#since they'd get the description read out twice

[lastoneout]

tfw people keep tagging your post as undescribed like you didn't make sure to say in the caption that there are descriptions in the alt text

[Image ID in Alt. Text]

[fandoms-in-law]

Come Play With Us

A second part to my story How I'll Play

Summary: Steve set his requests to play DnD and now Eddie needs to get everything arranged for him and Robin to join them

Authors Note: I've played very little DnD and my brother who's played more advised me only a few times but this really was a bit of fun for me to write

/\/\

Eddie had been planning the campaign ever since Steve first suggested he might play. He'd taken every opportunity given to go around Steve's and hang out with him looking around the Sylvanian families sets and characters and just asking about the things that would make the story interesting for both Robin and Steve to play. He wanted them to carry on playing the entire thing and maybe agree to doing more than just this first campaign so would do everything in his power to learn the type of players they might become and give them a first campaign they'd enjoy, while still including the elements Hellfire expected and enjoyed about his stories.

The only thing he'd shared with Steve so far was that he'd bring in 2 larger figures for battles but had picked ones which should still fit in with the Sylvanian Families characters and buildings.

Today was the bigger challenge however, and he genuinely wished to avoid doing it a little longer except they'd completely finished the campaign they were on.

/\/\

Eddie clapped twice, finishing the descriptive paragraph and signalling to the players the game was over, but standing to lean over his board to prevent anyone from packing their things away.

“Quiet everyone, before this session breaks up, I have news from the king.” He declared, making eye contact with as much of the table as allowed it.

Gareth narrowed his eyes at him before asking, “As part of the campaign or as part of like normal life?”

“Stop calling Steve that.” Dustin complained when meeting Eddie's eyes, sighing as if it was a burden to hear.

Mike immediately agreed, rolling his eyes, “Seriously Eddie, he's not and never has been a king.”

“He has sent us his demands should we wish for him to join a campaign and I have agreed to them.” Eddie continued speaking over them, and reaching for the pages he'd copied out the night before.

Jeff shook his head, scoffing playfully at the words. “Of course you have.”

“Not like he's been talking about the guy for years or anything. Should've expected this.” Gareth muttered back, already reaching for the pages as Eddie started separating them.

Dustin leant over to snatch the first before he got a grip of it. “Really? We can get him to play?”

“I thought he swore never to.” Lucas mused, waiting for more pages to be offered out but looking over Dustin's shoulder as they both expected the list to be Steve's demands.

Mike glared at his friends. “Like he's actually going to take this seriously. We're better off ignoring whatever stupid demands he has.” He grumbled, getting tongues stuck out in reply.

Eddie shook his head at the antics, finishing passing the pages out and handing the extra to Lucas. “Here are lists of the races you all need to make characters of. Pick one, anyone trying to insist on playing a human is stating they don't want to play our next campaign. I will contact you all with the dates when it can be arranged and the campaign will be taking place in Steve's house. No figurines needed as Steve is providing them and plenty of scenery.”

The older Hellfire teams read the lists quickly, curious for any hints over what the coming campaign could be. “We're playing a campaign where humans are extinct? That actually sounds awesome. Do we need to make our characters any particular level? Are you starting Steve off at level 1?” Jeff checked, picking up his pencil to star a couple of the races included.

“Damn, Eddie, are you going to tell us how we go extinct? Cause I want to know that.” Gareth asked before a reply could be given since none was really expected as he leant closer the other older members to start speculating what Eddie could be planning.

Dustin stared between the page and the Dungeon Master in shock, only stating, “What?”

“I guess Will wins that bet. He said Steve wouldn't have a human character the first time we got him to play.” Lucas smiled, copying Jeff's method of highlighting the races he was interested in using.

“Why the hell would Steve go straight for a different race? He already complains it's too complicated. This just makes it more so.” Mike challenged, looking to Dustin expectantly now he'd given up grumbling.

Dustin did then jump up, hands flat on the table before one came up to gesture wildly at Eddie, “It's happening guys! I told you Eddie could swing it for us! How did you convince him?”

“The king was the one to suggest it. Apparently a gift from family he scarcely knows inspired him. So you'll get your characters prepared?” Eddie confirmed, wide grin directed at his friends.

“If I have to” Mike sighed but had a smile hidden by his complaining.

Lucas nodded too, holding both pages up. “Yes and I'll ask Erica if she wants to get involved too. What type of figurines has Steve got?”

“One's you'll never expect or expect to be used for this. I'll get Steve to show Erica if she tries refusing. I bet it'll get her playing.” Eddie promised, having decided with Steve a few evenings back not to mention that to them before the campaign began.

“I already know which race and class I'm having. Can you get Steve to make me his characters brother?” Dustin decided, scanning down the list once before turning pleading eyes on Eddie.

He shook his head already, resolute not to give away much about the characters he'd been helping Robin and Steve to create. “Probably not. I think he's already having Robs as his team before joining the party.”

Grant looked over the page and back to Eddie, saying only, “Tell us you're making a full campaign and not one to pander to Steve? But yes, we'll all get our characters made.”

“It'll be a real campaign. Steve has included 'make it challenging and hellish' in his demands too. Not quite in that phrasing.” Eddie assured them all.

“Hell, looks like everyone's in.” Gareth surmised, looking around the interest everyone at the table had over the vaguely described campaign.

Eddie grinned, turning to packing his things up now he'd got that agreement. “It'll be one to remember, I know it.”

/\/\

Getting schedules matched up ended up being more difficult than Eddie expected. He'd been convinced that Steve and Robin had somehow put it in their contract that they couldn't be scheduled to work separately and realising it was more that they just bugged and supported each other in Family Video more often than not really messed the times the campaign could be up.

“Robin's closing that night, can't do it then.” Steve commented the first time he saw Eddie going over his calendar, circling a possible day based off the shifts noted on it. “How about Tuesday?”

“Lucas has practice and I've heard your lecture about excluding him enough for a lifetime.” Eddie countered, checking his notebook over when Hellfire had commitments.

For a moment they both looked at the calendar, before Steve huffed, pulling it down. “I'll write out Robin's shifts and then you can add on whatever things are in that notebook. We'll see what looks to be free after that.”

Eddie leant back gesturing for him to do so.

As much as he'd silently doubted the idea after Eddie had the plans of Hellfire all written out it was easy to plan two evenings a week for the campaign. Steve had suggested it, knowing how much the kids liked to complain over having to wait on cliffhangers for a week. It wasn't going to stop them, but Eddie was definitely bringing it up every time someone tried to complain.

That had been all he'd expected to do that afternoon, but Steve was scratching the back of his neck. “Shoot me down if it's stupid, but, well, Robs and I were talking about how easy it could be to make our own things for Sylvanians and I thought pipe cleaners are easy to shape.” He began rambling, going to one of the drawers in the kitchen Eddie had been sure was just for useless devices the Harrington's had brought. He pulled out a few different pipe cleaner weapons. “I know your figurines tend to have like weapons included in them so thought we could give our characters these to like show what they fight with or something?”

Eddie couldn't help beaming, picking up what had to be a bow. “This is adorable and you're entirely right. They'll be perfect for DnD Sylvanian Families style.”

“Cool, cool.” Steve nodded, still holding the rest out.

/\/\

“Okay, I don't know what these toys are, but they're brilliant and I better be leaving with a family of them, Harrington.” Erica declared, seeing the table already set up for their game.

The fact neither her brother or Mike had said anything got Steve to come through curiously. “I've got a few rabbit families, but if you want one of the other animals you're out of luck, Erica. You two okay?”

“We're playing DnD with kids toys?” Mike sneered, but put the cat figure Eddie claimed would suit his tabaxi character down carefully.

“With Sylvanian Families. A gift I got from a grandmother I barely know.” He explained easily, seeing no reason to hide it.

Before Lucas could react more there was a knock and Steve was letting the older Hellfire guys in, “Come on in. Eddie's set everything up and I think gave us set places by putting relevant animals in each place. Anyone want a drink?”

“Did Eddie repaint these buildings too?” Gareth asked, looking at the couple that were on the table and the others currently underneath or around it.

“Oh, Robin and I helped with that. Apparently while I can convince him to let us play a campaign just with Sylvanian Families the aesthetic of the buildings is too saccharine for it.” He agreed.

With everyone there, Eddie interrupted their chatter, clapping and gesturing over the table for everyone to sit down.

He'd loved Steve's limitations to the campaign and had found it gave him inspiration for what to do and ideas to explain the world their characters would inhabit, even before Gareth got excited about a human apocalypse.

Now, with Steve and Robin taking seats either side of him, and the rest of Hellfire spread along Harrington's dining table, he could only grin, standing and leaning over his shield with all attention on him.

“Adventurers, Welcome! Here you are in Sylvan, brought to town for your own reasons, some alone, some in pairs. Do you wish for the story to start after you've met or to tell me the tales of how your party will form?” He hoped they'd play through meeting and had included the option to give his new players a chance to get used to their stats and the reasons they might roll outside of combat.

Steve and Robin just looked to the rest silently, trying to figure out if this was a normal beginning. Dustin began gesturing to the other kids, entirely failing to communicate anything of what he wanted and confusing everyone who met his eyes so the older Hellfire members shared their own looks.

“Do you have a plan for when we introduce ourselves if we don't start as a group?” Gareth asked, looking over. “Cause that'd be fun to do for once.”

Eddie nodded, “Dustin will introduce himself first, then around the table until Robin and Steve. We'll take where you sit as your origin points in the town.”

“We're meeting as we play.” Jeff decided, nodding at everyone until they returned the gesture.

Eddie stood again, smiling. “Well then, Broc, you're in the shops of the Haregon town of Sylvan in search of supplies. Currently you are stood outside a tailors shop. Introduce yourself and tell us who you want to greet of the figures in your view.”

With that play began by Dustin talking to an NPC, hoping it would be Steve. Eddie had placed those figures precisely because he'd anticipated that choice but also to start feeding the story hooks to them. He'd checked that Steve and Robin were happy with their rabbits being hidden in a shop and they'd been relieved to hear his explanation that it should delay the party pulling them into gameplay immediately. Out of everyone, Eddie thought only Erica would have the wits to try going into the shops and the possible desire to get Steve and Robin playing before they introduced themselves.

/\/\

“We've got to go to the caves next.” Dustin insisted after Eddie had declared the campaign over for the day.

Mike and Will immediately started debating with him, pointing out other paths and leads they could follow and whether the caves were really the most important to head to.

Erica meanwhile was looking at the Sylvanian Families again, turning shrewd eyes onto Steve. “We're playing with these outside of DnD at some point.”

“Course, I've got a couple other buildings Eddie decided not to repaint we could use.” Steve agreed easily, glancing up from where he and Robin had decided to compare their notes from the session.

Eddie fidgeted with his hands, looking the pair over nervously. “And over continuing the campaign?” He asked.

“Definitely going to happen. It's been really interesting and I completely get why you're all kind of obsessed with it.” Robin agreed, looking over as Steve copied something she'd written down.

“Did you include that fight at the end just in case you couldn't convince us to continue?” Steve asked, a challenge in his eyes. “I told you I'd play the full campaign.”

“And you've said to basically everyone you've spent more than a few minutes hanging out with here that you'd never play.” Eddie countered, “I think being nervous about scaring you off from playing the game is valid.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Valid shmalid, I'm looking forward to whatever the big bad in the cave is. I just hope we can keep Broc away from it long enough to know what dangers we'll be heading into in those caves.”

“You're referring to the characters not the players.” Eddie said, half amazed, “You really did enjoy the game.”

“Of course that's what you focus on.” Steve muttered, grinning before standing and getting the attention on him. “Alright, you can all do your arguing over next steps via walkies or at school. I know you kids have curfews and it's time I get to hang out with people my age for a bit. You guys are staying for a while longer, right?” The last question was directed to the rest of Corroded Coffin, a genuine invitation they all seemed stunned to receive.

