept rqs for venom and eddie, so when rqs open again, feel free to send one in! I hope you like this, thanks for reading! <3

OTTO

As much as he loved you, Otto had to admit that your behavior at the beginning of your relationship strook him as peculiar. At first he thought you were just one of those people who talks to themselves. But then it would seem you were referring to some invisible presence in the room.

“Don’t say that. You know I don’t like it when you eat people!”

To say he was worried was an understatement.

“Dear? Who are you talking to?”

“Uh,” you mumbled, “I’m using bluetooth! Yeah!”

“Why the hell are you talking to a cannibal?”

Once you and Otto had established a strong foundation of trust between each other, you decided it was time to tell him the truth. Of course, there was no easy way of telling your boyfriend you had bonded with an extraterrestrial symbiotic organism that likes tater tots.

“Otto. You know how like, aliens are a thing?”

“Ah yes, Peter’s mentioned several invasions. Why?”

“...There’s someone you should meet.”

Before he could inquire upon your strange behavior, hell broke loose.

“Hello, Y/N’s boyfriend,” a deep voice growled, coming from an obsidian ooze forming from your shoulder.

“WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS THAT-” The man jumped, his metal tentacles on high alert, whirring protectively at the sight.

“Otto, it’s alright. This is Venom. Venom, please stop baring your teeth like that, you’re scaring him.”

“Sorry. I was trying to smile.”

It was a pretty big adjustment to say the least. The shock took a while to wear off, considering that learning about your s/o’s alien symbiotic relationship can be a tad absurd. Once he had managed to compose himself, he certainly had a lot of questions.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out, I really like being with you, Otto. I just feel comfortable sharing this part of me with you now. I’m sorry, I know this is a lot to handle,” you frowned, averting your gaze from him.

“Well, I definitely didn’t anticipate this,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “How does this relationship between you two work, exactly?”

You continued to explain how you and Venom operated, giving him the gist on the Klyntar; other people with symbiotes; your powers; Venom himself, and the important note that you two work together equally.

“So I’m in a relationship with you and your alien?”

“Only if you want to be! Venom likes you a lot, actually.”

The two of you had talked for hours, Otto’s confusion eventually evolving into intrigue. His scientific side had been incredibly excited at the prospect of meeting life from space, especially one as unique as Venom.

“How would you like to talk with Venom for a bit?”

“As if this situation could get any stranger. Sure, where is the parasite?”

“That’s incredibly offensive!” Venom snarled.

“V! Don’t be mean, he didn’t know!”

“Uh. Apologies - Venom, is it?”

“Yes. We are Venom.”

“It’s… nice to meet you,” Otto said, hesitantly reaching his hand out to shake. Suddenly a dark slimy arm formed from yours, grasping his hand tightly.

“Thank you for your hand,” Venom replied, “...But why are you giving it to me?”

At first, things were turbulent between the two. Frequently, Otto would find himself annoyed by the alien’s brash nature.

“Venom, please don’t be so messy when you’re here. You’re destroying the carpet.”

“I’M JUST TRYING TO EAT, TENTACLE MAN-”

Despite their differences they eventually grew close, Otto joining you in teaching him about human life. He had to admit, living with an alien could be amusing. And Venom in return would answer all of Otto’s scientific questions; even begrudgingly letting him analyze a sample of him. With time, the three of you became quite the trio, Otto learning to love Venom as much as you did.

“I made us dinner,” Venom boomed. To your surprise, it looked edible. One could actually consider what laid on the table to be food.

“Venom, this is wonderful!” You grinned, taking a seat in front of Otto.

Otto couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. Venom more and more began to show Otto his caring side, and he truly appreciated the fun Venom would bring.

MAX

You had luckily told Max before you started dating, back when you were close friends. The only people you’d tell about Venom were those you trusted the most, and Max was quickly ascending to the top of the list. He met you at your apartment when you broke the news to him.

“Max. I’m bonded with an alien symbiote named Venom. I’m his host. I turn into him and sometimes we fight crime and sometimes we cause it. He’s very big and scary but also kind of sweet.” you rambled on, anxious to see his reaction.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not a joke!” The symbiote shouted, suddenly defensive.

“OH.” Max replied simply, eyes widening at your form slowly transforming into Venom.

“...Wow. You’re big, huh?” His eyes were still wide, his voice stuttering, taking in the imposing creature.

“Yes. We are quite tall.”

“And you’re an alien?” Max asked, Venom replying with a nod.

“Holy shit!” He laughed, “This is awesome!”

Max assured you that he’d keep Venom a secret. All in all, it didn’t seem that crazy. The multiverse existed. Magic was a thing. He had electric powers. Who’s to say you couldn’t bond with an alien?

Before you started dating, Venom would be your number 1 wingman.

“Get Max red velvet cupcakes. I think they’re his favorite.”

“Max is really cool. We, are really cool. We’re perfect for each other!” Venom proclaimed proudly.

After you and Max shared a particularly electric first kiss, before you could give him another, you were interrupted.

“Wow Max! You are an excellent kisser!” Venom shouted.

“VENOM-”

Venom and Max got along incredibly well. He would warm up to Venom quickly, asking him questions and gushing over how cool he was. Venom absolutely loved the attention.

“At least Max appreciates me!”

“I do appreciate you, Venom. But I can’t be your personal chef right now.”

“Is everything okay?” Max asked, popping his head into the room.

“Venom’s hangry.”

“Oh. I’ll go put some tater tots in the oven.”

If anyone is ever rude to Max, just like how people could be before he turned into Electro, both you and Venom are livid.

“I know I say not to eat people. But maybe you should eat that asshole!” You snapped angrily.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Venom grinned, pouncing towards his next meal.

You, Max, and Venom were attached to the hip. With his electricity and your alien symbiote, you’re unstoppable.

NORMAN

Norman isn’t one to judge. He has an evil alter ego with super strength and murderous tendencies. It seemed he wasn’t the only one with another voice inside his head. Of course he was a bit shocked, but in truth, he was mostly excited. He was meeting an alien!

“Incredible. The alien can speak! How did it come to Earth? What does he eat? Is he-”

“The alien can hear you,” Venom interrupted, his ooze masking your figure.

“Hello, there. You’re quite something, aren’t you?” Norman chuckled, despite being more than a bit intimidated by Venom's form.

“...Y/N said you’d pester me.” Venom sighed.

If you ever encounter conflict with Venom, Norman is quick to sympathize. He knows how hard it can be, trying to balance two entirely different trains of thought.

“Venom. Y/N is right. Please don’t eat the mailman,” Norman pleaded. “In fact, eat the chicken in the fridge instead. Once you’re done, could you give Y/N a break? They’re quite tired.”

“Fine.”

Although he knows not to anger Venom, the goblin doesn’t necessarily understand that. Sometimes the two will clash and inevitably, chaos will ensue.

“We could rule the world together, Venom. You, me and Y/N can do anything with our minds put together!” The goblin cackled.

“I’M TRYING TO LISTEN TO ENYA. LEAVE NOW, GOBLIN MAN,” Venom roared, his patience wearing thin with the super-villain.

But he tolerates Norman. Venom is a bit annoyed by his constant scientific questions and prodding, but he appreciates Norman’s quiet demeanor.

“Venom, may I take another sample? Please-”

“No.”

“Please?”

“If Y/N weren’t here, I definitely would’ve eaten you by now.

[arcadejohn127-9]

Okay so I have a personal head cannon that demon hunters are a thing in the Obey Me World. So I wondering if you could do the brother and undatables finding out that a bunch on demon hunters kidnapped MC while they were in human world because they found out of MCs packs. Your writing is so good, honestly this is one of my favorite Obry Me accounts.

Thank you! It gives me pride for being one your favourites!

I love expanding the world of obey me and idea of hunters is one that seems realistic in a world of demons and angels and just in general, really interesting. Before I joined writing on Tumblr I was actually a Wattpad author and one my books was about a monster hunter who got in a love square with Frankenstein's monster, Dr Jekyll and Mr hyde

Never finished it but it was fun concept so any type of supernatural hunter already just wins in my department

Do I have a thing for making the demons violent and showing off a more aggressive and bloody side to them? Yes, I really do

Warning: kidnapping, gore-ish, violence, religious themes, angst, guns, mentions of torture, long

Your breathing grew heavier as the crushing feeling on your chest continued to grow, your heart slamming against your ribcage. Begging to be released from its suffocating prison. If it weren't for the lump in your throat you were sure your heart would of leapt out of it. 

your feet pounded against the street beneath you; you were running faster than you’ve ever ran before. How did it get to this situation? well, you didn't have time to reminisce but to make a long story short - a group of demon hunters revealed themselves to you and are now chasing you down as you refused to cooperate. they wanted to use you for your pact and you didn’t want to be involved, especially seeing as they were literal demon hunters! they were going to kill your friends! 

but sadly, fate was not on your side. your ankle twisted to the side, pain shooting up from your ankle all the way to your knee. rope surrounded you, you thrashed against the net as your body slammed to the floor. The last thing you saw was the hunter tower above you, the butt of their gun coming down on your head. 

when you finally woke up you already had a gun back in your face, you tried to escape but you were forced backwards. chains rattling behind you. you looked behind you to see you were chained to a cross, both your wrists and ankles were bound.

Your situation only grew worse when the hunter Infront of you snarled down at you. Demanding you used your pacts, spitting on your face. You thrusted forward, matching their snarl as you bared your teeth at them. Demon mannerisms have rubbed off on you but it wasn't doing you any good. The gun clicked, unlocking off safety mode.

Your heart sunk immediately.

"Use your pact or else."

You could only hear the blood rushing through your ears. Trembling as their finger slowly pressed on the trigger. You knew they were going to kill the brother's if you did but you were terrified that were going kill you. You shook your head, letting it hang low as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

You kept refusing to use your pact and summon the seven demons. Every time you refused they'd hurt you; kicking you, slamming the guns butt down on your head, throwing your head back on the cross. You could barely hear what they said, they just kept screaming at you. Calling you filth and a traitor to mankind.

Despite all the pain you were grateful they weren't killing you. You just had to keep pushing your luck. You couldn't summon them no matter how scared you were. You refused. You couldn't do it.

But fortunately, Magic doesn't always act the way you want it to. Your soul - your entire being BEGGED to be saved. You wanted to save yourself, you desperately tried to spark at the chains and remember any spells but your mind was at a blur. nothing was processing.

You cried out when you saw the large magic circle appear on the floor. You tried desperately to close the summoning circle, cursing to yourself. You demanded your magic to listen to you but it wouldn't work. The brothers symbols appearing in each part and soon enough, they appeared in full demon form.

"FIRE-!"

Lucifer:

his wings blocked at the rapid bullets going their way

His whip quick to come out and wrap around a hunters wrists, he twisted his hand around it and pulled the poor hunter towards him

"This isn't very welcoming, now is it? How bold."

the hunter went flying, the brothers dodging in time

Mammon:

He smirked, a bullet between his teeth and more between his fingers

Steam was drifting off them but he just crushed the metal bullets with no other thought

"How nice of ya to give me a gift~! You really know how to make a demon happy."

He spat out the last bullet and it went flying, hitting a hunters eye

Levithan:

The ground shook beneath you, many hunters missing their shot at his brothers

A crab like beast bursted out of the ground, sewer sludge splattering on the floor

It swiped and grabbed at the hunters, screams filling the space, bodies snipped in half in seconds

"You're all worse than Normies! You took the wrong human from the wrong demons!"

he back hand slapped a hunter that approached him, growling

Satan:

He leapt off the crab, grabbing the nearest hunter to him by the head

Their neck snapped to an odd angle and they immediately dropped

"This isn't how I expected to spend my evening but you took my reading partner....you won't receive my mercy."

He shoved his clawed hands through their chests and spines, ripping out the first organ or bone he could grab

He didn't lie, he didn't show an ounce of mercy

Asmodeus:

His wings flapped behind him, he dragged his claws along the backs of the hunters he flew past

Giggling as they screamed in pain

"Aww I'm just flirting, was it really that bad?"

He pouted before swiping at their faces

Shoving another hunter towards his more violent brother

Whilst he had no issue letting himself get wild, he saw how scared you looked

He didn't want to get too dirty or else how could he comfort you?

Beezlebub:

Beel could be ruthless if TRUELY provoked

And hearing your whimpers when he arrived stirred furious anger within him

When he finally saw your beaten state it made him snap

Hungry for blood

Hunters head being crushing with ikr hand

"You don't even look appealing to eat, you're worst than Solomon's cooking."

He took a chunk out of one hunter when they aimed at one of his brother's

Refusing to let his family get hurt

Belphegor:

We all know he's cold blooded

So it was no surprise blood was gushing everywhere

His dream dust filling his area and nightmares surrounded the hunters

"They're mine....and yet you stole them and hurt them, you're disgusting."

hunters would disappear into the mist and not come back out alive

Bodies littering the floor as he swooped through

As soon as things got gory your eyes were sealed shut, trying to shut out the sound of flesh tearing and screams of agony. Whimpering as you thought about the brothers smiling faces, how gentle and soft they usually were. Chanting in your head that they were here to save you, you were safe, they're still them.

You screamed as your body was lifted off the platform you were on, the cross rising. You were now fully crucified; feet slipping as you struggled against the cross. The chains were barely supporting your weight so you just dangled, fear rising in you.

Mammon charged towards you, his brothers continuing to fight against the hunters. He ripped the chains out of the cross, you fell right into his arms, your heart thumping against your chest.

"look at what they did to you....I shouldn't of protected ya, I hope you'll learn to forgive me - they busted you up real bad."

He caressed your cheek; eyes glaring at your busted lip and the many bruises forming on your face. You winced when his hand touched the side of your head, he recoiled feeling something warm on his palm. It was blood. YOUR blood.

He almost broke down right there and then, looking at how hurt you were - he couldn't handle it.

"thanks...that makes me feel so much better." You let out a pained laugh, hoping to make him feel better.

He only frowned more, softly rubbing his thumb on your cheek. It was obvious he was struggling to keep himself calm. You held his hand, showing off your best smile.

"i don't blame any of you, the hunters did this, okay? You didn't do anything wrong."

Your sweet moment was ruined when the 6 brothers backed all bumped into the two of you. Forming a protective ring as the hunters surrounded them; it seemed like there was no end.

You raised your shaky hands, magic swirling around your wrists and to your fingertips. You barely had enough strength to put on a little light show but you weren't going to just let the demons defend you without even trying to help.

It your lucky day as suddenly, the hunters hideout doors bursted open. You could barely make out the outside but there was blood coating every wall, steam coming off dead bodies. Soon enough four figures emerged and your heart almost leapt out of your throat.

Lucifer growled as he strangled a hunter, turning his attention to the new comers.

"I'm surprised you came so late, espically with the company with you, my lord."

Diavolo laughed, his hands coming together as his magic flared brightly. Barbatos had his arms behind his back, smiling to all of you.

"Forgive our tardy timing, these hunters are determined."

"don't forget us, though I may of caused us to take our time, it's been so long since I've fought this many people."

Solomon adjusted his sleeves, his many pacts glowing against his skin. Simeon, unlike the others, looked completely untouched by the chaos. Smiling as he kept his hands together.

"I beg for your forgiveness (Y/N), It appears we've angered Lucifer more than the hunters have."

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Time slowed down within the room, only the hunters going still

Their movements frustratingly slow

"I think it's best to clean up this situation whilst you take (Y/N) back, they've seen enough."

He looked at Lucifer, both men nodding

The prince moved freely through the frozen room, eyeing the amount of hunters

Barbatos:

He bowed to the brothers, offering you a comforting smile

"I must agree with my lord, things will get rather unpleasant."

He slowly slipped off his gloves

He approached you, gently handing you his gloves and patted your shaky hands

A silent request to keep them safe for him

Solomon:

The wizard blew the steam off his wand

Smirking as he pointed it towards the magic still present around your wrists

"Isn't it good I came along? You're going to fall sleep if you keep using your powers, little apprentice, let me open a portal for you."

Just as he finished talking he summoned a portal to the devildom

He gave you a small salute

Simeon:

He hastily rushed towards you all

Checking on each brother for any serious harm, thankful they were okay

He turned his attention to you, doing the same

"all is going to be okay, I promise, I'll bring over some desserts when we get back - tell Luke I won't be long, I know he's anxious about your safety."

He walked you to the portal, caressing your hands

You got a gentle push towards the portal

Once you were all through the portal, you completely shattered. Crumbling to the floor as you broke down sobbing. The brothers tried to approach you again but your nostrils flared, face scrunching up in disgust. They reeked of blood and guts.

