#selective wreckage

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

Give Me Back My Key

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Plus Size!Reader Summary: Franklin crosses the line and you blow up at him. Now you have to hear some hard truths and decide whether or not you still want to be with him. Warnings: 18+, drug dealing, n-word usage, PIV, daddy kink, dirty talk, fingering, AAVE, possessive Franklin, bratty reader, referring to female genatalia as 'she', mentions of canonically dead characters as alive so this is kind of an AU but just go with it Word Count: 3,387 Author’s Note: My first finished piece of writing in like 3 years. A bitch is rusty but I’m just so happy to have something completed. I hope yall can find some enjoyment in it. I’m a Snowfall girlie now so hopefully there will be more coming after this. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading lovelies! xo

You entered your home after a long day at work, ready to soak in a bubble bath for an hour. Your boss had upped your hours, but did that come with a raise? Of course not. You hoped he would actually consider you for the new job opening in management but you weren’t holding your breath.

On the other hand, the extra hours were actually a God send. You had less time to sit at home missing your ex. Franklin Saint tore through your life like a tornado and left the wreckage of your heart behind.

You had no idea who he was when you first met. Your younger brother had dragged you along with him to Jammin Jerome’s to see if he had enough to upgrade his speaker system. Your brother had been geeking over the selection but his dream speakers were a bit outside of his price range.

The heartbroken look on your brother’s face was too much for you to handle and like always you tried to swoop in and save the day. Your mother worked so much to keep a roof over your heads as you grew up and your job was to look after your brother. You were basically another mother to him.

“Do yall have a layaway program or anything?” You asked, calculating in your mind how much you’d need to take out of your next check.

“No there ain’t no layaway. This ain’t no fucking charity.”

You squinted your eyes at the afro’d man and dug deep into your professional bag as not to cuss him out. “I understand. Is there anyway you can just hold them until Friday?”

The shorter man went to reply but he was cut off by Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy. “Yeah I can do that for you, but there’s a catch.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What?”

He placed his hands on the counter and leaned a little closer towards you. “You gotta be the one to come back for them and you gotta let me take you out after.” He proposed, a smirk on his face.

Usually that might have pissed you off but there was something so charming about him. He immediately got your defenses down.

“Deal.”

His slick nature should have been a red flag but you were naive then. You couldn’t see past what was in front of you. A successful young Black man who was intelligent, passionate, and caring. He had goals and he knew who he was. You fell fast and you fell hard. He treated you like the most important person in his life.

After washing off the day’s sweat from your body, you put on your soft robe and proceeded to lotion up your body. A little self pampering after a hard day always helped to ease your racing brain and start to wind you down.

Franklin would love to get his hands on you and rub in your favorite scented lotion. He’d start at your feet and work his way up, taking extra time around your knees and then your thighs. He’d rub your belly and place kisses on your stretch marks. He never failed to make you feel so loved.

Months of dating flew by and even your families got along great. Your little brother looked up to Franklin as a man he’d like to emulate. He didn’t really have that before. Anytime you brought Franklin around, your brother was trying to get as much of his attention as you were. Franklin indulged him too. As annoying as it was, it warmed your heart to see the little bond they had.

By extension, you’d also noticed your brother getting closer to Leon as well. Since that first meeting, Leon was not one of your favorite people. You respected him as your man’s best friend but you saw him often on the street and you didn’t want your brother becoming interested in that.

Driving down the street a couple weeks ago, your worst nightmare was reality.

You almost got into a car accident the way you swerved your car across lanes when you saw Ryan doing a hand exchange with Leon.

You were haphazardly parked and out the car before your mind could catch up to what your adrenaline already set in motion.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You yelled at Ryan, hands digging straight into his pockets and pulled out both money and rocks.

“Get off me, sis! What’s your problem?” He asked you, trying to grab his supplies back.

“What’s my problem?! You being fucking dumb is my problem. Get in the car!” You screamed, smacking him in the back of the head and pushing him towards the car.

“Consider him officially out.” You told Leon, tossing him the drugs and money.

You got in the car and drove straight to Franklin’s. Yeah you told Leon that Ryan is out, but you figured Franklin would talk to Leon for you so things actually stuck. They were best friends after all.

Ryan was clearly sulking as he followed you into the home. He stood against a wall with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

Franklin greeted you with a kiss on the lips. “Hey baby. What’s wrong with your bro?”

You hugged him, resting your head on his chest. He ran his hand up and down your back to soothe you. “I caught him slinging on a random corner. I gave Leon his shit back and told him that Ryan was out, but do you think you can talk to him for me? I want to make sure he doesn’t try to hire him again.”

You didn’t catch on to the awkward silence until your brother scoffed.

You lifted your head from Franklin’s chest to look at your sibling. “What?” You snapped.

“You called me dumb and yet you think Leon hired me.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“This isn’t a joke! I will fuck you up, Ry.” You started to pull away from your man’s embrace to put hands on your brother but Franklin stopped you.

“Leon didn’t put him on the corner. I did.” Franklin declared, and your body froze. You could swear you went into shock.

You took a huge step back and out of his arms. “Excuse me?”

“I put him with Leon because I trust him and he’ll make sure he’s straight. You know how Leon is.”

Your head was spinning but you were quickly connecting the dots. You knew he had something going on in his past. Like maybe he used to sell weed, but you’d only seen his legitimate businesses. Now you felt naive as fuck. The pieces are coming together in your mind like a puzzle you finally figured out how to solve. The way his Uncle and Aunt always seemed to defer to him…the way he carried himself….he was the Boss.

“Why would you…” You couldn’t even get it out. You shook your head to try and clear the roaring in your ears.

“He’s smart, he’s quick, and he’s loyal. You don’t have to worry. Plus, he really wanted a job.” Franklin explained like he was simply going over your brother’s job application.

“Then you get him a job at Jerome’s! YOU DONT PUT MY BROTHER ON THE STREET. ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?” You exploded, hands clenching.

It was the first time he’d seen you blow up and you expected a greater acknowledgement of your angry. Ryan seemed to be the only one in the room who knew you were not playing.

Franklin merely stared at you with what you thought was cool indifference. “You need to calm down.”

You scoffed, in disbelief of his arrogant answer. If niggas have anything, it’s audacity. “You go behind my back and make my baby brother one of your street niggas and I need to calm down? Fuck you, Franklin.”

He stood up straight, using his height to tower over you and show how unamused he was. “Oh you've been doing a lot of that. And you didn’t see a damn thing wrong with it either.”

You nodded. “You’re right. This is on me. I brought you into his life but I’m gonna rectify that immediately. We’re done.”

You hadn’t seen Franklin in a week and you missed him so much. You missed his voice, the way he held you in his arms, and the uncanny ability he had to always just know what you needed.

You needed him.

But you can’t budge on this. This was your brother’s life and Franklin betrayed you by going behind your back. Speaking of Ryan, he’d also been suspiciously absent lately. He had been walking on eggshells since you blew up and you felt bad, but if your mother found out she’d actually kill him so better he deals with your anger than hers.

You entered the kitchen to grab some water and screamed when you noticed the figure sitting at your little kitchenette. “AHH!”

Sitting very comfortably in one of your chairs, legs spread and one arm resting on the table where a glass of your brandy sat was Franklin. There was also a large beautiful bouquet of roses on the table.

“Hey baby.” He casually greets you, taking a sip from the glass.

He looked good as hell but you still glared at him.

“How the hell did you get in here? Better yet, why are you here?”

“I missed you. I know you missed me too. Are you done being mad?”

You clicked your tongue. “Nigga you got some nerve. Yes, I’m still mad.”

He sucked his teeth at me. “I’m not gonna apologize for putting your brother on, but I’ll apologize for not giving you a heads up.”

“That’s not good enough. That shit is dangerous. I want him to get a degree and get out of here.”

“So you don’t believe in building back up the community? Keeping money and businesses in Black hands? You don’t want to raise a family where you grew up anymore?”

Yes, you still believed in all those things. You even understood that your people had to cut some corners to get a leg up because they’d already been held back from so long. But the road to get to the future was scary. You were scared but anger is a way easier emotion to hold on to.

“Give me my key.” You snapped, holding out your hand.

He took your hand in his, rubbing your wrist with his thumb before placing a kiss on your palm. “No.”

“Franklin!” You whined, stomping your foot before you could stop yourself. Yes, you were lowkey about to throw a fit but he was so damn annoying.

“If you want me gone, change the locks.” He challenged, placing a kiss on each of your fingers.

That action caused you to realize he still held your hand so you snatched it away. “Fine. I will. What do you want?”

“You. I want you back. The bed is cold without those warm thighs for me to lay between.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

He rolled his eyes and stood up. He walked you backwards until you hit the kitchen counter. You looked off to the side, unable to hold his gaze. You were weak for him. He placed his hands on your cheeks and gripped your face, turning it so you were nose to nose with him and eyes locked.

“I’m only gonna say this shit once. Ryan wanted in the game. He wanted to be a corner boy. He wants to hustle.” You tried turning away from him but you couldn’t pry his hands off your face so you ended up just holding his wrists. “If I said no, he would have gone somewhere else. Is that what you want? Him down in the bottoms with crazy ass Skully or becoming apart of Manboy’s crew?”

Your eyes fluttered close at his words and you released a loud sigh. He was right. God forbid your brother went to work for Manboy. You knew you couldn’t change Ryan’s mind about something as much as you couldn’t change your mother’s. They were alike in that way. You always played the middle trying to keep the peace.

Franklin placed a kiss on your forehead as you processed his words. He knew you needed time to sort out new information and check in with yourself. He loved that about you. You could blow up but you could also be reasoned with.

“I know how much you love your brother and because I love you he’s family to me too. I’m treating him just like family. The game is the game. You think I wouldn’t do everything I could to protect him? To protect your heart? You think that little of me?”

His words had your eyes snapping back open. “No. I know you’re a good man, Frankie.” You rubbed his wrists, your face still in his hands.

“Then you forgive me?” He asked, eyes pulling you in. You would willingly drown in those dark pools.

You nodded and he placed a soft kiss on your lips. God, you missed him. You pressed harder against him and deepened the kiss. It had been too long. He kissed you like you were his last source of air as he explored your mouth with his tongue. His hands left your face to trail down your back and grip your robe covered ass.

He sucked on your tongue before biting your lip. He gripped your thighs and hoisted you up, holding you against the countertop and grinding his hard dick against you. You yelped and wrapped your arms and legs around him.

“Oh my God! Put me down, Franklin.” You gasped as he placed open mouthed kisses on your neck. Your robe had fallen open and he was able to suck on your collarbone which made your head drop back.

He turned to place you on the table. Your ass bumped his glass and it, along with the bouquet, fell onto the floor. “Franklin!” You scolded, only to bite your lip when he lightly grabbed your neck.

“I let you get away with it before but that shits over now. What’s my name?” He asked, his thumb pressing right into the center of your neck.

Your pussy was dripping wet. “Baby, please.”

He squeezed a bit more before letting his hand slide down the opening in your robe. “Close but don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll remind you.” His free hand pulled on the sash and completely opened up your robe.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He groaned, eyes moving from your tits down your stomach to between your legs as you spread them further apart.

Your hands were exploring under his shirt, refamiliarizing yourself with the planes of his body. You slipped his shirt over his head and he bent his head to kiss your nipples.

“Mmm.” You moaned, head falling back as he took a nipple into his mouth. You could feel your pussy dripping wet. As he sucked on your titties, one of his hands reached between your legs and teased your folds. His fingers traced up and down your lips and your hips moved to press him harder against you.

“Look at how wet and eager you are. I know this pussy missed me. Didn’t she?” He asked, pulling away from your titties leaving them wet with his saliva.

“Yes, yes she missed you.” You gasped, desperate for more.

His middle finger slid up and down your slit before finally slipping into your pussy. You groaned at the feeling and he slipped another finger inside of you stroking your walls. His eyes remained on your face as he watched the love faces you made. He pressed his fingers deeper inside you and rubbed his palm against your swollen clit.

“Yes, yes, please….” You moaned, hands clutching the edge of the table. He was stroking you so good, but you needed more.

“Tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

“I need…ooh…I need your dick in this pussy.” You licked your lips as you reached out to unbutton his pants. You could see the print of his hard dick and you needed it in you now.

“After this tantrum of yours, beg for it.” He could feel your walls contracting around his fingers and knew you were about to cum. He wasn’t about to have that so he pulled his fingers out.

“Nooo…” You whined, scooting closer to the edge of the table to rub against him and get some more friction going. He held your legs open and leaned back just out of your reach.

“What did I say?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Please, Daddy. I’m sorry. Give me the dick. I need the dick.” You begged, voice just the right pitch of needy and desperate that he wanted to hear.

He pulled his hard, long, and thick dick out and stroked it as he stared at you. You bit your lip and gave him your most contrite look. He smiled at you and leaned in to kiss you softly on your lips.

You got so lost in his kiss. The way he moved from harsh to sweet was making your head spin. You just wanted anything and everything he was giving you. During the kiss, you gasped loudly into his mouth feeling his slide into your tight pussy.

“Shit..” He hissed, hips jacking forward to situate himself deep into your pussy. He was knocking up against your G spot and you were almost dizzy. After all that foreplay, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You were already squeezing his dick.

“I can feel that pussy finna cum. Let her rain on me, baby. I wanna feel it.” He told you, continuing to give you long deep strokes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You breathlessly moaned, head thrown back. “I’m bout to-” You don’t even finish your sentence as your orgasm eclipses your whole body.

“Just like that.” Franklin moaned, watching you as the pleasure blankets you. He loved watching you. You were so damn sexy. He never stopped stroking as your walls clamped down on him.

Your chest was heaving and you were feeling a bit tired. You felt Franklin speeding up his thrusts, his hips slamming against your ass. You were feeling a bit sensitive. “Ooh, wait Daddy…”

“Nah, ain’t no wait. This is part of your punishment. Let me look at that pussy.” He declared, bringing your legs up and smashing your knees into your chest. “Damn, look at her glistening for Daddy.”

“Mmnf!” You groaned, feeling the table shake under you at his hard thrusts. Your eyes closed as your body was completely worked over by him. He was fucking your soul.

You heard his moans and growls increasing frequency as his hips sped up. You could feel him everywhere. He was staking his claim on you. With a final deep thrust, you felt his cum release inside of you. You were on birth control but he was so damn far inside you felt like he was personally delivering his seeds to your ovaries. You’d have time to worry about that later.

