#so dissolving seems like the best option

[illumiiiz]

yall I’m so relieved rn I think I’m going to dissolve onto this leftover pizza

[fatecantstopme]

Lustful Agony

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen, aka my favorite trope.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names, an insane amount of smut, dubcon (cuz sex pollen), unprotected sex (p in v), oral (F receiving), masturbation (F).

"Would you please be careful?" you snapped.

Your partner froze and offered you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, doc. I wasn't paying attention."

"I noticed," you huffed. "There are any number of things in here that could kill us, so tread lightly."

"Maybe I should wait here."

You glanced in his direction and nodded. "You know what? Good idea. Stay there and don't touch anything."

You continued on through the dusty lab, hoping to find at least one working computer, but after 20 minutes, it seemed hopeless. Every computer had been destroyed and most of the paper files had been shredded or burned. All that remained was hundreds of glass vials filled with various liquids and gases that did gods-only-knew what.

"I'm starting to think this might be a burn and run," you called back to Bucky--still standing where you'd left him on the other side of the lab.

"If we blow this place, is there gonna be a toxic cloud?"

You shot an annoyed look in his direction. "I said 'burn', James, not 'blow'. We're not blowing up a lab filled with unknown chemicals and biological agents."

"Right, yeah." He looked at the ground, feeling slightly embarrassed. He always seemed to make a fool of himself in front of you and he hated it. He never wanted to be the fool, especially around you.

Your well-trained eyes scanned the room again before falling on a secured biological containment chamber. You knew that would be the best option for storing items for burning. All you'd need to do was get all the bio vials into the chamber and light it up.

You crossed the room to the chamber, feeling Bucky's eyes following you. He hated being in a position where he felt like he couldn't protect you, but he was out of his element here. As the resident hazardous materials expert, this was your area of brilliance.

You grumbled in annoyance when you noticed the lock on the containment chamber was activated. You were familiar with this particular model, and if you were lucky, these Hydra assholes hadn't been smart enough to bother changing the code. You input the pin, silently crossing your fingers, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the distinct sound of the mechanism unlocking.

You lifted the hood slowly, hoping to find the chamber empty. You had a momentary thought that you and Bucky should be wearing appropriate PPE, but the thought occurred to you too late.

A sound of surprise escaped your lips as a puff of sweet-smelling pink dust blew into your face from inside the cabinet. The tactical suit and gloves you were wearing did nothing to protect your respiratory system from the unknown substance.

The dust seemed to dissolve almost instantly, fading into nothingness before you could even alert Bucky to the hazard. He, of course, had heard your surprised gasp, thanks to his super soldier hearing.

"Doc? Everything okay?" he called worriedly.

"Not sure," you replied. "I, uh, I got hit in the face with some pink dust...and I'm willing to bet it's not fairy dust."

Bucky's blood ran cold. "Pink dust?"

"Yeah, smelled like some kind of super sweet candy--or those sugary wine coolers I drank in college."

Any color that remained in Bucky's face quickly drained. "Look at me."

His tone was so firm, it frightened you. Bucky normally joked around with you, but you could hear the fear in his voice and it scared you more than anything else.

You turned to face him and his expression confirmed your fears. "Do you know what it is?"

Bucky nodded. "I think so, but we won't know for sure for at least 30 minutes, possibly longer."

"Am I going to die?" your voice was so soft--so small--that even he almost didn't hear it.

"Not if I can help it."

When your eyes met his piercing blue orbs, he could see the terror reflected in them. He wanted to go to you, help you, but he knew he couldn't--not if you still had even the slightest trace of the dust on you.

"You need to rinse off before we get out of here," Bucky said calmly. "If it's what I think it is, then I can't get that stuff anywhere near me."

"Why? What'll happen?"

Bucky's gaze didn't quite meet yours. "I will tear you apart and not even realize it."

His words cut you like a knife. You knew deep in your soul Bucky would never hurt you, but if this substance could turn him into a wild animal, you wondered what the hell it was going to do to you.

