#new line of the week just dropped. you're gonna stab me in the back right in front of me?

[vaperarmand]

our flag means death is a comedy,

[pheita]

Dimensional Tides Part 17

Yeah, Miada's new abilities are a suprise to everyone, even me. Dunno how this happened lol. She just went that way. Anyway, here we are with new revelations.

Warnings: None that I am aware of. If I missed one, let me know.

Tagging @ashen-crest @adie-dee @abalonetea @cometkov @contes-de-rheio @kainablue @chris-the-dragonslayer @viskafrer @vivian-is-writing

Back at work, everything began to slide into place. Days upon days of the same activity, hours upon hours of pounding away hoping to figure out how to use her magic to create a portal and where she needed to go. At Sykova's urging, Miada had made an appointment with one of the doctors to make sure everything was okay and how far her gift extended. So it came to pass that after a week of working around the clock, she had to take a half day off. Casimerin knew what was going on and had encouraged her to take the whole day off if necessary, but so close to the finish line, Miada didn't want to and couldn't just slow down. After several hours of tests and what felt like a liter less of blood, she arrived at the lab and immediately ran into Gavani first. Her aunt looked at her skeptically and pushed her right into the kitchen without a word. Somehow, that seemed to be the standard in the lab when you wanted to talk in peace. "What's going on? And I won't tolerate excuses." With her arms crossed, Gavani stood in front of the door. The image just made Miada laugh. "You don't have to be a bad aunt, I would have been looking for you now anyway." "Why?" Gavani's posture loosened, and she walked over to the countertop. "It seems you and Sykova are no longer a pair." Thoughtfully, Gavani turned her head and looked at her over her shoulder. "You have visions?" "It's not a hundred percent certain yet. There are still results to come, but yes." The cup came to a clinking stop on the countertop as Gavani nearly dropped it and rushed over to Miada.

"Shit, girl. You pick up every piece of crap with that, don't you?" "Viv's gonna kill me for this." They both started laughing. "I think she'll be glad of that for once. Besides, her magic is apparently getting stronger over time than yours." "I know, but we're not going to tell her that, are we?" "More fun if she finds out for herself," Gavani agreed, then looked at her seriously, "How bad is it?" "Clear image, sensory perception, stabbing pain in the eyes afterwards." "Ouch, that's pretty neat. Auditory perception?" Miada shook her head. "I don't need that too. Who knows what kind of pain that's going to be." "Lousy pain, I can tell you that." With a sigh, Miada broke away from Gavani. "So, on a scale of one to the light has cursed me, how bad is it on me?" Gavani's amused giggle helped Miada relax a bit. "Actually, it's a scale of 1 to 50, and you're at a good 9 or 10. Strong enough to make something out, but not strong enough to know much. The stabbing pain thing gets better over time, too. It's worst the first few times." "Now that's what I call a pep talk," Miada commented sarcastically, "But I should get back to work." Gavani stopped her thoughtfully. "Do the others know?" "Sykova, because he was there when I had the first vision, and Casimerin." Satisfied, Gavani nodded and took a deep breath. "Let's leave it at that for now. Who knows what it's good for. Especially considering that Sykova poked a rat's nest without knowing it." The ball came back to Miada's mind and how Fenor, Bayeen, Sykova and she all agreed that Sykova's father knew about everything. She grimaced and stretched. "We know that. What's the plan regarding his siblings?" "We'll organize people who are trustworthy where to put them. Sykova already knows." "Good, that takes a load off all of us." Gavani's approving hum accompanied them out. As Miada walked to her station, Sykova looked over at her with the silent question of what the outcome was, which she only acknowledged with a roll of her eyes. His suppressed grin indicated that he understood the doctor had confirmed what they already knew. With less than an hour to wade through the latest records, her frustration at everything bubbled to the top when she realized she'd missed something. Along with the frustrated growl, a bit of her magic discharged into the station. Something began to move at the end of the building. "Who was that?" someone called from the far end of the building. All eyes turned to Miada. "Sorry, won't happen again," she called back. One of the fellow dragons came running toward her. "No, do it again." "What?" "Do it again," the dragon repeated excitedly. "What's going on?" asked Casimerin from his office. "Miada ran magic through the whole system by accident and the portal reacted." "WHAT?" The squeal was short of high-pitched as Casimerin bridged the short distance. "I what?" "Your station is on the same circuit leach as the portal." "Wait, I have another idea," Vivalka stopped everyone and gestured for everyone to come along. Everyone dropped what they were doing and gathered in front of the portal. Vivalka was vibrating with excitement. "I've been going through our parents' documents and there's always talk of a safety mechanism that wasn't explained further because Father was afraid the portal would be used by the wrong people." "I remember," Casimerin nodded, "He never said what that mechanism was." "I have an idea. Would you send magic through the console once?" As asked, Casimerin stepped up to the console and sent magic through it. Nothing moved. Miada looked questioningly at Vivalka, who only signaled for her to wait. "Someone else please," Vivalka spoke more and more excitedly. One by one, all the veteran scientists tried, but to no avail. Finally, Vivalka went to the console and sent some magic into it. Immediately, the control lights on the portal began to light up. "Light get me!" someone cursed out. "That's it. They assumed that one of us would take up their research. Father locked it down genetically. Or via magic recognition. It can only be