He placed kisses along your thick legs as he slowly brought them back down to wrap around his waist. He’s still inside you and you haven’t moved at all. You couldn’t. You were wore the hell out.

You felt his eyes on you as he soothingly rubbed his hands up your thighs over your belly between your breasts and over your shoulders. He massaged you as he waited for you to regain yourself.

Your eyes opened and connected with his. You gave him your prettiest smile. “I love you.”

He smiled that rare grin of his. “I love you too.” He leaned in to kiss your lips and you closed your eyes leaning up to meet his lips only to be met with air.

Your eyes opened to see him staring down at you. “Don’t ever pull no shit like this again.” He sternly ordered.

You brought your hands up to rub his hair and cup the back of his head. “I won’t baby. I’m sorry.”

You were ready to accept Franklin for everything he is. He was your man and you were gonna stick beside him no matter what.

[koolades-world]

Spellbound Secrets

prologue: calm before the storm

synopsis: The House of Lamentation caught fire one night, and you were the only one they recovered from the wreckage. The brothers were in the house as well when you went to bed that night, but they were nowhere to be found. The pact marks are faded, and seem to be getting more and more indefinite by the day. You and Solomon get to investigating but oddly enough, nobody can seem to remember the missing brothers. It’s up to you, with the help of Solomon, to find your beloved demons, lest you never see them again.

navigation: playlist | prologue (you are here!) | chapter one (coming next saturday)

authors note: this was postponed because a roach haha, but! it’s finally here and I’m excited to share the product of my hard work with you all! what do we think of the banner? made it myself! i think it’s nice but I’ll probably hate it in a couple of years haha. please do check out the playlist i made too. more explanation will be made on the post about it :) special thanks to @aaliyahxxvi and @rcbsbb for beta reading each and every chapter for me, as well as being awesome friends <3

While your several years of living in the Devildom came with its challenges, you wouldn't trade it for anything. It was hard to adjust to, and it felt like every day came with a new hurtle for you to overcome. From almost having your soul stolen, to almost failing several classes, to almost dying, you'd seen it all. But, every time, the key word was almost. You always made it out relatively unscathed, to the point where it was a running joke between you and the brothers, some more so than others. (Lucifer didn't find it very funny.)

You really couldn't ask for more. Despite how things seemed early on in your stay, you'd really begun to enjoy everything about the life you hadn't expected, no less asked for. There was so much about living you truly looked forward to now.

Every morning, you knew to expect Mammon either in your room already because he spent the night over, or barging in as soon as he was awake so you could get ready together. More often than not, in the middle of getting ready, Asmo would burst into the room and ask your opinion on what to wear that day. He and Mammon would bicker and if you didn't end the fighting, they'd disperse on their own once they realized you'd walked off. Lucifer wasn't a morning demon, which took you longer to learn that you'd thought, still took the time out of his morning to brew you a cup of coffee.

Every afternoon, you enjoyed a tea with Satan while you read or did some homework together. Sometimes, you didn't say a single word to each other, but just being together was comforting enough. Then, you'd spent a while with Levi, playing whatever game he'd selected for that day. If it was a game you couldn't play together, you'd happily talk about your day while the other played the game. Finally, once it started to get later in the day and the Devildom began to cool down, you accompanied Beel on his second workout of the day. After a long day, you snuggled with Belphie and unwound. As much as he protested about it, he made a great pillow.

You always had a movie night at least once a week which everyone was required to attend; the brothers didn't have it in them to say no. More often than not, the members of Purgatory Hall and the Demon Lord's Castle (if Barbatos permitted it) came over to join you. It was just a fun excuse to get together and enjoy each other's company.

The routine was comforting, to say the least. You'd all grown into it. You felt safe, and content.

That night had started and ended just like any other. It had been Asmo's turn to cook dinner, and as part of a deal the two of you had made together, he'd agreed to make your favorite. In exchange, he made you promise to reserve one evening just for him. Lingering in the kitchen while he cooked was one of your favorite pastimes.

That night, you were almost certain you feel asleep with three demons in your room. Mammon had claimed your right side, as he usually did, which left your other side up for grabs. Satan laid on your left with a book in hand, one you recognized as one you'd gotten together in the human world, and a little reading light. Levi was at the end of the bed, on his Devilswitch. You and Mammon had briefly argued over the remote, but in the end, you selected what you watched even though he had the remote. You chided Satan for having the light on, to which he apologized for and tried his best to keep it out of your eyes. He didn't move though, because he wasn't willing to give up his spot. Levi didn't cause too much of a disturbance, only the occasional exclamations about whatever he was playing.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary: how things should be. You looked forward to tomorrow. You could already picture what the next day held. You had plans with Satan to head to a new bookstore at the edge of town, and Beel wanted to go on an evening hike and picnic in a nearby park, to which you weren't going to refuse.

If only things were to play out as you imagined.

You weren't sure exactly what time it was when you woke up, but it was blistering, and you couldn't identify a reason why. Your sheets were dangling off the bed, likely the doing of Mammon. You fan was at the highest speed, but it actually only seemed to be making the heat worse. Even stranger was the fact that not a single one of the demons you'd fallen asleep with at your side was present. Not Satan, not Levi, and even not Mammon. In your sleepy stupor, you peeled off the fluffy jacket you were wearing in an attempt to cool off, leaving you in a thinner undershirt. As you plodded around the room, you saw they were nowhere in sight. Their belongings were scattered about, as if they were only going to be gone for a short amount of time and might be back any minute.

Perhaps you might've gone back to bed if you didn't hear the sound of a voice you thought you recognized through the door, accompanied by a muffled roaring. The doorknob burned to the touch, waking you up fully. You wrung out your hand and hissed, cradling it close to your body. It would surely result in a burn later, but for now, that was the least of your concern. The smell of smoke flooded your senses. The was a fire happening in the House of Lamentation, and you were trapped in your room with no way out.

You retreated back to your bed, ripping it apart in search of your D.D.D. Once you found it, you struggled to dial the Devildom equivalent of 911. Thankfully, the call went through and if nobody else had already made a call, they would be on their way.

"666, what is the address of your emergency?" The operator on the other end of the line spoke calmly and clearly.

"The House of Lamentation. The big, haunted creepy house. On Hollow Avenue. I think my house is on fire. I'm trapped in my bedroom." You kept your voice as even as you could so she could understand you.

"The fire department is on their way, sweetie. Are there any other exits?" You could hear the sound of the operator typing.

"No. The only way out is my door, and I burnt my hand on the doorknob. I know you're not supposed to open the door." You weren't sure when you had begun to shake, and struggled to hold the phone up to your ear.

"Alright, put a towel underneath the door to block smoke. Stay low to the ground if you can. What floor are you on?" You could hear the information you were giving to the operator being relayed to others. Doing as she asked, you threw open your closet door and shoved as many towels as you could between the door and the floor.

"First. I'm on the first floor. First floor. I'm not the only one who lives here though. They might be trapped too. I heard someone else before." You thought you heard someone yelling when you'd first approached the door, but you became quickly preoccupied with your own matters. You wished you hadn't.

"Don't panic. Someone is coming to rescue you. I'll stay on the line with you, alright?" She reassured you.

"Thank you." There was a slight pause in your conversation, so you continued to speak. "What's going to happen if they can't get to me in time?" A sort of morbid curiosity crossed your mind. You didn't want to find out, but the thought lingered.

"You're all going to be alright. Talk to me. What's your name?" You didn't know much about the tactics of dispatchers, but maybe she was trying to keep you calm.

"Mc. I'm Mc. I'm one of the human exchange students." You stumbled over your own name. You had no clue what to do besides answer her questions. You felt useless just standing in one spot, but were rooted there.

"How many other people are in the house?" She remained calm, and you took a deep breath, so you could continue to answer her questions. You could feel the panic creeping in and begin envelop you, not unlike the smoke you were trying to block out.

"There should be seven others. A family. I don't know where they are. They were in my room, but they're gone." She probably already knew who the brothers were, and who you were, but you couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth.

"What are you wearing?" She asked you.

"It's really hot in here, miss." You were quickly growing lightheaded, and drenched in sweat.

"I know. I'm sorry. What are you wearing?" She repeated herself.

"Um, a white tank top and some blue checkered pajama pants." Neither article of clothing belonged to you. The pants were Lucifer's and the tank top you'd stolen from Mammon. It was the one thing about the situation that managed to get you to think a little more positively.

"What's the charge on your device, Mc?" Her using your name shocked you a little. It took you a second to realize you'd just given her your name, which is how she knew.

"It's getting low." Because of the brothers staying over in your room, you never had the chance to plug it in before you went to sleep. Mammon had told you he would do it, but it seems you'd both forgotten.

"What percent?" She asked.

"Twenty-nine." You hoped the battery would last long enough.

"Don't hang up. Help will be there shortly." You tried to respond, but it felt as if all the breath had been knocked out of you. You felt as if your legs were going to give way, so you took a seat on the edge of your bed.

"Miss, I don't feel good." Sweat rolled down your forehead and would've gone into your eyes if you didn't swipe it away, which was growing more and more difficult by the second. The heat was agonizing and you almost felt like you were melting.

"Keep talking to me. How old are you?" When you didn't respond, the operator prompted you again. "Mc? Are you still there?"

You tried to continue to speak to her, but you couldn't form the words you wanted to. Nothing came out correctly. She continued to speak to you, but you just wanted to lay down. She grew quieter the more time passed. The room had started spinning at some point. The urge to close your eyes grew stronger and stronger, so you told yourself just a moment wouldn't hurt.

The next thing you remembered was waking up in what had to be a hospital room. You didn't recognize anything in the room, and everything was unusually bright. Whoever had last been in your room had tucked you in carefully in your hospital bed. You could see from your chest down, but your arms were sitting on to of the covers. An IV drip was in your left arm, and from the elbow down, your right arm was wrapped in bandages. The TV in the room was on to your favorite Devildom cooking channel. It was an episode you'd seen before, so you didn't bother to focus on it. Besides the sound of the television you could hear hushed whispering and shuffling from the hallway, and the constant beeping of the machine connected to you.

As you were taking in your surroundings, the door just out of your line of sight opened. You expected it to be one of the brothers, or a nurse maybe, but it was Solomon. It was nice to see a familiar face regardless of who it belonged to.

"Mc! You're awake. I'll call the nurse." With a smile befitting of the gods, he moved to leave the room again.

"Wait, please." He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "What happened?" Solomon backtracked and pulled up a chair to sit beside your bed. You stared at him expectantly, as he thought about, presumably, what to say next.

"The House of Lamentation caught on fire, but thankfully, you were alright. You got some burns but the doctor says it could've been much worse. You've been out for about a day now. How much do you remember?" He flexed his fingers.

"Not much, but I think that's a good thing. How are the brothers? I hope they're doing well." You expected Solomon to just answer the question, but instead, he cocked an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" At first, you just assumed he was kidding, but this was an odd thing to be joking about.

"You know, the seven brothers? They're the avatars of sin? They should've been in the house. Are they fine or did they get hurt in the fire too?" When he only stared at you blankly, you didn't know how to react. "You're scaring me, Solomon. This isn't funny." You thought back over what you'd said. It all made sense in your head, but something just wasn't clicking for Solomon.

"Who are 'the brothers?'"

[vivwritesfics]

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Eleven - Motels

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Series Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. she gets called a whore, choking, SA, 'missing' birth control, blood, pregnancy, hint at child abuse (not explicitly written)

Series Masterlist

The car was packed up, and she was in the passenger seat, waiting for him. Bob, though, was focused on other, more important things.

Natasha stood in front of him, nodding along to everything he said. He was being an overbearing mother, the both of them knew. But this was Frodo we're talking about, and there was no such thing as overbearing when it came to Frodo.

"One tin of food in the morning and one at night," Bob said as he placed his house key into Natasha's palm. "If he wants brushing, he'll let you know. But if he gives no indication, don't brush him. He should be okay all day on his own but I don't know how he'll react without me there."

Natasha closed her fingers around the key. "Bob," she began, her voice full of scepticism. "You know he's a cat, right? Frodo is gonna be just fine with me." She looked past him, at the woman waiting in his truck. "There's someone that needs you a little more than Frodo does right now."

She was right, and Bob knew it. "Thank you for doing this, Phe," he said and Nat gave him a nod. No sappy shit, that was that they'd said when they were the pair selected for that mission all those years ago. And it stood today, no sappy shit.

"You do what you need to," she said and backed towards his house. She raised her hand in a wave and said, a little louder this time, "We'll be there when you guys get back! Have fun!"

Bob walked back towards his truck. He gave Natasha one last wave as he pulled open the door and climbed his way in. "Ready to go?" He asked the girl in his truck, the one that had been watching his entire exchange with Nat.

She sucked in a breath, hand settling on her stomach. There wasn't even a bump, but the response was involuntary. She'd been doing it ever since she'd taken those positive tests. "Ready," she said and blew out a breath of air.

There was no reason for her to be nervous. She wasn't the partner meeting the parents for the first time. No, she was the friend in a shitty situation, being helped out by the sweetest man in the universe. Because that was what Bob was, wasn't he? The sweetest man in the universe.

He started the truck and pulled out of the driveway. They waved at Natasha from where she stood in the doorway, until she disappeared into his house. "When was the last time you went home?" She asked as they drove down his street.

"Not for a while," Bob answered honestly. He swallowed, his palms hitting the steering wheel as he turned right at the end of his street. "I should have visited them more, but I thought that they'd be-" He sucked in a breath, all signs of his nerves. "-disappointed."

Immediately, she shook her head. "Bob, you're in the navy. Why the hell would they be disappointed in you?" She turned towards the window. She muttered something under her breath, something that sounded like 'fucking dumbass'.

There were several stops planned on their trip up to Montana. They had to, it was a twenty-one hour long trip. "Wanna start on the snacks?" Bob asked as they headed out of the state.

She looked back. A series of snack foods were sitting on top of the few bags the two of them had packed. She grabbed the closest one, a bag of chips, and opened them. With his eyes still on the road, Bob reached into the bag and pulled a handful out.

"Barbecue ribs, my favourite," he said as he ate them.

She turned up the volume of the radio. The eighties station, it was very Bob. Her head moved slightly as Bob sang along, entirely unbothered by the way she was watching him. But she wasn't staring out of judgement. He was so comfortable around her, so free. She loved it.