Grant shrugged, “I've not got a set time to be home. Have either of you?”

“Nope, I'm free to hang out.” Jeff agreed too, looking to Gareth.

“Might as well get to know the king. It's not like Eddie hasn't been trying to figure out a way for us to do so since whatever happened in the Spring.” He reasoned, smirking as Eddie spluttered. “Doesn't surprise me that you failed until Steve had to be the one to invite us though.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled sweetly at Eddie. “You never suggested that to me. Did you think they'd embarrass you, or that Robin would team up with them to tease you to hell?”

After spluttering to try and explain Eddie gave up, yelling to the kids, “If you want a ride home get your shit together already and lets go.”

Robin stared after Eddie as he herded the kids out, nudging Steve's shoulder. “Didn't they all ride here? Is Eddie really putting 5 bikes as well as 5 kids in that van to take them home?”

“Anything to avoid one of us pointing out his willingness to do anything to get Steve involved in his interests.” Gareth stated simply. “But if he tries convincing us to play anything top 40 then I'm gonna have a problem with you Harrington.”

Steve chuckled, nodding as he turned to face him, “I don't think I have that much influence, but noted. I'll pick songs that don't make the charts from those artists then.”

“Bastard.”

“And that's somehow less insulting than still referring to me as king. Knew I'd grow on you guys.” Steve smirked, leading the way through to the living room but not checking if any of them followed him.

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

Luigi and the Beast Deleted Scene. Chapter 10

Hey all!! So, this won't make sense if you've not read the notes in chapter 10 of my fic, Luigi and the Beast, but I had to take out the beginning of the chapter since it just didn't fit, and nothing I did could fix it. However, since I put a lot of effort into it, I decided to post it here for people to read if they'd like. So, either you'll see why I took it out, or you'll wonder why I did, but either way, I have it below the read more for y'all to enjoy/cringe at. ^-^

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Luigi pants desperately to try and get some much needed air into his aching lungs, his aging body protesting against the fast pace— not to mention /dangerous/— game that he’s currently playing. As he runs for his life (yes, he’s being melodramatic; no, he doesn’t care), he wonders about the circumstances that led him here, body aching like a man twice his age. 

Honestly? He’s really not sure. All he knows is that today marks the end of his second week here at the castle, and he’s surprised with how easy things have been going for him. Even after determining to let himself enjoy his time here, he hadn’t expected to actually enjoy it quite this much. 

For example, after their discussion last week, Koopella had kept her word and had spoken to the king about having him join her for kitchen duty this past week, which the king had apparently agreed to. When Koopella had told him the news, her eyes bright and her smirk sharp, he’d honestly been ecstatic, so excited to cook on a regular basis again. She’d warned him that it would only be for that week, since apparently most of the castle staff— excluding experts, though even they would do it from time to time— would rotate between different jobs week by week, doing favorites most often, but otherwise having different responsibilities week by week. 

So, she told him, after that week he’d likely be doing something else until he could pinpoint his favorites. Luigi had not understood why that was the case, thinking it was a little strange for the castle to do, but since he was /still unable to ask questions/, he decided to go with it and enjoy his time in the kitchen while he had it. After the first day, he definitely knew that he’d mark kitchen work as one of his ‘favorites,’ if that’s something he’d be allowed to do as a prisoner. 

It was just… nice cooking again. And it was even better having access to any ingredients he wanted, while also knowing that his food was going to be shared with hundreds of individuals. His first few days on the job mostly involved following tried and true recipes that the inhabitants of the castle were known to love— which he had enjoyed, since he always loved to learn new recipes— but by his third or fourth day, Koopella was having him teach her one of his mama’s basic spaghetti recipes, so that she could teach it to her other head chefs during their weekly meetings. Luigi had done so with gusto, and before long Koopella had mastered both the sauce recipe and the pasta recipe, which Luigi told her was the base for most pasta dishes that his mama regularly made. 

It was when he’d absently mentioned that making pasta by hand was a lot easier if you had a pasta machine that Koopella had smirked at him and had called Kammy into the room, the nearly blind magikoopa frowning at them in annoyance until she realized it was Koopella who had called her, who she apparently was fairly fond of. And then, after that, he’d listened with astonishment when Koopella had explained that apparently the most advanced magikoopas (like Kammy) were able to conjure whatever tools or utensils they want, just as long as they had detailed descriptions and preferably some sort of a drawing. Kammy had confirmed this, preening with pride, and had had Luigi tell her what it was that he wanted. 

And then, after that… they had a whole host of pasta making devices, only stopping when Kammy mentioned that she would need to recharge before she could make any more, but that she’d be willing to make more later for the right price (which, apparently, was a big bowl of some kind of meal she adored from Koopella, who immediately agreed). Having the tools that Kammy conjured was enough to make pasta making infinitely easier, and he and Koopella had spent the entire afternoon into evening making pasta for them to store and eat at dinner the next day. 

Which… they did. And it went over very, very well. 

Luigi had honestly been overwhelmed to see so many individuals enthusiastically eating his mama’s meals, their eyes sharp as they tried to find who was responsible for such an incredible dish. True to his word, Junior had spoken to the king about removing the decree keeping the inhabitants of the castle from talking to him, which the king had apparently done (which, by the by, Junior had told him about during their first ‘play date’ the day after he’d met the child, Junior very pleased with himself for being able to convince his papa to change his mind). Still, even after that Luigi had been mostly left alone, the rest of the castle still a little wary of him for reasons he’d not been able to figure out. 

But after making them his mama’s spaghetti? Everything changed. 

Suddenly, Luigi felt like a part of the castle in a way he hadn’t before. While he wouldn’t necessarily call anyone other than Shelldon and Koopella (and maybe Junior, if children can be considered friends with adults) friends, he’d definitely say that he’s grown friendly with most of the inhabitants of the castle that he’s run into. It’s almost like it was back in Toad Town, but instead of only being known through his brother, he’s… he’s been known through himself and his own accomplishments. Yeah, the recipes are his mama’s, not his own, but… but the thought still remains. 

The point of this all is… this have been very, very good for him this past week, better than he’d ever have imagined anywhere, not just here in the castle. He has friends, acquaintances, respect… no, he technically doesn’t have his freedom, but honestly? He thinks he’s freer here, trapped inside this castle, than he ever was at home. And that thought still causes his stomach to twist up when he thinks it, mind tormenting him with memories of Mario’s face when he learned that Luigi would not be coming home with him, b-but he… h-he can’t keep forcing himself to be miserable just because he feels that he should be. His old doctor told him that that wasn’t healthy, and Mario had agreed when he’d hesitantly spoken to him about once. He… h-he’s positive that Mario would want him to be happy. And if he could just figure out how to send even one of his letters to his brother, he’d feel secure knowing that /Mario/ knows that he’s okay. But until then… he has to do what’s best for him. Even if he doesn’t have Mario by his side. 

So… yeah. Things are good and he’s allowing himself to acknowledge that things are good. That’s why his current predicament is a bit of a sticky situation, his lungs burning and mind full of certain regrets. But this situation is the cause of the other recent development that he’s been facing at this castle, this one arguably the most rewarding (but also the most /frustrating/) part of being here at the castle, even if it is by far the most baffling and confusing of them all…

Junior. 

[circethesinner]

the puppeteer ✿ it's here - chapter 11 ✿

pairing: steve harrington x original female character (can be read as x reader)

warning(s): strong language, descriptions of violence, mature themes 

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previous chapter ━ ✿ ━ next chapter

masterlist

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As soon as they'd pulled up to the station, Bambi had spotted the cop she'd elbowed earlier that day through the window. Fortunately, he appeared to be alone.

"Give me a sec," She told the other two in the car with her.

Leaving Eleven behind with the kids at the school had been tough, but she'd given her another huge hug and a kiss on the head and promised she'd only be gone for a little while, and she'd be back for her as soon as possible.

Bambi reached out and made a connection with the cop whose name Bambi remembered to be Callahan. His mind was incredibly easy to get into. Some people had tougher minds, they took a lot of strength and effort to break into and control, but with people like Callahan, it was almost pathetic how easy it was.

With no time to waste, she stood up and walked directly to Hopper's office, where she collected the box of gear they'd purchased. On her way out, she paused and grabbed the fire extinguisher as well. Being in the body of a grown man, it was significantly easier to carry both things at once than it would have been in her body.

She walked straight to Jonathan's car, where she opened the back door and placed the box and fire extinguisher in the back seat next to her vacated body.

"Anything else?" She asked Nancy and Jonathan as she leant down. They exchanged wary looks and shook their heads. With a final nod, Bambi walked back to the station and sat down in the seat she'd found Callahan in and left his mind, dragging the past three minutes back with her. He'd remember nothing.

Back in her own body, Bambi pulled the tissue Jonathan had given her earlier that day out and wiped the blood from her nose.

"He was so easy to get into. Usually, there's a little bit of a pushback from people as their thoughts kind of push me out, but it was like cutting through butter with that man," Bambi chuckled as she stuffed the tissue back into her pocket. "Seriously, it's like he's never had a single thought a day in his life. Usually, I can only control someone for about five minutes, but I could have gone a whole hour in that head of his, I swear."

"And he won't remember anything?" Nancy asked, looking back at her.

"Not a thing," Bambi nodded. "Honestly, I'm surprised he even remembers his own name, and that's without me interfering with anything."

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The trio made quick work of screwing the bulbs back into the fairy lights and setting up the bear trap for the monster the kids had referred to as the 'Demogorgon', a term Bambi recognised from the few sessions of Dungeons & Dragons she'd gotten a chance to participate in with a group of people back at school. Bambi fought away the yearning to be back there, playing as her Cleric Elf character, where her biggest concern was trying to convince the other players that she was totally not in a cult while simultaneously trying the entire campaign to get them to join the thing that was totally not a cult. Life had been easier back at home.

But now, instead of fighting little monster figurines where you could leave your fate in your dice, she was fighting an actual horrifying monster who was very hungry for blood.

The plan was to lure the Demogorgon there and trap it in the bear trap, then set it on fire. There were flaws in their plan, but it was the best they could come up with, given their resources and time limit. If push came to shove, Bambi would try and control the monster's mind. She hoped push wouldn't come to shove since she already felt a little weak after using her powers twice that day following her long stretch of barely using them at all, but she was prepared in case it did come to that.

Bambi had a croquet mallet that the Byers had lying around in their shed, and Jonathan had done the honours of hammering nails into the head of it so it would pack a harder punch. It wasn't an ideal weapon, but she'd reiterated how shit of a shot she was with a gun, and they only had one baseball bat, so it would do. Bambi was just reinforcing the stick with as much duct tape as she could wrap around it, worried that the force she'd have to swing it at would just snap it if she weren't careful.

The smell of gasoline stuck in Bambi's throat. If the anxiety wasn't making her stomach churn, then that certainly was. But she had no time to dwell on that. It was time to execute their plan.

"Remember-" Jonathan started.

"Straight into Will's room, and-" Nancy continued.

"Don't step on the trap." Bambi finished.

"Wait for the yo-yo to move," Nancy added.

"Then..." Jonathan flicked his lighter. "All right. You both ready?" Bambi and Nancy both nodded in confirmation. They all drew their knives to their palms, having decided earlier that it was easier for them to all go ahead and draw blood. The more blood, the better the chances it would lure the monster to them. "On three... One... two... You two don't have to do this-"

"Jonathan, stop talking," Nancy interrupted.

"We're all in this together," Bambi sighed. She wanted to get this over with.

"I'm just saying, you guys don't have to-" Jonathan protested again.