unlocked by Miada and me." "Sophisticated and stupid at the same time," Fenor commented, "It was a big risk." "Indeed it was," Casimerin admitted with a grin, "But let's face it. Miada and Vivalka have always been stubborn. The likelihood of either of them ending up here was high if anything happened." Some of the scientists just shook their heads, others laughed softly. Miada could understand. That had been really risky. "We should unlock it in general," Miada suggested. "No, I don't think so," Gavani countered, "But we should expand the circle of those who can operate it." "I agree," Casimerin agreed with her. "Wait!" Cindarin raised a hand. "What's going on?" "Tallamsin and I have been looking at the intervals at which certain frequencies appear. We know by now that there is such a thing as tides, when a dimension is closer to ours and when it is not. Before we start releasing the portal, we should think carefully about when to activate it and what to do then. We don't know anything about the dimensions we found through the frequencies." So the initial enthusiasm got a damper, but still they had made progress. "All right. We'll gather together what we know. One hour to gather together. Meet in the big office." Casimerin had returned to his task as head of the facility. "Who would have thought your low frustration threshold would be good for something someday," Fenor teased Miada with a slight smirk. "Not everyone has that talent," she replied with only a grin, "Let's gather everything together." As if scattered by the wind, everyone went back to their offices and stations to gather everything they had up to that point. Miada followed Fenor to one of the small individual offices. "Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to guess?" asked Fenor abruptly. "Tell you what?" "Why you went to the doctor. You've got that look on your face that says 'I hate drawing blood' and that means you've been to the doctor." She rolled her eyes. Sometimes it wasn't good how well they knew each other. A stack of printouts in hand, she stood next to him. "I wasn't feeling well the other day, and Sykova made me go to the doctor as a precaution." "Deliberately he," Fenor grunted with a laugh, "How much do we have to force him." "Yes, the irony can't be beat. But all good so far. Seems like it was just the changeover." That wasn't even really a lie, Miada just left out what changeover was for. Until the rest of the results were in, she wouldn't say anything to Bayeen and Fenor just yet. With a kiss on her forehead, Fenor brought her back out of her thoughts. "We should move on."

[bungou-stray-dingus]

hey there, so like this is my first time requesting but your writing is sooo good i can't help myself. if you could, could you make a scenario for dazai and chuuya where his s/o is a non-ability who is very bubbly and innocent but they find out she has a deadly skill that could almost pass as an ability. im sorry if you're busy, you dont have to write this if you dont want to. I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH💕💕

OH IM GONNA WRITE IT BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF THE FUNNIEST BUT ALSO CUTEST THING OH YEAH ITS GETTING WROTE

THANKS BOOBOO ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dazai

You were like an angel, too pure for this world. Your heart was filled with nothing but good. You donated to charity, helped out in elementary schools during the week and volunteered at children’s hospitals, homeless shelters, and animal shelters during the weekend.

He looked at you as if you were a saint. Whenever you would come home from volunteering he’d bow down at your feet. “My goddess has returned! I’m not worthy!” You’d laugh at his dramatics, grabbing his hand and helping him off the floor.

“Shush.” You’d say before pecking a kiss on his lips.

When you weren’t out helping in the community, you were at home doing what you could to help out without being there. You took up knitting, and Dazai joked about it often. He even went as far as to buy a rocking chair with extra cushion for you to sit in while you would work. “You’re the cutest grandma, you know that?” He’d say, and you’d throw your ball of yarn at him.

“Shut up, and bring me my yarn back.” He’d re-wind the yarn that came undone when you threw it as he walked the ball back to where you sat.