They stopped for lunch just a few hours into their journey. Bob help her hand as he helped her hop out of the truck. "My mom is gonna make us the best food when we get there," he said as they walked towards the diner.

They were walking so close, so close that she knew she should have been touching him. Holding his hand or walking with his arm around her shoulders. Even if they walked with his hand on her not yet there bump, she wouldn't have minded.

They walked into the diner and slipped into a booth. "What are we hungry for?" He asked as he opened the menu.

"Grilled cheese," she answered without looking at the menu.

If it was a grilled cheese she wanted, it was a grilled cheese she was going to get. "No worries, Doll," he mumbled as he stood. It would have been so right to press a kiss to the top of her head before he headed over to the counter. But he held himself back and strode over, giving their order and their table number to the waitress.

Their stopover in the diner was very short lived. They ate their food before they hit the road, half a grilled cheese sandwich in a takeaway box.

The motel Bob had in mind was only a few hours away. With her belly full, she couldn't hide her yawns as Bob drove on. "We'll be there soon," he mumbled. He went to pat her knee, but thought better of it. His hand settled back on the gear stick.

Bob didn't know when she fell asleep. He turned the radio down slightly and took a second to look at her to make sure she was comfortable.

Just an hour later, Bob pulled into the motel. It was definitely dingy and grimy, and certainly not the sort of place he wanted to take her to. It should have been a fancy hotel, with one of those big beds covered in rose petals and a bath big enough for two.

He fought with himself before he woke her up. If the area wasn't so dark and terrifying, he would have left her there to sleep some more. The shadows surrounding the car had him holding her hand as he helped her out of the truck and walking over to the reception.

She was hardly awake as Bob got them a room. The last one, according to the receptionist. He handed over the key as Bob handed over the last of the cash in his wallet. He didn't miss how the guy's eyes moved over her, and how she pressed herself closer to his side.

"Come on," he whispered, arm protectively around her as he pulled her back to the car. He knew he didn't look like much, knew that guy probably thought he could easily take him on. But Bob would be damned if he let anything happen to her.

They got what they needed from the car and made their way up to their room for the night. The last room in the motel, apparently. Bob's anxiety spiked as he let go of her just long enough to unlock the door.

A single bed lay in the middle of the room. "Crap," Bob hissed as he walked in, immediately locking the door behind them. "I guess I'll take the floor."

A motel room floor. There was no telling when it was last cleaned, or what the suspicious stains were. Yeah, there was no way Bob was sleeping on the floor.

Silently, she walked over to the bed. "Yeah, I think we can both fit," she said as she sat on the mattress. Even with the duvet beneath her, she could feel the springs poking through. "It'll be a tight squeeze, but it'll be cosy."

Bob pulled his lip between his teeth. "I don't know," he muttered and looked into the bathroom. If he found a spare blanket, he could sleep in the tub. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It was my idea, Bob," she said as she fished through her bag for some pyjamas. "I won't be uncomfortable, I promise."

Bob sucked in a breath. The roach in the tub seemed to stare at him the moment he switched on the light. He quickly flicked the light off and walked back towards her. "Maybe don't go into the bathroom," he mumbled and sat on the end of the bed.

His body fell back as she pulled her shirt over her head, not much caring that Bob was there. He turned his head to the side, looked at the damp and peeling wallpaper opposite. This wasn't the sort of place he wanted to take her. This wasn't the sort of place where you rented rooms for the whole night.

"Done," she said and laid herself down beside Bob. They weren't trying to touch, but they had no choice in a bed this small.

While Bob got changed into his own pyjamas, she climbed beneath the scratchy duvet. The entire room felt unclean, including the bed. But she could stick it out for the night.

Bob climbed into the bed beside her. The two of them laid there, stiff as a board, waiting to fall asleep. They laid there, unmoving, hyper aware of their own breathing and just how loud it was.

It felt like an hour, but it couldn't have been an hour. Bob ran his hands over his face and rolled towards her. "Can I touch you?" He whispered.

She nodded as she rolled away from him, the both of them facing the wall with the peeling wallpaper. Bob was still hesitant as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in. "I'm sorry about this," he whispered, his fingers moving across her stomach, just light enough to not tickle her.

Still in his arms, she rolled over. "Don't apologise," she whispered. Her hands came up to touch his face. She could just about see him in the darkness, see him without his glasses on. "It's just one night, Bobby," she whispered.

He looked down at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and played with his hair. God, she looked so right beneath him, looked so right in his arms. The more he looked at her, the more the shitty motel room didn't seem to matter.

Bob kissed her. He leaned down and captured her lips in his. This time he initiated it, and she was happy to hiss him back. His hand slipped to her hip, pulling her as close as possible. When she pulled away, he tried to keep his face neutral. "We're really doing this, huh?" She asked, no sound of regret in her face.

"Yeah," he answered and she shuffled closer, her lips pressing against his throat. "Yeah, I think we are."

She kissed him again, lips on his as she pushed at his shoulder. But there was no bed behind him for him to fall back on. His sharp intake of breath alerted her to something wrong and she grabbed hold of him, pulling him back on top of her.

Bob was quick to flip them over. She was on top of him, legs on either side of his hips. Bob held her still, stopped her from grinding down on him.

Bob was breathless when his head fell back, hitting the pillows. "Sweetheart, I..." But he struggled to find the words, struggled to articulate just how he was feeling. "Not here, not in this shitty motel room."

He leaned forward, went to kiss her again, but, this time, she pulled away. She sat up in his lap, hand settling over her stomach. Over her non-existent bump. "You're not gonna want me when she starts to show."

Shaking his head, Bob took hold of her hands and pulled her down onto him. "You're wrong, doll," he whispered and kissed her quickly. "I'm always gonna want you."

She cradled his face as she kissed him. She was right, he really was the sweetest man in the world.

Taglist: @nurse-floyd

@not-nyasa

@burningwitchprincess

@darksparklesficrecs

@primroseluna

@littlemsbumblebee

@wretchedmo

@imaginecrushes

@calpalsbestie

@hiireadstuff

@lyn-js

@emma8895eb

@teacupsandtopgun

@finnydraws

@writtingrose

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@callsignwidow

@mp0625

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[kwanisms]

➔ lee know | back to character select | back to main menu

🔞 many of these works contain sexual content (18+ mdni) 🔞 ♤ — angst :: ♡ — fluff :: ♧ — smut ✍ — ongoing :: ⊝ — hiatus :: ⊗ — discontinued :: ✓ — completed

— oneshots

»» Kinkuary: angry/hate sex + impact play ♧

➥ 1.7k; Sometimes, Minho gets really annoyed. Sometimes he gets really frustrated. The rest of Stray Kids know he gets frustrated, but what they don’t know is that he channels that anger and frustration in his sex with his girlfriend.

»» Creature Feature '23: Otherworldly ♧

➥ 29.2k; While watching a meteor shower with her best friend, Y/N witnesses a UFO falling from the sky and crashing on her family's farm. The two rush to the wreckage site and find an alien spacecraft with a rather mysterious survivor.

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— drabbles

»» Failed Initiation ♡

➥ 1.4k; your best friend invited you to a frat party and during your first game of Paranoia, your crush comes in to save your ass.

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— timestamps

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— miniseries

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— series

ⓘ DISCLAIMER :: MONSTER/ALIEN FUCKER ENTHUSIAST ⓘ ©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hi! I was talking to some friends at work about possibly, some time in the future starting an RPG group with them. I asked what kind game they wanted and they asked for a game based on food and puzzles, influenced by currently popular media.

I’m not familiar with a game that is centered around both puzzles AND food. Can you offer any suggestions?

Thanks!

THEME: Food and Puzzles!

Hello friend, so I have a Dungeon Meshi recommendation post that was very poorly tagged, but I’ve fixed it now!

Not everything in this post is beginner friendly, but I’ve talked about these kinds of games a lot before, so I definitely recommend checking out the other links I have in this list, especially Cook & Hero and Wilderfeast. Now, on to the recommendations!

FOODIE’S, by Sam Bullock.

The world has ended. Only psychotic people are left limping through the devastation, trying to scrape by on whatever prepackaged and shelf stable food they can find picking through the wreckage. You are sick to death of eating this shit. You are a Foodie, and your tastes will be satisfied even if it kills you (and it probably will).

Become crazy wasteland chefs willing to fight and die for their next insane culinary creation. Kill raiders, hunt radfauna and escape the endless cycle of mediocre food.

This is a game that’s meant to be as radioactive and shocking as the apocalypse it’s set in. Use whatever you can around you to cook horrifying meals in an effort to make something more than edible. The game uses a system that adds and subtracts dice from your pool depending on traits that you (and your food) might have that make things slightly easier to do or less appealing to cook with. If you want a game that’s stomach-churning but only a few pages to read, maybe check out Foodie’s.

Forager’s Feast, by FUNONEGames.

Your old adventuring group retired, but you couldn't keep yourselves out of the action. And so, you opened a fine-dining establishment where you serve only the finest monster, locally caught and immaculately presented.

Each week after serving your exclusive clientele, you sit down to eat from the menu and tell tales.  Before long, reliving current and past adventures has you sharing deeply with your comrades.  

Roll on a series of d12 roll tables to determine what kind of adventurer you were, and what your role is within the restaurant that the group of you run together. Players take turns selecting a dish from the provided menu, and telling a story about how the group found the related monsters, the process of putting the dish together, and what heavy price they had to pay: an experience from their adventure that left a mark on who they are as a person.

Forager’s Feast is definitely the least focused on stats and mechanics, and more focused on storytelling happening within turns. You are provided with prompts and then asked to jump right in - great for groups who are really interested in storytelling, and much less focused on things like character abilities or hit points.

No Picnics in the Dungeon!, by Biscuit Fund Games.

Classic adventuring through megadungeons and catacombs distilled down to an easy-to-follow recipe: the comfort food of dungeon crawlers! 

Built on the robust Powered By the Apocalypse engine, No Picnics in the Dungeon! is an accessible, rewarding dungeon-crawling experience that’s easy to run and even easier to play. Create an adventuring party in minutes and descend through dungeons requiring a minimum of preparation. Find rare ingredients from the monsters you battle and the flora you find, and cobble them together into beneficial potions or hearty meals. Track down rare Curios, negotiate with the dungeon’s denizens, and come up with a recipe for a fantastic adventure.

The dungeons hide many secrets and many more delicacies within their walls for you and your friends to discover. Ah, dungeon picnics… there's truly nothing like them.

Combine your class and background to put together an adventurer right out of Dungeon Meshi. Powered by the Apocalypse games are very different from what you may expect in D&D, but I think they can be easier to learn because each character works similarly, and doing things is boiled down into moves, which typically involve rolling 2d6 and interpreting the results as either success, failure, or mixed. If you want to learn more about the PbtA school of games, you can check out my system overview, as well this advice on resources when learning how to play.

Death Cap Sauté, by Junk Food Games.

It’s the year 23XX and our world is now The Wasteland. The legendary, reclusive Shroomp Lord is hosting a new cooking competition and your restaurant has received an invitation! Can you survive through the challenges and cook your way to the top?

Death Cap Sauté is a GM-less TTRPG and dice game for 2 to 5 players and is meant to be played in a single session. Each player takes the role of 3 culinary team members representing their restaurant that has entered a deadly cooking competition. Make the best dishes and impress the judges to earn Shroomps. The restaurant with the most Shroomps at the end wins! 

Because Death Cap Sauté is GM-less, it requires everyone around the table to have some understanding of the rules; which means you could teach it as if you were teaching a board-game. The pdf includes a bunch of roll-tables for the competition, as well as hazards that show up in your attempts to make the best dish at the competition. Your characters each have mutations that lend them special powers, allowing you to do things like add or subtract values to your dice, or re-roll certain dice. This is also designed to be a one-shot, so if you want a goofy game that is low-commitment, this might be the game for you!

Delicious in Torchbearer, by Games by Corey.

Delicious in Torchbearer is a Delicious in Dungeon inspired supplement that adds a variety of cooking centred options to Torchbearer 2E. Ideally meant for use at character creation, these rules extend and increase the focus on cooking in the game.

This game is meant to be an add-on for Torchbearer, so I’d only recommend it for your first group if you really want to get up to your neck in the amount of game that’s here. Torchbearer uses a system called Burning Wheel, and much of its mechanics involve making tough decisions regarding your resources, in the hopes that you will be able to outlast your enemies. If you want puzzles, this game can definitely provide them; many of your choices will require your characters to think carefully about their resources and the best way to go about solving problems. Character progression is slow and painstaking; perfect for groups that are in it for the long haul, but for your first game, maybe not so much.

You might also want to check out…

The Laughing Kobold, by therabidbanana.

Bug Dish: Amouse Bouche, by Ryan Khan.

Spirited Cafe, by A Couple of Drakes.

Stewpot: Tales From A Fantasy Tavern, by Takuma Okada.

Consuming A God Recommendations

My Monster Recycling Rec Post

[apas-75]

So last night I finished reading Rise of the Red Blade for TotE Vibes Research purposes and the two Inquisitor characters in it really illustrate exactly why I think Barriss is going to survive and escape them.

Because the thing is that there are two kinds of Inquisitors! The ones who volunteered, and the ones who...didn’t. Iskat (RotRB’s focus character) perfectly exemplifies the first type: she had some traumatizing experiences at a young age, fell through a number of institutional cracks in the Order, had a really terrible master (meet me in the pit, Sember Vey), everyone was too busy to give her the follow-up they would under normal circumstances, Palpatine had an agent actively gathering information about her and pushing her to become Worse—she was a pre-selected candidate who was offered the choice to come quietly when Order 66 hit, and she took it. By that point all of her issues and doubts had been exacerbated to the point where it wasn’t hard for her to make herself hate the Jedi, and then she rationalized her way through any indication that her freedom was a lie and doubled her way down right into hell.

By contrast: Tualon, Iskat’s crechemate situationship guy. He had some issues but was not someone on Palpatine’s radar; Iskat left him to die in Order 66 and he survived getting shot by darksiding out about her betrayal. Because of that he was taken alive and they did some shit to him. When Iskat runs into him at the Inquisitor HQ after he’s freshly-inducted he can barely remember why he hates her, or anything else from before he was taken. He woke up in the room where you fight Trilla and they fully shattered him and glued a semblance of a person back together out of the wreckage, just COMPLETELY Winter Soldiered the guy, and the only way he had to cope with it is to lean into a weird codependent situationship with Iskat.