"Three!" Nancy interrupted again, and together they sliced their hands and let the blood drip onto the floor. That would be a nasty stain to clean up later, but then again, the fire damage would probably be a hell of a lot worse. She'd have to offer to help Joyce fix up the house again if she made it out alive.

They sat down and bandaged their hands up as they waited. Bambi was in charge of that. She'd once taken the memory of a first-aid course one of the scientists back at the lab had taken in college. Fortunately, it had gone unnoticed, and it had been quite humorous to see the scientist fumble over trying to wrap a bandage around another scientist's arm a few months later. Bambi had a feeling the skill would be required once she was out, and now she was thankful that she had taken it.

Outside, the wind caused something to creak softly. Every sound put them on edge, Nancy in particular. Bambi couldn't blame her. She'd just found out the monster had killed her best friend. It was only natural for her to be more on edge.

"Did you hear that?" Nancy asked, looking around.

"I'm pretty sure it was just the wind," Bambi mumbled, though she still felt uneasy.

"Don't worry." Jonathan's voice was shaky, a contradiction to the words he'd just said. "My mom, she said the lights speak when it comes."

"Speak?" Nancy asked. Bambi felt a little better as she imagined the lights all chiming out 'the monster is here!' in tiny little voices.

"Blink." Jonathan corrected. "Think of them as alarms." Bambi finished wrapping up Jonathan's hand and pretended again not to notice when Nancy had picked it up afterwards. She understood why Steve thought the two may have been in a relationship behind his back. There was definitely some sort of chemistry there that made Bambi feel incredibly awkward as the third wheel.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Steve's voice suddenly called out from the door as he banged on it, causing quite the fright amongst the three teens.

"Jonathan? Are you there, man? It's- it's Steve!" The trio cast concerned looks at one another. Steve had to get the hell out of there and do it fast. "Listen, I just want to talk!" Nancy got up to answer the door.

"Steve, listen to me." She told him. He tried to protest, but she stopped him from getting too far. "You need to leave."

"I'm not trying to start anything, okay?" Steve denied.

"I don't care about that," Nancy told him firmly. "You need to leave."

"No, no, no! Listen, I messed up, okay? I messed- I messed up. Okay? Really. Please. I just want to make things right. Okay? Please. Please-" Steve begged. Bambi almost felt sorry for him... Almost. "Hey, what happened to your hand? Is that blood?"

"Nothing!" Nancy tried to brush it off. "It was an accident."

"Shit. Here we go...." Bambi whispered, quiet enough for only Jonathan to hear. She stood up to stand behind Nancy at the door. She hadn't opened it enough for Steve to see her.

"What's going on?" Steve asked as Nancy tried to tell him that nothing was going on. "Wait a sec. Did he do this to you? Nancy, let me in!"

"No! No, Steve!" Nancy tried to push him away, but Steve barged past and came tumbling through the door, directly into Bambi, who stumbled back and rubbed her head which she'd hit on his jaw.

"Motherfucker!" Bambi cursed, glaring at him. He looked apologetic for a second before he looked around the house at the shitshow they'd set up.

"What is- What the-" Steve stammered. Bambi pushed on his chest to try and get him to walk backwards and leave.

"Okay, pretty boy, time to get out," She rolled her eyes, but he pushed her hand away.

"What is all-" Steve started to ask again. Jonathan took over, trying to get him to leave. He was a lot more forceful than Bambi had been.

"You need to get out of here." Jonathan tried to push him away, but Steve fought him off. "Listen to me. I'm not asking you. I'm telling you, get out of here!"

"What is that smell?" Steve asked, taking a few more steps into the room. "Is that- is that gasoline?" Bambi turned her head as she heard a gun cock.

"Steve, get out!" Nancy was holding a gun to Steve. Bambi felt a swirl of emotions. She was impressed Nancy had the guts to do that, but she was also fucking terrified that something would go wrong, and then they'd end up with a dead teen boy on their hands as well as a monster.

"Wait! What?" Steve shouted. He looked terrified. No doubt his life was flashing before his eyes. Based on the fact that Bambi could somehow smell his hairspray over the smell of gasoline, she assumed it was at least 50% made up of him styling his hair. "What is going on?"

"You have five seconds to get out of here," Nancy demanded.

"Okay, is this a joke? Stop!" Steve held his hands out in self-defence, not that they'd stop a bullet. "Put the gun down."

"I'm doing this for you." As Nancy spoke, the lights started flashing.

"Right on fucking time!" Bambi groaned as Jonathan tried to get Nancy's attention, but she was lost in her own world as she counted down the time Steve had left to get out.

"Nancy! The lights." Jonathan managed to catch her attention, and she brought the gun down, looking around to confirm. "It's here." Jonathan lunged to grab his bat as Bambi jumped over the coffee table to get her mallet, she knocked a glass over, but that was the least of her worries. Nancy and Jonathan circled around, back to back, as they looked for any sign of the monster. Bambi did her best to get in front of Steve, but she had no idea where the monster would be coming from, so she had no idea what direction she needed to protect him from.

"Hello? Will someone, please explain to me what the hell is going-" Steve was interrupted as the monster emerged from the corner of the room. Bambi grabbed Steve's arm while Nancy tried to shoot at it, though it seemed to be unbothered by the bullets as it dropped down from the ceiling.

"Go! Go! Run! Go!" Jonathan shouted as he led the way. Bambi didn't need to be told twice as she dragged Steve along behind them, shouting at him to jump over the bear trap.

He may have been an ass, but there was no way she was about to let him die... Hopefully.

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enemies to lovers but it's just bambi deciding steve is her enemy and he has no idea because him little head empty no thoughts sweet baby :)

likes are very much appreciated and I will give each and every one of you little kisses on the forehead for each comment you write :)

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taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

@missyviolet123

[deancasbigbang]

Title: the weight of your bones

Author: Chi Yagami

Artist: Sketcheun

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Length: 70000

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; flashbacks/discussion of past death

Tags: AU Canon Divergent, Heaven, Hunter Dean, Human Cas, Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending

Posting Date: October 22, 2021

Summary: After rescuing his brother's fiancée from a house fire he didn’t survive, Dean Winchester finds himself in Heaven.  Although he knows he doesn't belong there, Dean discovers he has a soulmate, Castiel, a man Dean's never even met.  Despite Dean's best efforts to keep his distance, Castiel seems determined to make their new relationship work in the afterlife. But Castiel doesn’t understand...  He isn't aware of Dean's past.  Castiel doesn't know that all Dean's good for is following orders and ganking things.  Castiel doesn't know that Dean once got an innocent civilian killed on a case, the memory of which is currently buried deep into the recesses of Dean's mind.   And while Castiel chips away at Dean's resistance, the once-forgotten bones begin to surface.

Excerpt: Castiel is in the library room just off the front door when Dean enters.  He looks up at the noise, reading glasses perched on his nose and book in hand.  Dean swallows, well aware that his librarian fantasies just got an upgrade. “Hello, Dean,” he greets with a smile, bookmarking his page before closing the book and rising from his chair.  “Welcome home.” Emotions he tends to keep locked away slam into Dean like a freight truck.  He has to cough to cover the choke that escapes him, and Dean turns away to hide his face.   Cas greeting him here at the door, a warm welcome after a long day...  'Felt like coming home,' Mary had described.   Dean has never been welcomed home, never like this.  He'd had his father and Sammy, but John had never fit any description of welcoming.  Sam was home until he left for Stanford, and even though they'd patched things over the years, then Sam had Jess.  Dean had lived with Lisa for a long while, but that was never home either; that was Lisa's house and he'd slept in Lisa's bed and raked Lisa's yard.  Dean just lived there. The Impala is the closest thing Dean's had to a home since he was four. Outside of that car, Dean Winchester doesn't do commitments.   So how...  How can Cas just say something like that?  So easily.  Sounding like he genuinely means it.  They know nothing about each other; Dean doesn't even know the guy's last name.  But Dean sure isn't about to ask, that will only open up the flood for any questions Cas may harbor. Sharing means getting to know someone.  Getting to know someone means getting attached.  And getting attached... It just means it'll hurt twice as much when they leave. Eternal soulmate or no, everyone leaves.  Cassie left.  Lisa left.  Sam left.  His dad left. And Cas will leave too, once he finds out who Dean really is.  Once he figures out Dean doesn't belong here after all.  Because Dean definitely wound up in the wrong place.  He wonders if he should tell Cas that the angels made a mistake.  That Dean's actually supposed to be down somewhere else.  He knows what he did, and he accepts the burden.  Dean isn't worthy of paradise, and he's certainly not worthy of a soulmate, even one he barely knows.  But perhaps that is for the best, and Dean needs to keep it that way.

DCBB 2021 Posting Schedule

[multi-lefaiye]

happy blorbo blursday!!! i will ask a question i hope u will like

if ur characters were thrown into different saw movies and traps, what are their chances of survival? what traps would they go to?

happy blorbo blursday to you as well!!! oh this is a fun one thank you :3c

so full disclosure i am still, in fact, very new to this franchise, and most of what i know after the first movie has been from me reading the wiki articles about the traps and going "wow that's fucked up" over and over. THAT BEING SAID, i'll talk about two ones i know and think are interesting conceptually and which characters would probably have the best chance. focusing on magic apocalyptica because that's what's rotating in my head the most rn.

putting under the cut, content warnings for descriptions of murder and torture (nothing graphic but still tread lightly!)!!

Bathroom Trap: So the bathroom trap is the one I care about the most and the one I know the most about, so that's probably gonna be. The one I mainly talk about.

Anyway, out of the Magic Apocalyptica cast, the one I can most likely see ending up in this situation is Howl, so for fun I'll throw Jackrabbit in, too, since those two are besties. AU where this is how they meet (actually not too far off from how Jackrabbit got his magic in the first place, but that's not what this is about).

So, a refresher for those who don't know the bathroom trap: the long and short of it is that two people are trapped in a bathroom, chained to separate pipes, and given a time limit to get out. There are clues hidden around the room, but otherwise there's not much to help them. Also, one of them is tasked with killing the other to be set free, and the other is just tasked with surviving and escaping. So, cool.

I think Howl would probably be tasked with killing Jackrabbit, but he wouldn't actually try to do it. He's a scoundrel, but he's not that kind of guy. However, I think he wouldn't saw off his foot or anything either, mainly because he is SO squeamish when it comes to blood. Like he might consider it but he wouldn't do it. Would Jackrabbit do it? Good question. If this is before Jackrabbit loses his arm, then maybe, but who knows! He's more likely to do so than Howl.

Anyway I think that Howl and Jackrabbit would both make it out, if only because I think it's possible that they'd team up and overpower Jigsaw at the first opportunity. They work very well together and they're both crafty motherfuckers, and I can see them finagling a way out.

Shotgun Carousel: Okay so this is the only other trap I've read about in a lot of depth (aside from some of the Nerve Gas House ones but those ones squick me out so <3) and it's one that seems kinda funky and creative to me. So I"ll also do this one.

So for those who don't know this one, the Shotgun Carousel is like. A bunch of people are chained to a carousel thing, and every now and then it stops with one person in front of a loaded shotgun. The only person not attached to the carousel has the opportunity to stop the shotgun from firing at them, but they cannot stop it from firing. It's going to fire the exact number of times needed to kill everyone, and the person outside the carousel can only stop it twice because every time they stop it, they get injured themself.

My first thought was going into the logistics of who would end up here, but the one I think is most likely to get out of this with as few casualties as possible is Gaia. Is this because Gaia and their fucky blood magic could find a loophole? Maybe. But if magic isn't allowed or somehow isn't a factor, I still can see Gaia trying to find a loophole through this. Depending on who's in the carousel at least.

I did just get the mental image of Gaia being given the chance to rescue either some of their coworkers or some of the subjects taken to the New Moon facility. That might be something fucked up to explore in the story.