You'd spotted a decontamination area when you'd first entered the lab, so you slowly made your way there, careful to avoid getting anywhere near Bucky.

Bucky radioed in to Sam to give him an update on the situation. You heard him describing what had happened and asking for another team to be sent in to destroy the facility.

You stood under the spray of the shower head and let the water pummel your skin. The pressure was almost painful, but you knew it was necessary to ensure the substance was no longer on your skin. You'd inhaled it, so you were screwed, but there was no reason for Bucky to be too.

After several minutes, you felt comfortable saying you were clean. You just wanted to get the hell out of this lab and back home.

You voiced as much to Bucky, but he shook his head slowly. "You're not gonna make it all the way home, (Y/N)."

You didn't like Bucky's use of your first name in this context...he always called you 'doc', and the change made you feel like death was around the corner.

Your face must have given away your fear because he continued. "I just mean you won't make it home before the symptoms start. Once they do, you won't want to be around anyone."

"So what do we do?"

"Safe house. It's our only option."

You groaned inwardly. You had zero desire to stay in that drafty little cabin another night, but you trusted Bucky's instincts, so you simply nodded.

Bucky was quick to usher you back to the quinjet, filling you in on his conversation with Sam. "He'll send in another team in full Level A hazmat gear. They'll take care of the place."

"Okay."

"You alright, doc? How you feelin'?"

"I feel fine so far. Just moderately terrified."

"Don't be. You're gonna be fine."

You wanted to believe him--really you did--but there was something in his voice that made you question if he even believed it.

By the time the jet touched down by the cabin, 25 minutes had passed since the moment of infection. Bucky still hadn't told you what you were dealing with and it was driving you insane.

You followed Bucky into the cabin and watched him drop his bag on the floor. He turned to look at you, eyes clearly sizing you up, checking to see if you were okay.

"Just tell me," you whispered--somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He sighed deeply. "How do you feel?"

You closed your eyes and took mental stock of your body, seeking anything out of the ordinary. "I feel hot, but that could just be the anxiety."

"How hot?"

"I don't know, like feverish, I guess."

Bucky groaned and the sound sent a wave of need through your body--a need that shocked you to your very core. This was absolutely not the time for your stupid crush to rear its head.

"Please don't hit me, okay? I'm just gonna touch your hand."

"Why would I hit you?" you asked a second before his flesh hand met yours. The feeling was pleasant and it warmed you from the inside out, until he removed his hand. You inhaled sharply as an intense pain you couldn't describe shot through you.

Bucky jerked his hand away, his worst fears confirmed. "I know what it is."

"Please," you whimpered.

"It's a biological agent Hydra developed when their attempts to make a useable super soldier serum failed. It was designed to induce a euphoric sexual state that would result in agony and possible death if penetrative sex was not performed and an orgasm was not achieved."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Hydra believed they could create super soldiers the old fashion way--by breeding them. Sprinkle some of the magic dust on a super soldier and he'd fuck his way through a room full of women without a single care for their well-being. They called it 'sex pollen'."

Your breathing was labored as pain began to spread through your body. You tried desperately to ignore it and focus on Bucky's words. "What happened?"

Bucky couldn't look at you as he responded softly, "None of the women survived the mating process."

You realized now what he'd meant back at the lab. You didn't really want to know, but you found yourself asking the question anyway, "Did they do it to you?"

Bucky closed his eyes, desperately trying to push the dark memories back down. "Yeah. They did."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head, banishing the memories. "It doesn't matter. What matters now is how we handle this."

"If the sex pollen had that kind of effect on a super soldier, what's it gonna do to me?"

"I imagine it's going to be significantly worse for you if you don't...umm--if you don't reach climax."

"So I have to orgasm? Seriously?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Before you could respond, you doubled over in pain, an agonized groan escaping your parted lips.

Bucky rushed to you without thinking and laid his hands on your arms. You let out a pained whine and he pulled away, suddenly remembering what was happening.

"It feels like my skin is on fire," you cried.