Beels mouth was covered in blood, flesh between his fangs. Levithans hands trembling from adrenaline red and stained with blood. Belphegor was showered in the red liquid, a feral look still in his eye. Mammon was the most clean out of all of them but he had blood dripping down him. Asmodeus had flesh on his nails and blood on his cheek. Satan looked just as drenched as belphegor, his shoulders shaking with anger. And finally, Lucifer was the second cleanist but he still was no better than the others.

"i need time to- time to calm down....just.... please just wash."

They all accepted your wishes, hesitant but they understood your predicament.

You laid on the floor, chains still on your wrists and ankles. They felt so tight on your limbs, you whimpered as they scratched at your skin. It took one small burst of magic to make them drop; you were finally free.

You continued to just lay on the floor, shakily grabbing a nearby pillow. Inhaling the sweet comforting scent, letting it fill your scenes. Everytime you even smelled a faint swift of the gore-ish scene from before you just took in another deep inhale.

You laid there for what felt like hours. Silently crying as you hugged the pillow.

You grounding yourself. Reminding yourself you were safe and back in your room. The brothers were safe and they weren't mindless beasts.

You rolled on your side, something poking your hip. It was your phone. You pulled it out from your pocket and began to type, messaging Luke that Simeon was okay aswell as you, apologizing for not seeing him in person. You sent him a quick selfie of you smuggled into your pillow and tried to look somewhat happy. Hoping it'll comfort him.

It wasn't a moment later until you heard a knock at your door. You questioned who it was.

"we're all clean now, meet us in the living room if you want....I made your favourite drink~" Asmo's voice was soft, gentle on your ringing ears.

A small smile appeared on your face. Shuffling out of your room still hugging your pillow, trailing after the lustful demon. Soon enough, you were both entering the living room.

The room was dim, the fireplace being it's only lighting and warming the room up nicely. There must of been something with the wood as it smelled so comforting. The brothers all sat along the sofa, Some on the floor. Everyone had their own drink, blankets and pillows surrounding them.

You curled up in the middle of the sofa, letting yourself be engulfed in multiple hugs. Everyone touching you in some way and you all just sat there. In peaceful silence as you just hugged.

You really needed this....

"thank you for saving me."

"We'll always save you"

"you can always count on us-!"

"I won't let this happen to you again, I promise to protect you better."

"no one is allowed to touch you like that, I won't let them."

"You don't need to thank us, darling."

"I will always make sure you're safe, no Matter what."

"I won't fail you again."

you all hugged each other even tighter, embracing each others comfort and warmth. Tears falling and soothing words shared, each brother did their best to be strong. But even they couldn't stop themselves from shedding tears when the adrenaline died.

They almost lost you. You were kidnapped and hurt because of your connection to them. They were never going to let you get harmed again, no matter the cost.

[shorkbrian]

Mafia

Prelude - HI!!!!! SO sorry I’ve been MIA lol I’ll explain later lol.

Pairing - Kirishima X Reader

Prompt - Idk I just needed to write something to get back into the groove.

Warnings - uhhh not really anything this time around, surprisingly lolol.

Music - too tired lol sorry

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oi, Shitty Hair! Open up.”

Kirishima bounced off his bed, phone in hand as he moved to open the door.  It wasn’t unusual for Bakugou to come hangout with him when neither of them were working, but Kiri knew that Bakugou had guard duty for the prisoner. Odd that he was pounding at Kiri’s door.

“Hey Bakubro, what’s u-“

The redhead cut himself off as he opened the door, eyes quickly zeroing in on the gagged-and-bound female in his friend’s arms. A confused glance to Bakugou’s face allowed a glimpse of the blonds feral smile, before Bakugou pushed past Kiri, shoving the captive forward and into the room.

“Boss is done with ‘em - stupid girl really was just walking home. He was gonna off her but decided not to. He saw the way you’ve been eyein’ the poor thing like a piece of fucking meat and decided you get a new toy. Said you’ve been doing a good job lately or some shit.”

The wheels were turning in Kirishima’s head as he followed his friend, watching the blond push the girl down onto the bed, snickering meanly as he watched her struggle. 

The poor thing had been walking - home apparently, after an exhausting shift at work - and had unfortunately taken a route that led her right into the middle of mafia territory. Kiri had been there that night, collecting debts and roughing up those who promised to pay later. He had seen the girl turn into the alley, watched as she meandered closer, not paying attention to her surroundings. The sound of a fist meeting flesh had startled her, head whipping up and taking in the scene before her.  A particular client had lied about their payments, and they were being threatened, blackmailed.  

The scared woman had barely run two steps before she was tackled to the ground.

She’d been held and questioned for about a week now,  the big boss wanting to make sure she wasn’t just a snitch for a gang, or the rival mafia two cities over.  It wasn’t surprising to Kirishima that it really was just a case of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was about the most innocent thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

“How’d he know I wanted her?”

Bakugou scoffed, turning to the redhead with crossed arms.

“It hasn’t been exactly hard to fucking figure it out, Hair-for-brains. Every time it’s been your turn to guard her you get all excited like a goddamn puppy. Talking her ear off, smiling like a stupid fucking sap. It’s the most disgusting shit I’ve ever had to watch.”

Kirishima shrugged. Bakugou wasn’t wrong, but Kiri had been trying his hardest to be professional - big, mean, intimidating. He was a fucking mafia member, for gods sake. It looks like he had been a little too enamored to keep up his usual scary, manly exterior. Oh well, what’s done is done.

Bakugou was pushing past him again, leaving the female behind as he exited. He stopped at the door, turning his head to flash his friend a dangerous smirk. “Have fun with your little gift.”

—— You glared up at the redhead, the man still facing towards the door his colleague had just exited. The gag in your mouth had your jaw stretched uncomfortably wide,  forcing you to struggle to not drool. The rope binding your arms behind your back felt too tight, and it was itchy.  In short - you were immensely uncomfortable, made even more so by the blond man’s terminology when he referred to you. A toy? A gift? You were nothing of the sort. You were your own person, with a life,  a job, an apartment.  You weren’t a little plaything.

“Hey, I’m gonna take the gag off for you, ‘kay?”

The redhead, Kirishima, was by your side, seated next to you on the bed. You didn’t move, just watched as he gingerly began removing the cloth stuffed into your mouth. Each little piece he removed made your jaw ache a little less, the pressure easing up.

“There we go. Feel better sweetie?”

You shook your head, staring wide-eyed at the redhead. “Can you let me go home now?” You whispered, voice scratchy from disuse.  “I just wanna go home please.”

“I can’t let you do that. You saw something you weren’t supposed to, and my boss doesn’t trust people to keep information like that to themselves.  I’m gonna be looking after you from now on though, so you’ll be well cared for - you don’t have to worry at all.”

How comforting. 

The man was looking down at you, keeping his movements gentle as he began stroking your hair. You were too afraid to ask him to stop. You had seen what the redhead had been doing to that man, the night you had stumbled across them in the alley. If the man was capable of violence like that, he would have no problem crushing your skull like an empty soda can. You didn’t want to stay here.

“Sir, please… you can’t….. I have a job, a life! This is illegal, what about my family? My friends?”

“Do you think the Mafia has to listen to the law? Sweetie, we /are/ the law. We can get away with anything.” The man chuckled, before tugging you towards him, hands beginning to work at the rope around your arms. At least he wasn’t planning on keeping you tied up like that. 

You wanted to ask what the man was going to do with you, what he wanted from you, but you weren’t sure you’d like the answer. The past week had been hell, stuck in a dark, musty room. There was always someone in there with you, watching, guarding the door. Occasionally you would be thrown over someone’s shoulder (usually the large redhead’s) and carried out, walking down corridors and through rooms of what seemed like a giant compound before being deposited gently in a huge office, facing an intimidating looking man. The green haired man would grill you, ask you questions about who you were and what you were doing, what was you intent with the information you had  ‘acquired’ from that night. He didn’t seem to listen to your pleading, your begging to be let go. 

It frightened you when he brought out pictures, a file with your name on it, filled to the brim with information about you. Had someone been watching you? No, this group was just insanely good with computers, had access to private information and video feeds. All their information about you had been gathered in the time you had been there. The casual display of power had you trembling. This organization could ruin your life - could kill you and make it look like an accident. Hell, they could kill you, erase your entire existence. It’d be like you were never born. It was terrifying.

“How ‘bout I tell you my name, huh? I’m Kirishima, lots of people call me Kiri though.”

The last knot came undone, and your sore arms fell to your sides, heavy and tingling. You tenderly rubbed at the flesh, trying not to wince at the weird sensation as blood rushed to your arms.

“I already know your name, (Y/N). It’s so pretty, suits you really well I think.”

Of course the man knew your name, it wasn’t a surprise. He had been using it when he talked with you during his shifts guarding you. He seemed pleasant enough, but you could tell that the subtle bulge of muscle on his form was more than just for show. He was dangerous.

“Kirishima, sir, please. I just want to go home.” You were scared, trying your best not to break down, to tremble and cry. You just wanted to leave. Suddenly, you were pulled into a firm chest, big arms wrapped around you in a warm, crushing hug.

“Awh, poor sweetie. I know you’re overwhelmed. You’ll be okay though, you know?  It’s not so bad here.”

You didn’t want to stay here. You wiggled, suddenly uncomfortable in Kirishima’s embrace. The man relaxed his grip on you, sensing your sudden panic as you shifted away from him, rising from the bed to stand.

“What’s gonna happen to me - what am I gonna be doing? I can’t just- t-this is too much, I don’t know what’s happening or if I’m gonna-“

“I said you’ll be alright, okay?” Arms pulled you down, into Kirishima’s lap. You were still squirming, uncomfortable with the contact, uncomfortable with the hot air puffing gently against your ear. You didn’t like feeling his thighs under you, his big hands holding you still.

“You’re gonna be like a special little friend. You don’t have to do anything but stay here, in my room. We can talk, cuddle, I can get you some books to read when I’m gone working…. It’ll be nice.”

“Cuddle? I can’t- I won’t do that- You can’t make me-“

His grip grew bruising, ceasing your struggles as you felt your bones protest. It /hurt/, the amount of pressure he was squeezing your arms with. You felt his chin hook over your shoulder, and his sharp, shark-like teeth were flashing right next to your eyes as he spoke, tone low, dangerous.

“You’ll do what I say, got it? I’m not so nice when I’m angry.”

You sniffled, his grip relaxing as your posture did, the fight leaving you. “I just… I don’t understand. You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, but sweetie, I do!” His voice had regained that chipper, light quality. “I’ve learned so much about you! I’ve read through the file we have on you, and every new thing I learn just makes me like you more and more. You’re so pretty, so cute, I just wanna eat you up.”

“You can’t know someone just by reading about them. I don’t wanna be here, please just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about anything, I promise! Please? Just let me go?”

Kirishima stood up, picking you up with him. With a swift movement, he turned, letting you drop to the bed, face-first. You scrambled onto your butt so you could face him, feeling vulnerable with your back to him. The man was looming over you, cocky smile stretching his lips.

“No can do sweetie-pop.” The next second, he was up in your space, face inches from yours, hands planted on the bed near your hips. “Besides, we’ll have so much fun getting to know each other better.”

He surged forward, lips mashing against your own. 

You cried the first time he kissed you, and every time after.

[raendown]

I return from the dead with a fic that isn't even for the Naruto fandom and I don't really have an explanation for myself.

Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2317 Fandom: MCU Summary: Visiting Steve was always strange now that the guy was old and retired. Still, of all the things Sam expected out of today, witnessing a prime example of gay panic from the co-worker that's been mysteriously avoiding him was not one of them.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info under the header!

Honestly, the fact that Steve's house smelled like prunes was probably one of the funniest things that Sam had ever heard in his life. More than anything he would have loved to go back in time, to the days of reading about glorified heroes in history textbooks, and tell his fifteen year old self that Captain America, Steve Rogers, retired in a house that smelled like prunes. God, his best friend just had to throw himself in to being old the way he threw himself in to everything else.

"Is there a special reason for you visiting?" Steve's voice was more tremulous these days, less steady but no less warm. Just hearing him again after the shameful amount of weeks it had been since his last visit made Sam grin.

"Nah, just thought I'd pop in and see if you'd expired yet. Your birthday's coming up. Gonna be, what, three hundred? A thousand?"

Steve narrowed his eyes but there was fondness in them so it wasn't very scary even if he could probably still tackle Sam across the room if he wanted to. At this point it would hurt him too but he could do it. "You, young man, are-"

He looked chagrined at himself when Sam cut him off with a laugh.

"You shitting me? Did you really just call me young man? See if I ever let you live that down."

His friend grumbled but accepted the teasing as his due. That was just what he got for going back in time and doubling down on being so much older than his own best friends.

Since it had indeed been a little too long after they last saw each other there was quite a bit of catching up for them to do. Over cool glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies the two of them spent a pleasant couple of hours shooting the shit until Sam could almost forget the years that stretched between them now. It was jarring, sometimes, looking away from those clear blue eyes to realize all over again just how many wrinkles they were set in. Sometimes he hated it. Other times he could only smile to know that at least one of their ragtag bunch had found the peace they were looking for.

Eventually all that sweet tea went right to his bladder and Sam excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned he took in the sight of his friend all snug under one of the blankets his late wife had knit and sighed, feeling maudlin suddenly for no good reason.

"I should probably get out of your hair," he said. "Let you get in your afternoon nap or whatever. No, stay there man, I'll clean up." His smile was easy as he snagged the dishes from their grazing and hauled it all over to the kitchen.

"You sure?" Steve's voice floated after him. "Nothing else you want to get off your chest?"

"Huh?"

Sam frowned at the cups he'd just placed in the sink, running back through his mind. They'd talked about pretty much everything he could think of.

"You didn't mention Buck once, you know. I thought the two of you were friends now."

"Ah. Yeah. So did I." The corners of his mouth twisted with a little bitterness, a little confusion. After everything they'd been through and the number of times Bucky had accepted his invitations down to Delacroix he'd thought they were well past the point of calling themselves friends. Maybe he himself felt something a little more than that but he knew better than to push.

That was probably why Bucky's sudden radio silence hurt so much though.

"Trouble in paradise?" Steve called from the other room and Sam snorted.

“Shit, I don’t know. One minute we’re fine and the next he just up and disappears on me again. I may or may not have checked a bunch of obituaries for your name just in case because I have no idea what I might have done to piss him off.” Sam pursed his lips. He’s already gone over all this with Sarah a half dozen times and in all the recounts he’d done of their last couple missions he still couldn’t find any particularly bad moment between him and his best friend. Unfortunately the sweet tea he was glaring at didn’t have any answers either so he snatched the pitcher up and moved to put it in the fridge.

“Have you tried, oh I don’t know, asking him what’s wrong?”

“You think I didn’t try that?”

Steve’s hum drifted down the hallway with a distinct note of sass. “Neither one of you is very famous for your communication.”

“Excuse you, I was a counselor. A certified veteran’s counselor. Communicating with people was literally my job until your overly buff ass came running around all ‘on your left’ and ‘everyone I know is trying to kill me’.” Sam huffed as he snapped the fridge closed. “I damn well tried to talk to him but he’s not answering my texts or my calls. Short of breaking in to his apartment I don’t really know what else you want me to do.”

Without any other excuses to keep him in the kitchen Sam heaved a sigh, knowing he couldn’t dawdle any longer. He could only get to the door by going though the living room so his choices were either run away out the back, which he would never ever hear the end of, or go back in to the living room and face Steve with his stupidly wise and knowing eyes. Seriously, let a guy live to almost two hundred and suddenly he thought he knew everything. Annoying was what it was.

He was only halfway down the hall when he heard the front door open. Sam very carefully swallowed down the jibe he’d just been about to deliver and hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Maybe Steve had finally gone vague after all and bailed in the middle of their conversation; he’d rather chase a crazy old coot down the street than talk about his feelings regarding one James Buchanan Barnes. Actually if he looked at it from the right angle then chasing an old coot down the street was pretty much his job description whenever he and his partner teamed up on missions. Sam was just glad they hadn’t been called in to one since this whole silent treatment had started because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether or not Bucky would still have his back even when the guy was mad at him over reasons unknown.

Two more steps and Sam froze in his tracks, eyes wide with disbelief. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched in to himself with something bridling on panic as he fit himself through the front door and kicked it shut behind himself, eyes wild and fixed on the ground between his feet, nervous energy pouring out of him in a way Sam hadn’t seen before. From his spot on the couch Steve watched his childhood friend let himself in with serene indifference.