Who would end up in a Saw trap in general: I just wanted to make a note that I think Prometheus would end up in a Saw trap and I have a vague idea of what would happen to him there and how it would go but I don't know how to express it.

--

Okay so I don't know if I answered this at all the way you wanted me to, but this was an interesting thought exercise! I am very entertained by the mental image of Jackrabbit and Howl teaming up to maul Jigsaw and claw their way out of the bathroom trap, and I also like the idea of Gaia being faced with a horrific, fucked up, painful choice. Probably not gonna do this specifically, and I probably won't even use it as inspiration too much, but I think Gaia should have some tough choices. And I think Prometheus would absolutely piss Jigsaw off and get tested for very personal, petty reasons.

[amoc94]

Pairing : Park Jimin x OC (From reader's POV)

Genre : Yandere

Warning for this chapter : Smut (Not too descriptive), Alternating Switching Sex Partner.

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Full Masterlist and elaborate warning please read here.

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ADDICTED

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What's forbidden is the most tempting.

Jimin was always good at restraining himself.

Only this time, she was too alluring for him.

"Sleeping with me was your biggest mistake."

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Part 3 - Whim

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Jimin sat quietly at the sofa inside Jungkook's bedroom on the second floor of their condo. The room's lighting has been dimmed to minimum, only the sound of moans and low groans could be heard throughout the vast bedroom. The strong sex scent was almost visible, Jungkook's cologne mixed with the woman's perfume whiffed around the room.

It had been a routine for everytime one of them brought a girl to the condo, it meant the girl had consented to be shared between them. It was a rule that they always stated upfront to the girl, and they'd never stumbled upon a girl who refused. The imagination to have two gorgeous men in bed was too tempting for every woman or girl that was offered the chance.

This time Jungkook brought a girl with curvy body, huge chest, and tanned skin, an afro-asian with long curly hair. She looked young, probably around eighteen or nineteen. Jungkook liked to experiment with different type of girls, changing between opposite attributes from time to time.

While Jimin would always choose the model like face, slim body, and average height. Maybe it was his kink or he was too picky, but he always liked moderation. Not too tall, never too curvy, medium fair, not too pale skin, just the right size for the chest- he never like girls with obvious artificial implant, everything had to be just right to fit his taste.

Sometimes he would loosen up and just went with Jungkook's flavor, but more often he preferred women of his own choice, since Jungkook was more flexible with his taste.

The girl beneath Jungkook screaming his name was very beautiful, in usual condition he would have been turned on just by watching them. But tonight, his mind was full of thinking about the woman that occupied the room downstairs. She was another level of beauty, a very unique type, it was hard to get his mind off of her.

While Jungkook was busy with the girl on the bed, Jimin was painting the picture of her in his mind. In his deluded brain, Naomi was under him while he was having her from different positions, from behind her was the most arousing.

It was insane.

She was someone else's fiancee, other man's future wife, and here he was imagining to have her like she was already his.

He tried furiously to shake the image off, smacking his head twice with his palm. Maybe after a good sex with this girl, he could forget about her. At least temporary.

He watched as Jungkook grinded into the girl roughly, sweat glistened on his forehead while his hip pistoning fast in chasing his high, before his movements became irregular then slowing down, and finally came to a stop. He was stilled with his face buried on the girls cleavage, apparently waited until the last drop of his cum released into the condom. The girl's limp form underneath him was no better, Jimin could see her heaving chest trying to catch her breath.

The boy hunched and kissed the girl gently on her lips, he could see a knowing smile on her face. He always did that everytime he finished with the female, it was like his way to appreciate and thank the woman. He was too kind, sometimes Jimin was afraid if his friend would end up getting hurt by a woman. One of the reason why they decided to share girls on their bed. For Jimin, it was a way to look out for his younger friend.

Jungkook tilted his head and looked at him, gesturing to the girl who was still heavily intoxicated, and he nodded in reply. Jungkook climbed down the bed to go to bathroom, leaving the girl to continue with him.

Jimin stripped himself, and reached for a foil of rubber from the night stand drawer, but he didn't put it on yet. He was aroused from the scene he watched previously, but the woman he lusted for wasn't the one on the bed at the moment.

Cut it off, Jimin.

"Can you help me?" Jimin asked the girl while trying to focus on her face. Where did Jungkook meet with this girl anyway? In another situation, he probably wouldn't mind to repeat their rendezvous. She was pretty with her caramel colored skin.

She nodded, and Jimin climbed the bed, to take the position in front of her, to let her take his length inside her mouth. She was definitely skilled, in fact, a master in giving blowjob.

Jimin felt her silky tongue dragged around his length with gentle yet firm pressure, the sensation had him threw his head back savoring every stroke of her tongue against his cock.

Eventhough the image that danced in his mind was her, not this girl. He was imagining Naomi under him right now, her pretty lips wrapped around his shaft, bringing in the satisfaction he had been longing for.

When he closed his eyes, the scene was even bolder.

He pulled from her, and rolled down the rubber around his length, before impatiently buried himself inside the girl. The girl screamed loud, and it was supposed to further elevate his libido, but instead he was annoyed.

It didn't feel right for him.

"Turn over." He ordered the girl.

He decided to finally giving in to the fantasy that had overwhelmed his state of mind since he saw her. He needed his release urgently, but it was impossible if the face in front of him wasn't her.

So he took the position from behind instead, while relishing the illusion of Naomi being underneath him, moaning and screaming his name. When he finally found his release, he turned to look away, trying to avoid the girl's face, to keep Naomi's face in his fantasy.

Collapsing to the bed, he closed his eyes, the release couldn't be called climax as it didn't feel like he was reaching the peak.

Something was just off.

He could feel the bed shifted, the girl stood up and touched his arm.

"Are you all right?"

He looked at her, there was concern in her brown eyes. Her pretty breasts dangling in front of him, while his mind was wondering if Naomi's breasts were even more beautiful than this girl's.

"I'm ok. You can go." He was being rude, but right now the only thing he cared about was the particular girl he just saved tonight.

He could hear her footsteps toward the bathroom, and opened his eyes only after he heard the door clicked shut.

For a moment he savored the stillness of the ambience, her face flashed in his memory. He was so tempted to go downstairs, barge in her room, and take her right there and then, all inhibitions and moralities be damned.

He heard the sound of bathroom door opened, and saw Jungkook walked out from it, hair wet after shower, in his shirt and jeans. Ready to take the girl back home. It was an unspoken rules between them, no girl would stay overnight, unless they were staying at a hotel.

Complication prevention.

"Are you ok?" Jungkook sat next to him, observing his face.

Jimin stared at the ceiling, his mind wandering away. To the moment when he first saw her face, how the sight momentarily took his breath, and her image has never left his mind ever since.

"Your face, it was like you were being tortured instead of just getting laid." Jungkook chuckled.

He knew that, and Jungkook certainly had no idea how agonizing this feeling for him. Wishing to be with the woman that wasn't his, probably would never be, while pathetically trying to satiate his lust for her with another girl.

He felt like a loser.

He tried to visualize her fiancee, was he also good looking like the ex boyfriend? Somehow the vision of how another man had the right to hold her and fuck her like he wanted to, enraged him to the point his fingers were tingled with the urge to break that man's bones.

"Hey, hyung...something's wrong? Did the girl say anything to you?"

Jimin sighed, letting out a deep breath. "Everything, everything's wrong."

"What do you mean? It wasn't satisfying? Do you want me to call someone else?" Jungkook looked surprised, Jimin had never acted like this before.

"No, no need. Just take her home. I need to sleep after this."

When Jungkook and the girl made their way out of the bedroom, it was when Jimin finally could think clearly.

Meeting Naomi tonight was probably fate.

It was like the universe had given him the way, with the unusual circumstance that brought them together.

He had to have her.

One way or the other, he would claim her. Even if that meant he had to bulldoze his way to her direction.

And he knew just the right person to help him to plot his plan.

Part 4 - Senses

[haloshornsinkstains]

3. The First Session

Written section

CW: Prison, mild violence, use of quirk supressing cuffs

Y/n frowned as she looked up at the prison entrance. It may have been done up a bit since she was last here but the place still held less than pleasant memories, for a moment she contemplated turning and walking away, dropping the job altogether. But a grinning head of green hair waving from the doorway soon put rest to those plans. Behind the other pro-hero Aizawa beckoned tiredly, holding up a cup of coffee. Sighing deeply she steeled herself and crossed the threshold, giving the two a strained smile. She couldn't give up before they had even started, not if these guys really wanted to change. They'd been dropped by so many already, if she turned her back without giving them a shot then she would be no better than the shitty society that abandoned them before. The exact thing she and the others had worked so hard to change. Reaching the pair she held out a hand expectantly, a hot cup of coffee pressed into her palm seconds later. Taking a sip she nodded her head towards the older man. "Thanks." "I was worried you wouldn't turn up." Izuku sounded relieved. "It, uh, well it wouldn't be the first time. I'm really grateful you're willing to do this for us… have you done this before?" She rolled her shoulders. "Well someone has to be willing to give them a chance. I usually deal in the welfare side, making sure reformed villains have places to go, jobs, you know the deal. Occasionally welfare within the system as well. I've only been a part of actual reforms in a few select cases. And never here." "Oh." Izuku frowned as he guided them inside, down gloomy corridors and towards the room where the league sat. "Well, I have their files here…" Y/n waved him off with a smile. "Don't need them. This is the room right?" "Yes but…" "Don't worry about it problem child, you'll see. Y/n we're just the other side of the mirror, we can hear everything so watch your language in front of the green bean." She flashed Aizawa a bright grin and a wink. "No promises. Wish me luck old man."

The members of the league were seated along a large table, bickering amongst themselves when she entered. For a moment y/n observed them, wrinkling her nose at the quirk inhibiting cuffs they wore, as much as understood why they wore them the sight still dug up uncomfortable memories. She cleared her throat, chuckling as everyone suddenly straightened and turned to face her.  "Well that was easy. I'm y/n l/n, normally I'd run through the reform programme basics but this isn't your first rodeo correct?" There were a few scattered nods, but one member, Dabi she noted, stood and made his way over to her. Y/n merely raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" He held out his wrists. "Think you can take these off for me doll?" "L/n. And not yet, you know exactly why." She stared back at him, completely unfazed. "Stop trying to intimidate me, it's not going to work." "How do we know you're not just going to use your quirk on us while we can't do anything about it?" He challenged, staring her down. "Beat us up while you have the advantage." "Oh honey, I don't need my quirk to kick your ass." He scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes. Before he could get another word out he was face down on the floor, a knee pressing uncomfortably between his shoulder blades.  "Now that's settled. I'll wear quirk suppressing cuffs too in these sessions if it makes you more comfortable. And I want names or descriptions of anyone who has ever used their quirk on you while you were cuffed. So I can talk to them." She climbed off Dabi, pulling him to his feet and pushing him back towards his chair.  "It wasn't anyone in the reform programme, they were all just scared…" Toga spoke up. Y/n waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. I said anyone and I meant it." She passed out sheets of paper and pens, letting them write while someone entered the room holding a spare pair of quirk inhibiting cuffs. No one watching missed the frown on her face as they were put into place, or the anxious biting of her lip. She could swear she heard Aizawa sigh on the other side of the wall. Once the assistant had left she gathered the papers, only to hand out more. "Is this a test?" Toga whined, holding up the stapled papers with a grimace. "No one gave us a test before." "I can't believe we have a test on the first day. You're a monster." Twice huffed. Y/n sighed. "I need to establish a baseline, for both your attitudes and abilities. If you're going to rejoin society then I want to ensure you're in the best place to do that. Not just that you won't start committing crimes again." "Are those math problems? And english?" Dabi scowled. "As I said, I'm establishing a baseline of your abilities. I expect you will all do well, but I need to know where to provide support if I'm going to turn you into constructive members of society." She settled back in her chair. "Stop grumbling and answer the questions Staples. The longer you spend grumbling the longer you're sat in here with me." "Is this information not contained in our files?" Compress, who had previously been quietly watching the others, spoke up. "I didn't read them. I wanted to start with a blank slate, or as blank as I could get from five people whose crimes were nationwide news anyway." She hummed, corner of her mouth twitching up in a smirk. "Just remember I will be reading those tests, and I won't hesitate to score any drawings of dicks." Her eyes slid to Twice, who suddenly started scribbling furiously on his page. She watched for a few more moments before leaving them to it and studying the papers in front of her. Pulling out her phone she started scrolling through staff lists and matching the descriptions to names. 