"I know, doll. I know."

It was killing Bucky not to be able to help you. He was your protector in every situation, but he couldn't protect you from this. He knew exactly what kind of hell you were in for and it nearly broke him.

The waves of pain subsided and you were able to pull yourself upright. "Well this is fun," you mumbled.

"It's gonna get worse, (Y/N). Much, much worse."

"That's comforting, Buck. Thank you."

He gave you a sad look. "You can't do this alone."

"What do you mean?"

"The pollen was designed to force the creation of life...the only way to alleviate the pain is to give the pollen what it wants."

Your brain had become too muddled to understand what he was saying. "Plain English, Buck. Please."

"You, uh, you have to have sex."

"So you're saying I can't just masturbate this away?"

Bucky shook his head. "You have to have sex and your partner has to umm--ejaculate inside you."

Another wave of pain raked its claws through your skin, but you managed to stay upright this time. "What happens if I don't?"

You saw the look of sadness on Bucky's face and you knew you wouldn't like his answer. "You'll die."

"Well, fuck." You winced, reaching out to grab the back of the couch for stability. The pain was only increasing and you knew it was a matter of time before you couldn't take it any longer. "How sure are you that I'll die?"

"I mean, I don't know any regular humans that survived contact with the pollen. They were used as test subjects during its creation."

"I swear, Hydra gets more disgusting every time I learn something new."

Bucky was dying to help you. Seeing you in pain was agonizing for him and he knew his pain paled in comparison to yours. He would do anything for you--all you need do was ask.

"I'm gonna try waiting it out," you said firmly.

"What?" Bucky said, shock evident in his tone.

"I'm sure as hell not gonna force you to fuck me, Bucky. So I'm gonna wait it out."

"(Y/N), you're not forcing me to do anything. I'm offering to help. I don't want you to die."

You shook your head. "I'd rather die than force you into this."

"I'm offering--"

"Don't," you snapped. "No matter what you say, I'm going to feel like I'm forcing you to do something and I can't deal with that. So please, let me try to handle this alone."

Bucky knew for a fact he could overpower you with ease, especially when you were in such a state. He could make the pain stop and you would be glad for it in the moment. But he couldn't do it. He would never ever hurt you like that, even if it meant watching you die. It just wasn't something he was capable of.

"Okay, doll."

You could tell he didn't want to agree, but you were glad he wasn't arguing. All you wanted to do was tear your clothes off and try to find some sort of relief. The fire burning under your skin was intensifying by the second.

"I'm gonna take a cold shower and lock myself in the bedroom. Please stay out here."

Bucky simply nodded. He wanted to sit on this couch and listen to the sounds of your pain about as much as he wanted to get shot in the face. But he respected you too much to ignore your wishes.

You dragged yourself into the bathroom and stripped down to nothing before climbing into the cold shower. The frigid water seemed to help at first, but you discovered the effects were short-lived.

You leaned your head against the cold tile and let out a pained sob. You wanted the pain to stop so badly, but you didn't want to involve Bucky. You couldn't. Bucky was your closest friend and partner. His was the relationship you valued most in life and you wouldn't risk it for anything. It didn't matter you were in love with him. It didn't matter you'd wanted him from the moment you'd laid eyes on him. What mattered is you knew he didn't feel the same.

Bucky had a new girl in his bed several times a week. You were pretty sure you'd never seen the same girl twice in the three years you'd known him. Each one was a tall, blonde, model-thin, gorgeous woman. You didn't check a single one of those boxes. You didn't think Bucky was shallow, he just had a type. He was one of the hottest men you'd ever seen, so it only made sense for him to be with the hottest women.

You didn't think you were ugly, by any means. You just weren't his type. You were shorter, very curvy, girl-next-door average. You'd accepted it long ago and vowed to never tell him how you felt for fear of jeopardizing your friendship. Your current situation was as close as you could get to your biggest fear and you weren't willing to risk it. You loved him too much to lose him entirely. Even if he insisted he was willing to help, you knew he would come to regret it. Things would be awkward between you and eventually your friendship would come to an end.