“Didn’t know you’d be over today,�� was all he said. Then he smiled benignly when Bucky let out a soft whine.

“Help,” Bucky pleaded. “I’m dying.”

Then Bucky slid down to his knees and face planted in the carpet, arms and legs splaying out wide. Steve hummed.

“You know,” he murmured, “no one ever believes me when I tell them you’re this dramatic.”

“Steve! I’m having a crisis!”

“I tell everyone you’re a drama queen and they just shake their heads at me.”

“This is important! You have to kill me, Steve. Or I’m gonna just- just-!” Bucky’s voice petered out with another extended whine muffled by the carpet that probably didn’t smell any better from that close up.

Crossing one leg over the other, Steve folded his hands in his lap with a great lack of concern for the ridiculous scene playing out before him. Sam remained frozen in the hallway, wondering if Bucky even realized he was there, but he got an answer to that almost faster than if he’d bothered to ask himself.

“What’s wrong, pal?”

“It’s Sam!” Bucky cried. His arms lifted up like wings to flail briefly before falling back to the floor in a boneless sprawl. “Please just crush my head or something. I can’t take this.”

“Ah, yes, I hear you’ve been avoiding him.”

Whatever kind of noise Bucky was trying to make, it came out sounding more like he was choking on carpet fumes. “Of course I’m avoiding him!”

“Now why on earth would you do that?”

“I want to stick my tongue in the gap between his teeth!” Bucky said, entirely unaware of the sparks that were suddenly running up Sam’s spine in the hallway. “Help me, Steve! I want to press my thumb in the little dimple on his back. He has a dimple on his back! Why!? Steve I want to hold his hand! What the fuck!”

Steve had both eyebrows up near his hairline and the most shit eating grin any human on the planet had ever worn when he turned his head to look at Sam. Frozen with his eyes on the figure currently panicking in to the floor, Sam paid him no attention. He was busy processing. After getting to know Bucky, inviting him to stay in Delacroix time and time again, the dramatics weren’t actually that much of a surprise. Obviously as they grew closer he’d gotten a number of glimpses in to who the real Bucky Barnes was under the grouchy veneer he presented to the world. Watching him starfish on the ground and whine wasn’t too far from what he’d already seen.

Hearing him say anything about his tongue in conjecture with Sam’s teeth, on the other hand, now that was a bit unexpected. More than a bit.

“I think Shuri called this ‘gay panic’ and honestly I’m in agreement,” Bucky went on mindlessly. “If I have to watch him go through one more workout and not grab his ass with both hands then I’m just going to rip both of them off. Who needs hands if I cannot grab Sam Wilson’s ass with them!?”

“You may be slightly exaggerating the situation, I feel,” Steve told him.

Bucky snorted. “I am not. I absolutely am not. Why is he so hot? And nice? I hate that. Except I don’t. Steve why is he so nice to me?”

“That might be a question you should ask him.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ve got lots of questions for him! Hey Sam, why are you nice to me? Hey Sam, can I lick your cheekbones? Hey Sam, how big is your cock?”

“Well. Not that I’ve ever thought to ask that myself but, alright. Go on, Sam, how big is it?”

Sam had just enough time to cross his arms over his chest and assume a very casual pose leaning against the wall beside him before Bucky’s head shot up off the carpet. If possible, his eyes were even more wild than before when he fixed them on Steve, full of the deepest betrayal. Then he very slowly dragged them sideways to see the man he’d just been panicking over. Sam gave him a very friendly smile.

“Depends on your frame of reference,” he admitted. “I’d say sizeable.”

“Nnnggggg.”

“Hi Buck.”

“Ggnnn.”

While Steve very poorly disguised a laugh behind one hand, Sam pushed off from the wall and sauntered further in to the living room. Bucky slammed his face back in to the carpet.

“Leave me here to die,” he pleaded in a very small voice. Sam tutted, reaching for the front door, only looking over his shoulder once he was halfway through it.

“Come on, Buck, can’t lick my cheekbones if you don’t get off the floor. It was a nice visit, Steve, but don’t be looking out your front curtains for a bit. I think I’ll let Bucky decide for himself what sizeable means.” He thanked god for the mercy of Steve’s house being situated out here so far from any other homes, surrounded on all sides by enough trees that you couldn’t see it from the road. A gorgeous little island of privacy. Sam was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one grateful for this, judging by the mad scrambling noises he could hear going on behind him.

Bucky’s voice garbled out something that sounded like ‘fuck you, thank you, bye forever’ and then Sam was listening to the slam of the front door barely a second before strong hands were wrapping themselves around his hips. He laughed even as Bucky’s face came in to view.

“Greatest assassin of several generations and you didn't notice my truck in the driveway?” he said.

“I may have been a bit distracted.” That was definitely a pout on Bucky’s lips.

“By being so hot for all of this”-Sam gestured vaguely down his own body-“that you literally ceased being able to function.”

He didn’t expect such easy agreement as the sheepish nod that followed his words. “Pretty much.”

Sam blinked slowly once, twice. For one long moment he considered teasing the man. Then he decided that their time was much better spent doing things they’d both obviously been wanting to do while assuming they would never get the chance.

“I was promised a tongue in my teeth. Are you gonna get to that any time soon or am I gonna sit here and pine some more for something I apparently could have had all along?”

Bucky keened piteously. Then he surged forward to follow through on his own promises and Sam really hoped that Steve had taken his words to heart about the curtains. The man was way too old to be seeing all the ways they were about to defile the side of this truck.

[pimpmickey]

An excerpt from “Everything’s Growing in Our Garden”. After Mickey babysits Freddie, he and Lip have a conversation about marriage, kids, and the past.

“Thanks for today.” Lip starts.

“Don’t mention it. He’s been alright.” Mickey shrugs him off again.

“Yeah,” Lip sighs, “he’s a good kid. Feel like the other one will be a nightmare to balance it out.”

Mickey huffs a laugh at that. “How is Tammi?”

Lip sighs again, breath whistling through his teeth, “I think I wanna propose. I’ve had the ring for months but then we fight, or I get a fucking craving and I think, shit, I can’t do that to her. But then I remember I already fucking have, because we’ve got a kid, and another one on the way, so she’s kinda already stuck with me.”

Mickey just rolls his shoulders and takes a sip of coffee, letting him get it out.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me it’s just a piece of paper anyway. Nothing really changed after you and Ian tied the knot, just maybe even more fighting than before.”

Maybe he had said that once, but whether he liked it or not, marriage to the right person was so much more than that. “Actually, I was going to say if you love her, which you do, then you should propose.”

“Yeah?” Lip looks surprised.

“It’s, fuck man, it’s the best thing. Yeah we fight, still working on that although, fuck, it’s way less now that we’re out of that madhouse.” Lip laughs at that, “But it’s safe. I don’t feel like I’m crazy, second guessing whether he’s sick of me or whether he’s gonna walk out again. He’s my husband and that means there’s a responsibility to make it work. If we fight we’re still married and we still gotta sleep in the same bed and eat dinner at the same time. It’s like nothing can happen that’s so bad that we don’t end the day together.”

Lip looks at him sideways, “Fuck man, I thought Ian was soft. I don’t know if that happens for everyone I think that might just be you guys. Monica and Frank were married and she had no problem leaving.”

Mickey purses his lips, “But she always came back right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go. Tammi even want to marry you?”

Lip rolls his eyes, “I dunno, we never really spoke about it. I want to be with her, we’re about to have two kids for fuckssake. Feels wrong not to have the same last name.”

Mickey swears he’d not thought this hard about marrying Ian, once the idea had stuck that was it. “Fucking propose then. Or don’t. If it’s the fighting you’re worried about, hate to break it but you’re an asshole I promise you’d fight with anyone. Might as well be her if you love her.”

Lip kicks out his leg, nowhere near making contact with Mickey, “Fuck off. It’s not just that. I’m a fucking alcoholic, if I relapse she’s the one looking after the kids, looking after me. She shouldn’t have to do that.”

“Would you expect Ian to be alone so no one had to deal with his shit?”

“No of course not.” Lip answers, no hesitation. “He can’t help it.”

“Neither can you. If you can help it don’t fucking do it, and if you do it anyway, then shit, it’s a disease too right? She knows what your deal is, if she wanted to leave then she would, you Gallaghers aren’t special enough for someone to torture themselves over like you seem to think, she must get something out of it.”

Lip twists his mouth, shaking his head, “I told Ian once, a long time ago, that the only way is up from a Milkovich. Imagine telling my past self that I’d be getting some helpful life advice from you.”

Mickey tries and fails to look offended, “Yeah well, I’m part Gallagher now I guess, which makes me fucking soft. Kept my brains though, we can’t all lose our heads when things don’t go to plan. Dumbest most dysfunctional family in Chicago, I bet. ”

“Yet you still wanted in.” Lip sounds fond, it’s a bit weird.

“Well it’s not so bad, you make good husbands so far. And if you send Tammi my way I’ll tell her that. Talk to your brother, let him think that he’s persuaded you that it’s a good idea and you’ll get a better hype man than I can be.” God, he really is getting soft.

“Nah, you’ve done a good job. I’ll always think you’re a prick Milkovich, but maybe you make a good Gallagher.” He’s finished his coffee and Mickey can tell he’s thinking about another cigarette, fiddling with the box as he talks.

“Tammi will too, it’s not the worst family to be a part of. Oldest brother is a self pitying asshole, but the others are alright as in laws.”

They let it hang for a second before Mickey has to break the silence, crack the tension.

“I ain’t watching the kid on the regular, and fuck knows I’m not watching two of them, but if you get stuck again you know where I am.”

It works, Lip laughs, “Getting broody?”

“Nah, but someone else is, and I figure I should get a bit of practice in while I can.”

Lip looks at him dead in the eyes, curious, and Mickey thinks he’s gonna say something else but instead just tips his head towards the ceiling and lets out a low whistle. “Fuck. We grew up. We’re adults.”

Yeah they did, Lip will always be the prick who wrote his English papers and looked at him like he would never amount to anything, but he’s also his nephew’s dad, and was a Best Man at his wedding. They were cool. “Not as half as bad as I expected.”

The sound of Ian’s key turning in the front door carries to the kitchen as Lip replies, “We’re lucky men.”

And yeah, they are.

full fic including Mickey babysitting freddie can be found

[hanmajoerin]

A/N: Did I show up twenty years too late for Ranma 1/2 fanfiction? Probably. Do I give a shit? N O P E. Someone left a tag on one of my Ranma posts saying that Ranma and Akane were a matching set of idiots and I just wanted to explore that. I’m here to try my hand at bringing them to life, keyword: try. Nobody does humor like Takahashi does.

Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots where Ranma tries his best to be a supportive husband on Akane’s cooking journey. Post!Cannon, in a faraway future where the world is still whacky but the kids grew up.

Chapter Summary: Ranma Saotome, 22 years old. He’s been the husband of Akane Saotome for two years, but they’ve known each other way longer. His goal? Buy enough antacids to pillow the upcoming blow of his wife’s meal to “celebrate” having the dojo to themselves. Short term damage: stomach ache for the whole weekend. Long term damage: at least six months shaved off of his life.

II AO3 II Fanfiction.net II

Chapter 1: Antacids

“Shucks...” Ranma mumbled to himself, pilfering through the medicine cabinet for the fifth time in the past three minutes. There was an avalanche of first aid kits, unraveled bandage wraps, and a few stray Band-Aids that fluttered around as he continued searching. What a rookie mistake, he mentally admonished with a sigh. Antacids became a staple of his diet as a grown man, so it wasn’t too surprising that his stock was depleted, but he’d known this weekend was coming.

Creeping out into the hallway, Ranma took care to tread on the balls of his feet. If he tried–really tried–he’d leave without Akane noticing. That would be for the best. As he made it to the entryway, the martial artist dared sniffing the air. The regret was instantaneous and he scrambled to bury his mouth in the crook of his elbow. Ranma hoped the trusty red shirt would be enough to muffle his unstoppable coughing fit, but he’d been sneaking out. Everything was so much louder when a person was attempting to go unnoticed. He leaned back onto the wall to steady himself. Whatever Frankenstein creation Akane was whipping up was unidentifiable. And, it already had the potential to send him flying from the Tendo and Saotome Residence to a hospital bed.

“Ranma, where are you going?” Akane asked, stepping out into the hall and wiping her hands on his apron. The man in question felt his spine straighten, his shoulders tensing so far they touched his ears. Over the years, Ranma put blood, sweat, and tears into convincing his wife that instant ramen was her deal and home cooked meals were his. But, as luck would have it, she still experimented when the opportunity presented itself. An opportunity like a husband and a wife having the entire home for the entire weekend entirely to themselves. She wanted to celebrate... Ranma blanched. There would be nothing to do after he knocked back that disastrous medley of a meal except for curl into the fetal position and let his organs writhe in agony.

“Uh, j-just to the store. Realized I need to uh... get some nails for the roof!” He lied, but Akane was in such a good mood that she hadn’t sensed the hesitation, hadn’t heard the hitch in his voice.

“Could you pick up some jalapeno peppers for me while you’re out?” She asked with that smile that could send him to his knees in the best way but now left them quivering in the worst.

Don’t run for the camping packs, don’t grab the backpacks in Pop’s room, don’t think about how they’re already stuffed with supplies to flee from Akane’s fever drea–

“Ranma?”

Ranma swore his life was flashing before his eyes. He gulped, big. I think I just remembered the first time I took a breath. “Uh, yep, I’ll pick it up for you.”

He’d buy his wife a bell pepper. A green sweet pepper. She wouldn’t know the difference. After all, nine out of ten times she couldn’t even tell heads or tails from motor and vegetable oil.

“It’s for us!”

“Oh, oh man...” Ranma mumbled before squaring his feature into focus and offering his wife what had to be an unsettling smirk. Not that she bothered to analyze it. “I’ll be back!” He announced, offering her a parade caliber wave after he slid on his black flats.

“Take care,” Akane said, turning back to the kitchen.

-x-

The bite of winter snuck through his blue jacket and Ranma shivered. Guess it was better for winter to nip at him than whatever was simmering at home. The martial artist shoved his hands into his pants pocket, kicking at the sidewalk as he made his way to the nearest convenience store. “Aw geez, why’d I have to fall for a tomboy who cooks like Ryoga reads a map?” He grumbled, knowing that his excellent skills in the dojo could never help him dodge Akane’s cooking.

Of course, he hadn’t been expecting an answer, but the universe always seemed to be listening. The light of the 7-11 sign was his answer. It felt like salvation. Ranma’d storm in there and clear the entire shelf of its antacids, splurge now so he’d never have to come back. That was his fever dream.

When the bell tolled, signaling his entrance, Ranma swore he’d found nirvana. The martial artist beelined to the small produce freezer first, sighing in relief at the sight of a single bag of mini-peppers. They were illuminated perfectly under the lights, and sure, they didn’t match the color of a jalapeño, but they were close enough in size. Akane probably wouldn’t think anything of it. Ranma greedily snatched them up into his hands. Nirvana, salvation, and now a living Buddha. The gods came through for once.

Next, his feet walked him to the antacids. Ranma visited this place so often, he knew the isle they were in by heart now. Although he promised to buy out the store’s supply, Ranma resisted the urge and picked up three bottles instead. If Akane saw him walking in with so many all at once, he’d have to grit his teeth and eat dinner without knocking ‘em back. Akane wasn’t below that kind of stunt. Ranma shook his head.

“Good evening,” the cashier stated as Ranma all but slammed his items onto the checkout counter. The kid looked sharp enough. Skinny, brown eyes, black hair. The lucky bastard probably never ate a burnt piece of toast let alone an entire fiesta of flavors that somehow tasted the way painful was spelled. “Heartburn bad lately?” He asked, naively.

Ranma clenched his fist, closing his eyes and letting a rogue tear fall. “Listen pal, my wife and I’ve got the house to ourselves this weekend. You’ve never had her cooking and you don’t want to.” Ranma reached below the counter and threw an extra travel sized bottle of antacids onto the counter for extra measure.

The cashier blinked a few times, making Ranma scowl. He knew it. Pulling out his wallet, the cashier quickly bagged his items. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Your total is 4,237 yen.”

Ranma placed the money into the styrofoam tray, more tears filling his eyes. They glistened like dew under the harsh yellow lights. “These might not even be enough to save me.”