And that distinction’s always been there with the Inquisitors; you have the true believers who ended up hating the Jedi or wanted to go on a power trip (or had the kind of revenge plan only a 12 year old could come up with and then stick to for a decade, in one case) and didn’t need any additional coercion to volunteer, and you have the ones that they broke. In the former group you’ve got the Grand Inquisitor, Reva/Third, Lyn/Fourth*, Fifth, and Iskat/Thirteenth. For the most part they’re certified freaks, but they came by it naturally. (Reva’s a different flavor.) In the latter, you’ve got Trilla/Second, Seventh, Masana/Ninth, Tualon, and probably most of the others. They all got disassembled and reassembled without much care given to the process and are all Coping with it badly in different ways, whether by deciding it’s Empowering, Actually (Trilla & Seventh) or by becoming completely jaded about everything (Masana & Tualon).

(*We obviously don’t know a lot about Fourth yet, but the fact that she shows up to recruit Barriss while rocking yellow dark side eyes before ROTS is even over tells me she’s definitely a volunteer.)

All this is to say: The Grand Inquisitor is making a colossal mistake with Barriss from the drop, and it’s why I think she’s going to win their battle of wits and escape. Because he is treating her like she is an Iskat and she could not be any farther from it.

He sends Lyn to get her to come quietly! They actively withhold information from her about what happened to the Jedi and what her expected role in it is! That’s not how they recruit the ones they think will be a problem; if that were the case she would have been stunned out of hand and woken up on a rack.

Instead, he’s giving her special attention,, he’s training her—he doesn’t think they need to break her. She’s just got a few...pesky hang-ups from her time as a Jedi that need ironing out**. He’s projecting on her; he doesn’t just want an empty shell holding a lightsaber—he wants Barriss Offee, loyally kneeling at his side, fully believing in their mission. She’s his favorite.

(**That “mercy only breeds defeat” line isn’t just a generic darksidism; I’m pretty sure he’s directly critiquing how Barriss got caught because she showed mercy to Asajj Ventress.)

And surely that's something he can turn her into, right? Because she hates the Jedi, right? She attacked them, she outsmarted them, obviously she’d be down for wanting to wipe them out! He was there when she confessed and, like pretty much everyone else in the room save for Ahsoka, he didn’t hear a single word that she said—just what he wanted her to be saying. He’s got a deeply incorrect idea of her, and that idea is “she’s just like me for real.”

And he’s wrong, because the Inquisitorius is everything she feared the Jedi Order was becoming—literally, an army fighting for the dark side—and the Empire is everything she knew the Republic was becoming. She might be prone to despairing, it might in some hypothetical be possible to get her into the same resigned despair trap as Anakin, but she would never actually want to serve the Empire, and they don't think they'll have to try hard to convince her to.

She loves the Jedi, she loved being a Jedi, she wanted to save them. She wants to be one again more than anything even though right now she thinks she doesn’t deserve it, thinks that she’s already too broken to reclaim what she was. But I think being surrounded by actual fallen Jedi and being told over and over again that she’s like them is, in the end, going to be what reminds her that she never stopped being a Jedi in the first place.

And as long as she can make sure her captors don't realize that's true until it's too late, she'll be home free.

[devildom-moss]

Flowers for Them (Satan)

Continuation of a request where MC returns the favor for the characters giving them roses. Kind of a sequel series for the Roses for You series (links here)

Satan x gn!MC

(the smallest drop of angst)

Word Count: +1,100

Blue anemone

Satan flipped through the book he had tried to secretly purchase the last time you went to a used bookstore together. It was a tragic romance novel about a human and demon – and not just any demon, but a high ranking, intelligent demon man. His reason for wanting to hide his selection was clear; he would be mortified if you found out that he was reading a story so similar to his situation with you. It was as close as he could bring himself to reading self-insert fanfic of you.

Although, if he was willing to search the depths of the internet, Satan would have found ship fiction about the two of you, written under pseudonyms by fans. Some demon would see a post on Devilgram including you and Satan or see you two walking around and inevitably decide your relationship was worthy of a 13-chapter, hurt/comfort romance, with 2 chapters of rough and dirty smut that would make even an incubus blush. That fic would get posted somewhere on AD3 (Archive de Devildom Demons) or Devilfiction.net or Hellpad – or if they’re truly sad, on Burnr. But Satan was blissfully unaware, so he curled up in his chair with his shameful indulgence.

Unfortunately for Satan, you had seen him sneak the book into the bottom of the pile before checking out. Curious, you did a bit of investigating using the title on the spine and quickly realized why Satan was so keen on hiding it from you. It was cute, in a way, and you wanted to reward that cuteness.

When Satan first opened the book, he felt a faint trace of magic. Seeing as the book was used, that didn’t seem too odd. Besides, whatever magic tainted this book seemed benign, so he ignored it and kept reading.

Satan gripped the book tightly in his hands. The chapter had ended with the human character finding the demon among ruins – remains of a city he had destroyed on a rampage after the duke residing there had suddenly declared war on humans. Would the human reject his violence or embrace him in his monstrous, destructive glory? Satan could feel the tension building up, and he was so excited that he couldn’t sense the magic in the book getting stronger as he turned to the next page.

As soon as he did, a blue anemone sprouted from the center of the book. Satan was startled, but upon closer examination, other than being a human realm flower, nothing else seemed off with the anemone. He set it aside and continued to read the chapter.

The human took in the devastating wreckage around the demon. Homes, shops, and even infrastructure had been demolished as if by an unholy earthquake. It was a tragedy. They imagined all the lives and happiness destroyed. Satan turned the page. Another anemone popped up.

Satan set it down with the other one and kept reading. Right at the center of the town square was a fountain which was once a glistening display of water that sparkled under the starlight. Now, the duke’s head was floating in the upper tier as water that ran red sprouted up next to him and came spilling onto his face – as if to waterboard what visibly remained of his corpse with his own blood. The demon called out to the human, using their name in a meek, pitiful voice. Their eyes met, and Satan turned the page.

Another fucking anemone? Satan put it next to the others with a low growl and read on. The human approached, and the demon fell to his knees on the verge of tears, searching for any sign of affection. He found it. The human caressed his cheek and dropped down to their knees right before him with no regard for the rubble underfoot that pressed into them uncomfortably. The demon tried to explain, only to be met with warm lips against his. Hoping to see them deepen their bond, Satan flipped to the next page eagerly.

“Motherfucker!” A fourth anemone grew up from the book. It was a small inconvenience, but Satan was annoyed. Things were getting good, but he stopped reading and began to simply flip through the pages. A blue anemone continued to appear each time until Satan had enough for a bouquet of two dozen. Then, they stopped. Instead of a flower, a cat-shaped note appeared. Satan was about to throw it away when he recognized your handwriting.

All his irritation and anger began to melt. The note said, “close your eyes.” Satan obeyed.

His obedience was rewarded with the soft sensation of your lips against his. Only you had the power to change Satan’s mood with such ease. He smiled into the kiss, suddenly delighted with your little prank that had been an annoyance just a minute ago. No one had ever given him flowers before – and certainly not human world flowers. When you pulled away, Satan bit his lip to prevent himself from pouting and whining. You could have kissed me a little longer after all that, he thought. However, he had more pressing words to speak.

“Why blue anemones?” Satan stared at you expectantly.

“It can’t just be because they’re pretty?” you asked.

“It could be – if it was anyone else giving me flowers.” Satan smiled, knowing he was correct. “So, what did I do to deserve these?”

“Okay, smarty-pants, you caught me. One of the meanings of a blue anemone is intelligence. That one should speak for itself.” You paused to take his face in your hands. “They also symbolize mutual trust and loyalty, love and respect, and anticipation. They are a promise of a brighter future; in sadness, they bring a sense of calm and peace, lift spirits, protect, and guide.”

Satan’s heart ached sweetly, and he met your eyes with an abundance of affection that overflowed in gentle tears running down his cheeks. You wiped them with your thumbs and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips.

“Are you a blue anemone as well, then?” Satan asked, almost innocently. “Because nothing is a bigger source of peace in my life than you. You are my love, and my loyalty is to you. Only you could lift my spirits like this. Only you could protect and guide me in the ways I’ve always dreamed of. Your very existence is a promise of a brighter future – so long as it involves you. So, I’ll ask again: are you a blue anemone?”

“Hush,” you chuckled and proceeded to leave kisses all over his face until his cheeks were flushed pink and the tears had dried. “You’re cute.”

“You hush too!” Satan pulled you onto his lap and buried himself in the crook of your neck. “Don’t tease me, but don’t leave my side either.”

You played with Satan’s hair and kissed the top of his head. “You can read your tragic human-demon romance book – just remember, I have no intention of letting us be a tragedy.”

“Me either,” Satan whispered against your skin. The tears threatened to spill from his eyes again, but he was too soothed by your touch to cry anymore.

Lucifer | Mammon | Leviathan | Asmodeus | Beelzebub | Belphegor | the others

(If there's no link, that character is coming soon-ish)

[e-dubbc11]

Good morning love! I am SO excited for this event and you're prolly gonna hate me, but I'm all in for the angst right now (damn hormones!) so let's go with song selection of Burning House by Cam, with the one and only Billy Russo.

PS: my son's birthday is Sept 29th too!! <3

Hello my love!! Thank you SO much for following me, reading my fics and being such a kind friend to me, I appreciate you! ♥️ And happy early birthday to your son as well! ♥️

So I listened to the song on repeat one morning while getting ready for work and I had to dry my eyes a few times trying to put my makeup on. You really did go for the angst for billy, didn’t you! I hope you like what I did here and did justice to your ask. I’ll link the song at the end. And you know I could never ever hate you 😘

I know the song is called Burning House but the ocean also inspired this one.

Drowning

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, a lot of it, crying, death (in a way)

Word Count: 1.2K-ish

Summary: Your reoccurring dream haunts you every night. Maybe you said some things you shouldn’t have and wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The world was silent except for the lapping of the miniature waves as they calmly knocked against your body. There was a sense of peace to it yet eerie and unknown. The lack of sound encompassed everything, there were no cries for help, no erratic splashing, and no signs of rescue or wreckage from a boat.

It was just you…all alone.

There weren’t any stars to decorate the night sky, just like on all the other nights you had this dream. It was just a blanket of navy, the sky blended seamlessly down into the ocean with a silvery claw of a moon directly above you.

It was the only light against the darkness which wasn’t much.

But there wasn’t anything for miles, in any direction. No land, no light, and not a soul in sight.

These dreams, or more accurately, nightmares, had no real beginning, all you could recall was that as soon as your eyes opened inside the dream, you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling underwater and had to quickly swim to the surface before you ran out of air.

Once you reached the surface, you inhaled sharply to catch your breath, and frantically looked around for something or someone to hold on to but there wasn’t anything or anyone. There was only a vast space with nothing on the horizon from what you could see of it.

The weight of your clothing made it difficult to keep your head above water as you did your best to rotate your legs like an eggbeater, pushing the water underneath your bottom so your head would remain on top of the water.

The lack of wind created more silence which you didn’t know was possible and that’s when the fear and panic set in. Which direction were you supposed to swim in? Toward land? You didn’t see any!

The water chilled you to the bone which made your muscles tight like thick rubber bands and afraid to use them in fear they may snap in half. And who knows what lurked beneath your feet? It could be wildlife or rip currents…you shuddered to think.

But you had to at least TRY to save yourself.

The highly flavored taste of salt was in the air, not just in the water as it splashed against your lips. Gliding on your side, you forcefully pushed the water away from you, propelling you forward and hoping you were headed in the right direction.

After swimming for awhile, you could hear a faint call for help ahead of you. Was there someone else that was stranded and trying to get to safety? Or was your hearing deceiving you?

The faded ethereal glow of the crescent moon gave you some light and in the distance you could see a figure waving his hands in the air, the white shirt he was wearing made it easier to see him.

The man looked familiar and as you swam closer, you realized why. The handsome face, short well-groomed beard, with eyes and hair that matched the late night sky…it was the man you once loved, and his name was Billy Russo.

Your on again, off again relationship with Billy had become too much for you to handle and it was you who ended it this time but you said some things to him that were out of line and that he didn’t deserve.

But you couldn’t take them back, those words were hurtful and no apology in the world could make you move on and forget about them as if nothing happened.

You did it for selfish reasons, to make yourself feel better, and convinced yourself that it was the best thing for you to do. But in the aftermath, you regretted it, wondered if there could have been a better way to handle it, and you had been lost ever since.

Lost in your dreams of a dark, wide open ocean with no direction of where to go or anyone to help you get home.

But there he was, calling out to you for help, and you thought you could make peace and apologize in your dreams by saving him. But while you were free to try and swim to shore, he was confined to stay there…forever.

His ankle was chained to a weight that went straight to the ocean floor and no matter how hard you tried, there was no way for you to get it off and free him.

“Save yourself, sweet girl.” Said Billy, calmly.

His words slipped into your heart like a piece of broken glass, the ache in your chest would be permanent, and you’d never forgive yourself for it if you left him to die alone.

Billy had been alone for his entire life. He didn’t have family or friends except for the Castle family. He would tell you all the time that he didn’t need relationships or want them. “They make you weak.” He would say.

He kept coming back to you, though.

But his constant mood swings and fits of jealousy kept giving you whiplash and you finally had enough.

“You don’t give anyone a reason to love you. You don’t love anyone except yourself and that’s why you’ll probably die alone. You have to deserve to be loved.” You had said.

You were angry and you didn’t mean it but you couldn’t take it back. His physical wounds from his childhood and from war had faded, still visible but faded.

Those awful words you had hissed cut him more deeply than any bullet ever could and they weren’t true. When bones are broken, they heal stronger than they were before but a broken heart never quite heals the same. The pieces never fit exactly as they had before.

Your dreams were a way you could be with him, make everything right, and to make sure he wouldn’t die alone. They were a way you could fix it all.

Telling him to save his strength was useless, he would use his energy to kiss you and tell you he loved you and you reciprocated, using all of your energy to do the same.

Both of you were incredibly stubborn.

“I won’t leave you, Billy.” You would tell him. “Ever again.”

You and Billy fought tirelessly to try and stay above water but eventually, your strength was going to give out, the muscles in your arms and legs burned like white hot fire and felt like they had been shredded to pieces rendering you unable to keep yourself up.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, but at least you were together when the ocean finally opened up and swallowed you whole.