He poked fun at it, but he would often sit on the floor next to your rocking chair, becoming entrances as he watched your hands carefully wrap the yarn around the needle and thread it through the loops. He didn’t understand how you did it, but everything you made came out perfectly, especially the tiny hats for newborn babies with matching booties, and sweaters for dogs and cats in the shelters for when it got cold. You had even made blankets for the people at the homeless shelters, making sure to use the softest yarn that would also be warm.

Sometimes he would come with you to the hospitals or the homeless shelters when he wasn’t working. He never went to the animal shelter though, he didn’t want to be anywhere where dogs were.

When he would go to the hospitals with you he would spend hours making over the babies and how cute they were in the new hats and booties you had made for them.

“Y/N, is it illegal to take a baby from the hospital?” He would ask you on the way back home and you’d just stare at him.

“You’re a cop, I hope you’re joking.”

“Yeah, obviously I’m joking but... so it’s illegal?”

You were used to people not liking your boyfriend. He had helped bring a lot of people to justice in his line of work. You weren’t expecting people to hate you though. Dazai had worked hard to make sure that anyone from opposing agencies or enemies didn’t know that you and him were dating. In the beginning he was always worried and on edge that something bad may happen to you just for being associated with him, but it’s been a year and a half now and nobody had tried to hurt you or kill you.

That’s why you were less than serious when the door got kicked open and three men stormed in, all of them wielding knives. It had to be some kind of weird prank by Dazai, or maybe even some strange act that would set the stage for a new fantasy kink.

“I’m kind of busy right now, can you come back in an hour?” You said calmly, holding up the knitting needles to show them that you were occupied.

“We don’t give a damn. You’re coming with us.” One of the men said, you didn’t know what he looked like, all of them had black masks on.

“Eh, I don’t think I am.” You shrugged, not even looking up from the new sweater you were making.

They were getting angry, the three men stomped over to where you were sitting in the rocking chair. One of them held his knife to your throat, and you finally realized that they weren’t joking, and Dazai wasn’t in on it. “I think you are. That bumbling boyfriend of yours needs to know. Mess with us and we mess with him. Now let’s go.” He pressed the knife deeper and your fight or flight instinct kicked in. You wouldn’t be able to outrun the three of them, so you had to fight.

You gripped the needles tighter, bringing your arm up to jab it into the mans neck. He staggered back and fell to the floor against the wall, trying to pull the needle out.

“What the fuck!?” One of the other men shouted, as the third one started sprinting towards you. You quickly grabbed the knife that the first man had dropped, preparing yourself to stab the man before he could get to you. As soon as he got close enough you forcefully pushed the knife into the mans stomach. He screamed as you twisted it, making him drop to his knees, blood dripping out of his mouth from the damage you had caused.

The final man stood there, assessing the scene, his hands in the air. He had already dropped his knife.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Your voice was low, you were out of breath. You watched him run out your door, then took the time to finally realize what you had done. “Oh my god. Oh... oh my god....” You swallowed back the bile that was rising up your throat. You had killed two people, you had single handedly taken out two grown men. You were a murderer.

With sweaty hands and shaking fingers you dialed Dazai’s number, praying that he’d actually answer.

“Hey swee-“

“You need to come home, I need your help. Please hurry and come home.” Your voice was as shaky as your hands were.

“I’m coming.” His voice wasn’t as cheery as when he first picked up. Obviously his first thought was that you were being attacked or someone was trying to break in. He wasn’t expecting the grisly scene he walked into.

He examined both guys, confirming they were dead, and you couldn’t really understand why he was smiling the entire time he was making his mental report. You couldn’t see anything good about having two dead men in your apartment.

“You did this? Yourself?” He finally looked up to you while poking the knitting needle protruding from the mans neck.

“I was scared! I didn’t know what else to do! I didn’t mean it.” He watched you try to explain yourself. He tried to imagine what was going through the men’s brains when his adorable girlfriend, wearing a skirt with knee high socks and buckle shoes started fighting back, especially with knitting needles. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you laughing!?”

“You’re just so... sexy. You got a little blood on your shirt too.” He got up off the floor and surprised you by sweeping you off your feet as you tried to find the blood stain he was talking about. “Don’t worry, I’ll get that shirt off you soon.”

Chuuya

If he could describe you as a color, it would be yellow. You were bright, fun, happy, you always found a way to put a smile on his face, even when he had the worst day. It was as if a ray of sun took form and for some reason decided that he was the one who deserved it.