[kyuuppi]

Fruit Salad (NSFW)

Pairing: Orihara Izaya x Reader ( ♀ )

Genre: SMUT, a lot of subtle fluff cause Izaya is my husbando and I love him

⚠️WARNING⚠️ Oh boy... food play, object insertion, light dirty talk, maybe some degradation?, kitchen sex, fingering, really messy oral, light nipple play, biting, spit play, slightly insecure reader, unfortunately Izaya does not get nakey :(

WC: 4.4k 

Izaya hums to himself as he moves around the room with purpose, seeming to have already mentally planned at least ten steps ahead of each action he takes--the antithesis to your own frazzled, jerky movements as your flit between various cardboard boxes, unable to recall the contents of a single one without reading the haphazard black sharpie words etched on the sides. You feel frustration well within you as you realize you are not even halfway done with unpacking the bedroom after nearly two hours.

‘Why the hell do I have so many clothes when I wear the same three sweatshirts every week!’

Glancing over at Izaya’s side of the room you can’t help but feel envious at his few, neatly organized boxes he seems to instinctively know the contents of. All of his clothing seems to fit in a single large box, the bulk of his belongings being various computer hardware and other communication devices that he handles with care.

As per usual, he seems to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly what you’re thinking and his head lifts from the short stack of books in his hands to meet your annoyed gaze with a taunting grin.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

You tear your eyes away from his form with a scoff, a self of hopelessness coming over your form when your eyes land on yet another box mockingly labelled “clothes.” Three months ago, when Izaya had suggested the two of you move in together as your lease at your previous place was coming to an end, you had been ecstatic, to say the least. In the midst of your twenties it is easy to compare yourself to others you deemed more successful and established and you were starting to feel your minimum wage job and shabby apartment complex, filled with mostly rowdy college freshmen with a few grumpy elderly cat ladies sprinkled in, was holding you back. Moving into a fancy new apartment you could never even dream of affording by yourself and with your handsome boyfriend of two years no less--now that is how succeeding in life really looks, right? You were excited to open a new chapter of your life but now, as you stand in the middle of an unfamiliar living room with at least thirty boxes scattered around and the beginnings of hunger pains settling in the pits of your stomach from skipping breakfast, you aren’t so sure.

The beginnings of your internal self-pity rants are interrupted by the familiar childish lilt of Izaya’s voice as he approaches one of the larger boxes by your side.

“My, my...it seems my favorite little human needs some help,” he teases, easily cutting through the messy layers of packing tape with one of his numerous pocket knives he seems to always have.

In the corner of your eye you recognize one of the colorful lumps that springs from the opened box as a childhood Gudetama plush you had all but forgotten you owned. It likely lived most of the past four years in the back corner of your closet, to be honest.

Izaya’s offer immediately relieves some of the pressure from your shoulders and you find yourself growing warm at his display of genuine kindness. At times like these it is difficult to imagine Izaya as the sadistic monster most of Ikebukuro makes him out to be--

“I wonder if I’ll find something naughty in one of these boxes~”

Nevermind. He is definitely a monster.

You use all of your strength to jab his arm in retaliation, your face feeling hot as you sputter out that you don’t have any “naughty” belongings, thank you very much! He only laughs manically, completely unfazed by your physical attack as he makes his way to your new shared bedroom to put your unnecessarily large collection of plushies away.

Having some of your burdens removed you feel much more clear headed and decide to get started on putting the dishes away so the two of you could at least have silverware for the takeout you’ll inevitably be ordering soon. Having spent a great deal of time in a few of Izaya’s apartments over the past few years, you already have an idea of where he keeps certain things and you try to make a conscious effort to satisfy the both of you with locations you think make the most sense. Pretty soon, the repetitive actions of putting forks in draws and plates in cupboards becomes second nature and you find yourself zoning out as you work, oblivious to Izaya’s own labors in the other room until his voice once again breaks the relative silence of the apartment.

“What’s in this box?” Izaya asks innocently as he approaches the kitchen you’re in.

You turn your head to look at what he is referring to, unsurprised to find him already peering inside the flaps of the bright pink box he had just opened. It would be more surprising to you if he hadn’t opened the box. As an information broker and a naturally curious person in general, Izaya has a habit of checking things himself rather than waiting for someone to tell him what he wants to hear. You suppose in his field he is used to people attempting to lie to protect themselves anyway but the first few months of having your boyfriend casually invading every aspect of your privacy were overwhelming, to say the least. Rather than reaching a compromise (Izaya didn’t exactly do compromises), you grew used to it and no longer felt scandalized if you saw him shamelessly scrolling through your cell phone you had just changed the pass code to or bringing up a topic you had only talked about once before with a close friend. His actions had good intentions behind them...usually.

You recognize the pink box immediately and can’t help but to smile fondly at the memory.

“Ah, my mom dropped that off when she came to visit a few weeks ago. She said it's a housewarming gift. I haven’t gotten around to opening it though,” you answer, watching as he pulls out a few items and placing them on the breakfast bar between you two.

The first few objects are what you would expect, a few overpriced scented candles and a plush blanket in your favorite color. It is one of the last few items Izaya pulls out that has your mouth falling slack with shock and his own expression morphing from confusion to pure glee. Dangled from his right hand is an atrociously bright colored pack of small, uniform circles surrounded by clear plastic squares adorning matching colored cartoon fruits drawn on each.

Condoms...fruit flavored condoms.

You silently pray the group will just open up and swallow you whole as Izaya carelessly tosses the box to the side to turn all of his attention on the pack in his hands, excitedly assessing each of the options. While of course you are no stranger to sex, Izaya had a healthy libido afterall, it was generally a small, undisclosed part of your relationship together. When the moment struck it would happen, generally very vanilla with the occasional teasing remarks or dirty talk via Izaya, but afterwards neither of you ever talked about it or brought it up. But...now that you two would be living together...would it happen more often? Your cheeks instantly heat up in mortification at where your own perverted train of thought was rapidly heading.

“Which do you think we should try first, y/n-chan?” your boyfriend casually asks, eying the bright yellow pineapple flavor.

You nearly choke on your own spit.

“Wh-wha...Izaya, we need to get back to unpacking! P-put those away already,” you stutter out, stepping forward in an attempt to grab the pack from his hands, missing when he easily side-steps you and instead grabs your arm to pull you closer to his warm body. Your brain nearly short circuits when he leans forward to your left ear, hot breath leaving goosebumps along your neck as he murmurs.

“It’s important to take breaks, y’know,” he suggests calmly, like a doctor placating a panicked patient.

It works infuriatingly well and you find your whole body feeling like gelatin as you subconsciously relax in his hold.

“You like strawberries, right, y/n-chan~?”

You nod dumbly, thoughts too scattered to even think about what he’s really asking when his soft lips are just barely brushing the tip of your ear before his teeth offer a little nip that has your whole body shuddering. You’re brought back to your senses when you feel the arms he had snaked around your waist contract and pull up, gently placing you on top of the kitchen island.

“W-wait, we should go to the bedroom.”

Izaya seems unperturbed, fiddling with something behind you as his lips leave a trail of searing kisses along your neck. He doesn’t make a move to acknowledge your suggestion until you place your hands on his shoulders and attempt to push him off of you, at which he naturally doesn’t budge a single centimeter.

“Hmm? I’m in the kitchen because I’m going to eat something--I don’t see the problem.”

Something in the pit of your stomach flutters at the implication and you can’t find it in yourself to argue further. He disconnects from your neck and takes a step back only to tug at the bottom of your top. You raise your arms obediently, the action almost instinctive at this point, and he pulls your shirt off of your body, wasting no time removing your bra immediately afterwards. You immediately shiver at the sudden cold and would have moved your arms in front of your chest in embarrassment at how the brightly lit kitchen in midday leaves you feeling more exposed than usual but Izaya moves quickly and his lips are already back on your neck before you can ever react. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a bowl of fruits next to you that you didn’t remember being there before. You think nothing of it and let your eyes flutter closed when Izaya’s lips finally find your right nipple, sucking the nub into his hot mouth without hesitation, making your spine tingle. Your hands move up to clutch his dark locks, desperate for something to keep you grounded but the action only spurs him on further and he lets out a soft groan as he swirls his tongue around before scrapping the sensitive flesh with his teeth. You yelp when he sucks harshly, back arching away only for his hands to keep your firmly in place. He pulls back, releasing the nipple with a small pop before he moves his attention to it’s twin. You feel lightheaded with the contrast of cold air nipping at the rapidly cooling saliva on your right nipple while the left one is subjected to the blazing heat of Izaya’s mouth.

His right hand remains secured on the small of your back while the left first around to tease the nipple not in his mouth, mimicking the actions of his tongue with his fingers as he rolls the hardened bud in tight circles before pinching which his teeth nip. Your thighs rub together as you feel wetness pool in your underwear and you briefly wonder if it's possible to reach an orgasm with nipple stimulation alone.

Before you can find out firsthand, Izaya releases both of your nipples and pulls back. You can’t help the small whine that escapes your lips at the loss when both nipples now feel cold and achy. He giggles at that, the gleam in his vermillion eyes seeming dangerous.

“Don’t worry, princess, Izaya-sama will take good care of you~” he childishly promises, a stark contrast to the nimble fingers now unbuttoning your shorts before gently pushing your shoulder back until you lay flat on the marble counter. The surface is cold and hard, uncomfortable on your back, but the heat between your legs takes priority over all other discomforts. You waste no time lifting your hips so he can slide the fabric of your shorts and panties down your legs at once, all usual inhibitions seemingly lost when your head feels so fuzzy.

Izaya’s large hands firmly plant themselves on each of your knees and spread them apart slowly, like he’s opening his own personal Christmas present, until your heels are pressed into the edge of the counter. You can feel the cold air on your folds and know you must be absolutely soaked but you can’t resist chancing a glance up at Izaya’s expression.

Big mistake.

You can see the hunger in his eyes as his gaze is glued to the space between your thighs, licking his own lips in anticipation. Your core clenches at the sight and you feel more slick leaking out of your hole. His eyes follow the movement before he glances up at your flushed face and offers a knowing smirk. You think your soul just left your body.

His left hand slides down from your knee to your inner thigh, thumb resting right at the junction between your leg and pelvis right his right hand moves directly to your folds, two fingers gliding easily along the slick lips before reaching your clit, causing your whole body to jerk at the light contact.

He rubs circles around your clit through the hood until whines and soft moans are spilling your lips, his other hand teasing your folds with just his thumb. All movement stops abruptly and he pulls his hands away but before you can even mourn the loss of stimulation, his thumbs are hooked into each side of your folds and pulling your cunt open before he’s ducking his head down and swiping his tongue along the wetness. The moan that leaves your throat sounds nearly pornographic but you find it difficult to care when the tip of his wet tongue moves up to flick at your clit a few times before sliding back down and circling your small hole.

Izaya is neat and organized in all other aspects of his life but every time he eats your pussy it’s absolutely messy. Rather than lapping up your wetness he drools around his own tongue, making it ever wetter until every movement releases obscene clicks and sloshing sounds. He pulls back only a few centimeters, retracting his tongue back into his mouth for a second. You watch with morbid fascination as he collects the saliva in his mouth only to purse his lips over your pussy and let the liquid slowly drip down directly into your twitching hole. It feels dirty, it is dirty, but you can’t deny the flutter in your gut and the way your core absolutely pulses in pleasure as you audibly whimper. He keeps you spread open as his tongue delves back in, thrusting in and out of you before returning to your engorged clit. His right hand releases its hold only to push his middle finger inside of you, an easy glide with excess liquids dripping down to the counter by now. With each inwards thrust his finger curls upwards, stabbing a part of your fleshy insides that make your vision bloom until the kitchen lights above you are starbursts and everything is swimming.

The next time he pulls his middle finger out he presses his ring finger beside it and both are pressing into you, providing the slight sting of a stretch that has you keening while your cunt eagerly accepts them. His lips wrap around your clit to harshly suck as his two fingers press into that same spongy part and you’re seeing stars. You feel a familiar pressure in the pits of your belly, building bigger and bigger with each thrust of his fingers and scrape of his teeth against your clit. You’re going to cum soon.

“I-ngh--Izaya,” you whimper out, struggling to form the words you need to express your warning.

It is pointless really, Izaya is already exceptional at reading body language, even more so yours. He only hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations further stimulating your clit and making you press your hips forwards, seeking more as you draw closer and closer to the finish line. Every muscle in your body seems to contract as you feel it coming, tensing up in preparation for the impending release.

That’s when he decides to pull away.

You aren’t sure whether to cry or punch him in the face when you feel your incoming climax completely disappear, leaving your clit still throbbing and your hole empty, hopelessly clenching and unclenching around nothing. Your eyes open to give him the strongest glare you can muster only for him to not even be looking at you, instead fiddling with something you can’t see from your angle. You open your mouth, ready to curse him out until the words die in your throat as you watch him bring the fingers of high right hand that were just inside of you to his own mouth, casually licking them clean. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Hmm...ah, this one is perfect.”

Your brows furrow in confusion as he seems to make up his mind about something. You move to sit up but he’s already back between your legs, grinning down at you as if he hadn’t just robbed you of an orgasm.

His left thumb slides back to your clit, making you shudder as a flame seems to rekindle inside of you. He wastes no time to set a fast pace rubbing your clit, quickly bringing you back close to where you were before but not quite. Then you feel something blunt pressed against your whole, much larger than any of his fingers. For a moment you think it might be his cock but you don’t recall seeing him unbuckle his pants at any point and the cool temperature is nothing like his familiar heat.

The object is circled around your hole and you notice it feels really smooth...like latex.

“Wh-what is that,” you ask nervously. The two of you haven't used toys before and you don’t recall him ever mentioning owning any.

His grin widens, seeming amused by your apprehension.

“You wanted to try strawberry, right? Well, I prefer bananas so why not both.”

You scramble to sit up and nearly have a heart attack when you see the curved yellow object wrapped in neon pink pressed against your pussy.

“Izaya, th-thats…!”

“Strawberry and banana--its like a smoothie~,” he explains proudly.

A sudden pinch on your clit has your arms faltering and makes you fall back, yelping as your back reconnects with the marble.

“Now be a good girl, yeah? I need to take care of this poor pussy.”

You choke on your own saliva as he presses the covered tip of the thick fruit into you, slowly stretching your hole open with a sharp sting.

“It’s just begging to be filled,” he croons.

You feel the stretch of each centimeter as he pushes it in but Izaya is relentless and doesn’t let up on the pressure until the tip bumps into your cervix and your muscles are spasming uncontrollably as your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“It’s...big,” you stutter out dumbly, hardly even aware you’re speaking out loud.

Izaya feigns an innocently concerned expression as his left thumb continues to rub circles into your clit.

“Ehh~? Then we’ll have to make sure we stretch you open properly ‘cause my cock is even bigger.”

You instinctively clench as you feel him pulling it out slowly, never fully removing it before he’s pushing it back in. The residual wetness from earlier makes a resounding squelch every time he pushes it back in that has your cheeks burning in shame.

With each thrust the stretch stings less and less, aided by his teasing on your clit never faltering, and instead you feel the familiar pleasure of having something thrusting inside of you, rubbing against your slick walls. The natural curve of the fruit forces the tip to hook into a spot just before your cervix then dragging along the top of your walls as it’s pulled out only to repeat the motion. That same pressure in your lower belly returns but a little stronger and you think if Izaya denies your orgasm this time you might actually die.

Izaya however, does not offer any indications that he plans to do so and instead moves his left hand from your cit to push your right thigh higher, your knee nearly touching your chest, so he has room to lean down use his tongue instead, right hand still continuing to fuck the banana into you, gradually quickening his pace until it feels punishing and its almost too much. The battering of the tip against your cervix has your body trying to pull away but Izaya��s hand keeps you firmly in place, forcing you to accept whatever he gives you.

It’s when he uses his teeth to lightly nibble on your bud while simultaneously shifting the angle of fruit that your climax rips through your body, setting every nerve ending in your body on fire and rendering your eyes useless as white blinds your vision. Your mouth is open and sounds are coming out but you yourself can’t even process what you’re saying. Izaya continues his assault with vigor, making you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before the come down has you too sensitive and using what little remains of your strength to kick him away and attempt to close your legs.