That’s when you would wake up, still confused, still lost, and still not knowing what to do. It made you sob every single time.

These chilling dreams would continue night after night until you fixed what was broken. Was it possible to fix it? Or was it too late? Would he forgive you? COULD he forgive you?

There was only one way to find out.

I've been sleepwalking

Been wandering all night

Trying to take what’s lost and broken

And make it right

I've been sleepwalking

Too close to the fire

But it's the only place that I can hold you tight

In this burning house

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @fakehappy27 @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @nutmeg17 @k-marzolf @vaguekayla @rosaleenablack @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen @rachlovesactors @qu1etwolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[ponyosmom35]

stolen future

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: reader is dealing with simons death.

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her scrubs with mechanical precision. The person staring back was a stranger—someone who had learned to hide the cracks in her soul so well that even she almost believed the lie. Almost. She forced a smile, the kind she had perfected in the days and weeks since Simon's death, the kind that kept her parents from asking too many questions. They couldn't know how close she was to breaking; they had already lost Emma, and she couldn't bear the thought of them worrying about losing her too. Not now, when they had so little left.

The hospital had become her refuge, a place where the din of chaos drowned out the screams of her grief. The frantic pace of the emergency room offered a welcome numbness, each 48-hour shift blurring into the next, a haze of blood, stitches, and life-or-death decisions that kept her mind from straying to thoughts of Simon. There was no room for personal pain when others were bleeding out on the table, no time to think about the wedding that would never happen or the future that had been stolen from her.

It was the in-between moments that were the hardest—those fleeting seconds when the adrenaline wore off and her mind, traitorous as it was, would wander back to him. A glimpse of a soldier's uniform, the faint scent of his cologne on another man as he was wheeled in on a gurney, the sound of laughter that reminded her too much of Simon's—it was in those moments that she felt the sharp sting of reality, a reminder that no amount of work could fill the gaping hole he had left behind.

And then there was home. The place that had once been filled with warmth and laughter was now a cold, empty shell. The silence that greeted her when she walked through the door was oppressive, bearing down on her like a weight she couldn't shake. She had taken to leaving the lights off, as if the darkness could somehow mask the absence that screamed at her from every corner. The house was filled with ghosts—his favorite coffee mug that still sat in the cabinet, the shoes he had kicked off carelessly by the door, the faint indent on the pillow next to hers, still there after all these weeks.

The office door remained closed, a barrier she couldn't bring herself to cross. Inside, untouched and gathering dust, were all the plans they had made. The invitations they had chosen together, the carefully selected favors, the wedding dress she had picked out with Emma's help—it all sat there, a cruel reminder of the life they were supposed to have. Sometimes she would stand outside the door, hand hovering over the doorknob, wanting to go in, to touch those things one last time, but she never could. The thought of facing it was too much, so she turned away, retreating to the safety of her bed, where she could curl up with Simon's last shirt and pretend, for just a moment, that he was still there.

Her parents called often, their voices tinged with the kind of concern that made her chest tighten with guilt. She lied to them with ease now, telling them she was fine, that work was keeping her busy, that she just needed some time to herself. They offered to come and visit, but she always found an excuse, anything to keep them away from the wreckage of her life. She knew they worried—how could they not? But she couldn't let them see how far she had fallen, how close she was to the edge. They needed to believe she was okay, even if it was a lie.

Junie, her cat, was the only one who saw the truth. The little ragdoll was her constant companion, always there when the walls closed in and the tears she kept bottled up at work finally broke free. Junie would curl up in her lap, purring softly, her warm presence the only thing that kept her from completely unraveling. She would bury her face in Junie's fur, holding on as if the tiny creature were a lifeline, the only tether she had to this world. It was Junie who saw her at her worst—sobbing uncontrollably on the floor, unable to move from the spot where she had collapsed, Simon's shirt clutched in her hands like a talisman. Junie never judged, never asked questions, just stayed by her side, offering a silent comfort that she desperately clung to.

Her friends tried to reach out, leaving voicemails and texts that went unanswered. They wanted to help, to be there for her, but she couldn't face them. Their well-meaning words and attempts to cheer her up felt like a mockery of her pain. They didn't understand, couldn't understand, what it was like to lose the person who was supposed to be your forever. They hadn't been the ones to receive the knock on the door, to see the faces of her dear friends who had come to tell her that Simon was never coming home. They hadn't had to pick up the pieces of a life that had been shattered in an instant. Though she spoke to Soap occasionally, a majority of his messages were unanswered like the rest of the people who loved her.

So she isolated herself, withdrawing into the cocoon of her grief, letting the world fade away as she lost herself in the darkness. Days blurred together, time losing all meaning as she moved through life on autopilot. The hospital was the only place she felt anything resembling normal, where she could pretend, if only for a few hours, that she was still the person she used to be. But even that was a lie, one she couldn't keep up forever.

At home, the mask slipped, and the full weight of her sorrow pressed down on her like a physical force, crushing her until she could barely breathe. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything but exist in a world that had lost all its color. The thought of living without Simon was unbearable, a pain so deep it left her hollowed out and empty. She couldn't see a way forward, couldn't imagine a future that didn't include him. All she had left were the memories, and even those were fading, slipping away from her grasp no matter how tightly she tried to hold on.

Everywhere she looked, she saw him—in the photos on the walls, in the things he had left behind, in the plans they had made that would never come to pass. The life they were supposed to share was gone, and she was left adrift, lost in a sea of grief with no anchor to keep her from being pulled under. And yet, she kept going, kept moving through the motions of a life she no longer wanted to live, because she didn't know what else to do.

The nights were the worst. When the world was quiet and there was nothing to distract her, the darkness closed in, suffocating in its intensity. She would lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind replaying the moment she had learned of Simon's death over and over again, as if by reliving it, she could somehow change the outcome. But the truth was inescapable—he was gone, and nothing she did could bring him back.

Some nights, she would wander the house, unable to stay in bed but too afraid to sleep. She would pace the floors, her footsteps the only sound in the silence, her thoughts a jumble of what-ifs and regrets. She would end up in the living room, sitting on the couch where they had spent so many evenings together, watching TV or talking about their day. The emptiness beside her was a physical ache, a reminder of everything she had lost.

She hated being home, hated the way it reminded her of him, of what they had been and what they would never be. But she didn't know where else to go. The world outside was too bright, too full of life that she couldn't bring herself to participate in. So she stayed inside, trapped in a prison of her own making, the walls closing in on her a little more each day.

And yet, despite it all, she couldn't let go. The pain was all she had left of Simon, the only connection she still felt to him. She was terrified that if she let it go, if she allowed herself to move on, she would lose him all over again. So she held on, even as it tore her apart, because the alternative—living in a world without him—was unthinkable.

She knew she couldn't keep going like this, that something had to give. But she didn't know how to stop, how to let go of the grief that had become her constant companion. It was a part of her now, woven into the very fabric of her being, and she was too afraid to unravel it, to see what was left underneath.

So she continued to exist in a world without Simon, going through the motions of a life she no longer recognized, hiding her pain behind a mask of professionalism and competence while inside, she was slowly falling apart. The person she had been was gone, lost in the wake of his death, leaving behind only a hollow shell, a ghost of the person she once was. And in the quiet moments, when the mask slipped and the darkness closed in, she wondered if she would ever find her way back, or if she was destined to be lost forever.

[evita-shelby]

Vēnor

latin: Chase, Hunt

Brilliant Chang meets a happily divorced Eva after the events of Look Both Ways and the The Wreckage

cw: failed relationships, mentions of drug use, murder, mentions of sex and Eva’s slight god complex

Lucy Winters belongs to @emotionalcadaver

taglist @justrainandcoffee @zablife @thegreatdragonfruta @hoodeddreams13 @novashelby @kmc1989

She likes to play games.

After her disastrous marriage to Tommy, her subsequent divorce and failed attempts to rekindle that spark since Lucy had up and left anyways, Eva decided to keep up her game with the Chinaman who thinks her easy prey.

It is his way of gaining clients and even dealers for his cocaine. He romances and seduces his prey and before they know it, they’re dealing drugs with their brains turned to mush to get a crumb of his attention. Freda Kempton would not be the last of his victims.

Brilliant Chang, the Dope King of London.

Handsome, cultured and not at all put off by the existence of the witch’s two-year-old son and that her divorce doesn’t mean she’s no longer a Shelby. Chang’s last invitation had come while shopping at his warehouse with little Charlie on her hip, Tommy getting on her last nerve and, like his attempts before, a gift to show his interest.

Eva wanted to get him to leave his private room and try to woo her where everyone would see him. After all, she isn’t interested in his drugs, the last time she had cocaine it drove her to attempt suicide and Eva refuses to go back there at all costs.

She wants to fuck him, plain and simple.

Now that her divorce has given her some notoriety, freedom and a wide selection to choose from, the witch wants to take her time finding someone who would accept her terms and conditions.

There are many universes and lifetimes where that man is Tommy Shelby, but in this one, he, sadly, is not.

“Tell Mr. Chang if he wants someone who goes to him when he orders it, he should get a dog.” Eva tells the waiter who finds her refusal alarming and does not stop her from leaving even if her meal has yet to even arrive.

Much like Tommy Shelby, Billy Chang is far too used to having women be too easy to get. Rejection was not something they were used to; Tommy seeking her to fill the space Lucy left and Chang’s invitations these past months were proof of that.

The waiter goes into the private room from where the king observes his kingdom and relates her words to him. This time she had sent an unflattering comment, the previous ones were a simple no.

Eva leaves knowing the next time she comes; he will be waiting here for her.

“You play well, Mrs. Shelby.” Brillian Chang is dressed finely with a fur coat worth as much as her wedding ring and sitting at the table he always has open for her. There is no menu, why would there be when the man has spent the past year studying her?

It is simply tea with small plates of food. Dim Sum the waitress had called it the first time. Or was it Yum Cha?

“Your strategy merited a harder game.” The Mexican witch sat down knowing all the whispering around them is about them. Billy Chang hardly leaves his private room, just as the Shelbys hardly leave the snug at the Garrison. To see him come out for a woman when the others went to him is enough to cause a stir.

“Or perhaps I let you win.” He admits with his eyes roaming her as if she were the meal set out before them.

Been so long since a man’s been bold enough to desire her so openly. Many still feared the man she was married to even here in London ---or did when Tommy got it in his head that despite fucking up the best damn thing in his life, he believed he had any fucking right to impose his will on her.

Tommy no longer satisfied her, too much hurt, too much anger for putting them in this situation in the first place and unwilling to move on like she had.

He had a choice, her or Lucy. Because he couldn’t decide, the witch made the choice for him and now the Romani gangster gets a front row seat to his ex-wife seeking her pleasure with whomever she wants.

Brilliant Chang had no idea how attractive he became to her when his way of flirting with her pricked Tommy’s jealous streak and her ex-husband told her of how the man here killed Freda Kempton.

He is using you to get to me, Tommy had wagged his finger at her and demanded she stop going to Chang’s warehouses and teahouse in Regent Street.

Eva had half a mind to tell him where Lucy was hiding just so he’d fuck off, but Lucy needed to learn who she was outside of Tommy’s orbit and see if she’d still choose him afterwards. The witch couldn’t drag her nor Tommy kicking and screaming to a shrink, traveling with a Romani family wholly unconnected to the Shelbys should do the trick.

“And yet I got what I wanted, didn’t I?” the witch shuts the door to her past and focuses on the present and the near future where this man shows her why all those women fall under his spell so easily.

His place, she doesn’t want to risk Charlie interrupting him or, worse, Tommy’s people knowing his identity too soon. Eva had even lost her tail and ditched the driver Tommy gave her for her safety with ease for the occasion.

“I see why Mr. Shelby can’t let you go, cunning as the devil and as beautiful as Venus.” He pours the tea, first her cup then his, a gesture she’s learned is a sign of respect.

Its is the tea she usually gets, had a strange name that translated to Iron Goddess or something of the sort and could pass for an English breakfast tea. Despite knowing this was all done to trap her, the witch finds it thoughtful that he would order his staff to cater to her tastes for this first meeting.

“Ex-husband.” The witch corrects as she took her cup, a finer thing like the sort of cups she has been served with since she first rejected his invitation to join him for a meal.

“Then his loss is my gain.” Chang took his own cup and drank first to show it was not tampered with. Freda Kempton had drunk water mixed with snow until it killed her, or so she’s heard.

He wasn’t out to kill her; he could’ve done it sooner. He, like her, wanted a good fuck after a good game.

He has wanted her ever since he saw her in Birmingham years ago, the dark beauty who turned heads wherever she went. Richer than God, far more beautiful than all the girls he took to his bed and, despite her penchant for dark clothing, a drop of color in cold and dreary England.

But he also knows the rumors.

She has plenty of tricks to prove she’s the real deal, from knowing the person’s entire future to turning any drink in her hands into whatever alcohol she wants. Eva is something of a Messiah in her family, the only living witch since her mother and grandmother died in 1914.

“You’ll be acquitted but your reputation will take a blow.” This was what worried him after evidence mentioned him. This would ruin him and make him the villain in every story…even if he had been at fault for playing up the dead girl’s sorrows and discarding of her after.

“I did not seek you out to know the future, but I welcome the news either way.” The businessman admits, it was obvious that he’d lose his reputation and there would not be enough evidence to charge him for her murder.

“Then what do you want?” she knows what it is, but, fuck, did she want to hear him say it.

“Everything.”

Chang knows his way with women, Eva’s not had this much fun in ages.

He took charge, fucked her until she forgets she had a kid at home and then let her tie him up as they played their games her way.

And yet that paled to how just being with him felt.

The witch missed this, this spark of connection and understanding she hadn’t felt since Tommy. That ‘there you are’ one doesn’t believe in until it happens.

And then after three years it happened again. Part of her thought she wouldn’t feel it again after Tommy.

But she has just as she told Tommy and Lucy it would.

“What is the price Shelby couldn’t pay?” Billy asks after they’ve come up with a foolproof scheme to have him acquitted and keep most of his reputation intact.

“Exclusive devotion.”

Most just say a monogamous marriage, but Eva has never felt or been seen as fully human even by her family. She is the patron saint, the jealous goddess who will rain fire and brimstone on those who incur her wrath.

Tommy hadn’t understood the fine print. Convinced that because she enjoyed one threesome and was sort of friends with his lover, Eva would make an exception. And what a mistake that had been.