At the end of the session she collected the papers and slid them into her bag before pulling out a small box. "Right, one at a time, come return your pen and I'll give you a phone. Right now they are only capable of messaging, but you'll be able to do more with them over time." She tapped the box. "They have each others numbers as well as my own. Do not lose them. I bought these and I'm not replacing them unless there are very special circumstances." "And if I don't want to return the pen?" Dabi huffed, twirling it between his fingers. Y/n plastered on a sickly sweet smile. "I'm glad to hear you're enjoying your stay within our prison system and wish to continue indefinitely." He huffed and nodded, dropping the pen on the desk. Once all the pens were collected and labelled phones distributed y/n bowed to the group. "Thank you for being so well behaved. You can use those phones to contact me, or each other, whenever you like. I can't promise I'll always respond immediately, I like to sleep, but I will respond." She nodded towards the door, which was being pushed open by one of the assistants. "I'll see you at the next session."

Once the League were gone she darted out of the room, collapsing into a chair next to Aizawa. "Get these things off me." Aizawa nodded, quickly releasing the cuffs and gently rubbing over her wrists as if he was brushing away the feeling of the metal. Smiling thankfully up at him she nodded her head towards the paper she'd dropped on the observation room desk in her rush. "I want to see the people on that list asap. And if there's any CCTV footage from their shifts I want that too." She hummed. "I don't think-" "Izuku. If what they said is true then it's my job to deal with that." Y/n snapped, whipping her head around to glare at the hero. "We are supposed to be better than this." Aizawa sighed, patting her head softly. "Just sort it Midoriya. Come on y/n, let me take you home."  Y/n nodded tiredly. "Just this once 'Zawa."

< previous || Masterlist || next >

- y/n hates quirk supressing cuffs, she says “they make (her) skin itch and (her) blood feel like it’s writhing in (her) veins”. But, as much as she’d like to get rid of them altogether, she understands why they’re used and how they protect others.

- y/n’s way of running the reform programme is a bit different to most people’s. While there are set objectives everyone has to follow, she’s always done it her own way (and helped re-write the programme to allow for that). This may or may not be part of the reason she only gets to do ‘difficult’ or unusual cases.

Taglist: @denkisclown , @dabi-sunflower​ , @toshiuwu​ , @insane-without-delirium

[morgana-ren]

Come Down to the Black Sea III

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Explicit 

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki, graphic depictions of violence, heavy sexual innuendo, implied noncon, foul language, sexual tension you can cut with a knife, and just general sexual grossness. Joking daddy kink also, if you count that. 

PART I, PART II

Here you go! The third installment. Your seafaring friend finds your hot button and decides to plant some lovely ideas in your brain. Listening to them probably is not the smartest idea in regards to keeping your heart beating, but it certainly gets your thighs clenching. 

Taglist: @lemonzoey​, @babayaga67​

You know, it's really rough to explain to your superiors at work why you're so distracted when it happens to be because a mythical being is giving you the cold shoulder. 

You’re not entirely certain why it bothers you so much that your last encounter with him ended rather sour. He had made it perfectly plain from the get-go that his intent with you was far from pure. Murderous, in fact. He had almost drowned you on your first meeting and insulted you incessantly during your second. Not exactly a friendly track record. 

Regardless, he’s made a permanent home crawling beneath your human skin, like some itch you can’t scratch away. You can try to justify it however you’d like, but you can’t ignore the truth. In a word full of mundane existence, you’ve found an oddity and as much as you’d like to pretend you aren’t, you’re drawn to it. It’s part of why you returned to the beach despite the clear and present danger. You’d found a living, breathing mermaid. Even more impressive, you’d managed to piss him off.

Mermaid? Is that accurate? He’s so sensitive to being classified wrongly, but still never told you what he was. Considering the circumstances, maybe you should be a little bit more concerned about other things rather than offending him, but it still bothers you. 

Your ignorance isn’t due to lack of trying. You’ve done extensive research in the spare moments you have during the day, but nothing quite matches his description no matter how deeply you delve into the weirder parts of the internet, even going so far as to browse around on conspiracy sites on the darknet. Mermaid? Merman? Siren? Fish-guy? Some distantly related offspring to that Ripley’s Believe it or Not monkey fish? Relentless searching proved fruitless. Plenty of old sun-crazed fishermen claim to have seen merfolk in the waters or sirens on the rocks, but more often than not, it was a walrus or stage 4 sea madness. No one had a legitimate account of meeting with a real, intelligent creature of the deep. Nothing that came remotely close to him, anyway.

Despite being unable to focus at your job, getting home only doubles the anxiety. Restlessly sitting and twitching on the sofa, repeatedly trying and failing to read or watch some vapid TV show. You’re unable to keep your mind from returning to the ocean, to him no matter how hard you try. 

Over the course of time, you become acutely aware that staying home clearly isn't an option, but you're not really sure what to say to him if you see him again. Why do you even care? Aren't you supposed to be ignoring him? You can excuse your obsessive thoughts about him since most people would have the same reaction to seeing something supernatural not once, but twice in front of their very eyes, but a lot of people wouldn’t continuously return to see it especially if it was malevolent. 

You love that preemptively planning what to say to a sentient supernatural sea dweller is a part of your day. That's awesome. Can't look that one up on google. 

You’ll compromise with your compulsiveness instead. Go a little early and watch the sun set down over the horizon instead of watching the moon rise. Most parents won't allow their children near your rock because it’s slippery and dangerous, and frankly, you don't think he'll show up when others can see him. He’s deadly, but a mob of terrified parents and curious beach goers has few rivals. 

Maybe you can get your fill before he appears. It's better to keep away from him anyway. He wants you dead. 

He wants you dead, you remind yourself.

And so you do. Tread the sandy trail down to your favorite little hideyhole and plop down on the hard surface. You kick your feet absentmindedly on the rock beneath you, watching the small particles of sand splay and regather with every motion of your foot. The crash of the waves, still tumultuous and ornery, slap the side of your makeshift perch and splash you with speckles of water every few moments. You don't mind. You needed to shower anyway.

You can't help but feel a bit more lonely than normal, even surrounded by so many more people than you usually are. Flustered moms urge their children in from the shore to wipe them down with towels and flighty young twentysomethings hoot and holler, laughing loudly as they pile into their cars to find their next big spot for the night. The moon rises and the beach empties, leaving you alone again. The ocean settles, and even though it feels better, you feel alone.

You close your eyes, resting your head sideways on your knees with your arms buckled around your legs. You're close to the edge, precariously so. You just want to be close to the water. You should move back.

In. out. in. out. in. out. in. out.

The waves seem to move in line with the beating of your own heart, a tranquil feeling that dulls your restless thoughts and engulfs you in quiet solace. The hum of the ocean resonating deep within you with each breath you take of the briny air.

You're aware enough to recognize that the sound of the sea is luring you into a false sense of comfort. The darkness seeping over the horizon doesn't make it easier, and soon your slowly wandering mind is on the brink of unconsciousness. You're dangerously close to falling asleep, and given the circumstances, that probably isn't the best idea, especially since you're precariously close to the water. 

You can't help it, it's been one hell of a week. You haven’t slept. Haven’t relaxed. Haven’t felt at home in so long...

Listen, there's no guide online to look at that can help you through what to do when a malevolent fish-man hybrid has decided he wants to drown you. You can imagine it would say something along the lines of 'Stop going near the water then, dumbass' but that's like asking a religious person to stay away from church. It's the one place where you feel any semblance of peace, and you'll be damned if you're going to let the moonlight water marauder take that from you. 

Still, it makes things in your life exponentially more difficult when you can't explain to anyone what's on your mind. 

'Yeah, I met a mer...thing, and he's decided that he hates me and he wants to drown me, and that makes me sad. The one supernatural creature I get to meet and he doesn't like me. Bummer.'

They'd probably have you committed. That’s a bit much even for your eccentric proclivities. 

Your body occasionally jerks you awake, probably its way of saying 'You cannot sleep when there are enemies nearby', but it feels like it's been weeks since you've had a decent night's sleep. The endless procession of days marked by existential crisis with the tacked on bonus of being aware of the existence of a nefarious fairy tale creature makes everything feel awfully surreal. It feels as if you've been running on pure adrenaline and are about to crash. Hard.

If you were smart, you'd go home and try to bank on the feeling of sleepiness currently plaguing you, but you just can't bring yourself to move. Even barring the flaxen haired fish dude just chomping at the bit to drag you under, napping this close to the sea is a bad idea in general. Tides change rapidly and all it would take is a few minutes of you being unaware for the waves to snag you and haul you off to a watery grave. They'd probably never find you, just like the others who disappear here at night. 

But that's probably his doing, isn't it?

What does he do with the bodies exactly?

You really wish he wasn't trying to kill you, cause you have an endless list of questions you'd like to ask. What does he eat? Where does he live? Does he sleep at all?

Musing on all the things you'd like to know about him and his life leads you into fantasizing about being a talk show host interviewing him, and one thing leads to another and before you know it, you're conked out cold. You've managed to find an extremely awkward position to slump into, but even the horrid crick in your neck isn't enough to shake you from the dreamless slumber. Your body doesn't even have the energy needed to produce a dream, so instead, you just float through an endless void.

It could have been minutes, or even hours, really. You're not sure. The only thing strong enough to jar you awake is a sudden and intense feeling of dread that blooms in your stomach and gives you a form and sentience again. Your eyes snap open instinctively, and you're greeted with a pair of spiteful red eyes far too close to you for comfort.

"Jumping jesus-!" 

Surprised is a nice word for what you feel, an ugly screech emanating from your throat as you kick out your feet, knocking yourself over and almost falling in the water in the process. You hit your head nice and hard on a particularly jagged portion of the rocks, and by the time your vision undoubles, the danger is just barely settling in. 

Except danger is too busy cackling to be a threat.

You try to grapple with the panic in your chest and get a grasp on reality again after your literal rude awakening, but it's a bit rough when the sadistic jackass who perpetuated it in the first place won't stop laughing. Apparently he's too amused to take the opportunity to seize you, so you take the moment to scoot much further back and out of his reach, resisting the urge to plant your foot right on his stupid face.

Eventually he quiets down, but the grin never leaves his face. Much like everything about him, it's hostile somehow, mocking and disingenuous. 

"Humans really are so stupid."

"Joke is on you, tunabreath. You wasted the perfect opportunity to actually grab me." 

He shakes his head, tutting you. "I couldn’t resist. We like to play with our food too, sometimes. Scared ones taste better."

Is he implying he eats people? Okay, you know what? You don't wanna know. You doubt he'd be honest about it anyway, and would probably say whatever unnerves you the most. He seems a prick like that.

"I thought the entire point was to drown me and get it over with. You’re borderline obsessed with it."

He scoffs, little head fins twitching as he waves you off. "If I’m going to waste my time, don't make it so easy. It's less fun."

Okay cool, this is all a game to him; your life is a game to him. Nice. Fun. Great. 