You hardly have the strength to deny him of anything on a good day, let alone after an intense orgasm, but he seems to be feeling generous enough to stop when you say it's too much. He pulls his head away from between your thighs and you try to ignore the glistening juices dripping down the corners of his mouth and smeared on his chin as he slowly removes the banana from your fluttering pussy. You feel empty again and you can literally feel your stretched hole gaping, leaving you feeling embarrassed. Izaya dips down suddenly to press a single peck to your clit. You whine softly in over-sensitivity but the unexpectedly sweet gesture makes your chest feel warm.

As you attempt to catch your breath, Izaya moves away again, removing the sticky condom from the fruit and throwing it in the trash bin before placing the equally sticky banana back on the counter next to the fruit bowl. You’re about to make a complaint when he moves back to your side, smirking at your disheveled state and picking you up, one hand behind your back and the other beneath your knees, to carry you to the bedroom.

He places you on the freshly made sheets gingerly, your body immediately sinking into the plush mattress like a puddle. He leaves the room only to return a few seconds later with a plastic bottle of water and a paper pamphlet you recognize as the menu to one of your favorite takeout restaurants. Your brows furrow in confusion as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, silently skimming through the menu, undoubtedly already knowing what both of you will order.

Despite the heaviness in your lids and bonelessness of your body, you sit up to question the man.

“Izaya?”

His eyes shift over to you in question, his expression dangerously mischievous yet unreadable as usual.

“Aren’t you...don’t you need to, like...get off?” you cringe at how awkward and undeniably unsexy your words sound and you can see the mirth in his gaze but he decides to spare you the teasing for now.

“Aww, my little human is so eager to please her god~” he lilts.

You roll your eyes in response before squealing when he pulls you into his arms, forcing you both to lie back down on the bed, entangled in his arms while he teasing blows a puff of air in your left ear just to watch you squirm as you try to get away.

“Don’t worry, y/n-chan, I’m satisfied just watching you.”

Your chest swells and your annoyed expression melts into a small smile at the implication that he cared more about your own pleasure and exhaustion than his own needs--

“I never would have thought you’d enjoy getting fucked by a fruit so much~! Next time should we try a cucumber?”

You have zero regrets when you punch him in the chest.

[7r0773r]

Heavy by Kiese Laymon

Inside Concord Missionary Baptist church, I loved the attention I got for being a fat black boy from the older black women: they were the only women on earth who called my fatness fineness. I felt flirted with, and like most fat black boys, when flirted with, I fell in love. I loved the organ’s bended notes, the aftertaste of the grape juice, the fans steadily moving through the humidity, the anticipation of somebody catching the Holy Ghost, the lawd-have-mercy claps after the little big-head boy who couldn’t read so well was forced to read a greeting to the congregation.

But as much as I loved parts of church, and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t love the holy word coming from the pulpit. The voices carrying the word were slick and sure of themselves in ways I didn’t believe. The word at Concord was always carried by the mouths of the reverend, deacons, or other visiting preachers who acted like they knew my grandmama and her friends better than they did.

Older black women in the church made up the majority of the audience. But their voices and words were only heard during songs, in ad-libbed responses to the preacher’s word and during church announcements. While Grandmama and everyone else amen’d and well’d their way through shiny hollow sermons, I just sat there, usually at the end of the pew, sucking my teeth, feeling superhot, super bored, and really resentful because Grandmama and her friends never told the sorry-ass preachers to shut up and sit down somewhere.

My problem with church was I knew what could have been. Every other Wednesday, the older women of the church had something called Home Mission: they would meet at alternate houses, and bring their best food, their Bibles, notebooks, and their testimonies. There was no instrumental music at Home Mission, but those women, Grandmama’s friends, used their lives, their mo(u)rning songs, and their Bibles as primary texts to boast, confess, and critique their way into tearful silence every single time.

I didn’t understand hell, partially because I didn’t believe any place could be hotter than Mississippi in August. But I understood feeling good. I did not feel good at Concord Missionary Baptist church. I felt good watching Grandmama and her friends love each other during Home Mission. (Be, pp. 54-55)

***

You were on your way back from Hawaii with Malachi Hunter while LaThon Simmons and I sat in the middle of a white eighth-grade classroom, in a white Catholic school, filled with white folk we didn't even know. These white folk watched us toss black vocabulary words, a dull butter knife, and pink grapefruit slices back and forth until it was time for us to go home.

We were new eighth graders at St. Richard Catholic School in Jackson, Mississippi, because Holy Family, the poor all-black Catholic school we attended most of our lives, closed unexpectedly due to lack of funding. All four of the black girls from Holy Family were placed in one homeroom at St. Richard. All three of us black boys from Holy Family were placed in another. Unlike at Holy Family, where we could wear what we wanted, at St. Richard, students had to wear khaki or blue pants or skirts and light blue, white, or pink shirts.

LaThon, who we both thought looked just like a slew-footed K-Ci from Jodeci, and I sat in the back of homeroom the first day of school doing what we always did: we intentionally used and misused last year's vocabulary words while LaThon cut up his pink grapefruit with his greasy, dull butter knife. "These white folk know here on discount," he told me, "but they don't even know."

"You right," I told him. "These white folk don't even know that you an ol’ grapefruit-by the-pound-eating ass nigga. Give me some grapefruit. Don’t be parsimonious with it, either."

"Nigga, you don’t eat grapefruits,” LaThon said. “Matter of fact, tell me one thing you eat that don't got butter in it. Ol’ churning-your-own-butter-ass dying laughing. "Plus, you act like I got grapefruits gal-low up in here. I got one grapefruit."

Seth Donald, a white boy with two first names, looked like a dustier Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, but with braces. Seth spent the first few minutes of the first day of school silent-farting and turning his eyelids inside out. He asked both of us what "gal-low" meant.

"It's like galore," I told him, and looked at LaThon. "Like grapefruits galore."

LaThon sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. "Seth, whatever your last name is, first of all, your first name ends with two f's from now on, and your new name is Seff six-two because you five-four but you got the head of a nigga we know who six-two." LaThon tapped me on the forearm. "Don't he got a head like S. Slawter?" I nodded up and down as LaThon shifted and looked right in Seff 6'2's eyes. "Every thang about y’all is erroneous. Every. Thang. This that black abundance. Y'all don’t even know."

LaThon's favorite vocab word in seventh grade was "abundance," but I'd never heard him throw "black" and "that" in front of it until we got to St. Richard.

While LaThon was cutting his half into smaller slices, he looked at me and said Seth six-two and them didn't know about the slicing "shhhtyle" he used.

Right as I dapped LaThon up, Ms. Reeves, our white homeroom teacher, pointed at LaThon and me. Ms. Reeves looked like a much older version of Wendy from the Wendy restaurants. We looked at each other, shook our heads, and kept cutting our grapefruit slices. “Put the knife away, LaThon, she said. *Put it down. Now!"

"Mee-guh," we said to each other. "Meager," the opposite of LaThon's favorite word, was my favorite word at the end of seventh grade. We used different pronunciations of meager to describe people, places, things, and shhhtyles that were at least eight levels less than nothing. "Mee-guh," I told her again, and pulled out my raggedy Trapper Keeper. "Mee-guh." 

While Ms. Reeves was still talking, I wrote "#1 tape of #1 group?" on a note and passed it to LaThon. He leaned over and wrote, "EPMD and Strictly Business." I wrote. #1 girl you wanna marry?" He wrote, "Spinderalla + Tootie." I wrote, "#1 white person who don't even know?" LaThon looked down at his new red and gray Air Maxes, then up at the ceiling. Finally, he shook his head and wrote, "Ms. Reeves + Ronald Reagan. It's a tie. With they meager ass."

I balled up the note and put it in my too-tight khakis while Ms. Reeves kept talking to us the way you told me white folk would talk to us if we weren't perfect, the way I saw white women at the mall and police talk to you whether you'd broken the law or not.

I understood how Ms. Reeves had every reason in her world to think I was a sweaty, red-eyed underachiever who drank half a Mason jar of box wine before coming to school. That's almost exactly who I was. But LaThon was as close to abundant as an eighth grader could be. (Meager, pp. 65-67)

***

When I came back from playing ball at the Greenbelt rec center during spring break, you made me read back over sentences I’d written in my notebooks back in Mississippi. You said I asked a lot of questions about what I saw and heard in my writing, but because I didn’t reread the questions I didn’t push myself to different answers. You said a good question always trumps an average answer.

“The most important part of writing, and really life,” you said, “is revision.” (Contraction, p. 85)

***

When I got in the house, you brought your belt across my neck. Earlier in the day, Ms. Andrews, one of your friends who was a teacher at my school, told you Coach Shitzler said I was in a sexual relationship with a white girl. You heard this “news” on the same day you watched a gang of white police officers try to kill a chained black man they later claimed had “Hulk-like” strength.

I did not know Rodney King, but I could tell by how he wiggled, rolled, and ran he was not a Hulk. Hulks did not beg for mercy. Hulks did not shuffle from ass whuppings. Hulks had no memories, no mamas. I wondered what niggers and police were to a Hulk. I wondered if all sixteen-year-old Americans had a little Hulk in them. 

I knew, or maybe I accepted, for the first time no matter what anyone did to me, I would never beg anyone for mercy. I would always recover. There was physically nothing anyone could do to me to take my heart, other than kill me. You, Grandmama, and I had that same Hulk in our chest. We would always recover. At some point during my beating, I just stopped fighting and I let you hit me. I did not scream, I did not yell. I barely breathed. I took my shirt off without you telling me. I let you beat me across my back. It was the only beating in my life where watching you beat me as hard as you could felt good. (Hulk, pp. 96-97)

***

I listened to the Coup and read everything James Baldwin had written that summer. I learned you haven’t read anything if you’ve only read something once or twice. Reading things more than twice was the reader version of revision. I read The Fire Next Time over and over again. I wondered how it would read differently had the entire book, and not just the first section, been written to, and for, Baldwin’s nephew. I wondered what, and how, Baldwin would have written to his niece. I wondered about the purpose of warning white folk about the coming fire. Mostly, I wondered what black writers weren’t writing when we spent so much creative energy begging white folk to change. (Already, pp. 143-44)

***

I’d never given much weight to the idea of present black fathers saving black boys. Most of the black boys I grew up with had present black fathers in the home. Sure, some of those fathers taught my friends how to be tough. But I can’t think of one who encouraged his son to be emotionally or even bodily expressive of joy, fear, and love. I respected my father but I never felt that I needed him or any other man in the house to show me how to become a loving man. I knew, truth be told, that a present American man would likely teach me how to be a present American man. And I couldn’t imagine how those teachings would have made me healthier or more generous. (Seat Belts, p. 200)

[whitherliliesbloom]

hello, goodbye

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ my writings ] [ prompt #13 (free write) - farewells ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,231 words ] ★ [ plastic memories au ]

in a world with declining birthrates and where loneliness is a growing issue, androids named giftias were created for the purpose of forming connections with humans. however, giftias only have an approximate lifespan of about 912 days. the giftia retrieval service is an organization put in charge of the retrieval of giftias that were nearing that lifespan. illya, a giftia working for the retrieval service is given a new human partner, alphinaud.. who soon realizes that illya was herself nearing her own lifespan.

may you one day reunite with the person you love and cherish

Her smile was contagious, upsettingly so. She shone like the stars that hung in the sky, like an angel descended from the heavens. Her smile was more human than most humans - even when she herself was only ever meant to be a creation that imitated the concept of humanity. 

But there wasn’t a single person within the retrieval service that could bring themselves to smile for long in her presence. 

Because they knew - they knew of the truth that laid behind her smile. An expression built on a mountain of lies, of false emotions. And yet it was not because giftias were fake humans.. nor did anyone argue over the genuine feelings giftias could form.. that was, after all, what they were made to do. To emulate and form connections with humans, to fill the void in the hearts of people who lacked the family and friends to do so.

Illya’s smile was but a mask - a well rehearsed act played by the master of faking her own happiness, hiding away the words she truly wanted to say. It was a familiar sight in the office, but one that brought only a scalding pain to those around her. And the pain only grew with every day that passed.

For a long time, it’d remained that way. Her smile however dazzling and bright, was always met with a cursory glance and a curt response by her human colleagues. Even her old partner, a woman whose face wore the wrinkles that spoke of her experience and time in the field turned colder and colder, despite her own best efforts to smile warmer and warmer. But that was fine. A life void of color was most fitting for a machine. 

She thought herself to be fine with not ever seeing the warmth of another person’s smile towards her, resolved herself to being but a doll made to fulfill her duty and naught else. Life is cold as her circuits were. If she did not feel, her impending farewell will taste less bitter. 

But her new partner had contrary plans - a human who was determined to see her smile shatter into pieces, to see her suffer. 

She still remembered the day they met - and the first time she’d seen a human smile as warmly as he had towards her on that day in what feels to be her entire lifetime. And she smiled back, facade unbreaking, as she offered him a warm cup of tea before leading him to his seat. It would only be a matter of time before he too turned cold and looked away from her like the others did. As long as he figured out how much time she had left, realized that he was talking to a machine on the verge of shutting down. 

But that day never came.

“Are you okay, Illya?”

He’d always ask without fail every morning, and it’s vexing how concern towards her was feeling more and more familiar. Unplugging herself from her aged charging station was becoming a chore, one that her roommate and partner ever took great notice of.

“I’m fine.” but she’d always answer, as ever with an unfaltering smile upon her face that was only met with a deepened scowl from him. She was used to her smile bringing pain to others - and yet she’d sensed that it wasn’t quite for the same reason as Alphinaud did now. 

With a soft buzz of life, she turned off her own port, and spared not even a single glance towards him as she saunters towards the kitchen as nonchalantly as she could best act. Giftias had no need for sustenance - eating was but yet another act of human activity to sell their own humanity. But she was always strangely fond of cooking - of preparing food with her own two helpless hands and bringing joy to others, even when she could not herself partake in such a joy. She wouldn’t allow herself to.

“Ah, let me help you.” Alphinaud clumsily tosses aside his blanket, rolling up the sleeves of his pajama shirt and taking his spot next to the bewildered giftia.

“I-I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”

“I will, anyway. It’s the least I can do.” He flashes her a smile at a time when his smile wasn’t at all appreciated, and Illya has to turn away to hold back a frown beneath grit teeth. 

Stop being so nice to me.

She’d always knew him to be different from the others, or at the very least much unlike her old partner who had been more practical than she was emotional. He treated her in a way she never knew she wanted to be treated, he was at once her biggest headache, but also a salvation she never asked for. 

He was her biggest fear realized, a smile that mirrored back at her, and a frown that was birthed out of genuine concern for her feelings instead of his own. 

“You’ve been staring at that flyer for a while now. Is something the matter?” Alphinaud had asked once while they were out on an assignment.

He was also, infuriatingly observant of her behavior, something she’d grown so lax about after getting into the habits of being nonexistent in presence to everyone around her. 

Illya would clutch the hem of her skirt, fiddling with the lanyard around her neck that held her identification card. And when silence would not suffice to appeal him, she’d hide her face beneath the shadow of her bangs and stutter.

“N-nothing.”

“That’s an advert of the coming festival, right? Would you like to go?” He willfully ignores her attempts to brush his question off with yet another infuriatingly radiant smile. 

“No.” her swift answer only comes naturally, accompanied with yet another fake smile of her own. But the muscles of her face aches even more than ever, and she has to force herself to shut her eyes when she feels a burning behind her lids. “I’m not interested.”

What was the point in going anyways? What was the point of seeing the lights when eternal darkness was all that she will see in her near future? She didn’t know life outside of working, and when she hadn’t been working, she would sit perched upon her station with the lights in the apartment turned off, drifting in and out of dreams that she was terrified of having. 

But she wasn’t surprised when he’d turned up in their room that very same evening with two tickets to the festival anyway, loathed how genuinely over the moon she had been when she’d realized that he saw her through her blatant lie and went against her wishes.

“It would be fun.” he’d said with the most awful, joyous voice he could muster, and the incandescent smile he wore upon his face nearly breaks her. 

Why do you want to see me cry so badly?

It truly had been the most fun she’s ever had, and her own happiness upset her. The past two years of practiced nonchalance and lack of a care for her own well being had swiftly been undone within a matter of a mere few fleeting weeks. Weeks filled with a roller coaster of emotions, of dreamlike excitement. 

The fireworks that burst into a kaleidoscope of colors and bright lights in the sky deafened her, the weight of the jacket he’d insisted on slinging over her shoulders felt heavy. And as if it hadn’t been torture enough, twelve curse the man for slipping his hand into hers, knotting his fingers in between her own and pulling her close, forcing her to feel each and every inch of his warmth and kindness. 