Your spontaneous adventures, even if it was just to the park always kept things exciting. He would stand back and watch as you ran over to anyone with a dog, sitting on the ground in front of the furry animal as you looked up and conversed with the owner about the breed and how cute the dog was. He would hear about it for the rest of the day, your hands moving freely through the air as you described the dog, even though he was right there and seen it as well, he would smile and nod. You always found something to be excited about, even on days when it would rain and you both were stuck in the house you would find some way to make him forget about the dreariness of the outside world. Building pillow forts and watching movies as you both attempted to toss popcorn into each others mouths. You had a stash of board games for days like that, and you would let him pick which one he wanted to play. It was the simple things that he enjoyed.

Waking up to the sound of music drifting into the bedroom from the kitchen, your spot on the bed empty. He would groggily walk into the kitchen to find you in front of the stove, the smell of eggs and bacon and pancakes filled the room, but that wasn’t the best part. You would be wearing one of his button up shirts, and only that. Your hips would sway to the rhythm of the song and he’d just stand and watch, unable to fight the smile that would form on his lips and the feeling of pride as he watched you, knowing that you were his.

Other days he’d come home from work while you were straightening up, singing into the broomstick handle as if no one was watching and the living room was your stage. He’d shrug out of his coat, kick his shoes off and slide across the floor while playing the air guitar. You always put a smile on his face, everything you did was his favorite thing. He could never pick one particular thing that you did that made him happy, because honestly you in general made him happy.

Even when you weren’t being goofy, which was rare, but it did happen, he would take the time to sit back and appreciate your beauty. When you would curl up on the couch and drift off to sleep and he’d come home and find you there, he would just marvel at how perfect you were in that innocent state.

That’s why he did everything he could to keep you safe, make sure you were protected everywhere you went. Sure, it was kind of ridiculous to have the black lizards guarding every store you went into, but it was a precaution that needed to be taken. As long as his little drop of sun was safe he could relax.

The two of you were on your way to the restaurant, it was date night. You looked flawless, as usual, and Chuuya couldn’t wait to show you off. His phone started ringing and you picked it up for him so that he could keep one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh as he drove.

“Hi Mori!” You greeted him excitedly, and although he didn’t understand how Chuuya ended up with you, he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your voice. You seemed to have that effect on anyone you came into contact with. “Will do! Thanks Mori! Buh-bye.” You shut the phone and put it back into the center console. Chuuya looked over to you, his eyes asking the question. “There’s some problem in an alley around the corner. He said it should be quick and you can handle it and get back to our date.”

He groaned but took the sharp turn that would lead to the alley in question. He saw the cloaked figure, like they were waiting for him. “Alright, this’ll be quick. Stay in the car.” He said, kissing your cheek before hopping out of the car.

You stared out the window, watching him stride into the alley. It sent a shot of electric up your legs, seeing him so dominant in situations like this. That was your man, and you couldn’t be prouder. You smiled as you watched him deliver kicks and punches to the figure in the alley, silently rooting for him.

Then you saw more figures coming from nowhere it seemed. There were at least six of them, and you started worrying. He would get hurt if he tried to fight all of them by himself, and you couldn’t have that. It would take too long to call someone and have them come out and help. Your mind raced as you tried to think of something to do, then you remembered the pistol that he had in the glove box. You pulled it out, checking to see if it had ammo, and then hopped out of the car.

“Hey, assholes!” You called, and everyone stopped to look at you. You cocked the gun and aimed it at them. Your hands didn’t shake, and you eyed up your target and pulled the trigger. Headshot.

The figures split up, some advancing towards you while the rest went after Chuuya. You fired the gun quickly, they all dropped like flies. Each one being hit exactly where you aimed. Headshots, chest shots, you even managed to get one in the throat which even you were shocked about. You moved further into the alley, pressing the barrel of the pistol against the head of the one who was about to attack Chuuya while he was fighting the first figure. “Not today, pal.” You said menacingly, pulling the trigger. Blood and bits of flesh and brain tissue splattered onto your face and you dropped the gun to the ground.

Chuuya finished with the final figure and ran over to where you stood. You were frozen, the warmth of the blood against your face made you want to vomit. “Are you okay?” He asked, grabbing your arms and examining them, then moving to the rest of your body to make sure there was no damage done. The amount of blood on you worried him, but once he realized that you were okay, he sighed with relief.

“I need a shower and and and and.... oh my god this is gross.” You couldn’t keep your hands from shaking as you tried to wipe the blood off your face.