"Not worth the risk," you muttered to yourself.

The cooling effects of the shower had long since worn off, so you turned off the water and grabbed a towel. As you wrapped it around your body, you found it was too small to cover everything and the scratchy material was painful against your overly sensitive skin.

You dropped the towel to the ground and opened the door a crack. "Bucky?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"Um, the towel hurts my skin, so um...please don't look while I walk to the bedroom."

Bucky inhaled deeply, calming himself. Sure, he wasn't impacted by the pollen, but the fact that your naked body was a few feet away from him certainly did.

"I'll close my eyes."

You tentatively opened the door and peeked out. You could see Bucky sitting on the couch, eyes closed as promised. You quickly rushed from the bathroom to the open bedroom door, shutting it behind you. In your haste to get out of sight, you neglected to lock the door.

You nearly collapsed onto the bed, the need to feel some relief the only thing on your mind. Normally, you would have been embarrassed to even consider touching yourself when Bucky was so close by, but this was an extreme circumstance. You mentally told yourself you needed to be quiet at the very least, given his excellent hearing.

You tried to get as comfortable as you could, but it was impossible. The only parts of your body that didn't ache were the ones you were actively touching. You slipped your dominant hand between your legs and felt another wave of embarrassment hit when you felt just how wet you were.

The moment your fingers brushed between your folds, you let out a loud moan. You slapped your hand across your mouth and hoped Bucky mistook the sound for one of pain.

Bucky was breathing heavily as he sat on the couch less than 10 feet from the bedroom door. He could hear every tiny little sound you made, even as you desperately tried to stay quiet.

He knew he shouldn't be turned on by those sounds--not when you were experiencing something so awful--but he couldn't help it. He'd dreamed of hearing you moan for him a hundred times before. It took all his will-power to not bust down that door and give you what you needed.

You let out a particularly obscene moan and Bucky had to stifle his own. His cock strained against his pants and he hated himself for being turned on. He tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault--he'd wanted you for years--but he couldn't shake the feeling of shame.

Ten minutes went by and the sounds coming from the bedroom continued. Bucky gripped the back of the couch with all his strength, determined to not give himself even a modicum of pleasure from this.

Another five minutes passed and he heard you let out a pained sob. His heart skipped a beat and he listened closely for any more noise. He heard the distinct sounds of you crying and his resolve broke. He immediately went to your door and knocked.

"Doll? You okay?"

"It hurts so much," you whimpered.

He leaned his forehead against the door. "I know, sweetheart. Please let me help you. Please."

He could hear you writhing around on the bed, whimpers of pain reaching his ears and making him tear up.

"I can't--it didn't work," you cried. "I'm so hot--it hurts."

"Please, baby," Bucky begged. He placed his hand on the doorknob, dying to turn it and get to you.

"Bucky," you whimpered.

The pain in that one simple word made his decision for him. He turned the knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He opened the door a crack, but kept his eyes away from the bed.

"Let me help you," he pleaded again.

Your eyes roamed his gorgeous figure and you let out a choked sob. Nothing else mattered in that moment--all you could think about was him.

"Make it stop," you begged him.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, meeting yours in a desperately hungry look. He didn't say a word, didn't even allow his brain to process the deeper meaning of what he was about to do. You'd asked him to help you--to stop the pain--so that was exactly what he was going to do.

He stripped out of his tactical suit as fast as possible, leaving himself in his boxer briefs, cock straining to be set free.

You reached out a hand to him and he went to you without a thought. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as his eyes scanned your face.

"Are you sure about this, doll?" he asked softly.

"I need you," you whimpered back.

Those three little words shattered the sliver of resolve he'd had left. His lips met yours in a hungry, devouring kiss--all teeth and tongue. His hands latched onto your soft curves, touching every inch of skin he could reach.

Everywhere he touched felt like ice against your burning skin. The sensation both incredible and painful all at once. Whatever bit of shyness or insecurity you had was wiped away by the sheer intensity of it all.