Brilliant Chang weighs his options, thinks she cannot tell as they lay there in his bed while evening becomes night outside. She’d have to leave soon, can’t have Tommy waiting for her because she had been out all day.

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” he asks having concluded that she’s worth a monogamous lifestyle. A monotheistic lifestyle, he corrects himself unaware Eva can read his thoughts.

She isn’t as strict as many believe, Eva’s quite fun and willing to allow a short noncommittal fling from time to time and the occasional orgy. The witch only demands she is always the only person who owns her lover’s heart.

“You may,” Eva brushed damp hair from his face and added in between kisses, “Take me dancing, a club my ex-husband can’t get into and ruin this for me.”

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 64

Scrubmask and Clammask’s litter all earn their names the night of the cleric’s meeting.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Splashtuft, Leathermask, and Drumtooth are all adults! Under Honeybuzz, it says LEVEL UP! HONEYPAW -> HONEYBUZZ, HAS LOTS OF IDEAS -> CONSTANTLY FIDDLING WITH TOOLS. Under Splashtuft, it says LEVEL UP! SPLASHPAW -> SPLASHTUFT, BOLD -> ADVENTUROUS, NEVER SITS STILL -> FAST RUNNER, LOVER OF ART -> STUDENT OF ART. Under Leathermask, it says LEVEL UP! LEATHERPAW -> LEATHERMASK, CONFIDENT -> NERVOUS, CONFIDENT WITH WORDS -> GREAT SPEAKER, AVID PLAY-FIGHTER -> GOOD FIGHTER. Under Drumtooth, it says LEVEL UP! DRUMPAW -> DRUMTOOTH, MOSS-BALL HUNTER -> GREAT HUNTER, + NEW SKILL: CLEVER.]

(Honeybuzz: 12, male, cleric, daring, constantly fiddling with tools)

(Splashtuft: 12, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)

(Leathermask: 12, male, warrior, nervous, great speaker, good fighter)

(Drumtooth: 12, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

Oilstripe wakes up from the first peaceful night’s sleep she has had since Rustshade died. With Carnationspeckle and their two newborn kits at her side, she’s finally able to name them.

[Image ID: Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle watch over a light brown tom and a brown and white molly. Under Oilstripe, it says - CONDITION: NIGHTMARES, PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Under the light brown tom, it says NEW PLAYER: TALLOWKIT, 0, MALE, SKITTISH. Under the brown and white molly, it says NEW PLAYER: SLUSHKIT, 0, FEMALE, POLITE.]

(Oilstripe: 68, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 66, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Tallowkit: 0, male, kit, skittish)

(Slushkit: 0, female, kit, polite)

James’ grief and nightmares soften as he cares for Weedfoot.

[Image ID: James faces Weedfoot. Under James, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

---

“James, you’re an elder,” Weedfoot laughed as James carefully rubbed an ointment over her wounded leg. “Let Troutpool and Honeybuzz handle this!”

“What, your mate can’t care for you for a day?” James purred. The ointment stuck between his pads and made his fur stink. It took a lot of willpower to not sneer at the smell. At least he and Weedfoot had the elder’s den to themselves now that Parsley had passed on. Weedfoot was a good patient, sitting still while James followed Troutpool’s instructions on how to care for the deep wounds. 

“This is more work than you put in as a caretaker,” Weedfoot pointed out with a playful twitch of her whiskers. James had no witty retort for his love. Instead, he nuzzled Weedfoot with a soft purr.

“I hope you gave Autumnstar a good talking to,” he chuckled.

“That I did,” his love purred.

(Weedfoot: 113, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(James: 140, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

Scaleripple refuses to cower at Tempestshade’s curse and goes to meet them on patrol. However, he finds them with their leg stuck in a silver jaw. Scaleripple frees them and hurries them to camp.

[Image ID: Scaleripple and Tempestshade walk away from a pixel bear trap. Under Tempestshade, it says + CONDITION: MANGLED LEG.]

(Scaleripple: 17, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Tempestshade: 25, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

Downstar caught Asterpaw in a lie.

[Image ID: Downstar says to Asterpaw, “Your kindness is admirable, but ask yourself, who suffers for your compassion?”]

---

“Downstar!” 

Downstar had been working with Carnationspeckle to prepare the shipwreck for the coming winter. While the broken wood had held up for many years, if Downstar wanted future generations to rest under the wreckage, caretakers and warriors would have to support the decaying planks and ancient ceiling. She and Carnationspeckle had a selection of planks freshly delivered from AshClan, ready to support the salt-crusted ship. However, just as they began discussing how to go about their repairs, Rattlepelt stormed out from her den of artisan supplies (formed through the whole Clan’s effort to roll away a rock and make more space), tail thrashing. Her fox pelt had been carefully cleaned of Weedfoot’s blood, but it made her look like a furious beast about to attack Downstar for just a moment. 

“Where is Asterpaw?” Rattlepelt snapped. “Where is that little thief?” Carnationspeckle jumped at the fire in her daughter’s voice.

“Rattlepelt!” Carnationspeckle cried. “Take a breath. That’s no way to talk about your Clanmate, you know that!” Rattlepelt hissed, flinching back with eyes shut tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Rattlepelt groaned, shaking her head so hard the head of her pelt slipped off. “I’m just mad.”

“What happened?” Downstar asked.

“Rabbitjoy and I were stitching together new wraps for Troutpool and Honeybuzz,” Rattlepelt explained, taking each word slowly as she fought back her frustration. “They were almost finished. I went to make the finishing touches, and it’s gone. Asterpaw is the only cat I know that would steal from me. You know what Gentlestar told us.”

“Yes, I do,” Downstar sighed. “Did you check with Rabbitjoy and the clerics? Maybe they took it and didn’t tell you.”

“They weren’t done,” Rattlepelt growled. “They would have recognized that. Where is Asterpaw?” Carnationspeckle pressed against Rattlepelt, easing her fury. Rattlepelt groaned and shook out her head like she had water in her ears. 

“I’ll speak to him,” Downstar promised. “Why don’t you help your mother for me? Make sure we have all the tools we need to support the shipwreck. Don’t worry about the wraps. If we can’t get them back, we’ll negotiate trade with SlugClan.” Rattlepelt nodded, taking a deep breath. Carnationspeckle nudged her toward the planks. The artisan calmed, Downstar trotted out of camp, the sun against the sea blinding her left eye.

Asterpaw had been tasked with his first solo hunt as a RippleClan apprentice. His many punishments in WheatClan had not delayed his path to graduation, and he had almost all of the confidence of a caretaker. There was no reason Downstar couldn’t let him hunt with the rising sun while she handled the shipwreck. While she had only known the apprentice for over a moon, Downstar had a good feeling as to where she would find him.

A sluggish monster trotted down the horsepath, doing little to torture its equestrian prisoner. The music of chickadees and kinglets danced from the burning trees that sprinkled the more open landscape of RippleClan’s southern domain. The smell of the leaves along the tan and green grass never failed to rejuvenate Downstar’s aging mind. If Downstar took to the hunt that day, the birds and mice would practically fall into her mouth.

Speaking of the hunt, Asterpaw stalked along a nearby hill, eyes locked on a junco shuffling through soft yellow conifer needles and huge, crunchy leaves. Asterpaw’s crouch was perfect, if not reminiscent of Rustshade in the early days of RippleClan; even Downstar still struggled not to disturb a single needle or leaf in her hunt, but when WheatClan so frequently hunted among the easily-disturbed human crops, where human hunters were the greatest danger of all, even the youngest apprentice knew not to disturb the land around them. Asterpaw was no exception. The junco stood unaware of its approaching demise.

Asterpaw’s pounce spelled instant death. He held the junco high, glancing toward the colorful sky, grateful for his catch. His yellow eyes spotted Downstar across the way. Downstar joined him at a casual trot, revealing nothing but curiosity in her gaze.

“How was my technique?” Asterpaw asked, setting the junco at his paws. “It took a while for any bird to land, but my fathers used to say juncos are some of the best tasting birds in the Clans. It’s worth the wait.”

“You’re an excellent hunter,” Downstar said. 

“I promise to catch something else before I go back to camp,” Asterpaw said, digging a small hole for his catch. “Did you need me for something?” 

“Yes, actually,” Downstar said in as easy-going a voice as she could manage. “Where are the wraps?” Asterpaw stopped digging.

“What was that?” Asterpaw asked. Downstar could see the lie by omission ripple down Asterpaw’s spine. She sighed and dropped her facade.

“The bandages Rabbitjoy and Rattlepelt were making,” she explained. “Who did you give them to?” Asterpaw turned his head away. His tail twitched, giving away his heart. “Asterpaw.”

“One of the humans took a thunder-stick to a farm cat,” Asterpaw snapped, head snapping back with enough force to make Downstar’s neck ache in sympathy. “It shot a pellet straight through her leg. I couldn’t let her try to recover with just cobwebs to stop the bleeding! RippleClan has so many wraps, why do you have to get upset at missing one? I figured you would assume Troutpool used another for Tempestshade’s leg! I’ll bring it back when my friend recovers.” Downstar sighed again. Asterpaw’s eyes did not match his frustrated tone. They were more akin to a much younger tortoiseshell molly, begging her Clanmates to understand why she and her friends pushed for such change.

“Your kindness is admirable,” Downstar said, “but ask yourself, who suffers for your compassion?”

“No one!” Asterpaw groaned. “That’s what I tried to explain to everyone in WheatClan! I don’t just steal prey someone else has caught, or dump out herbs to steal a pot. I make what I can and borrow what I can’t!” His short fur spiked up as he yowled, not looking at Downstar.

“But what if someone else got hurt in the coming days?” Downstar asked, sitting. “We don’t waste resources, either. We make enough to fill our needs. Rattlepelt wanted to weave new wraps because we’ve used a few so much, they’ve become unsafe to continue using. Who would be to blame if Troutpool needed to bandage a wound, and we had no more wraps to spare?” Asterpaw squirmed under Downstar’s gentle logic.

“The farm cats struggle to make weaves like we can,” Asterpaw muttered, too big for his pelt. “They need them too.”

“If they want to learn, they can visit us,” Downstar suggested. “Rabbitjoy is an excellent weaver. She would be willing to teach them. That’s part of why Gentlestar thought you a better fit in RippleClan. You’re allowed to care for outsiders to such an extent. But we still have a responsibility to one another that comes before the farm cats. Taking our wraps hurts us. There are ways to help others without hurting your Clanmates.”

“What if you said no?” Asterpaw gulped. “Without the wraps…”

“If you had explained yourself, I would have helped,” Downstar sighed. She set her chin on Asterpaw’s head. “I do think you’ll be a good caretaker, Asterpaw, but trust that your Clanmates will want to help you. Don’t sneak around our backs.”

“You promise to help them?” Asterpaw asked, voice a bit muffled as he leaned into Downstar’s chest.

“If they want our help,” Downstar promised, licking her apprentice’s ear, “we don’t turn them away.”

(Downstar: 123, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Carnationspeckle: 66, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Rattlepelt: 47, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Asterpaw: 11, male, caretaker apprentice, thoughtful, has lots of ideas)

[gowns]

AMY GOODMAN: We have just been joined on the phone by Raji Sourani [...] the award-winning human rights lawyer and director of the Palestinian Center for Human Rights in Gaza. [...] Can you tell us what happened?

RAJI SOURANI: I think the world should be worried about the crimes going on against Palestinian civilians, who are for the 18th consecutive day in the eye of the storm. They are the target. They are the target of the F-16s, of the cannons, of the gunships, day or night, 25 hours a day. They almost destroyed — they destroyed Gaza. I mean, it’s unbelievable, this army targeting only civilians and civilian targets — towers, houses, hospitals, churches, mosques, schools, shelter places, ambulances, nurses, doctors, journalists. This is the most political army — this is the most political army in the world. This is the mighty Israel, its might and power targeting civilians. They are doing war crimes, crimes against humanity, persecution for 2.4 million people for the last 18 days.

Unfortunately, this colonial, racist West supporting them by all ways and means. They are supporting them with money, with guns, with airplanes, with all what they need to do this crime. They are complicit by supporting them politically and militarily and politically. It’s shame this is happening in the 21st century, while these war crimes not secret enough. It’s projected live on air, and the entire world see it. And the ICC prosecutor, who issued warrants against Putin because he committed war crimes against civilians, because he invaded and made occupation to Ukraine, and here we have this prolonged military occupation, we have prolonged blockade, which is criminal, suffocated people here, we have five consecutive wars, and this is the sixth, and he is doing nothing. He is doing nothing except, you know, freezing the investigation of the war crimes committed by Israel and the Israeli army.

[...]

AMY GOODMAN: Raji, you’re talking about the International Criminal Court prosecutor, Karim Khan?

RAJI SOURANI: Yes, yes. He is complicit. He is selectively dealing with the Rome Statute, with the investigations, and he’s politically charging the International Criminal Court. Shame on him. He didn’t say one statement, since day one 'til this moment. He should be the backbone of the victims who are suffering in this part of the world. And he sees that, and he knows that, and he receives reports about that. And he's doing nothing.

So, U.S. and Mr. Biden — I’m saying to him — you are complicit. You are part of these crimes, because you are allowing, with your arms, civilians to be targeted and killed. We have almost 1,200 people for almost two weeks under the wreckage and under the destroyed houses, unable to be recovered. We have 57 families deleted, don’t exist anymore, because 20, 25, 30 of them have been killed in one second. We have churches targeted, and people died in it. We have mosques, people sheltered in it, and they were killed. Why you are allowing this to happen? Why you are seeing, watching, supporting Israel? Israel right of defense? Or it should be protecting civilians at the time of war. IHL, international humanitarian law, and human rights, Rome Statute, it’s there simply, Amy, to protect civilians at a time of war. And nobody is protecting us. We are the target of the Israeli army. They want to evict Gaza, and they create a new Nakba. They don’t want anybody in Gaza. They want us to leave. We are not leaving. We are the stones of the valley. We have been here since ever, and we will continue forever. We will not be part of the Israeli plan to evacuate Gaza.

AMY GOODMAN: Raji, if you can tell us what happened to your own family? When was your house bombed? And were you dug out from the rubble?