“I mean, it’s pretty gross, but god damn, my bad ass little princess. Who would have thought?” His sense of pride sky rocketed.

After you both returned to the penthouse, the date was completely forgotten about at this point, and you both showered together. He rubbed your shoulders as the water fell over both of your bodies. The water was stained with red as you washed the blood from your face and when the shower was over you wrapped the towel around yourself and laid in the bed.

“You took the gun and you were like ‘bang bang bang’ and I was like ‘oh my god!’ And you shot all of them! How did you learn to do that?!” He was pacing the room in his boxers as he described the whole situation again, his feet padded against the floor leaving water footprints on the hard wood.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t want you to get hurt, so I shot them.” You said it nonchalantly, rolling to your side and propping yourself up on your elbow. “Seems like you enjoyed it.” You joked and he whipped around to look at you. The look in his eyes, you knew the look well.

“Oh I enjoyed. I don’t think you know how much I enjoyed it.” His voice was low and husky.

“You can tell me.”

He got into the bed and situated himself over top of you, holding himself up with one arm while the other pulled open the towel that you had wrapped around yourself. “I think I’d rather show you.”

[elusive---ivory]

Circus Act - Part 14

Sorry for the long wait!! I've been caught up in school and haven't been overall feeling the best mentally. I appreciate all of your support!! Thank you for sticking with me!!

WARNING: Violence, and Sexual themes

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Sandy could put her finger on it. Her anxiety seemed to get taunt her repeatedly as she drove to the corner store to buy some supplies for Arthur.

A bottle of clover green hair dye, and some face paint. Sandy looked at the bottle for a little while. Arthur's bizarre motives seemed to worry her more and more.

She headed back to the apartment with a small brown paper bag in hand.

Arthur was on the couch, with his head tilted up. His chin was rested under a gun. He quickly hid the gun underneath the couch cushions, before Sandy could see.

Sandy walked into the living room, handing Arthur the small bottle of hair dye.

"It was the last bottle." Sandy said, handing the bottle to him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking at the bottle of green liquid.

He appeared to have a strange glint in his eye like before. His green eyes studied the liquid as it swisher around in the bottle. Arthur seemed so fixated on it, like it was a magic potion.

"I'm gonna be on the Murray show." He said to himself. "Aren't you proud of me, Sandy?"

She nodded, smiling at him. "I'm so very proud of you, Arthur."

Arthur grinned, chuckling a bit. He already knew her answer.

That's Life by Frank Sinatra started blasting on the radio.

Arthur stared intently in the mirror as the hair dye poured down his face. Green dripped from his hair as he danced around the bathroom in his underwear.

Sandy was sitting on the edge of the bed with a cigarette between her lips.

Arthur walked back into the bedroom, picking Sandy up from the bed to dance with her.

She giggled as Arthur twirled her around. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, softly kissing it while slow dancing with her.

Afterwards, Arthur sat at the vanity in the bedroom, carefully applying white face paint.

Sandy sat back on the bed, staring at Arthur through the vanity mirror, admiring his features.

She did have that feeling in the back of her head, nagging at her. She'd been meaning to ask him about the gun she found, but never brought it up.

'There's probably an innocent reason to have a gun. Maybe it's a prop.' Sandy thought.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door buzzer.

"Coming." Arthur shouted, getting up to answer the door.

Sandy notice Arthur grab something, and put it in his pants pocket. She followed him out of the bedroom, curious to who was at the door.

Arthur opened the door. Randall and Gary were standing outside the door with a wine bottle in hand. Arthur glared at Randall, but his expression changed as he was greeted by Gary.

"Hey, Arthur, how's it going?" Gary said, walking into the apartment.

"Oh, hi guys," Arthur said, "come on in."

Randall and Gary walked inside the apartment.

"Hey fellas." Sandy greeted them with a smile. She was slightly surprised to see them, but happy nonetheless.

"Sandy, I didn't know you were staying here." Randall chuckled. "Looks like you got the girl after all, huh, Art." He teased.

Arthur smirked over at Sandy, who made her way to the kitchen.

"So, did you and Sandy get a new gig?" Gary asked.

"No." Arthur said, shaking his head.

"Ah, you must be heading down to that rally at city hall." Randall smiled, nodding his head.

"Oh, is that today?" Arthur asked, looking kind of surprised.

"Yeah." Randall looked confused. "What's with the makeup, then?"

"My mom died." Arthur said, taking a brief drag from his cigarette. "I'm celebrating."