Something on your face must have given away your ire, because he simpers at you and another raspy laugh bubbles in his chest. 

"It's not my fault you're stupid. You're the idiot sleeping next to the ocean when you know what's waiting for you when you get too close. It’s like you want me to devour you." 

"I thought after your little tantrum last night, you were gone for good. You really can throw a fantastic hissy fit."

That wipes the smile from his face.

“Little brat.” He taps a claw on the rock, narrowing his eyes at you. “Tough talk from someone afraid of getting a little wet.” He drags out the final word with a mocking tone, clicking his tongue against his fangs with the final syllable.

“For the last time, I’m not afraid of getting wet-” It takes it a second to sink in but wow this all sounds so wrong. Your face darkens and a familiar tingle worms itself in your gut. Are you really that lonely? “And don’t say it like that!”

His brows furrow and he studies you with a slightly quizzical expression. “Like what?” 

How do you explain to a dude who presumably has no cock and no human sexual experience about the sexual insinuations of human expressions? Wow. This is not a talk you thought you’d be having. The entire situation is weird, but this really sets the bar. 

“I know you’re probably not familiar with it, but that sounds... weird. It just sounds weird, okay?” 

“I don’t understand.” His lips curl downward in annoyance, arching a pale brow in your direction. 

“Look, when a human and another human... do stuff, things happen to their bodies and-“ a twisted sense of shame curdles your stomach and you go to scratch the back of your head, avoiding his eyes. Your words trail off somewhere mid sentence. If you were looking, you could practically see the gears turning in his head, but a few seconds later, his face pops in realization. 

“I’m fully aware of your human mating habits.”

“Don’t say it like that either! Jesus, you’re so awkward.”

A slow smile spreads over his face and he leans closer to you, tail swishing in a steady rhythm beneath the water. “Why? You’re over the ‘age of consent’, as it’s put, right? A sexually mature human female? Does it make you uncomfortable when I say things like that? Or does it make you something else?” 

He trails his claws in a walking motion towards your out of reach leg, and embarrassment isn’t a strong enough word for the emotion that colors your face as you recoil from his wandering fingers. “Knock it off!”

“Has it been a while since someone touched you, little human?”

“None of your business! You’re such a creep! And what do you know about it anyway? Don’t you fuckin’ lay eggs or something?”

He ignores your pointed jab, licking at his chapped lips as he runs his piercing eyes over you a bit too invasively for your liking. “You wanna know, huh? I can show you.” He reaches towards you again and you wiggle back a few more inches, caught between his words and the friction igniting feelings you’re desperately trying to ignore between your thighs.

“I’m getting mixed signals here. Are you trying to drown me or fuck me?” 

“Who says I can’t do both?” He tilts his head, gaze lingering on your lips before drifting down to your chest without shame. His attention still feels utterly predatory, but for a different form of predator entirely. “Your death doesn’t have to be entirely painful, you know.” 

“S-stop it.” 

He’s giving you whiplash with his intense mood swings, but you can’t deny the less than appropriate places his words drag your mind to. Heat ignites inside you, warmth spreading through your navel as your cheeks burn deeper than they did before. You will it away, trying to shake loose the thoughts from your mind. No fucking way are you even considering this.

“Look, even if our bodies were compatible, which they aren’t, it’s not like you wanting to kill me is a turn on.” 

He gives you another lilting grin, flicking his tongue and hissing in a foreign laugh. “Are you sure? I know that some of your kind are into that sort of thing. Hard. Rough. Dangerous. And judging by your face-“ 

Another bout of blood colors your cheeks so intensely that you can literally feel it. Oh God, make it stop. 

“-You might be.” 

“Shut it, shark bait!” 

“And who’s to say we’re not compatible? I know plenty. Something about the beach is an aphrodisiac to you humans. Not to mention~” Another grin, but this one gives off the undeniable air of ‘I know something you don’t know.’ “You have no idea what I can do.”

You can’t help but look back at him as he says it and you can tell he means every word. The unnatural scarlet glow of his eyes seems far too welcoming, calling to you like some sort of beacon in the darkness. The soft gleam of his silvery hair in the moonlight far too inviting. You want to touch it, wonder what it would feel like entwined between your fingers, what it smells like and how those claws would feel like scratching against the sensitive skin of your ass as he holds you steady against his hips.

You bet those fangs aren’t just for show, and judging by his attitude, he’s probably not afraid to use them. You bet they’d feel all sorts of nice scraping and digging into your flesh, biting you and licking that thick tongue up and over your neck, maybe even a bit lower if you asked him nicely. He’s so lithe, so strong, he’d have no problem fucking you against the rock even with the water resistance. His slick skin rubbing against yours, webbed hands squeezing your waist, kneading your tits, pressing the rounds of your neck until you gave yourself over to him completely and the taste of him is the last thing you ever knew.

Okay, you admit it. You are really curious to see just what it is he can do. You’d probably be the first human in history to find out, the first girl to be fucked to literal death by a siren. Would it really be such a terrible way to die? Being dragged under metaphorically and physically and spending your last moments in pleasure wholly unknown to the moral realm?

He smiles softly, watching you toss it around in your mind as he cradles his head in his palm. He’s beautiful, and you loathe it. You hate that you’re even considering this, even toying with the thought as if it’s really an option. What the hell are you doing? This is complete madness!

“You aren’t serious, are you?” 

He gestures you forward seductively, nibbling gently on his scarred bottom lip, keeping your eyes squarely trained on his mouth. “Come a little closer and find out. I promise I bite. Extra hard if you beg.”

Another clench between your legs. Shake it loose, shake it loose! “Look, even if I believed for a split second you wanted to seduce me, you really think I’m going to literally die for the chance?”

“What else are you going to die for?” 

Oddly deep. Not a thought you wanted to ponder right now. Expertly deflect it with sarcasm and ignore the fact that he has a very good point.

“Of old age, in my bed, surrounded by loved ones and piles of money I didn’t get the chance to spend yet.” 

He scoffs, blowing air through his nose. “Sure.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” 

He shrugs, shucking aside your irritation. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” 

“Prick.” 

He giggles, finding your crass human mouth oddly endearing. “Well, the offer stands. I told you I’m not going anywhere until you're under the water with me.” He pauses, considering you for a moment before grinning darkly. “I might just do it anyway, but it’s better if you’re willing. Not that I’ve ever been averse to a little struggle.”

“What?”

“It’s hard to say no when you can’t speak. I could easily bypass this little game of playing hard to get, but I want to see you squirm.” He eyes between your legs and you pray to the Gods that he thinks the dampness residing there is because of the watery environment. “I want to see you beg before the light goes out in those pretty eyes.”

“You’re a fucking perv!”

“I told you I’m going to watch you drown, you really put it past me to not take other forms of satisfaction from you while I’m at it?”

He presents a good point. You resent the fact that you don’t entirely feel repulsed by the thought. You should. You should be mortified and terrified and other words that end in ‘fied’. You should run and never come back. You know you should. 

You lean forward. 

“I’d like to see you try, fish boy.” 

A strangely genuine smile spreads across his lips and his face seems to light up at your words. It's still menacing, but oddly cute; like a child getting ready and excited to play their favorite game. 

"You really think you can win this, huh?" He muses, looking up at you through those pale lashes. "You sure are something, little girl." 

"What do I have to lose? If you win, you kill me, and whatever else, but I won't care, because I'll be dead. If I win, I get to see that arrogant smarminess wiped off your face when you don't get what you want. You'll have wasted all this time for nothing, and I guess that's a small consolation prize alongside my life."

“Time means nothing to me, but if it makes you feel better about the situation.”

From the way he says it, you don't deny it. It dawns on you that you really know nothing about his people. Do they age like you? Do they age at all? 

“How old are you?” 

"Older than you by far, I promise. What a rude question. How old are you?" 

“Old enough. But that doesn’t answer my question. Don’t deflect.”

"No manners, you humans." He ponders it for a minute. "You count the passing of time in revolutions around the sun, right? I'd bet I had been an adult for a very long time while you were still learning to walk on wobbly little legs." 

It's your turn to laugh now, and he doesn't seem amused. "You're an old man! Ew! You're an interspecies cradle robber!"

"I'm not old! We live exponentially longer than you! I'll still be in my prime when you're an elder!" His pallid face is dusted slightly red in frustration, and it's almost funnier than his reaction. 

"Whatever you say, grandpa! Do you have an undersea walker? Drink sea prune juice? Is that why your hair is silver? Cause you're old?"

Self consciously, he strokes the front of his long bangs between his fingers. "No! You're an immature little brat!" 

"Back in my day~" You barely dodge a swipe from one of his claws as he jumps as far forward as he can and swings at you. "Careful gramps, you don't wanna hurt yourself. You’ll break a hip or whatever it is you have."

He sneers at you and you bask in the minor victory.

You sit in silence; him with a scowl tightly pulled across his thin lips, and you with a smug little grin. So it’s not impossible to get under his scales. 

He’s a world class pouter, you’ll give him that. He doesn’t strike you as vain, but this is probably uncharted territory for him; actually talking to a human and subsequently being made fun of for his age. He’s probably not used to being mocked in any sense of the word, seeing as he’s a ‘non existent’ mythical creature. Maybe his kind are prideful, if a little childish. He claims to have existed for ages, but he still has the mannerisms you’d attribute to a male around your age. Maybe a tad immature and explosive himself. You guess some things don’t change with the species. Aggression, domination, and sex. And murder, in his case. 

Some things are universal, it seems. 

He’s making a show of ignoring you now, clicking his claws together in a subconscious attempt to threaten you. They are awfully sharp. You swear looking at them makes the gashes on your arm start to ache all over again. Occasionally the fins on the side of his head twitch in an almost catlike manner, turning toward whatever source of sound can be heard. It’s so strange to you, you can’t help but stare. He looks ethereal, even as impudent as he’s acting. With the backdrop of the ocean and the moon behind him, he looks like a painting that belongs in a gallery. You can’t stop yourself from leering at him.

You’re trying to ignore the fact that he definitely takes notice. 

He's angry at you, displeasure still slightly evident in his face, but a small smile crooks his lips. You've clearly offended him but your leering goes a little way towards soothing the hairs you've rubbed the wrong way. For whatever reason, knowing you find him attractive puffs his feathers- er, scales- with pride. Body language relaxes between the two of you and a few minutes of quiet follows. 

Yet, it's difficult to keep a pleasant silence when the company you keep is far from familiar. This isn't two friends relaxing on a beach; at least unless most friends are malevolent ocean dwelling creatures with an end goal of filling the other's lung with sea water. 

The lack of noise makes you antsy, almost like you're anticipating something but you're unsure of what. It feels false somehow, like you're trying to turn this isn't something it isn't; comfortable. No matter how his casual demeanor tries to lull you into a false sense of security, you have to remain vigilant. One little slip and he'll drag you into a watery grave- among other things if he was serious. 

“So… What do you eat?”

He slow blinks at you a few times before grinning, light glinting off his all-too-sharp fangs. “You mean besides you?”

There’s multiple implications to that, neither one of which you want to ponder for various reasons. Your panties are already uncomfortably damp.

“Yes. Besides us.”

Shrugging, he flicks at a small pebble on the rocks edge and plunks it into the water. "Same thing you would if you were one of us. There's plenty of fish down here, only difference is I can eat them raw." 

Your nose crumples and you stick your tongue out slightly, imagining him taking a bite out of a still-twitching fish. "Ew."

He rolls his eyes, brushing your obvious disgust aside. "If I recall, don't you humans have multiple dishes you eat raw?"

"Well, I mean, yeah, but it's different. We actually prepare it."

"Sounds like a whole lot of fuss over nothing. Your weak stomach just can't handle it and mine can, and you seem to find that to be some sort of bragging point. Also, don't you humans have a tendency to put things in your mouth that don't belong there?" 