RAJI SOURANI: I’m living in Rimal area, Tal Al Hawa, the nicest place in Gaza. I have my own villa, and it’s nice, with very nice garden. It’s a two-story building. It’s me and my wife Amal and my son Basel. And we were, like everybody, I mean, you know, at our home, watching what’s going on. And out of the blue, the bombing began, began in our area — nothing special, nothing unique, nothing consist danger; otherwise, my sense will tell me, I mean, you know, I have to leave, or I will ask my wife and son, I mean, at least, to leave. But there is nothing, I mean, in that part. It’s entirely civilian, and I can tell — and I have always the reason, I mean, to say that.

And I have — the bombing began, and we thought, yes, I mean, this might be one bomb here or there. But it was very close. And the second, and then we began to realize and feel, you know, there is something big wrong happening, because sound getting closer, closer and closer. We were holding — I mean, we were not thinking or realizing that we are going to survive. That’s not easy. And I was thinking of a lot of things, I mean, my life, how I didn’t really, you know, leave like everybody leave. Should I leave, or should I stay? Why we move just in that place two minutes before the rocket of F-16, GBU-38, hit? And I felt the heat of the flame, and I saw the ball of fire. And every time, especially this one, I thought it’s our end. And this was last one, I mean, with the hit directly to my house, and the house was literally destroyed. Lucky enough, I just moved from the place where we are staying, upon the request of my son, to one tiny corridor inside the house. And if we were where we were, we are gone. We are gone.

So, we waited almost half an hour, unable to speak any words, unable to do anything. And we were really, I mean, a state of human shock. And I waited 'til, you know, there was some siren of ambulances remotely, and that means usually the bombing stopped, and they get the green light to come in. Then we began to climb our way out. But it was rather a mission impossible. And we were lucky, I mean, you know, to get out. And when we get out of the place, we just moved to my brother's house, which is like 800 meters away from the place we are staying. This happened on the 18th. But since then 'til today, I can assure you one thing, that the entire area is of Tal Al Hawa completely abolished almost. Two-thirds of it doesn't exist. This really beautiful area of Gaza doesn’t exist anymore.

So, we survived. We were lucky. But our neighbors, I mean, they lost 29 members, Habboush family, and others and others and others and others and others. We are collecting data. We are collecting information. This is unprecedented. I never, ever thought in my life civilians can be the target of war. They are not with Hamas.

Hamas insulted them, insulted their intelligence, insulted their military. We can understand that. In two hours, they were able to destroy the security wall, which America — which U.S. took it as the standard, and many other countries. And they destroyed it in 15 minutes, and they were able to enter. And they took over 11 military strongholds of Israel, and they killed and captured many of them. And they get back to them in Gaza, and we can understand why they are angry with them. And they took the headquarters of Gaza commandment of the Israeli military army, and they arrested generals, colonel and others, and they brought them, I mean, to Gaza. Israel has the right to be angry, absolutely angry, because Hamas showed their intelligence and their military capability means nothing, and they destroyed this illusion in two hours.

But why they are revenging from us? They should rebel from Hamas. Hamas still, I can assure you, functions like a Swiss watch in Gaza, and they are not affected. I can tell that. I can see that. We feel that. They are unable to minimize their power. They are unable to silence them. They are unable to locate where their soldiers are who were taken as prisoners of war. They are unable to do anything for them. That’s why they are revenging from us. This is the shame on the army. I mean, there is rules of engagement between the army, between the resistance movement and any army. But why civilians are the target? This is the big question. This is shame this is happening, I mean, to us.

[...]

AMY GOODMAN: I want to ask you — the leaflets that were dropped this weekend on Gaza, addressed to residents of Gaza, reading, “Urgent warning to the residents of Gaza: Your presence north of Wadi Gaza is putting your lives at risk. Anyone who chooses not to evacuate from the north of the Gaza Strip to the south of the Gaza Strip may be identified as a partner in a terrorist organization.” These on leaflets. I don’t know if you saw these leaflets, but you have made a decision with your family not to move south. Can you respond to what they’re saying, that anyone who chooses not to evacuate may be identified as a partner in a terrorist organization?

RAJI SOURANI: We have been here since ever, and we will stay forever. And no power on Earth will take me from here. We are the stones of the valley. They have to understand that. And even if they destroy once and again houses on our heads, even if they took our life, we are not moving anymore. Simply, we suffered from the Nakba 75 years. They committed massacres. They killed thousands of Palestinians. They pushed us out. And now it’s time for us not to do that again, at least willingly. We cannot be part of Mr. Bibi’s plan to evacuate Gaza. He said it, from a written statement, in a press conference day one: Gazans should leave Gaza. Where to? Where to? If anybody should leave, people like Mr. Bibi, not us. Enough for the occupation. We want dignity, freedom, end of this belligerent, criminal occupation. Now people from south of Gaza began to come back to north in thousands, because there is no safe haven in Gaza, no safe place in Gaza. And we are not going to be a tool in the hands of racist, criminal, rightist Israeli prime minister. No way. We are not going to do that. We are going to stay in Gaza.

[bughoused]

Well, they encourage your complete cooperation, send you roses when they think you need to smile ! I can't control myself because I don't know how, and they love me for it, honestly, I'll be here for a while !

bughoused, an independent, selective, and mutuals only batman rogue oc: r.m. renfield / dracula. fed by ramone. 21+. crossover friendly.

rules &. biography &. dracula | promo credit @mad-hunts <3

I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! I gave you all that you can drink, and it has never been enough ! I gave you blood, blood, blood ! I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love !

[safrona-shadowsun]

The Fall

{Takes place on the day of Dalaran's fate, in the War Within.}

The world was on fire again.

Or at least, Dalaran was, in a matter of speaking. Not so much as on fire, as smashed to smithereens.

Life never left Safrona alone long enough now to relax for long. She had been spoiled for the last year, business adequately taken care enough without too much of her direct involvement. Her sister seemed made to manage the import office in Stormwind and Saraj had been in his element at The Red Room in Silvermoon. Her Courier teams were well trained - that she personally made sure of. Those that called on her personally always paid handsomely for her delivery or acquisition. Confessionals had become the expectant nearly every night, taking time to reunite with those that sought conversation. Even the Dead seemed less in need of The First Perished, giving her more time with her Orchid. The days passed with less worry, and more relaxed joy.

Until they did not. 

The problem with becoming a depended figure imbedded to the infrastructure of most civilization, was that people depended on you to deliver. As an unofficial Postmaster of Dalaran, the panic and unrest became maddening as requests and demands for assistance washed over her communications, asking specifically for the Courier by name in the wake of an entire city’s plummet. For such a small city, the connections and resources contributed and inspired by Dalaran had been an immense loss felt all around Azeroth, on top of the lives and homes lost. But moreover, Safrona had been satisfied to see her own ties forgotten to it - no one expected the Dalaran Mailroom to ever go dark.

The love of the convenience in Dalaran never completely outweighed the lingering resentment she held for the famed city and its citadel. A resentment that lingered in the delicately pieced together memory of a particular culling that had left her in disarray, lost to so many that had cared. She had accepted that resentment as the puzzle piece of her identity, a once Dawnsinger that would never be the same. Business had her passing quickly through for only the use of its portals when needed, nothing more. Some distinct spite had wished the portals would go dark, that the honored ‘throne’ of the Kirin Tor and their oh-so-selective involvement would no longer be regarded or needed by the rest of the world. 

Even among the horror, the distress of numerous voices and the demand of news from Dalaran, Safrona Shadowsun felt an inkling of vindication to know that damned city of her undoing had lay dashed to pieces. Some dark part of her had wished she had been there to see it fall. When she had finally stood among the wreckage, something inside her smiled with cold victory, embracing that resentment with a desire to see it bloom into so much more. 

She had not remembered how she arrived there, or how long she had been standing, watching the Nerubian forces try to end the rest of the survivors in the wreckage. How they had grown so powerful and came from nowhere, had been so effective in dismantling a single city. Perhaps it had been its time, and something better could be rebu–

“You are a courier?” The question cut through her reality, ending the dark fog of swirling thoughts her mind had wandered to. How long…had she been standing there, doing nothing, thinking…thinking of…?

It didn't matter now. Alleria Windrunner was staring at her with a stoic, but slow march down to concern as she waited for a response. “The Courier? The others have spoken of you.”

Safrona had meant to reply with all the professional grace she could muster. An explanation of her elevated role, the charm of invitation to business all was ready behind Lady Shadowsun's lips. But under the intense gaze of what amounted to be a celebrity, a bewildered answer came: “I…yes?”

The decorated Windrunner took in a breath, recollecting her efforts and patience as she pointed to the struggling forces. “We need an emergency supply. Backup. I am told you can be depended on to do both.” 

It was the Courier’s turn to sigh, hiding her trembling breath as she readied a void storage portal for whatever resources it could give. “Yes, yes of course.” 

Damn Alleria Windrunner, damn all of them.

She could not exactly say “no.”

{ Small mention of @thefirstperished }

[pianokantzart]

If it’s okay, I’d like to hear your thoughts on what could’ve happened in the movie between the end of the climax and the final scene in the Mushroom Kingdom. Given that in last we see of Brooklyn, Bowser’s destroyed fortress and his minions are still there and the city has considerable damage due to his rampage and the final battle. Did the Bros possibly get into any trouble due to the part they played in the damage? How do you think that all got resolved?

Yeah, lmao they really did gloss over the aftermath of accidentally unleashing a giant stone fortress and an army of murderous turtles onto a heavily populated city, huh? This is my theory of what went down:

The big ol' explosion inside the warp pipe left a sizable rift between worlds that Bowser's army either retreated through once they regained consciousness, or were forcibly escorted through by local officials. Afterward, the city blocked off the area in order to cover/repaired the warp pipe so that only a very select few had access to it– Mario and Luigi in particular.

The Mario Brothers didn't get into trouble, per se, but spent a long time answering questions. The Super Mario Bros. Plumbing website (r.i.p) confirmed that they were celebrated as heroes and given the key to the city after the movie's events, so Mario probably (wisely) didn't mention the fact that he was the one who set off the explosion that brought Bowser's army there in the first place.

From there, it was mostly a matter of cleaning up the wreckage, seeing to it all stragglers from the army were escorted back to their original world, and dealing with public relations.

I'm almost certain some sort of coverup happened. If you look at the newspaper clipping at the end of the movie, you'll see Princess Peach is described as "a woman dressed as a princess," and Toad is described as "an individual disguised as a mushroom."

"Local plumbing duo, The Super Mario Bros., a woman dressed as a princess, a Giant Ape with a tie, and an individual disguised as a mushroom saved Brooklyn from an invasion of armed turtles. A large stone fortress emerged from the ground early Saturday morning, disrupting breakfast time across the city. A large red-haired turtle, their leader, was defeated by The Super Mario Bros. PAGE 8"

Mayor Pauline probably wants to see to it that the two worlds stay as separate as possible... at least until Brooklyn is properly equipped to deal with a magical alternate world filled with malicious monster armies. In the meantime, she is entrusting Mario and Luigi to keep an eye on things and play sort of an ambassador role between Brooklyn and The Mushroom Kingdom. This, I think, is one of the main factors that lead to Mario and Luigi moving there.

[peiskos-and-apricity]

Fated to Fall ~ Sindri x GN Reader [Pt 9]

Tw: Cannon Typical Violence | Somewhat Graphic Mention of Gore

|Chapter Selection|

|Previous Chapter|

“My shop!” you jump a little at Sindri’s sudden outburst, your eyes soon finding the wreckage he’s yelling about. You're surprised to see Atreus hardly miss a beat as he continues, not so much as passing a glance to what had clearly upset the dwarf before scaling yet another wall. Sindri catches this and you don’t miss the tired look in his eyes.

“Well, if we can’t stop you then…this is as far as I go,” he announces to the boy before turning back to the wreck, arms crossed and clearly jaded by the whole situation.

“I’m gonna stay and…fix this,” he mumbles mostly to himself and you can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. The both of you had spent yourselves trying to get the boy to see reason and now it seemed he’d given up on trying. You couldn’t blame him. Sometimes Atreus was as unyielding as steel, making it impossible to get him to listen. You were sure the last thing he needed was a broken shop to top it all off.

“Suit yourself. You coming Y/n?” The boy asks. You turn to look back at him, hesitating for a moment. You feel the weariness of your body down to your bones. The fight from earlier had weakened you, the fur coat draining much of what was left of your strength just to keep it all under wraps. Looking at the wall the boy had so easily scaled made you even more sure you would be of little use here. So, meeting his eyes, you tried to find some belief that he would be okay on his own.

“Do you truly believe you can get her to see any reason?” You ask, your voice conveying just how little you believed in this reckless idea.

“I know it,” his voice is confident, though you would rather call it foolish. Yet despite everything you find it in yourself to trust his judgment. If against all evidence he truly believed she had the potential to listen, then there must be something he knew of her that you didn’t. Which was likely, given that you’d never truly met the woman before.

“Then I don’t believe having me around would be helpful. She would likely consider it a threat,” your answer gives him a moment of pause, but he shakes it off quickly.

“Okay then,” his voice waivers, uncertainty finally bleeding into his tone. Yet even then he turns and continues towards his goal, undeterred. You turn around and notice that Sindri hasn’t started to clean yet, his face a mixture of desperate and annoyed as he continued to look Atreus’ direction. He seemed to be contemplating something before he spoke again.

“You sure you wanna go in there wearing the very arrow tip that killed her son?” the words strike away nearly all previous confidence you had in the boy, your eyes blown wide as you’re held at an absolute loss.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you ask Sindri, though Atreus responds before he can.

“I’ll wear it under my shirt,” he speaks oh so casually.

“And besides, it’s a reminder. To be better” you simply can’t believe the words leaving the boy’s mouth right now.

“You need a murder weapon to be a better person?” Sindri asks the question you were moments away from yelling.

“It makes me feel brave, okay? Is that such a bad thing?” You wish you were in hitting distance at that very moment.

“Yes actually! For the love of- this is so far beyond reckless!” You are far more than the word ‘worried’ can describe at this point. But as you said before, Freya would likely see your appearance with the boy as a threat and as strong as you knew you were, fighting off a former valkyrie queen with nothing more than an ax and an overconfident child simply wasn’t something you believed possible, at least not in your current state. Not to mention how risky it was with your loose grip on the golden menace that flowed through your veins.

“I’ll be fine! She won’t even notice!” his words did nothing to comfort you, even less to give you any more confidence in this horrible idea. But it’s too late now. Nothing you could do would stop him before he reached her. A moment later he encounters a draugr, blowing it up with a fire pot before continuing further. You try to find some comfort in his abilities, knowing that he’s gotten out of plenty of sticky situations before. It hardly helps.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” you mumble to yourself, Sindri giving you a sympathetic look of agreement before turning back toward the boy.