Sandy looked over at Arthur from the archway that connected the kitchen to the hallway. She couldn't help herself but stare at Arthur's stature. He looked so unbelievably dreamy with his body slanted against the hallway wall.

There was something so hypnotic and charismatic about him, probably why she fell for him in the first place. It almost made her forget her terrifying worry.

"Right, that's why we came by. We figured you needed some cheering up." Randall said, gesturing over at Gary, who was holding a wine bottle.

"That's sweet." Arthur smiled. "But, no, I feel good. I've stopped taking my medication, and Sandy's been taking care of me over the past week or so. I feel a lot better now."

"Well, good for you. I'm sure Ms. Cheekbones feels the same way." Randall said, looking over to Sandy in the kitchen.

Sandy glared at Randall. Cheekbones. God, she hated that stupid nickname. She definitely didn't miss that when she quitted.

"So, hey, listen. The cops have been asking around the shop, about those subway murders." Randall said, trying to get Arthur's attention.

"They didn't talk to me." Gary pointed out.

Randall turned to Gary, shrugging. "That's because the suspect was a regular sized person. If it was a fucking midget, you'd be in jail right now." Randall chuckled.

Arthur let out a high pitched disturbing cackle.

Sandy looked over at Arthur. Something just didn't seem right. She stayed in the kitchen, just to keep watch on Arthur.

"Anyway," Randall continued, "Hoyt said that they talked to you, and now they're looking for me. I just want to know what you said."

Sandy saw for a slight second Arthur take out a small piece of metal.

"-because I just want to make sure our stories line up, and seeing as your my boy." Randall continued speaking.

Arthur nodded his head. "Yes, that makes a lot of sense. Thank you, Randall. Thank you so much."

Sandy's eyes blinked for just a moment, then saw Arthur stab Randall in the eye with the small pair of scissors, he hid in his pocket.

"Arthur, STOP!" Gary cried.

Sandy's mouth laid there agape, as she dropped to her knees. At first, she was in shock. Warm tears fell down her face as she cried silently on the kitchen floor.

Gary began to cry louder and louder.

Arthur slammed Randall's head repeatedly into the wall.

Once Arthur was done, he threw Randall's lifeless corpse to the ground.

Gary hid in the corner, still crying from watching the horror that played in front of him.

"Do you watch the Murray Franklin show?" Arthur asked. The way he said it was so casual as if nothing at all horrendous just happened.

Gary just stood there shaking.

"I'm gonna be on tonight." Arthur smiled. Blood splattered along his painted white face. His eyes looked dark and hollow.

Gary was just confused at this point.

"Fuckin' crazy, innit? Me on the telly?" Arthur said, in a fake British accent. Then, he giggled. "It's okay, Gary. You can go."

Gary was still shaken, trying not to look at the dead body in front of him.

Arthur, of course, gave Gary a quick scare.

Gary screamed as he stumbled towards the door. He tried opening it, but the door was locked.

"Hey, Arthur?" Gary asked, shakily.

"Yeah?" He said, then he chuckled as if it was a silly thing to do. "Oh, sorry."

Gary left in a panic, rushing out the door, just before that, Arthur gave him a small his on the head, and thanked him altogether.

Next, there was the frightening Sandy that was laying on the kitchen floor.

"Sandy." Arthur said.

Sandy gently lifted herself up. Her eyes were still wet from crying. "I know." She said.

Arthur's blood stained hand cupped her cheek, wiping away any tears.

"You're not my Arthur." Sandy said, quietly.

"Not anymore." Arthur replied. "I don't think I could live without you."

Sandy lips began to twitch into a smile. Her smile turned into laughter. "Oh god. That's ironic."

"How so?" Arthur asked, still holding her close.

"Believe it or not. I was gonna kill myself that night. I had nothing going for me. I felt so alone. So trapped in a loveless relationship. Dennis never gave a shit about me, but you. I saw something in you. Something I didn't see in anything else." Sandy began to laugh more. "Because of you, I'm finally free. I'm free, Arthur." She shouted.

Arthur smiled, softly. That's all he needed. He cupped both of Sandy's cheeks and began kissing her, roughly, smudging her cheeks with Randall's blood.

Taglist: @princessgeekface, @memory-mortis, @gloomyladyy, @jokerflecker, @joker-flecked-me, @mr--clown

[pluckyredhead]

Hey so I donated to Planned Parenthood in Mike Pence's (FUCK YOU SIR)! Hurray! Can I prompt you matt/foggy office shenanigans? Thank you, you're the best :D

(This isn’t really compliant with Season 2 but let’s ignore that, shall we?)