She’d assume his attempts to break her was out of ignorance if she wasn’t acutely aware of the pain he was going through himself. If only she hadn’t been eavesdropping.. hadn’t heard of the way his voice shook and trembled when their manager had informed him of her remaining lifespan.

Under the dazzling starmines, were a pair of fools hellbent on hurting one another. 

“Why?” her resolve dashed, she cannot help but to ask with a hushed voice, barely audible in the midst of the booming fireworks and laughter of the other festival-goers rising into the air. “Why are you being so nice to me.. even when you know that i’m..”

For a moment he was silent, and she wonders if Alphinaud heard her. She wouldn’t minded if he hadn’t, perhaps convinced herself for a moment that that would have been for the best. 

“Do you not want to have happy memories before then?”

Illya manages a smile out of habit, but she has no expectations of it managing to fool him this time. 

“If I’m going to shut down, then I’d rather not have any memories at all.”

She remembered uttering those very same words to many giftias she’d spoken to, giftias who were themselves nearing their lifespan, and were due to be separated from their families and loved ones. And as varied in personality as humans were, those giftias gave her different responses to that very sentiment.

A handful had agreed with her, lamented their coming termination and cursed the system they had been born to serve and die under. Many others however had disagreed, and the smiles they wore upon their faces as they’d recounted the joy and love they had been showered with haunted Illya to the core every time she had to watch the lights from their eyes fade.

That should have sufficed as proof that memories formed by plastic would amount to nothing but pain in the end. 

“And leave this world without having truly lived your life? That’s not right, Illya. You deserve to live, more than anyone else in the world.”

Giftias were extraordinary, a true marvel of human invention and technological advancement. And more than anything, they lived up to their namesake of being gifts to mankind - to bring happiness. Giftias never truly needed to be happy themselves, or to live.. as Alphinaud would so insist otherwise. But what difference was metal and wires to flesh and bones if they could feel and think the same? A sentience that could suffer was worthy every bit of happiness they could experience. 

“I want to be part of your life, how ever long or short it may be.”

She could never forget his words, could not drown his sincerity from rippling through her. His voice replayed in her head again, and again, long after the colors of the sky had faded, and naught but faint dots of light hung above their heads.

The pale moon looked so much more sorrowful on that night than ever before as Illya sat upon her station, staring listlessly out the window. The only thing louder than the buzzing of her own circuits was Alphinaud’s breathing and the rustling of his sheets as he tossed and turned. And when her racing mind had finally settled on that accursed number plastered onto the back of her mind, her resolve shatters.

“Alphinaud.” He awakens to the girl standing over his bed. And though his vision is blurred, he could faintly make up the outline of her trembling form. When she speaks up again, the clarity behind her sorrow alarms him. “I can’t sleep.”

“W-what’s wrong?” the young man forces himself to sit up, but so nearly falls onto back onto the bed when Illya throws herself into his arms.

His warmth hurts her, the tight hold of his arms that wrap around her to pull her closer to his chest is suffocating. But she can no longer find the strength in herself to smile.

“I’m scared.” 

She felt like a failure, of a retrieval service employee and a giftia both. She understood fully why the people around her became distant, watched as her world grew colder and devoid of life in the past three months of her remaining lifespan. And she never once bemoaned their choices, because to associate with a dying person was to willfully subject themselves to even more pain.

Yet she’d selfishly and secretly longed to be proven wrong, wished for a warmth and joy that she could take with her past her last moments. And when she’d finally had her wish fulfilled, she could only tremble and cry at this gift, this treasure that Alphinaud has given her that she truly didn’t deserve. She would pay for this honesty with even more pain, she was sure of it. 

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” 

“I know.” 

She feels Alphinaud press his face into the side of her head, and his hand rises to begin stroking through strands of her hair, and she apologizes for the tear stains she leaves upon his shirt with choked sobs, spilling forth months of pent up regrets and sadness. Her last recollection of that day is the feeling of a blanket being draped over her, of Alphinaud pulling her against his chest and allowing the sounds of her weeping to grow fainter as she drifts to sleep. 

Her charging port is left neglected for a bed bathed in a gentle moonlight that watched over them as they slept in each other’s embrace. In the midst of that sorrowful and tearful night, it had been the warmest Illya had felt in a long while. 

[maple-writes]

WHG 14: post games 3

whg tag list: @ratracechronicler (Alvira) @concealeddarkness13 (Zenith), @nightskywriter , @rhikasa , @the-moving-finger-writes , @aeslin-writes @knmartinshouldbewriting , @pen-of-roses @timefirewrites 

(skipping right to the stealing part cause I couldn’t think much to add to the practice scene)

###

Shine gave us the directions to the facility where the shockers and other equipment were stored. It stood non-descript and heavily guarded just outside the main part of the city. Zenith and Elvira had gone ahead, leaving me hidden in a little dark alley just outside the loading bay. I peered out as far as I dared as nerves crawled up and down my skin. How long had they been gone for? Did something happen?

Someone stepped out into the street and I ducked my head back in with a sharp gasp, but then I recognized Elvira’s voice. A moment later they rounded the corner, Zenith dragging a struggling guard with him. I scrambled back, gesturing for him to bring the man down to the far corner of the alley.

I turned to face our victim, curling my fingers at my sides. “Sorry about this.”

He didn’t have time to react before I snatched the soul from his chest, holding it tight in one hand, tighter than what had to be comfortable, but I didn’t want to drop him. Didn’t want to make Zenith hold him down again. The guard flared cold against my skin, panic shooting up my arm and quickening my heart.

Now Zenith. “Ready?”

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

I plucked him into my other hand. Stiller, calmer than the other, he still buzzed and chilled the blood running away from my hand, running up through my shoulder and into my heart until I pushed him into the guard’s empty body. As soon as he started to move, I steadied myself and forced the guard’s soul through the wall of my chest, working him through the muscle and bone to settle beside my heart.

 #

Immediately, I winced as the guard flared out from my chest, pushing against my lungs and trying to claw back out through the muscles binding my ribs. You! You’re that, that tribute, shit. I hunched over, holding a hand over my chest as I fought to catch my breath, to take it back from his attempt at control. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it. Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me. I won’t. You’ll be fine.

I took a deep breath, pushing him back beside what was left by my own half soul. He protested, but slowly succumbed enough for me to look back up with a nod and a quiet thumbs up. Zenith nodded back and started to slip out of the alley, but Elvira held back.

She glanced back at me. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Right. I nodded again. I forgot sometimes how it must look from the outside. Shaking and sweating with uneven breath and clenched teeth. She didn’t look fully convinced, but there was a plan we had to follow, so she left, following Zenith out towards the building.

I leaned back against the wall, resting my head against the worn cement. It was silent, silent besides the pounding of my own heart in my ears. My chest ached, heavy with the guard’s soul where it didn’t belong.

What are they doing? Where are they going? What’s going on? I turned my head, half my own idea, half his, blinking down the alley the way they’d gone. Panic knotted tight in my stomach, organs twisting in on themselves and my skin crawled up and down and up and down. I closed my eyes and forced my gaze ahead again. It’s fine, everything’s fine. They’re going to go in, take something, and come back. That’s all. That’s all.

Is it about that girl? The girl? The tribute, Lynne. Yeah, her and the other Lynn. I swore under my breath. I probably shouldn’t have told him that, but really, how hard would it have been to put two and two together. Not very hard. Exactly.

I sighed, letting my shoulders fall as my heart started to get a hold of itself, slowing, slowing enough to calm some of the tremors running up and down my arms. Without meaning too, I let out a groan and massaged closed eyes. Fuck I’m so getting fired after this.

Huh? I shuddered as disappointment crushed deep on top of my chest, heavy and guilty. I had one job, just one job and then one guy comes along and drags me away like nothing! I hunched over, resting my hands against crossed legs. My heart started up again, halfway back to it’s fast-paced panic. I took a deep breath, and then another. Easy, relax. To be fair, Zenith is very strong. Easy, relax.

I shook my head, hands starting to shake even as I opened and shut my fingers. I’ve never been fired before. What am I going to do? My hands went to my head and my eyes widened, staring, staring down at the cement, fingernails digging into my scalp. What am I going to tell my wife?

Come on, I shook my head out, taking control of my arms back and setting them back in my lap. It’s not like it’s the end of the world or anything. I counted on shaky fingers. I mean, I’ve been fired from like, five different places. It sucks, but it could be worse. I guess… Honestly you could probably do better than guarding torture devices anyway. I frowned. Torture devices? What else would you call those shocker  things, the ones fitted to Lynne and Lynn?

The guard stilled, settling quiet and cold just under the base of my throat. I could still see them, up on the screen and trying their best to act like they weren’t in pain in front of the entire country. Like nothing was wrong, and they weren’t in pain. Oh. Oh is that what was in there? Probably not the only thing but yeah, yeah that’s what we’re here to take.

There was a shipment, a small one. I stood at my watch in the loading bay as some of the higher ups chatted over the delivery. Boxes marked as an electrical hazard. My boss laughed,laughing along with the others, one a strange man I’d never seen before with silver hair and red eyes. Probably some new fashion I guessed. I strained my ears to try and hear what they were talking about, anything to chase away some of the boredom eating at the back of my mind, but they were too far away and too drowned out by the echoes against hard cement.

I can’t believe someone would do something like that. Really? I couldn’t help but laugh, just a little in spite of it all. You can believe they’d send tributes to fight for entertainment, but this goes just that little bit too far? Yeah, but… I sighed, letting my eyes slide closed. It feels different when I’m involved. My hands went up again, this time massaging the sides of my head. Fuck, I don’t even like this job that much and now I have to live with this. I blinked. Maybe this is for the best then, an excuse to find something better.

A grin spread across my face, wide and mischievous. What if you got hurt today, on the job, and were able to collect some kind of compensation while you look for a new job? Nerves jolted through my arms. What are you suggesting? I shrugged. It probably wouldn’t be out of the question to call this an injury. You were forcibly ripped from your body against your will after all. Maybe you need a few days to recover. Maybe this is something you weren’t trained to handle safely by your employer. I shrugged again. I don’t know, I don’t work there.

I sat up straight with a sharp breath. Shit that’s genius. Least I can do for putting you through this. If I could ask a favor though, could you let us get away before you put it in motion? Fine. I smiled. Thanks. My name’s Asher, by the way. Though he probably already knew that, with the whole being a minor celebrity for a few weeks thing. I laughed. Yeah, that sounds familiar. I’m Ryan.

Time went on, or maybe it didn’t take too long. It was always hard to tell like this. But my eyes  grew heavier, and my arms shook when they moved. It’d been a while since I’d taken someone in for this long, and then I hadn’t been running around in the snow for weeks beforehand.

Finally though, Zenith and Elvira returned. I smiled up at them, trying but failing probably to hide the tiredness weighing on my eyes. “All done?”

Zenith nodded. “We were seen, so we should probably get out of here quickly.”

Be more surprising if they hadn’t been seen. I barely stopped the joking grin he tried to put on my face.

“We got away with it for now,” Elvira added, almost as if trying to reassure me we weren’t about to be picked up and arrested right this second. “But I agree, We ought to hurry.”

I nodded. She was probably right. I waved Zenith other to his body. “When I put you back please stay quiet like we talked about okay?” Had I said that out loud? Yeah you did. I shook out my head. Lets just get this over with.

Hold still and it’ll be faster. Me? Yeah. Ryan stilled, drawing himself into the center of my chest, brushing up against my sternum. Perfect. I caught hold of him and he slipped smooth through my body and kept still as could be expected as I held him in my hand. I took Zenith out of Ryan and pushed both souls back into the right bodies.

For a moment, I watched them, leaning forward in case something went wrong, but when both opened their eyes and seemed to be more or less themselves, I leaned back against the wall with a sigh. It worked. My heart slowed, my breathing quieted, and every muscle felt heavy and tired and all I wanted to do was close my eyes. Was I this out of practise? No. I took a deep breath and forced myself to stand, bracing against the wall. It’d just been a long time since I had to do anything like this in this kind of situation, so far from home, away from everything I usually counted on. Usually people were already dead but did that matter?

I shook out my head and followed the two of them back, glad I didn’t have to do the thinking to find our way back. But even still I stumbled on the concrete, and my legs trembled. Zenith must have noticed, and he held his arm out to help me along. I didn’t think twice before taking the offer. If I leaned too much of my weight on him, he didn’t say anything.

#

When we got back I let Zenith and Elvira handle the debrief and slipped away back to my room. Curled up under the blankets it didn’t take long for me to fall asleep. When I woke later, it was quiet outside, and when I sat up I noticed an enveloped just inside the door, probably slipped under while I was out.

I picked it up and brought it back to the bed, opening it up as I settled back down. inside were two papers, one handwritten and the other typed.

The handwritten one was on top. Ginger sent this for you but I didn’t want to wake you. -Triel

Ginger? I scrunched my face as I unfolded the second note.

Hey Asher,

Triel tells me you and Cirrus survived. I’m very glad to hear it, I was worried. I hope you’re doing alright, and I wish I could be there to help you more but I have to lie low until the investigation concludes that I did not have a hand in any kind of illegal extraction cover up and the case is closed. They’ve already interrogated me twice so I don’t think I’m yet in the clear. This can’t be easy for you, and if you need anything you can reach me for now through Triel. She’s very good at staying covert. I have not told Striker that either of you are alive and I advise you to do the same until everything winds down. Look after yourself, don’t push yourself too hard, and I hope to see you soon.

So their cover story, that had been Ginger? I re-read the note, typed out in such an uncharacteristically impersonal font. She could be arrested for what she did, or worse if they’d decided to let the Shades try things out of her instead. All for me? I swallowed and rubbed my eyes with the back of my sleeve. At least she was being careful about it. But, did I really have to hold back on telling Striker I was alive? My shoulders fell as I found his nurse ID in my pocket. How long would he have to wait? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d had to stay away from him for his own safety, but, but this time… This time didn’t feel so certain. Last time he at least knew where I was. Last time we could talk over the phone, and I could see him once Charlotte had delivered Ginger’s webcam to the cabin. This time he was completely in the dark, mourning lives that hadn’t actually been lost. 

But Ginger was probably right. It was for the best to keep him out of it a little longer. I sighed and laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. Just a little longer, then a little longer after that…

[purplesurveys]

1172

survey by pandaphant

Who's your favorite comedian? Sindhu Vee, probably. But that’s only counting the fact that I’ve only seen two of her skits. Out of all the acts I’ve seen, she’s the one who’s made me laugh the loudest so far, though.

Aren't you sick of all the *Are We Alike?* surveys? I’m not sick of them. I just think they’re too easy and fast to take so I like elaborating my answers so that I can still get a little ~reflective~ while taking that kind of survey.

Do you think there's anything you did better, when you were younger? Physical activities. I had a better stamina for jump roping and running when I was younger, and I was also a lot more flexible; I used to be able to bend all the way backwards and also have my toes reach my head while on my stomach.

Would you take the advice you give others? I usually don’t. I find that I’m better at giving advice than actually following through with them.

What did you have for lunch yesterday? I just had my leftover sushi. I didn’t want to eat all 24 that I ordered from the other night in one go, so I saved a little more than half of it for yesterday.

What's one thing that you would change about yourself physically? I’d go for the obvious and have my front teeth straightened, so I can finally stop feeling conscious about it.

What song has made you cry? Life Goes On by BTS.

How would you define success? Accomplishment of something for which I could be proud of myself.

Who was the craziest teacher you've ever had? Ironically, it was my Christianity teacher in grade school. Crazy old man who flipped out and humiliated students who didn’t bring their own box of crayons to school, and he also made me feel sexually violated when I encountered him shortly after my high school graduation. 

Do you think the Earth will face an apocalypse one day? I don’t think so.

What's the last thing you got paid to do? Work.

What's the one thing you could eat everyday? Sushi.

What do you hate about yourself? How frugal I can be, especially towards myself. Buy yourself nice things sometimes, @robyn hahahaha

What's your favorite alcoholic drink? Long Island Iced Tea. Or tequila.

Are you hyper today? No, but I was yesterday for Bang Bang Con haha. It was my first BTS event as a new fan and I had so much fun :(

Does Bzoink need an upgrade? I don’t mind what it looks like now. I don’t think they ever changed it ever since I first started visiting the site in 2009 anyway, and I’ve already gotten used to the layout. It’s easy enough to navigate.

Do you have a Millsberry account? No. I’m not sure I even know what that is.

Do you have a Neopets account? I didn’t, but I had an offline Neopets game on one of my old phones that I liked to play as a kid.