“You sure this is a good idea? You haven’t got a plan!” Sindri, clearly as distressed as you are, tries his last desperate attempt to get Atreus to just listen.

“Brok says some people run better on chaos. I think he’s right,” he’s indignant as he speaks now. You know that there is simply nothing that is going to pull him away from this stupid idea, not when he feels he has something to prove.

“What makes you think that applies here!? This is life and death-!” Sindri, bless the man, can’t seem to accept total defeat.

“And this is Ragnarök! We can’t just do nothing and we’re out of options,” there isn’t a doubt in that boy’s mind.

“Living! Living is an option!” Sindri near yells, so beyond worried. But no response is given, leaving only the whistle of wind.

“...He’s gone,” you break the silence. He turns to you and you both share a look of great concern. But there is simply nothing left to do. There is no getting him to seek reason now.

“Well then,” he speaks between slightly gritted teeth before turning back towards the broken pieces of what must have once been a shop.

“I have a mess to clean,” without another moment’s hesitation he gets to work. There is a second that passes before you speak up.

“Would you like any help?” You ask and he pauses his movements to look at you, his tense posture relaxing with a heavy sigh.

“Yes. If you would like to,” he allows and so the two of you quickly get to cleaning.

A few moments of quiet pass, though it’s filled with the moving of debris and the clanking of metal tools set back in place. You think it will probably remain like this, given the two of you didn’t know each other well enough to ask one another much of anything. But in the end he seems to find something to say.

“Did you know that Atreus was sneaking off tonight?” He asks. You pop your head up just long enough to acknowledge his sentence before getting back to work.

“No�� your answer is simple and sure, but you’re beginning to notice a pattern of him not liking those types of answers when he can’t help but dig further.

“Then why were you out there?” your movements pause at the strange line of questioning. He must have noticed, as his quick glance showed sudden nervousness.

“If you don’t mind telling me, of course” he tries to give you an out, a way to avoid the question that has made you so suddenly aware of his words. But slowly you go back to cleaning. Finding little reason to lie, you answer honestly.

“I don’t sleep well and carving usually helps. Distracts me, at least” you don’t notice the sudden stare he sends you as you are far too distracted pushing a heavy piece of debris out of the way.

“Oh…Well I suppose that does make sense. You look exhausted” those words catch your attention again. You did, in fact, feel like slamming your head against a wall until you were able to pass out, but you had believed yourself much better at hiding that fact. When he turns and notices you staring he goes wide-eyed.

“Not in an insulting way. You just- well you- you are uh- um-”

“Relax,” you tell him. His voice quiets immediately, though he didn’t look any less uncomfortable. You smile a bit as you turn back to your work once more.

“I promise I don’t pop peoples head’s off for simply stating the obvious,” you can’t help the slight chuckle that finds its way through your words. You hope it calms him as you don’t glance to check.

“Well good! That would probably be very inconvenient for you,” you can’t tell if that was a sentence born out of continued nerves or an attempt at humor, but you give him a short laugh either way.

“I wouldn’t get anything done with Atreus around” you continue to jest and do finally spare a brief glance to see that he seems far less tense now. He even smiles.

“You know, if you would like to try and sleep, I don’t mind keeping watch for you,” he suggests, and you are a little surprised by the offer. As kind as the sentiment is though, you knew you’d have to decline.

“I couldn’t. It’s hard enough to close my eyes on a good night, let alone one where Atreus is running head first into death-” The sound of sudden footsteps stops your words immediately. You hold your hand to your ax as both you and Sindri turn toward the sound.

“Is that you up there?” Sindri calls out. There’s a pause that nearly makes your heart drop before Atreus finally peaks over the side.

“Hello down there!” He finally replied. You breathe a sigh of relief and let go of your ax.

“Hey! Come to your senses yet?” Sindri asks. You know it’s pointless.

“Yes!” wait what?

“I mean- uh. I’m not changing my mind!” and just as suddenly all shock leaves your system.

“Ha! You do have doubts!” Sindri retorts. You hadn’t thought about it like that, but the possibility of Atreus reflecting on his actions was welcome. Any relief is washed out the window when you look up just in time to see Sindri get hit by a cloud of snow. Your head turns in the direction it had come from to avoid one heading your way.

“Hey!”

“Hey!” the two of you yell in unison. You notice Atreus’ cheeky smile even from so far away.

“Like you never do? Better than having regrets,” he continues to try and justify his foolish decision.

“Not sure I agree with that! But by all means, keep going and you might find those too!” Sindri’s frustration was becoming very clear by this point. What he received was a wave of dismissal as the boy turned to continue on his way.

This time it was your turn to send him a sympathetic look, though he misses it as he turns back to fixing up his shop, now with much less finesse and much more of a rough hand. You aren’t sure what you could say to calm him.

“Was he always this reckless when the two of you were off on your explorations?” he huffs at your words as he rather aggressively scrubs at old tools that must have been left here however long ago.

“Not when we first started. He listened to me at least half the time then” his words are through a tight smile and to no surprise he ends up dropping a hammer against his foot, hissing as he hops and mumbles quiet curses. He throws another tool in frustration, the heavy thud cracking through an old piece of wood and snapping right in half, his eyes practically glaring at it. There’s a moment of complete silence before you speak again.

“...are you okay?” You ask as cautiously as you can. He takes a deep breath, letting the pain and frustration run through him before responding.

“I’m having a lovely time” his sarcasm drips into every word and you feel yourself growing a little weary of his well-being at this point.

“Maybe we should take a break,” you suggested and though he doesn’t glance at you, his movement does pause at your words.

“You’re…probably right,” he agrees, setting down the tools he had been organizing and slumping against his workshop and onto the ground. You take a second of pause before you decide you should take some of your own advice. Slowly, you take a spot next to him, leaning a bit against the wood for some relief from the sudden pain in your abdomen, hiding a grimace. You two sit in complete silence for a while, watching the snowflakes fall and the wind shift direction. It was often that you stayed awake on nights like these. The soft echo of night had always been a comfort for you; a reprieve from the sudden mess your life had become. It allowed you a moment of calm to clear your mind, even if only slightly. Sometimes it was the only way you found peace. Though then again, you never really could stand the silence too long.

After a while you began to set up a fire with some of the dry wood you had found. He seemed thankful for this, even if he still looked a little lost in his own mind. You hoped he wasn’t being too cruel to himself in there, though your gut told you he most definitely was. So you decided it might be best to start up a conversation again.

“You and him are a joy to witness together” you speak out of the blue, earning his attention quickly. He seems almost pleasantly surprised by the comment.

“Whatever do you mean?” He asks in a way that tells you he wants the details. You don’t hide the small smile the question gives you.

“You two bicker like you need it to breathe,” you clarify, watching as his previous joy is tinged with disappointment.

“We don’t argue that much” he tries to defend, though even he doesn’t seem to fully believe himself.

“No, no, not at all! The silence had simply filled itself the whole way here” your sarcasm drips and he rolls his eyes before turning back to the snow in front of him. You hide a chuckle in your throat, knowing that he got your point well enough. In the moment of silence that passes you manage to finally light the fire. You both begin to warm your hands before you speak again.

“It’s sweet” your words gain his attention again, though not his eyes.

“The arguing?” He asks, entirely unconvinced that you’d meant your words. You let out a short laugh at the question.

“No. I meant how close the two of you are,” you clarify. Even with him turned away, you can see the satisfied smile on his face.

“That’s not a word I would have used” you’re intrigued by his answer, shown in how you finally turn your head to him.

“And how would you describe it?” You watch the contemplation that takes over his features. He clearly takes his time finding the perfect word, but does manage to come up with it in the end.

“Painful,” he exaggerates with the wide roll of his eyes and a barely hidden scoff. You too roll your eyes at the comment.

“Fair enough” you lean back against the workshop, the warmth of the fire calming down your frozen bones. Moments passed and the silence grew ever thicker as the two of you waited and waited for the boy to return. You both shared worried glances every now and again as the minutes stretched on. Just when you were beginning to wonder if it would have been better to wake Kratos, you hear footsteps high in the snow. A glance up shows he has returned.

“Oh, thank Ymir. You’re alright,” Sindri’s relief shows openly as he stands. You think for a moment that you should probably join him, but the relief you felt on finally being able to relax your muscles tells you differently. So you decided to keep your spot for as long as the two of them would speak.

“How did it go!? I was starting to think-”

“Sindri, I told you I could handle it!” Atreus speaks over him, as sure as ever as he climbs down from on high.

“But I don’t think she’s gonna help us” his answer isn’t a surprise. It would have to take quite the feat to win over someone who’s been trying to kill you all for the past three years. Frankly, the fact he left unscathed was an accomplishment in itself. The boy walks over to the table before Sindri speaks again.

“Uh…where’s your necklace?” Is the first question he asks. A question that has you quickly turning up to look at the boy. And lo-and-behold, the necklace is gone.

“Huh?- Oh! I was thinking and I, uh…got rid of it” you take a deep breath as you hold back the words you wanted to speak in that moment of utter stupidity.

“She took it, didn’t she?” Sindri immediately calls him out on the blatant lie. The boy can do nothing but stand there and try to find the words he doesn’t have. Sindri crosses his arms and you watch him take the same deep breath you had.

“Today was your lucky day. So tell me, how did it feel to run on chaos,” Sindri so politely puts it.

“I-” before Atreus can find anything to salvage his mess, a screech cuts through the air. You snap your head towards the sound just in time to see a flame being thrown your way. You try to tumble out of the way, a surge of pain shooting through you when a piece of the destroyed wood flys your direction, hitting the back of your head as the shop is once again blown to bits.

“You okay?!” Atreus calls out. Your breath is heavy as you force yourself to stand, your skin already burning.

“I’m fine!” You yell back, forcing yourself to your feet as the sting of all your muscles fly through you. There is no time to stand still when the draugr charges at you.

“My Axe!” you call out as you dodge the behemoth’s attack. Your movements are sloppier than you’d like them to be, but it misses you anyway.

“Here!” Sindri calls out. You turn his direction as he throws the weapon. You move to the side to avoid another hit before you reach out. Thankfully when you do, you’re able to take the handle of the weapon easily.

The next few moments aren’t your best work. You miss more than a few swings, your feet heavy and your stance having lost a lot of its strength. But even then you’re able to do some damage that, with a bit of help from the others, leaves the Draugr heavily wounded. Then, as luck would have it, a few other lovely guests are drawn to the noise.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me” you mumble to yourself, narrowly avoiding the downswing of a second Draugr’s fiery blade.

“Nightmares! Ugh, I’m gonna be sick!” Sindri calls out next, though a moment too late when an icy shard hits your shoulder.

“I’ll get the Draugr! Just get the nightmares out of here!” Your yell is harsh and demanding, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you manage to block one of their blades with your own.

“Got it!” Atreus called out, his bow fixing on the flying abominations. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to get enough leverage to throw the Draugr on the ground before slamming down with enough force to shatter the creature’s head. You don’t get a second to recover before the other one is on you again, the burning of your skin fully ridding the ice in your bones. A few well-timed slices have the weaker of the two already on death’s door, something you are beyond grateful for at the moment. Though you can’t seem to get close enough to get a good final hit in. Worse yet, you aren’t sure you could handle another pushing match.

“Sindri!” you call, hoping that whatever he was throwing around might help.

“Step back!” you listen without hesitation, a burst of flames covering your vision not a moment later. The creature staggers and takes a few more dangerous steps towards you before, finally, it falls. Silence reigns for a moment, filled only by the breaths of the after battle recovery. That is until-

“Mph” your torso burns with pain, the adrenaline leaving you to deal with the consequences of your lack of rest. You try your best to hide it, to grimace and bear it just long enough to be alone, but it becomes harder to hide when you’re forced to lean on your ax to keep balance.

“Y/n?” Atreus’ voice echos across the walls in a way that makes it seem almost like a dozen of him have called out to you at once.

“Hm” is all you can bear to answer at first as you force yourself to stand upright. You know to give a full answer quickly after though, lest he try to pester you about your state.

“I’m fine,” you soon call out as you manage to hide your grimace. You can see shadows dancing on the inside of the fur that covers you, the constant burning reminding you of how unstable your magic is becoming. It’s a thought that worries you beyond imagining after years of having been able to quell the golden light that seeped out of your every pour. It isn’t so easy a thing to lose oneself, to be consumed by something you didn’t want to even consider a part of you. It was like some other being swam through your blood and betrayed your every attempt to keep yourself in control. No matter how hard you trained yourself, your emotions, your mind, it always seemed to slip through the cracks. And each drop that escaped your skin wanted nothing more than to destroy everything you were trying so desperately to keep safe.

But despite all of this, you seem convincing enough as you stand; your axe at your side and none of your magic escaping its shadowed prison. Atreus stares at you for only a moment before shrugging his shoulders and moving on, though you catch how Sindri’s eyes linger on you a little longer.

“I’ll fix this later,” Sindri speaks again, his stare finally turning from you to look upon the mess that was the shop the two of you had almost fully fixed.

“Let’s get out of here before something else tries to kill us,” he continues as he secures down his bag and eyes the exit.

“Yeah, good idea” Atreus agrees, the boy not wasting a moment more before catching the crack and the wall and beginning to make his way through it. You’re right behind him, though you wait for Sindri to make his way through before you follow. You try to ignore how openly the dwarf is staring at you, hoping that he might just simply ignore whatever it was he believed he saw. Thankfully he does seem to let it go, instead turning his focus back to the boy.

“Hate to bring it up, but are we telling your dad about this? Since you’ve come clean and all,” Sindri questions, though his tone clearly conveys that he most definitely doesn’t believe the boy plans to.

“No way! He’d kill you!” Atreus nearly yells his answer, but you can’t really say he’s wrong. After how Kratos had acted when he’d first found out, you’d honestly be surprised if he didn’t rip the head right off of the poor dwarf the moment he found out they’d stuck away again.

“Right well um…” he paused, a glance tossed towards you before he quickly caught up with your brother, his voice quiet enough to blend in with the wind’s song. You most certainly don’t need to ask to know that you are uninvited from whatever conversation they're having. So you do what you do best and hang behind a couple of paces, keeping an eye out for danger and budding out of whatever they found important enough to keep from you. After all, they were much closer to each other than you could ever hope to be with either of them.

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