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut up about that?” 

"I don't know, I'd say the occasional raw fish is a lot less dirty than a human male c-"

“Oh my god! I am so sorry I fucking asked!”

He cackles loudly and you realize that he's officially found your hot button. Even worse is he knows it. "I mean that's not to say we don't have our own filthy habits, but you guys are inspiring-"

"Dude! Make like a tunafish and can it! I don't want to hear any of this!"

"Oh? Is that so? Because around 10 minutes ago, you were half ready to rip your clothes off and jump in here and let me try you even if it meant your death."

"Momentary lapse in judgement. Don't get too excited, grandpa." 

He frowns again but seems less offended now that the initial moment had passed. "If you insist upon calling me a nickname pertaining to my age, I'd prefer daddy."

All humor drops from your face. How the fuck does he even know about that? 

As if he can read your mind, he responds. "A lot of you humans like to reproduce here. I've seen quite a bit and heard even more. Like I said, you’re absolutely filthy creatures.” 

“Ah. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“My offer stands. Come a little closer and I’ll show you just what I learned.”

“Creep.”

“That makes two of us, now doesn’t it?”

"I'm not the one bringing up sex every 3 seconds."

Hey, do you know how awkward it is to be having this conversation? With him? Right now? Do you know how utterly surreal this is?

“No, but you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn and you know it doesn't matter what you say. Your face is a dead giveaway. He knows it too, crossing his arm and arching a cocky brow at you. 

“And I’m the pervert, huh?”

You wrap your arms around your legs again in a subconscious show of defense. "Yes, you are. This is a natural response to embarrassing topics. Topics you keep coming back to." 

He shrugs again, his head fins twitching a few times. "I don't deny my nature. If I feel lustful, I act on it. Another reason you humans are inferior. You deny what comes naturally in the name of some form of... shame, is it? I have no bonds holding me back, while yours are pointless and dictated by some invisible and shallow form of ‘morality’ and ‘purity." 

He’s… technically right. Still.

"You realize you're saying this to the person you're trying to kill, right?" 

"I'm aware. Consider it a parting gift. You can feel what it's like to be untethered before I end you."

You roll your eyes so deeply that you’re almost certain you’ve detached the retina. “Oh, how very kind of you. So thoughtful.” 

"It’s not entirely altruistic, but it's better than I was originally planning. I was just going to rip you apart the second I pulled you in. Of course, that was before I got a good look at you. It'd be a shame to waste such a pretty thing without getting a taste first.”

It's a twisted compliment, but you appreciate it, at least as much as the circumstances allow. 

“Thanks…  I think?” 

"It's a good thing, I promise. I won't just touch anyone, you know. Most of your kind repulses me. I'm not an easy please." 

"Oh." Another awkward silence. "What makes me so special, anyways?"

His face blanks over, eyes hardening and mouth pursing in a tight line. He opens his lips a few times to speak, but seemingly stops himself. His expression flashes confusion, then rage, then apathy in quick succession. "I don't know. It won't matter for long anyways, soon you'll be dead and I can move on." 

“Not if I win.”

"You won't. I don't lose. Besides, I've already almost gotten you twice. It's only a matter of time before you slip up again, and I'll be there to catch you when you do."

"Put it like that and it almost sounds sweet." A smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. 

His face flushes and he looks away from you, expression contorting. “It’s not. Don’t twist my words.” 

“Spoilsport. Go eat a mackerel or something. You’re not yourself when you’re hungry. Or maybe you are. Either way, you’re cranky.”

"It's hard not to be cranky when there's a meal right in front of me and I can't indulge."

"Quit threatening to eat me. I get the point, it's just weird.”

His thick tongue flicks out and runs across those glimmering teeth and he just smiles. "Who said anything about eating?" 

“Give it a rest.”

He swipes a small amount of water at you with his thumb and forefinger. "Deny it all you'd like, you enjoy the attention." 

"Definitely. I love being the first human to be hit on by the world's first mermaid fuckboy."

A hybrid mix of a groan and a growl rumbles from his chest. "I'm not a fucking mermaid!" 

"Oh, sorry!" The sarcasm is palpable, and he scowls at you again. You love the fact he doesn't deny the secondary insult. "I meant merman." 

"Don't insult me. As if your petty, unimaginative fairytales could even come close." 

"You have a tail, you live underwater, and you're half human. Sounds pretty damn close to me." 

The look on his face is as if you just forced him to swallow something extraordinarily disgusting. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. And I'm not half human. You're half us."

Now that takes you off guard. 

“What did you say? What do you mean?”

"It doesn't matter." He pushes himself away from the rocks, his tail slightly flapping above the surface. "Besides, you were right. I am hungry. I should probably find something to eat for tonight, unless you’ve changed your mind." He doesn’t bother waiting for you to retort before skillfully diving down back beneath the waves.

You want to stop him, but he’s gone before you can think of a creative way to say ‘hell no’. The slight dash of silver hair makes out towards the horizon and before long, he's gone. As always, he leaves you feeling more frustrated than anything. 

You want to stay, to enjoy the ocean like you used to before he barged his way into your life, but it all just feels too strange now. He won't return tonight, you know that much. 

Heaving yourself off your asleep butt, you begin your bowlegged walk back to civilization, left with nothing but the ache of a cramp in your hips and a strangely heavy feeling in your gut.

[whitewolfmoving]

Boston Burning Part Two

Explosion

Summary: Over breakfast, Nika recounts the events of the fire for Chris; afterwards, he reminds her that she is anything but useless.

Warnings: description of fire emergency, description of fire-related injuries, description of being trapped in a burning building, slight angst, description of non-sexual nakedness

Word Count: 2218

A/N: Chapter two is here! I had so much fun writing this chapter and developing Chris and Nika's relationship. For the sake of this part of the series, Chris and Nika's dynamic is just as important as Sebastian and Nika's dynamic. Happy reading!

Waking up in Boston the next morning was a breath of fresh air for Nika. While she couldn't get her mind off of the fact that she was out of work until her body healed, she had accepted the fact that she was pretty much on a paid vacation. And Chris had upgraded from his small studio apartment in downtown Boston to a fully furnished three-bedroom condo close to the firehouse since her last visit, so at least she wasn't putting him out.

It'd been days since she last talked to her brother, and Nika was more than content to continue her stay in Boston without his hovering. They had always been close, but Sebastian could be a bit overbearing at times, which was the last thing she needed right now. She wouldn't feel guilty for not checking in with him — she was a big girl,  she didn't have anything to feel guilty for...

The scent of fresh waffles wafted through the air, finally pulling Nika out of bed. She stretched, grabbed her hearing aids from the nightstand next to her bed and shoved them in the pocket of her pajama pants. No use putting them in before she was ready, sounds of the early morning were a little too  overwhelming for her and Chris knew sign anyway.

"Hey, there she is! Morning, Honeybee," Chris exclaimed once Nika had made her way downstairs. He pointed to his ear when she sat at the island across from him, she shook her head. He gave her a knowing smile. "I wondered when breakfast would get you out of bed."

"Not just any breakfast… I only get out of bed this early for your waffles." Nika laughed, stealing a strip of crispy bacon from the platter.

"How are you feeling? Sleep okay?" Leave it to Chris to make sure she was as comfortable as possible with her arm in a sling and bandages inhibiting movement even if it weren't.

She shrugged. "Slept okay for the most part, your guest bed is really comfortable. My wrist is sore but manageable, my shoulder and chest hurt more than I care to say."

Chris frowned. Nika was always an unstoppable, immovable force to be reckoned with; for her to admit to being in pain, even a little bit, things had to be worse than she'd originally let on. He took the last waffle off of the iron and set it on the platter with the others, then nodded to the dining table. "Go sit. I'll bring juice and your meds. Let's eat, then we'll see about relieving some of the discomfort on your chest and shoulder, okay?"

Nika had to hand it to him, Chris's hovering was much different than Sebastian's. Her brother often forgot that she was a grown woman who could take care of herself, that she didn't need him constantly looking out for her every second of the day like he had when they were kids. But Chris opted for a more hands off approach to everything — unless she outright stated that she needed help, he let her do her own thing for the most part. Coming to Boston was definitely the right choice.

As they sat down at the table, Nika slipped both hearing aids in and turned them on, setting the volume lower than usual since it would just be her and Chris. She took a deep breath and sighed, adjusting first thing was always the worst part. Once the ringing in her ears died down to where it was bearable, she smiled up at him.

"Why do you always make waffles and bacon my first day here?" she asked, dragging a strip of bacon through the syrup on her plate and plopping it in her mouth.

"Why do you always defile my prize-winning bacon like that?" Chris countered, scrunching his nose up in mock disgust.

"Because you make that face right there," she said, giggling around a mouthful of warm waffles.

"Because you smile that smile right there," he replied sincerely.

They'd had that conversation a billion and one times before, and each time their answers were the same.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Chris waved to get her attention. The distant look in her eyes told him that she'd been somewhere else, and he could already guess where. He poured a glass of orange juice and handed it over to her along with the medication she needed to take that morning.

"Do you wanna tell me about it?"

"Would you believe me if I said I don't?"

"Nope. You forget I know you just as well as Seb does. So, come on, out with it."

Nika exhaled deeply. "Dispatch routed Squad, Truck, and Engine to a four-story house fire on Main. By the time we got there, you just knew we only had enough time to get everyone out before the flash. Mackie and Nova went to vent the back and clear downstairs, I went up to the top. The main floor was clear, the second floor had two. Mackie got them out and I kept going to the third floor, it was also clear. Finally reached the top floor and called out, the smoke is so thick by this point that I can't see not two feet in front of me."

"Why didn't you wait for Mack or Seb?" Chris asked. He could tell where the story was headed before Nika had even started speaking again; a burning desire to kick the ass of whoever had done this to her welled up in his veins, but he held it at bay so she could finish.

"Sebastian was off for the night. We had to clear the building before the ceiling came down, Chris. What else was I supposed to do?" She wished he wouldn't look at her like that. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and continued. "I cleared the front bedrooms, the nursery, the bathroom. I kept calling out but no one responded. I made it all the way down the hall, the heat was unbearable, the smoke was dark and bitter. I could see just enough, and I only had one more room to clear when Chief Jackson made the call to evacuate, saying it was gonna come down. You don't have to tell me twice, you know? Me and Bas have been in enough flashovers to know when to get the hell out of Dodge.

I turned to leave, head back the way I came when the door to my left burst open. A body landed on top of me out of nowhere. He just kept shouting at me, saying someone had to pay for ruining his plan and that it was my lucky day. I kept trying to get him off of me but he wouldn't budge, he just kept looking up at the burning ceiling and counting down. He grabbed my helmet, my mask… I couldn't breathe, I couldn't call for help."

Chris reached across the table and took Nika's hand in his, giving her an encouraging squeeze. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.

"The only thing I remember before waking up in the hospital is the whole thing coming down on top of me. I blinked and the guy wasn't there anymore; it was just me, alone, under piles of burning debris. I could feel the flames eating through my gear, burning away my skin. And I couldn't do anything except lay there helpless. Just before I blacked out I heard Bas calling me."

"What did he say?"

"What he always says whenever I'm too far away, Întoarce-te la mine, Micuță. And then I woke up in the hospital with a broken wrist and second-degree burns on my shoulder and across half of my chest. If anything else happened between the house coming down and me waking up in the hospital, I don't know."

Chris's fingers opened and closed around Nika's. He didn't have the words to express the mix of emotions running through his body, all he knew was that he wanted to get his hands on the man from the fire and make sure he didn't get to walk away again. He blew out a long breath and looked across the table at her.

"You can stay here for as long as you need to," he offered.