What's your life philosophy? I don’t really follow a specific one and let it serve as a guide all my actions. I just do whatever I think is right and what would help both me and the people around me.

What was the last thing you talked to your friends about? Angela and I were just talking about BTS lol. She was the one who reeled me in :((

If you are interested in going out with someone, what do you do? I simply like staying physically close to them and doing nice things for them. I’m not very expressive when it comes to this; I just let my actions speak for themselves.

Do you ever go to the beach? Yeah, of course. I love the beach. I’ve been aching for a trip for well over a year.

Would you rather have a cup of coffee, tea, or hot chocolate? Coffee.

How's your hair looking right now? I washed it last night, so it looks okay.

What's something your mother always says? Well these days, she always reminds us to spray alcohol and disinfectant spray every time a delivery for someone in the family arrives. Which is an understandable thing to nag us about.

What's something your dad always says? He doesn’t really have a catchphrase, though these days he does like sharing about the funny or educational videos he’s been seeing on TikTok.

What's your favorite thing to wear? Tank tops or airy oversized shirts.

Have you ever had a near-death experience? Nope.

What do you order at Starbucks? Grande iced caramel macchiato + whatever pastry they have that I happen to be in the mood for.

What kind of exercise do you enjoy? Taking a walk with my dogs.

What's the worst injury you've ever had, and what was it from? The infection/wound I got from when I went snorkeling without flippers and ended up grazing my left foot against coral reefs one too many times.

Do you still have any of your childhood toys? If so, what? Nope, my mom threw them all out as I grew up and when we moved in to our current house.

Did you have a Precious Moments colouring book? No, I’m also not sure what that is.

Don't you miss being 13? No, puberty wasn’t exactly a fun time as there was a lot of emotional turmoil happening.

How'd you react to receiving your very first pimple? I didn’t keep a journal entry or anything from that day but I would imagine I was surprised and horrified.

Are you spoiled? Only when it’s deserved. My parents have stopped buying things for me since I now earn for myself, but back when I was younger I will say I was the most pampered out of us siblings. That said, I still made sure I worked hard for whatever it is I was asking from them, like promising them straight As for a quarter or semester in class.

What's your favorite day of the week? Friday.

What room of your house do you spend the most time in? My own. I’m back to working there again since I’ve started to find the dining room noisy.

Do you believe in the death penalty? Only for extreme offenses.

Do you have MSN, Yahoo, or Skype? I don’t have accounts on any of these.

What is your biggest turn-on? Continued from...sometime last weekend? I think? Thighs or fingers.

If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be? I’d rather be in a not-stuck-in-a-pandemic world altogether, to be honest.

Do you ever have any problems just *moving on*? At first, because I hate change and try to resist it as much as I can. Assessing myself in the last few months though, it looks like I’m much better at moving on with my life as I thought.

Do you collect anything? I collect BTS merch now...my collection is gradually getting bigger hahaha. I currently have all 7 of their Cold Brew Lattes, then I recently placed an order for their most recent album. Once I finish all the coffee I’ll move on to the Hot Brew ones, then I plan to buy 1-2 albums per month until I complete my collection, then move on to the DVDs, magazines, and other novelty merch. ZERO REGRETS

If you saw a shooting star, what would you wish on it? Sustained happiness.

Do you like rollercoasters? I’ve never ridden one and I don’t plan to.

What's the most romantic thing you've ever done for someone else? Get them a customized locket/necklace. Either that or make a video compiling greetings and photos with friends when I had no clue how to edit videos and had to learn from scratch.

How do you celebrate Halloween? I don’t strictly observe it, but when I do it’s usually because someone else organizes a party for it. Last year my company had a Halloween party, then the year before that Rita’s sister invited us to their college party, etc.

Who is your favorite villain? Gus Fring from Breaking Bad.

Do you have a favorite coloring book artist? I have a couple of Steve McDonald coloring books; I like his works because they’re gigantic and yet super detailed. Keeps me occupied (if I ever do color) :)

How many pairs of shoes do you own? Idk, I think around 10 would be a safe guess.

Have you ever wanted to model? I did, back in middle school. That was when VSFS was still a thing and I had wanted to be like those girls lol.

When you want to unwind, how do you relax? Light up a scented candle, take surveys, and, lately, watch whatever BTS content I feel like consuming hehe.

How do you react when someone you know's having a freak out? Try to calm them down as best as I can and make sure they aren’t hurting themselves.

Have you ever seen someone have a seizure? No.

Do you have a phobia? Cockroaches and any sharp points.

Who is your hero? I don’t have one.

If you were to commit a crime, what would it be? No thanks.

Have you ever used drugs? Nothing beyond caffeine, nicotine, pills I take for headaches.

How would you define what you want out of life? Self-satisfaction, I guess.

What's your favorite car? A Mini Countryman.

[vintage-story-time]

Family Games by Ray Todd

Chapter 10

Glynn poured a drink of bourbon for his mother and took a can of beer for

himself. He still felt a little funny, walking around in front of her bare

assed, but she didn't seem to mind being naked. In fact, she acted proud of her

nude body, and he sure didn't want her to cover up any of it. He would never get

tired of looking at her.

She was sitting on the couch, with her polished legs crossed, so that only a

tufting of her ebony pubic hair peeped out, and right now the long nipples of

her captivating tits were flaccid. But the heavy breasts themselves stood out

magnificently, ripe and full. They swayed when she reached out for the drink he

handed her.

"Thanks, dear; I need this. You're a marvelous lover, Glynn, so good that I'll

never let you go. Even when you grow up and get married, I'll visit you every

time your wife is away."

He sat down beside her and took a long, cooling swallow of beer. "I may never

get married; I love you too much, and no other could ever be so beautiful."

"How sweet. Am I really as exciting as that other girl you laid?"

Up close, her skin was flawless, pale and translucent; he could see the tiny

blue veins beneath it. He said, "She was the first, and yeah -- she's pretty

exciting. But you're special; you're the best." He wished he could tell her who

had taken his cherry, but this wasn't the time.

And when he thought of Lorena, he remembered that he was also supposed to be

working the plan along, making some of the moves that might keep his mother and

father married. He couldn't possibly let her go now, and had to do everything he

knew how to keep them from breaking up. It had been a hell of an idea Lorena

had, the kids seducing the parents, but where did he go from here?

Watching his mother finish her drink, he said, "How could dad stay away from

you?"

She put down the glass and raised her arms over her head, stretching. The

movement threw her tits out, flattening them just a little as the skin grew taut

over the delicious mounds. "It was just as difficult for me to stay away from

him, at first. I need loving, dear; I need a lot of loving. Now that I have you,

things are going to be much easier. You make me so crazy that I do things with

you I never have with your father, and I love them. Teaching my son all about

sex is going to be the most fabulous thing that ever happened to me."

Glynn drank some more beer. "Maybe you don't want to talk about him, but I wish

you would. You know, I told you about hearing the two of you screw, and how wild

it made me. Wow -- if I had ever seen you making it, if I'd ever watched him

kiss your tits and feel your pussy, I'd have gone off without even touching my

cock."

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Get me another drink, dear, and I'll tell you how

it is. One time I brought home a huge mirror and fixed it beside the bed, so we

could watch ourselves fucking. But your father didn't like it."

Hurrying, Glynn splashed her glass half full of whiskey and carried it back. He

could feel his prick moving and a new strength growing inside his balls, even

though he would have sworn that he was completely drained. He wanted to hear all

this, and hung on each of her words with rapt attention.

"I would have liked it," he said.

"I was crazy about it," his mother murmured, "Seeing myself being screwed was

great, but I had to take down the mirror. I've often wondered how it would be,

right in the same room with two people who were fucking, watching every

movement, every wiggle of her ass and seeing the way his prick slid in and out

of her cunt."

Glynn emptied his beer can. His cock was rising, hardening. "But about you and

dad -- how does he go about it? What -- "

Sleepy-lidded, her sultry eyes focused on his, and her damp, red mouth said,

"Suppose I tell you all about the time I got pregnant with you? Would you like

that, darling? All right, then: we had been at a party and were pretty high by

the time we got home. We didn't even take showers, but started taking off our

clothes right here in the living room. In fact, he fucked me right on this very

couch."

Glynn's breath caught in his throat and he put his hand on his mother's plush

thigh. She uncrossed her sleek legs to give him room, so he moved on in to pet

the crisp, ringletted hairs of her enchanted pussy.

"I was so hot that night," she recalled, sipping her straight bourbon. "I wanted

to fuck and fuck, and your father stayed with me for a long time. He stretched

me out here, and lifted one of my legs up to put the foot on the back of the

couch; my other foot was on the floor. He pushed a sofa pillow under my ass and

fingered inside my blazing cunt until I came on his hand. Then, when I was

really boiling over, he crawled in between my legs and fed that gigantic prick

into my pussy. I thought we were going to break the couch, we slammed so hard at

each other. I came with him, I remember, and he pumped so much semen into me

that I overflowed, and we had to have the couch recovered to hide the stains."

Sighing, Glynn asked, "And that was the time you got pregnant with me?"

His mother saluted him with her empty glass. "Yes, and what a fortunate screw it

was. Now I'm sitting here naked with my son, looking at his long, hard prick and

thinking what a wonderfully ironic thing this is. I only wish I could have your

father brought in, all tied up, and prop him against that wall, so he would be

forced to watch his horny son fuck his equally horny wife. We'd make his eyes

pop out, wouldn't we, dear?"

Before he could answer, she put her glass on the coffee table and slipped off

the couch, twisting her full, ripe body around so that she was between his

spread knees. He knew then what she was going to do to him, and hot lightning

raced up his spine.

"Sit very still," she breathed. "Don't move, and I'll do everything."

With his legs veed wide, when she kneeled erect, his mom's tits were right at

his upright shaft, and he watched with bated breath as she cupped the delectable

melons and leaned forward to place them on each side of it. Glynn saw the

swollen head of it poking from between the white mounds, and felt the caress of

the twin nipples.

She rubbed her tits up and down, squeezing them together, and with every sliding

motion her nipples slid over the throbbing head of his ironhard prick. He

couldn't help waggling a little, but she hissed a warning at him, and he forced

himself to stay quiet, since his mother wanted to do this her own way.

She let her breasts fall apart then, and dipped her head forward to draw the

perfumed mist of her black hair over his painful cock. Glynn reveled in the

tickle of it, in the indescribable feel of the silken hair as she ran its luxury

along his shaft. He dug his fingers into the couch when his mom's cheek brushed

the head of his rod.

Taking it in one hand, she pressed it against her face, rubbing her cheek and

chin over it, guiding the knob over her forehead and her closed eyes. He could

feel the gentle scrape of her eyelashes, and a shiver traveled the length of his

tensed body.

Slowly, teasingly, she kissed the bulb, her lips soft as the lighting of

butterflies. Several times, she kissed it, paying a loving homage to this sex

organ that had developed within her own body in the beginning. She toyed with

it, bent it slightly, and allowed it to snap back erect.

He thought, she's going to do it -- she's actually going to suck my prick! It

was something he hadn't even dreamed about with her, not until after his sister

had done it to him. He had always imagined fucking her, riding between those

terrific legs and pounding his hard cock up into the special richness of her

velvet cunt, but the image of his mother eating his shaft hadn't come to mind.

Now it was about to happen, and he couldn't control the little muscle spasms

that shook him. When her tongue came out and licked the end of his glans, Glynn

fought a groan behind locked teeth, but had to let it escape as she curled that

artful tongue around the edges of the knob. When his mom ran the end of her

tongue down into the slot, he clawed at the sofa and his heels drummed a tattoo

on the carpet.

Her lips came down and around, and her tongue temporarily retreated so that the

cockhead could follow into the hot cavern of her mouth. The distended flanges

passed through her teeth and lay for awhile along her supine tongue, then she

moved her head and he felt his glans against the roof of her mouth.

"Mmmm," she said around his shaft, and drew still more of the rigid meat into

her mouth, so that at last the tender head bumped itself against the matchlessly

soft satin of her throat. Her fingers were at his balls, fondling and probing,

and her other hand was wrapped around the root of his prick, holding tightly,

pressing down and releasing in rhythm.

Glynn's head was turning from side to side, and he bit into his lip when she

started to apply suction, as she pulled his cockhead deep and shoved it back out

with her tongue.

The cheeks of his ass clenched at the slippery sucking, as she moved her head

slowly up and down and the inner velvets of her cheeks flowed back and forth

over his knob. Of their own volition, his hands came hesitatingly up and held

her head, his fingers going deeply into her bountiful hair. She didn't seem to

mind now, and he rested them there.

Her own hands moved, too, sliding down his thighs and behind his knees to fondle

the calves of his legs. They came back up, gripped his knees again, and urged

them up. Glynn slid forward a bit and hiked his pelvis, lifting his feet from

the floor and helping his mother drape his legs around her shoulders.

His feet rubbed up and down her back and he could feel the resilient pressure of

her tits in his crotch. She tipped his cock down slightly, and gnawed on it, her

tongue busy over the head. Glynn's fingers clamped harder into her hair, and he

began to hunch at her mouth, moving his shaft deep into it, nudging the back of

her throat.

Fucking her head; he was screwing her face, pouring the prick into her mouth,

into his own mother's loving hot mouth, and she increased the sucking, bobbed

her head more quickly up and down, timing her pumping motions to his thrusts.

"Oh, mom! Ooohh -- I can't take it -- so hot -- you're eating me, eating my cock

-- you're sucking me off and I love it -- oh! Ah! Oh you beautiful cocksucker,

I'm about to come. I'm going to let it all go in your mouth and down your throat

-- c-coming; COMING!"

Groaning, she pulled harder as he shuddered and gave one more hump that ground

his pelvis against her teeth. The orgasm came roaring up from his leaping balls,

sizzled along his swollen shaft and burst from the head of his prick in a deluge

of semen. Holding tightly to her head, rolling his hips and digging his heels

into the curve of her smooth back, Glynn spurted his hot juice into his mom's

throat. She took it down, lapping and swallowing, sliding the sweet creamy

fluids thirstily into the narrow cave of her throat, chewing gently upon the

dripping knob to bring forth more.

Glynn thought that his backbone was turning to water, or to more come, and that

she would suck him completely dry. He didn't give a damn if she turned him

inside out, if his balls shriveled up and fell off. It was so farout, such a

crazy, groovy sensation that he turned weak and his legs fell away from her

shoulders. When his feet hit the carpet with a thump, his mother seemed to come

back from some far and ravenous place.

With a final licking of his cockhead, she lifted her face and let the bulb slip

wetly from her smiling lips. "Was it wonderful, dear? Did it just tear you

apart?"

Glynn couldn't trust his voice not to squeak, so he nodded, his head kind of

loose and rolling on his neck. She kissed his flinching belly and drew her

tongue up his chest; then, leaning into him and pulling his face down to hers,

she stuck out her tongue.

"Here, lover; taste your own wet semen."

Inside his mouth, her tongue moved around, fondling his teeth and cheeks. There

was a flavor of musk unlike hers, a different spice that had been manufactured

deep within his own testicles. Gasping, he broke the sticky kiss and gulped deep

breaths.

"My turn to bring you a beer," she said, and climbed from between his spread

knees. He watched her go to the bar, seeing the enticing swinging of her hips,

the jiggle of her ass and the supremely graceful scissoring of those tapered

legs. Dizzily, he wondered if any kid his age had ever been so damned lucky.

Any guy would give his left nut to have a crack at that beautiful ass, and give

up the right one for a chance to get that kind of head given him. Glynn thought

that his father must be out of his tree completely, to even consider giving up

such fucking. But he really didn't want his old man moving out, not even if that

meant he'd have his mother all to himself.

There was still that other thing he had, the need to watch his mom fuck, and

there was nobody he would rather see in action with her than his father.

Besides, Lorena was no doubt going ape over the old man by now, digging him as

much as Glynn was enjoying his mom, and she wouldn't stand for his leaving. He

didn't want his sister to follow, either. That would be too much of a split, and

Lorena was a crazy piece of ass herself. No harm in fucking both of them, he

thought, her and his mother.

"Here's to us," his mother said, giving him a can of beer and holding up her own

refilled glass. "May we always have as much fun."

"Oh, we will," he assured her, and wrinkled his nose as bubbles from the beer

tickled it inside. Was this a good time to talk to her some more, while they

were resting? He glanced over at the clock behind the bar and thought there

should be plenty of time, Lorena wouldn't let go of their dad in a hurry.

"Mom," he said, "did you ever think about swinging with anybody else? Maybe even

a -- a girl?"