Five Things That Aren’t Allowed in the Offices of Nelson & Murdock (But Usually Happen Anyway):

1. “Testing” Matt’s Powers

“But it’s such a nice day,” Foggy whined.

“It’ll still be a nice day after you finish reading up on those precedents and we are present for our two o’clock meeting like responsible attorneys who want to eat this month,” Matt said calmly, fingers moving steadily over his refreshable braille display.

“I want a snack.”

“Karen is getting coffee.”

“Come on, teach. Can’t we have class outside?”

Matt’s lips twitched, but he heroically fought off the encroaching smile. “Sorry.”

“You’re no fun,” Foggy pouted.

A second later he was balling up the nearest piece of scrap paper and tossing it at Matt’s head. Matt snatched it out of the air without looking up.

Foggy gave a delighted laugh. “Actually, come to think of it, this could be pretty fun.”

“Do not,” Matt started to say, and caught Foggy’s thrown pen, “start throwing,” a crumpled-up napkin, “random things at me,” an apple.

“I’m helping you,” Foggy said. “Think of this like training. We have to know how good your senses are at detecting projectiles aimed at your head, right?”

“I’m well aware of their range, thanks,” Matt drawled. “You know I don’t actually need your help with this.”

He had the feeling Foggy was raising his eyebrows. “Huh. Sounds like someone don’t think he can take everything I give him.”

Matt paused.

Then he pushed his chair back and stood up. “Okay,” he said. “Bring it.”

Ten minutes later he was parkouring around the office, bouncing off the walls and furniture to catch every random item Foggy lobbed into the air. Foggy giggled breathlessly as he scooped up a calculator and chucked it at Matt’s head - just as Matt head footsteps in the hall outside.

He froze.

The door opened. “ - think you’ll be very impressed with Mr. Murdock and Mr. Nelson,” Karen was saying to their new client as they walked in.

The calculator bounced off Matt’s forehead and clattered to the ground.

“Eep!” said Foggy.

*

“Oh well,” said Foggy twenty minutes later. “There are other clients.”

*

2. Culinary or Scientific “Experimentation” Involving the Kitchenette Microwave

“I am going,” Matt announced dramatically, “to die.”

Karen frowned at him. “You said you only got stabbed ‘fleetingly’ last night. Which I don’t think is an appropriate modifier in this situation, but still.”

“Not from that,” Matt said, waving a hand as if his skin being perforated by goons with knives was an implausible cause of death. “No, I’m going to die because somebody - ” he raised his voice “ - decided to use the office microwave for his audition for Chopped last night.”

“You know, I may not have super hearing, but I can still tell when you’re being passive aggressive at a normal volume,” Foggy said placidly from his office. “You don’t need to shout.”

“Curries from three different cuisines do not go together!” Matt said. “In fact, curries from any cuisine should not be reheated in the office microwave! Do it at home!” He paused. “No, wait, I visit your apartment. Do it at Marci’s.”

Foggy batted his eyelashes at Karen, because it would’ve been a wasted move on Matt. “I didn’t realize this was an open relationship, but all right.”

“If you could smell what I smell…”

“Is it better or worse than gunpowder?” Foggy asked.

Matt’s mouth snapped shut. Karen, who had been giggling behind her hand, looked from Matt to Foggy and back to Matt again. “Wait, what?”

Foggy rested his chin on his hands, smiling beatifically. “Matthew, did you not tell our silent partner about the homemade explosives you created here last weekend?”

“WHAT.”

Matt glowered in Foggy’s direction. “Dirty pool, Nelson.”

“MATT.”

Matt turned back to Karen, spreading his hands with a guileless expression. “Okay, in my defense they were just flash grenades, and they worked very well in stopping those arms dealers I took down on Tuesday.”

Karen scowled at him. “...I’m giving myself a raise.”

“That’s fair.”

*

3. Excessive Bleeding

“...so Matt and I will speak to the opposing counsel, and I think we’ll be able to settle this in your favor by the end of the week,” Foggy said, smiling at Mrs. Gupta across the conference room table.

She beamed. “Thank you both so much. I know how hard you’ve worked on this, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Matt gave her his good Catholic boy smile. “It was our pleasure,” he said, reaching across the table to shake her hand.

Foggy glanced over at Matt and blanched. “Yep, yep, it was great, love that hard work, but I’m afraid we have another meeting coming up so Karen will just show you out. Karen!”