Nika stood, awkwardly clearing the empty plates from the table with one hand. "Thanks. But I don't know how to do this. I'm a firefighter, I don't know how to just be a regular person. Right now, I'm completely useless."

Chris couldn't believe what he was hearing. The pain etched on her face and laced in her voice was unbearable. He wanted nothing more than to take it away, and give her back that sense of purpose she always found in her career, but how could he? Until she'd fully healed, there was nothing anyone could really do. He couldn't imagine the thoughts going through her head.

He took the plates from her hand and set them in the sink, then led her from the kitchen to the bathroom. He may not have been able to change what happened, but he could help her relax.

"What are you doing?" Exhaustion settled deep within Nika's bones. It'd been the first time she'd told anyone what all she remembered from the fire, and she couldn't help feeling like she had screwed up somehow. Why else would someone have been able to get the jump on her so easily? Why else would she have gone down without a fight?

Chris stepped up behind her, positioned her in front of the mirror, and gently pulled her hearing aids from her ears. When she protested, he held his hands up signaling her to wait.

"The woman standing in front of me is far from useless." He grabbed the hem of the t-shirt she'd worn to bed, gently lifted it over her head and carefully pulled it from her injured arm. The unsightly bandages stuck out on her chest like a sore thumb, and he watched as she wrinkled her nose at her reflection in the mirror.

He slowly pulled the bandages away, the skin underneath was raw and bruised. She stood before him half-naked, a look of annoyance clouding her amber eyes.

Chris gently washed over the back of her shoulder and across the right side of her chest with warm water, careful not to agitate the wound too much. Nika's skin was warm to the touch, he often said it was because she had fire in her veins. He looked at her in the mirror as he rinsed the soap from her chest. "She's strong, she's courageous, she's stubborn, she's wild, she's a total badass."

Nika snorted, rolling her eyes. The burn would leave behind scarring along her collarbone, breast, and shoulder blade. Nothing about her currently seemed anything like what Chris had described. "Don't be stupid, Evans."

"I'm serious." Chris used a clean piece of gauze to pat the area on her chest and shoulder dry before bandaging it up again. He moved her hair off to the side and kissed the top of her head. "I see the woman who survived a freak accident, I see my best friend. She may be a little broken, a little bruised, a little scarred. But you are anything but useless, Nik. And you'll get through this."

"Being a firefighter is all I am, it's all I have," she explained sadly. She put her hearing aids back in and followed Chris from the bathroom.

"Somehow I don't think that's right, Nik. That's not all you are."

"And how would you know? You've never done anything else a day in your life either, Chris! You live and breathe being a firefighter just as much as I do."

"Maybe. But you're also my best friend, you're Sebastian's annoying kid sister. And you're a great chef, for one. You have other things you like to do in your down time. It's not the end of the world."

"Those are hobbies. Firefighting is my life. Without it, I'm nothing."

"You're talking as if you've already been told not to go back."

"We both know Bas won't want me to go back. The call was too close."

Chris sighed and pulled Nika into a hug. He didn't have the answer this time, but he wouldn't leave her to figure it out on her own.

Nika thanked whatever god was listening that she'd cried out all of her tears in the hospital bed. And maybe Chris was right. Just because she couldn't work right now didn't mean she wouldn't ever work again. And maybe the time off would do her some good, give her a chance to see what else was out there beyond the fast-pace of firefighting.

But when she thought of what the future had to offer her outside of the firehouse, that scared her more than rushing into burning buildings did. Firefighting lived in Nika's veins.

"Hey," Chris stepped back so he could look her in the eyes. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead and smiled. "Whatever happens back home, you know you always have a place here at 64."

Till The End of All Things Taglist: @arrowsandmixtapes @pinknerdpanda

[out-there-tmblr]

Oswald isn't bored, per se. It never gets boring hearing people call him boss and sir, coming up to politely ask favours and get his permission. But he can't deny that some of the challenge has faded. After seven months, he's now running the largest gang in the medium security block and gaining members with every new busload of prisoners. Sometimes they worked for him on the outside -- and are happy to give him nicely detailed accounts of attacks on the Triad casinos and the eventual truce -- or belong to one of the gangs that now work for him. Sometimes, they're small-scale independents who remember the crime licenses or Penguin's imposed order in No Man's Land, who realise prison time is a lot easier when you're on the winning side.

Anyone who wants to work for him does, and Oswald mostly pays them in stamps and cigarettes, the common currency of the prison. (After all, becoming the main supplier of contraband was great for establishing his place in the prison pecking order, but he's starting to amass a profit in cigarettes and no way to convert that back into dollars. Using it to pay the new men -- who sometimes use it to buy items back from his sellers -- solves that problem nicely.)

Jackson Weaver is one of the latter. An independent thief and conman who arrived in Blackgate and asked to join Oswald's crew by the end of the first week. He's handsome like so many conman, square jawed with piercing blue eyes, brown hair parted to the side in a way that makes Oswald think of Ed back in that tiny green-lit apartment. Then Jackson smiles and the illusion is broken. His smile is shy, coy and far too practiced.

Oswald still smiles back. It's been a while since someone has actively flirted with him and it's flattering. Even if he knows to be suspicious of anyone who looks at Oswald, hears his reputation and tries to flirt.

Oswald can't help but be warmly amused that Jackson just happens to be in the library when Oswald goes to flick through yesterday's papers and exchange his book. Jackson smiles and glances down to show off thick lashes. "Mr Penguin."

Oswald frowns as if he's trying to remember the face. "Montana?"

Jackson gives a soft, throaty chuckle. "Close. Jackson Weaver. But I suppose an important man like you couldn't know every man that works for him."

Oswald's relationship with Barbara has always been tumultuous but he wishes she was here now. She would appreciate the art of this striking man, the graceful way he steps back and leans a hip against the bookshelves. And then she'd laugh herself sick at the ridiculousness of it.

Oswald smirks. "I'm sure we'll get to know each other over time."

"I hope so, Mr Penguin."

***

Ed doesn't see the inherent hilarity in the situation. "You're wasting your time indulging a con artist that you know is trying to take advantage," his letter reads, handwriting at turns blocky capitals and looped copperplate letters, as quirky and changeable as the man himself. "You need to focus on  something more important than that."

The rest of the letter is a detailed description of Ed's latest escape idea. This would be his fifth attempt. In theory, it sounds possible: stealing one of the guards keys and making a duplicate, using that duplicate to unlock the security fire doors and climb down the fire escape. In reality, Oswald doesn't trust the sturdiness of those fire escapes.

Oswald writes back to ask how Ed's going to get off Arkham Island. Like Blackgate, like many prisons, it's on its own island with limited ways in and out. The first thing Arkham does after an escape is place barriers across the two roads leading off the island. Last time, they'd used a reinforced truck to smash their way through them.

There is, unfortunately, a week of silence following Oswald's letter. They've developed informal rules around their letter-writing and one of those is that you must wait for a reply before sending another letter. Twice, Oswald sits down to start writing a letter only to remember that Ed hasn't replied yet.

It's hardly the first time Ed's sulked for a few days after receiving Oswald's constructive criticism. He's most likely seething over some supposed slight to his intelligence, and will eventually be bored enough to send some condescending essay to prove that he's right.

Most likely, but a tiny part of Oswald hopes that he's wrong. He keeps watching the evening news and hoping he'll hear reports of a daring escape from Arkham.

After two weeks, he starts to worry, just a little. After three weeks, he finds himself snapping at the morons around him. At Tony's next visit he sits, impatiently scraping his chair across the floor, and says, "Find out what's going on at Arkham."

Tony blinks. Oswald can almost see that tiny hamster he calls a brain trying to run on its little wheel. "What d'you mean?"

"Find out what happened to the Riddler. There should have been an escape attempt. If I'm paying people, I should know what's going on!" Tony shoots a worried glance at the door, and Oswald forces himself to sit back down and take a breath. "Okay, fine, give me an update on the Triad."

***

[witchcraftingboop]

Study Reflections: 7/2/2020

Introduction to Study

First Reflection

Second Reflection

Not sure if I'll keep posting my study session reflections or not, but for now, it works to not only keep me thinking critically about what I've read, but also helps me to get my thoughts in order properly, so I really don't see a downside? That being said, my posts are super drawn out - way more than I thought they'd be - and it's really drawing attention to the fact, for me at least, that I don't have nearly enough hours in the day. Gonna have to work on that.

Agrippa's Occult Philosophy - 3;1

Wrote out 5 paragraphs just for this one part & it all got deleted so you get what you get at this point

If this were a perfect world, I could drop a copy of this book into every practitioner's lap who asks me where to start their craft or if I can walk them through starting their practice. The writing style and dense pages though are daunting for some, and I frankly doubt many would actually stick with it. Regardless, the way this book is structured? I adore it. I've only had to reference chapters or pages, so I never fully appreciated how complete a system it actually has to offer.

This chapter won't offer you too much new knowledge. If you paid attention in middle school, you already know the concept of transmutation and how the elements can pass from one to the other. The interesting part comes in examining the relations between the four elements. No one in high school or college wanted to (or even, really, needed to) discuss the qualities of each one and how they compare. Do I think it's necessary to know that Fire is twice as thin, thrice as movable, and four times as bright as Air to cast the "perfect" spell? Um, no. But I think it's interesting!

I'm not going to type out the charts already available in my notes above, so if you want to check 'em out, by all means! Go for it!

Now for the book that took the actual longest.

Opuscula Cypriani - Part 1; 4, 5, & 6

My pictures look so fucking blurry, but I promise if you click on them, they're actually readable.

The final traditional styled St. Cyprian prayer presented was one of a well-off priest that was ultimately approved of by the Inquisition of Cordoba. I read this back around like the 17th of last month so . . . Oh shit would you look at that. I wrote down my own thoughts. Good looking out, past me. Apparently I read it aloud, and it carried tangible atmosphere, "like of heads turning," that was especially noticable around the time of listing the Saints and other powerful names being called upon. Not sure if I like that description, since I don't plan on working with St. Cyprian at this point, but okay!

The fifth chapter dealt with further investigation into the use and presence of St. Cyprian prayers in the Portuguese Inquisition. Really, Leitão focused on the presence of multiple renditions/varieties and how they compare considering, especially, that the most salient "prayer of St. Cyprian" appeared to be the long, list of evils vs. virtues to be repeated in a multitude of ways on either one or three Sundays.

He supplied three examples of the prayer of St. Cyprian in relation to hydromancy rituals. In all three, a chamber pot was used, lots/straws were cast, and an incantation in the sea-faring St.'s name was said. Interestingly enough, the motif that St. Cyprian wandered the sea and acquired virgins hasn't been verified despite being expressly stated in each of them. Then, a couple domination spells through bolsas de mandinga were given. The prayers associated with these two were only a sentence long.

The sixth chapter examined St. Cyprian as a healer.

Typically, it's not uncommon for official records to show significantly fewer baneful magic information or evidence. In St. Cyprian's case, the emergence of the harmful spells and incantations in his name, provide a fuller look into just how his presence in folk magic lived and was used amongst early practicioners. St. Cyprian is typically associated with divination, love, and anti-sorcery folk magic, using the narrative structure of power to call for a "magical replication of a past miracle," or a "so as A so shall B" structure (105).

One interesting tidbit I found worth noting was a potential explanation as to why rhyming words carry along the power and association of the named person/thing to address a petition. Following Leitão's proposed chain of 1) there being sources of power not rooted in spirit, or intrinsic occult virtues, existing as well in the skill of sound and word, 2) gematria as correlated to rhyming mechanisms, so that 3) if a force is named, it is connected with everything it is rhymed with (in regards to petitions and incantations). It makes sense. This part also brought to mind for me how naturally rhymes come to me in the heat of spell work, so much so that I typically never prep what I'm going to say because it would take considerable effort whereas in the moment it is effortless.