Bucky's lips attacked your neck, your jaw, your collarbone--nipping and sucking bruising marks into your skin. While it felt good, it wasn't nearly enough.

"Need more."

Bucky nudged his knee between your legs to spread them wider for him. "I know, baby. I know."

He quickly descended down to your aching core, blowing hot air against it in a teasing manner. You whined and scratched at his scalp, reminding him this was not the time for teasing.

He flicked his tongue between your pussy lips, seeking out your clit immediately. The second his tongue brushed against it, you cried out in pleasure--the first real feeling of relief you'd had since you'd been infected.

Bucky smiled to himself as he settled in to properly feast on your pussy, reveling in the essence of you against his tongue, invading all of his senses.

You gripped his hair in one hand and the sheet in the other, gyrating wildly as Bucky ate you with abandon. The pleasure was blinding, but you could still feel the undercurrent of raging fire flowing through your veins.

Bucky seemed to instinctively know exactly what you enjoyed, following your body like he had a roadmap to your pleasure points. He sent you over the edge with ease three times before finally coming up for air.

You reached for him, still hungry for more. "Bucky."

"I'm here, baby." He kissed you deeply, hands gripping your hips tightly. He wanted to take his time with you, but he knew he couldn't--you needed more from him and you needed it now.

He was quick to discard his underwear before lining himself up with your entrance. His cock nudged against your aching hole and you both moaned.

"Please, please, please, please..." you begged.

Bucky knew what you needed and he wasted no time sheathing himself inside of you. You cried out in pain as his cock stretched you more than you'd ever experienced before. The pain quickly subsided into pleasure and the pollen seemed to sense its purpose was near.

You felt a surge of need and you begged him to fuck you. "I need it, please, Bucky."

"I've got you, sweetheart." He began to thrust gently, trying his best not to hurt you. The sensations began to overwhelm him as much as they were overwhelming you, prompting him to move faster--losing himself in the feeling of you.

"Fuck, baby. You take my cock so well."

Your pussy fluttered in response, a soft whine escaping your lips.

"Best pussy I've ever had. So tight and wet for me. Made for me, weren't you?"

You nodded rapidly, not really registering what he was saying.

"How many times you think I can make you cum, baby? Six? Seven? Think the pollen can get you there?"

Your eyes widened at his words. Unsure if that was possible even with pollen.

Bucky grinned down at you. "I think I can get seven. Bet this pussy will give me whatever I want, won't she? Gonna make my girl scream my name all night long."

You felt the coil in your belly snap as another orgasm rushed through you. You clung to Bucky, a string of profanity spilling past your lips.

Bucky didn't let you come down from it before pushing your body towards another orgasm. He wanted to feel you gripping his cock like this as long as possible--especially since he might never feel it again.

"Baby, you feel so good," he murmured, placing soft kisses to your face. "Love the way you're squeezing me."

"Feels so good, Bucky," you moaned.

"Fuck, been wanting to hear you say that for so long. Needed to be inside this tight little pussy so badly. It's better than I ever imagined."

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wanted to ask what he meant--if he'd really imagined it, but you were too far gone to articulate a coherent thought.

As another orgasm crashed into you, you momentarily wondered if it was possible to die from overwhelming pleasure. You'd been in so much pain for so long and the sudden change to blinding pleasure was incredible. It was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

"How many more can you give me, sweetheart?"

"Wanfeelcum," you mumbled incoherently.

"What was that, baby? Too fucked out to speak?"

"Wanna feel you cum, Bucky," you begged.

He was already so close to the edge he nearly lost control at the sound of your voice. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn't want this to end. He was scared if he came, if he gave you what you needed, then you'd be satiated and it would all be over.

"Need to feel you cum on my cock at least one more time, baby."

You whimpered, but nodded your consent.

Bucky picked up the pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You weren't sure whether it was the pollen or his skill, but you went flying over the edge of blinding pleasure with an intensity you'd never experienced. You screamed his name as the waves crashed over you, pussy gushing juices as you squirted all over his cock and abdomen.