She sat down in the big chair across from him, and crossed her legs. "Why not?

The way I see it, especially since your father insists upon being such an utter

ass, is that I don't have all that many good years left. If he doesn't want me,

then I'm sure others do, and that might include a little girl-to-girl activity,

too."

He saw that she was on the way to being smashed, and thought he'd try to steer

her away from drinking any more, but he was glad to hear her say she wouldn't

mind playing around with another girl in the act. From the things he'd read, and

pictures he had seen, Glynn knew that chicks sometimes dug other chicks

sexually, and even though that wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, it was

okay.

"Do you have anyone in mind?" His mother asked. "That little girl who got to you

before me?"

He drank more beer and said, "I kind of fibbed to you, mom. I've screwed two

girls before you, and I don't want to tell you about one of them; not yet. But

the other is my babysitter."

She sat erect. "What? That perfectly beautiful little thing with the exquisite

red hair? You have good taste, lover."

"I think she'd join us," he said. "I'm just about sure of it, because I laid her

and the other one together, taking turns with them, like -- so many strokes into

one pussy, so many into the other; they held hands all the time."

"Well," his mother said slowly, "and I was going to teach you. Could you really

get her to -- to make love with us? When?"

"Let's try for tonight," he answered.

[toothedsmile]

The new demon: Chapter two

Chapter two: Some new faces

Prologue/chapter one

Once it had sunk in that you were in Hell you looked around. It struck you that while yes you had seen it already, those bodies just registered in your brain.

All that beautiful death thrown around you, not a single body part was spared, heh more like speared, arms, legs, heads and more of them were everywhere. It was such a wonderful sight for your eyes.

Merely a few seconds after the firework had left, started the demons to come out and walk on the streets.  Some were walking around with carts, collecting what could be grabbed easily, leaving here and there some organs laying around for the little critters to take and eat.

Walking closer to a few remains, you crouched down to take the head of one. Bringing it closer to your face you inspected it. It had some fur around it’s face and very sharp teeth, the eyes were rolled back so you couldn’t check them but from what you could see, the sclera was red.

Once you stood back up you dropped the head with a disgusted frown and wiped your hands on some clean nearby cloth from another dead body that wasn’t cleaned up yet.

“Well then. What a warm welcome I guess.”

As your eyes wandered they saw something fall from the sky. It was like a blue insect, sadly enough he fell onto the streets.

As he was happily yelling.

“I’m alive! I’M ALIVE!” He was ran over by a blood red car.

“HA! That’s hilarious.”

Some white…spider? Thing ? Stepped out of the car, they spoke to the driver through the window, after a small talk he got angry, pointed some fingers and then the driver left.

Faintly you could hear the sound of a car crashing.

The spider looked behind them and saw an automat, you guessed that it sold drugs, because of what was written on the front in big letters ‘drugs’.

They bought some and just as they wanted to open the package of white powder it was snatched out of their hands by another demon.

You heard him yell “Hey!” And just after the thief replied “Up yours drag show” he was crushed by a gigantic piece of rubble that fell from the sky.

So you decided to walk up to the spider, with the most kindest smile that you could form and ask some stuff.

“Hello, excuse me.” Uninterested the spider turned your way, with a raised eyebrow he asked the silent question of ‘what do you want?’.

“Ah, I was wondering if I was in Hell?”

They smiled, a bit mockingly if you were honest but they answered anyway.

“You’re right hon! This is Hell. I guess you’re new here, aren’t you?”

Smiling you nodded as an answer. Slightly they narrowed their eyes but went back to normal fast.

“Lemme guess, you’re thinking that ya don’t belong here and that ya should be in heaven? ‘Cus if so, then you better give that up.”

Still smiling you shook your head, your eyes darkening with a knowing look.

“Oh, no worries. I’m pretty sure I belong here.”

Smirking at your answer they decided to end your “conversation” as the sounds of explosions and gun fire came closer. With a pair of their arms on heir hips, they used the other pair to grab your shoulders and turn you the other way around, pushing you further away from them.

“Now, it was wonderful to meet someone new but I think you should go now. See ya and goodbye.”

Then they walked away, leaving you with a stunned look, vacantly looking out in front of you.

Shrugging you decided to explore Hell, a little further down the street you could see some faint lights and a group of people standing around it. With your interest peeked you started walking towards it, as you got closer you saw that it was a shop called ‘Radio Hack’ that had a lot of tv screens on display with the news on.

You joined the group and managed to catch the last bit of the news before the break.

“Or should I say no dick?”

The woman spilled coffee on her male partner and spoke that after the break the princess of Hell would come over for an interview to talk about her newest project. From the picture that was displayed you could see that she was, quite happy for a princess of Hell.

The group remained there, waiting until the break was over. Some murmured about a person called Cherri Bomb and something called ‘turf wars’.

The break was over and you could see her sitting beside the, who you assumed, princess of Hell.

She spoke how Hell was her home and the residents her people, how she was against the extermination and said that she found a more humane way to lower the population of Hell. Her idea? Opening a hotel to rehabilitate sinners.

Some around you started laughing softly, talking how she was crazy and that her idea would never work.

“I figured that it would serve a purpose… a place to work towards redemption. Yeey?” She, well now you knew her name was Charlie, seemed to get less confident once she saw that people weren’t as excited as she was to open the hotel.

Someone new stepped within the group beside you, faint sounds, like an interrupted signal that came through a radio or something else were heard coming from the new person.

You glanced to them and noticed that they were quite tall and completely dressed in red, in an honestly, quite fashionable way. Even though it looked like it came from a few 50 years or more back.

Looking towards their face you could see that they had a gigantic smile and red eyes that glowed faintly in the shadows.

It seemed that they noticed your staring as they turned their own eyes away from the screens to yours. Trying to be polite you smiled softly and looked back to the screens where the princess was trying to convince people, standing on top of a desk and singing.

The beginning of the song (that came for heaven knows where) was calm and peaceful but as she continued it became more beat up, the music going faster.

Really liking the music you started moving side to side softly but when the guitar came your head unconsciously started nodding along with the beat.

And the only one who noticed was the one standing beside you, looking at you with a slightly amused expression. (as much as extra amusement he could show with that smile that hasn’t left his face yet)

Once she was finished it was silent for a little while before people started laughing at her.

The female news anker started belittling her, Charlie defended herself by saying that she already had a client name Angel Dust. The male sitting beside her spoke up about Charlie’s client in a surprised manner.

“The pornstar?”

The female turned to him, scratching the desk as she remarked. “You fucking would Tom.”

A very small conversation later they got breaking news, it seemed that Charlie’s client, Angel Dust, had gone to help Cherri bomb in the turf war, completely ruining everything she tried to save.

As you looked closer to the screen you noticed that Angel Dust was the spider you met when you fell down to Hell.

“Huh, talk about coincidences.”

The guy standing beside you decided to try and make conversation with you.

“How so sweetheart?”

Slightly startled by the voice and the way it sounded, you jumped a bit up, head snapping to the side where they stood. Getting over it you explained.

“Oh, well. When I fell down here, Angel Dust was the first person I spoke to. Funnily, you are the second one.”

Their smile widened, reaching higher to his ears. Your eyes averted for a small second, looking to the tv’s where the princess and Katie, you heard her name passing by, fighting with each other.

Hearing some the same weird noises that you heard previously, alongside another weird sound that you couldn’t describe, (hazbin pilot at 24:11 if you wanted to know) you turned back to your conversation partner, who you saw perking back up, looking at you innocently as if he didn’t have anything to do with the sounds.

“How wonderful! I presume you fell today? If so then I hope you had a warm welcome”

Out of nowhere you could hear laughing, like from some sort of show, like the Nanny. Smiling at the small world play and the unknown laughs, you decided that they seemed like a swell person to be around.

“Haha, that is true. You could say that my first time in hell was pretty hot to see. I’ve been here for probably around…let me think…. Maybe two hours at most?”

You weren’t sure why but his mile just grew even more at your answer, though it could be your little poke at Angel Dust in the form of a bad attempted pun.

Once the commotion had finished around the screens you decided that it was time to find a place of residence. Before that you remembered something that you had forgotten to do. “Ah! How impolite of me. I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Y/N L/N. Pleasure to meet you.”

They smiled and put out their hand for you to shake as they introduced themselves.

“Alastor. And a pleasure indeed my dear. Now I apologize but it seems that I have to cut this pleasant conversation short, I have some things I need to take care of you see?”

 Smiling softly you nodded understandingly at his words. He was very polite.

“No worries. I too, have to go take care of some things.”

Saying bye to each other you saw him walk away.

Your eyes followed after him, and the one thing you noticed.

Was the way everyone, every other demon, big or small, moved out of his way as he passed through. No one daring to come close as they avoided eye contact.

Your previously narrowed eyes went back to normal as you plastered a lovely smile on your face when you saw that he looked back to send you one last smile.

Perhaps he wasn’t as trustworthy as he at first seemed.

Chapter three

I just wanted to add a little something. Thanks to @silvernight7​ and @putridjoy​  the comments you guys left were the firsts on all the platforms i have this on and they made me very happy. I’d like to kindly dedicate this chapter to you two as you both had given me the motivation to write another chapter. Not to mention the people who reblogged and left hearts, everything i saw made me melt and i can’t thank you readers enough! I love you all! ~T.S

[thel3tterm]

Our Author is Dead

This is my current novel project. I’ve been working on it for ~5 years, and its been through many painful drafts and revisions.

Current status: about halfway through the final draft. ~23 chapters and counting.

Read it here!  What is it about?

When Rouge’s boyfriend, Michael, goes missing under mysterious circumstances, he leaves behind boxes of incomprehensible research, and a realization that he hadn’t been the meek eccentric they always believed.

Rouge wanders from town to town, trying to piece together what happened and hopefully bring him home.

Along the way, they have to deal with biological monstrosities, an enigmatic being who eats words, a vigilante in a rabbit mask, overpowered teens on the run from a nightmarish organization, and worst of all- a war over who gets to be the protagonist of the story they apparently live in.

The World:

Our Author is Dead takes place in a country known as Doma.

Doma is very similar to our contemporary society. There’s junk food, convenience stores, comic books, air conditioning, interstates… but no electricity. The east is bordered by an ocean, and its western desert ends in an incomprehensible, uncrossable ‘wall’ of abnormality.

Lets Talk Biomancy: All technology is based upon living organic tissue- a field known as Biomancy. The field is completely normalized in their world. It gets them from place to place, lets them communicate long distances, runs the factories, does pretty much everything electricity does for us. In many cases its unnoticeable, running through the walls or inside of gadgets one might not even suspect are alive. The most noteworthy examples though, are full fledged lab created ‘animals’ of sorts. They might be pets, household assistance, or most commonly, vehicles. Zap Heads: Some people actually do study electricity, and believe in the merits of it as an alternative means of engineering. …Of course, we all know that its just a fringe science and that there’s no way to actually use electricity for anything substantial. People who study it call themselves Electricians. Everyone else calls them Zap Heads.

Novus: A subgroup of people in this country are known as Novus. A Novus, for one reason or another, is born with a slight or major split from their own body. Most people are only able to have an influence within themselves. They are only able to think inside their heads and move what’s attached to them. A Novus is able to have an influence outside of themself, which can manifest in a myriad of ways. Some might bend reality around them to their will, some might be able to reach into another person’s head and change things around. -Novus are looked at negatively by most of the country, and are often disparagingly called ‘Wiz’, based on the thought that they’re like witches. -Medical researchers believe that it is some kind of a birth defect, but are unable to determine if the root is environmental or genetic. -They’ve been noted to have a much higher average body temperature, and a weaker immune system. Flexing their 'abnormalities’ seems to require an extreme amount of energy, so they need to eat a lot more than average and struggle to keep a healthy weight. -Religious people believe that it is caused by a moral failure, and that Novus need to have more self discipline to 'correct’ themselves. -Upon discovery, Novus are immediately documented and given a facial tattoo and serial number. -Most Novus wind up being seized and taken to a 'rehabilitation’ center before they reach the age of eighteen. Few will ever actually leave the rehab centers. Only a small number remain free to adulthood. The Bones: One of the oldest and most prestigious families in Doma is known as the Bones. Despite appearing frequently in history textbooks, newspaper and magazine articles, interviews, important dinners, parties, and the like, very little is ACTUALLY known about the Bones. Here are some definite knowns: -They invented Biomancy several hundred years ago. -They are the only family who actually knows how to make a Biom from scratch, and they hold this secret very close. (Factories merely assemble the Bioms, but an outside party is not able to make a working one unless it comes from them.) -All of their children are women. No Bones has ever been a man. -They seem to have an extreme influence over all the goings-on in the country. Politics, Novus control, science, media, you name it, they’re there. Melissa Bones is currently in charge of their family operations, and her daughter Pamela is the up and coming heir. Characters: Rouge: -27 years old -Novus -Non-binary (they/them) -Very thin, brown hair (unless they dye it) usually in a sideshave or shaggily uneven, long face, tan skin, chipped front tooth, average height -Almost always wearing a patched up and shabby blue coat. -Anxious, self loathing, self-described as 'completely ordinary and boring’, sarcastic, artistic, tenacious -Was diagnosed a Novus at age 17 in a freak accident. They had never caused anything to happen before, and have done nothing unusual since. -Was rescued from a rehab center under equally bizarre circumstances by a childhood friend, and is a rare 'adult’ Novus. -Has a taste for the finer things in life, and likes to critique food and visual design -Loves outlandish fashion, but has no money for it -Is looking for someone dear to them who mysteriously went missing Valence: -Is that even her real name? -19 years old -Extremely powerful Novus. Perhaps the most powerful there ever was. -Can bend reality around her, create bursts of light and heat, move objects at a distance, alter the shape and material of things -Stocky and muscular, on the shorter side, round face, tan skin, black hair typically kept short -Prefers masculine clothing -Prone to anger, determined, stubborn, courageous, strong moral compass, black and white mentality, fiercely independent -Both of her parents are well known 'Zap Heads’. Her siblings are well known activists and researchers. While smart, she was more drawn to music, and felt trapped under the expectations placed on her by her family. -Was friends with several vigilantes and rogue freedom fighters who knew her family -Was taken at age 18 after snapping someone’s leg in half, and brought to a secret facility run by the Bones -Broke herself out and has been on the run since -Was in a shitty garage band. Plays bass. Loves comic books and underground music. Tariku: -14 years old -Novus with the ability to 'see’ into people’s inner selves and mess with their heads, plus a few other things I won’t mention here yet. -Dark skin, thick hair, short because he’s still young but will grow to be tall, on the thinner side -Prefers to dress crisply, usually opting for collared shirts -Wears a blindfold most of the time to prevent accidentally spying on people. (Also because he was taught that his ability is a sin, and he can’t turn it off…) -Thoughtful, cautious, strategic, quiet, prone to guilt, shows little emotion but feels things intensely, rarely shares what he’s thinking about, extremely curious but is often too afraid to explore or take risks -Never swears or uses contractions while speaking -Grew up in a facility with several other Novus with similar abilities who were being trained for a specific, mysterious, goal -Knew Pamela Bones -Decided to escape with Valence after an incident he is keeping a secret, for now -Is curious about 'normal’ things people his age do, but is so far underwhelmed by the reality of the outside world Corvid: -??? -This thing seems to show up randomly in Rouge’s room at night. Is it even real?  -It talks in garbled voices patched together  -Wears a raven mask. Who knows what it is or what it wants. Is it even human? Michael:  -A childhood friend of Rouges, then boyfriend -Tall, gangly, dark curly hair, freckles -A bit of a know-it-all, passionate about everything, pleasant and friendly, keeps things to himself, doesn’t like to share uncomfortable details of his life -Difficult family life, a lot left unsaid -Might be involved in really dark and shady things -Got kidnapped and who knows where he is now Proto: -Lives in the woods -Always wears a rabbit mask, even while they’re sleeping, like a weirdo -Supposedly a friend of Michael’s, but Rouge had never heard of them -A friend of Valence’s as well, and worked with her family -Vigilante, destructive Pamela Bones: -20 -Pale skin, freckles, bright red hair kept long, perfectly aligned teeth, green eyes, a bit on the shorter side, fit, curvy figure -She’s everywhere, it seems. An international icon -Sounds bubbly and friendly enough, but there’s something wrong with her voice, and her eyes, and her smile. It seems a bit uncanny, a bit... off somehow Read it here! ________________________ Tag list: @leonajasmin-writeblr @zburatorii