Karen appeared in the doorway, looking perplexed. She wasn’t the only one - Matt had his “confused terrier” expression on, and Mrs. Gupta was staring at Foggy. “Yes?”

“Can you please help Mrs. Gupta with any paperwork, at your desk, and then walk her out?” Foggy said, lifting his eyebrows at her significantly.

“Uh...sure. Right this way, Mrs. Gupta,” Karen said, gesturing to her desk.

The minute they were out of the conference room, Foggy closed the door, locked it, and yanked back the side of Matt’s jacket to reveal that his white shirt was soaked through with blood - visible only when Matt leaned forward just right. “Matt!”

Matt winced. “Stitches aren’t holding, huh?”

“I can’t believe you,” Foggy hissed, pushing the jacket off Matt’s shoulders and helping him ease out of it. “You said you were fine!”

“I thought I was,” Matt protested. Foggy started to unbutton his shirt. “Hey, no hanky-panky in the office.”

“You really wanna test me right now, Murdock?”

Matt bit his lip. Foggy got his shirt unbuttoned and tugged it back to reveal a three-inch gash in Matt’s side, bleeding merrily on one end through popped stitches.

“Jesus.”

“It’s not that bad,” Matt tried. “Even Claire said so.”

“Couldn’t you tell it was bleeding again? Couldn’t you smell it? Didn’t it hurt?” Foggy asked. Matt hesitated. “What.”

“I always smell at least a little bit like blood, these days,” Matt said. “And…”

“...And you always hurt,” Foggy finished for him, and Matt nodded. Foggy sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Matt’s temple. “Oh, Matty.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt said.

“You’d hurt worse if you didn’t go out there,” Foggy said. “Of course, that doesn’t mean we can have you scaring our clients away by bleeding all over them. I’d say I’ll check you over before our meetings, but that might lead to breaking the hanky-panky rule.”

Matt smiled, and turned his head to meet Foggy’s lips. “I’m willing to risk it.”

*

4. Pets

“A dog,” Foggy said.

“You know I don’t need a dog, Foggy,” Matt said.

“Screw you, Murdock, I want a dog!” Foggy said. “This office could use a mascot. Besides Daredevil, I mean.”

“I am not a mascot,” Matt said, hiding a smile.

“Well, then, we definitely need a dog.”

“Oh, can we please get a dog?” Karen asked. “A therapy dog! Who in this office doesn’t need a therapy dog, honestly.”

“Or therapy,” Foggy pointed out.

“Dog’s cheaper.”

“True.”

“No dogs!” Matt protested, but he was laughing outright now.

“Cat?” Foggy suggested. Matt shook his head.

“Parakeet?” Karen tried.

“Chinchilla?”

“Bunny?”

“Iguana?”

“Stop!” Matt said. “You two really want an animal in here, don’t you?”

Foggy as he perched on the edge of Karen’s desk. “What gave you that idea?”

“Would you like me to tell you exactly how many rats I can hear in the walls at this exact moment?”

Foggy and Karen exchanged glances. “You know what, why don’t we just get a few more plants?” Karen suggested.

*

5. Hanky-Panky

“Karen’s gonna yell at us,” Foggy panted as Matt loosened the knot in his tie to get better access to his neck.

Matt nipped at Foggy’s pulse. “Karen’s a block away already and getting further as we speak.”

Foggy huffed. “I can’t believe you’re hyper-sensing someone else while trying to get in my pants.”

“I wasn’t trying to get in your pants,” Matt said. He dropped his hands from Foggy’s tie to his waist and started untucking his shirt. “Now I’m trying to get in your pants.”

“I’ll have you know, counsellor, that...mm...this is a respectable place of business...oh, fuck...and these shenanigans will not stand.” Foggy’s protests would probably have sounded more assertive if he hadn’t been using a two-handed grip on Matt’s ass to haul him closer.

“They don’t have to stand,” Matt suggested. “There’s a perfectly good desk right there.”

“Ugh, that’s your worst line yet,” Foggy groaned, head tipped back. “Done. Dumped. Divorced. Fuck, do that again.”

Matt pulled back - just a few inches, but back. “I thought we were divorced.”

Foggy glared, hair wild and cheeks red. “Get back here and put your tongue back where it was.”

“But what about Karen?” Matt asked innocently.

Foggy paused. “You’re sure she’s not going to walk back in for a while?”

“Positive.”

“...Fine, but we’re using your desk.”