"Fuck yeah, baby. So fucking sexy..." he murmured. "Gonna fill you up. Give you what you want."

"Want your cum," you begged.

"That's right, pretty girl. Gonna give you my cum. Fill up this sweet pussy till you're stuffed."

"Yes, Bucky! Please!"

Bucky's hips stuttered as he came, filling your pussy with ropes of warm cum. Bucky kept thrusting slowly as he whispered your name into your skin over and over like a prayer.

Slowly, the haze created by the sex pollen began to fade, leaving you completely blissed out. Awareness of what you'd done began to creep in, but the feel of Bucky's weight on top of you kept you in the moment.

He finally slowed to a halt, but his lips were still pressing into your hot skin. After several more moments, he raised himself up just enough to kiss you sweetly, making sure you felt his adoration.

The moment he rolled off you, the full weight of what you'd done hit you like a ton of bricks. If your body would have cooperated, you would have turned over onto your side, curled up in a ball, and cried.

Bucky felt the sudden shift in your demeanor and he felt his heart clench in his chest. "(Y/N/N)..."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Surprise lit up his face. "What?"

"I shouldn't have done that--I'm so sorry."

"I'm gonna stop you right there." He sat up a little so he could look down at your face. You wouldn't meet his gaze, but he continued anyway. "Don't you dare think for a single second that I did something I didn't want to do. You were in pain and I couldn't let that stand. I would do anything for you, (Y/N). Anything. I don't regret it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Your eyes finally raised to meet his and you saw nothing but honesty in his gaze. You knew he cared about you, but you were still worried you'd crossed a line neither of you could come back from.

Bucky stared at your face, taking in just how incredibly beautiful you were. He was trying to commit it to memory--never wanting to forget any bit of it.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, doll. Like I said, I wanted to." He paused for a moment, a silent war raging inside of him. He seemed to make a decision and once he did, the words just flowed from his mouth. "I mean it, (Y/N). I've wanted to for years--wanted you for years. I never wanted it to happen like this, but fuck baby...here we are. I would do anything you asked of me, okay? I'll rip my own heart out and light it on fire if you ask me to. So if you ask me to pretend this never happened, I will, but I need you to know I don't want to. I want to make love to you over and over again, hear you scream my name, watch your beautiful face as you fall apart for me...I want you. I will always want you."

You were completely breathless by the time he stopped talking. The words coming out of his mouth weren't what you'd ever expected to hear. "You want me?"

"I've always wanted you. Every part of you. Inside and out."

"What about all the other women?"

"What?"

"The ones you bring home all the time."

He touched your face gently, turning your head to look at him directly. "They're fine for a night, but they're not you. They were a poor substitute for the woman I really wanted, but couldn't have."

"Bucky..."

He looked a little crestfallen, mistaking your tone for rejection. "It's okay if you don't feel the same--"

Your hand gently pressed against his lips, shutting him up instantly. "If I could move properly, I would have kissed you to shut you up."

His eyes lit up and a small smile played on his lips.

"Of course I feel the same. Of course I want you. I only pushed you away tonight because I didn't want to lose you. I was afraid you would regret it."

He leaned down so he was inches away from your lips. "Oh sweetheart, I could never regret anything to do with you."

Your lips curled up in a sweet smile. "Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Any chance we can make love? I wanna be in the moment...really in it."

"Right now?" he asked in surprise.

You nodded.

His lips met yours in a loving kiss. "I'm more than happy to oblige."

You grinned as he rolled back on top of you, lips pressing against yours hungrily.

"I'll make love to you as many times as you want. Whatever you want, I'll give you. Just ask."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

You smirked slowly. "Then I might have some ideas..."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes." You pulled his face down to yours to whisper some of your inner desires into his ear.

"My god," he murmured. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You laughed lightly and he joined in before pulling you in for a passionate kiss, dead-set on giving you everything you wanted and more.

[lesamis]

If you're up for it could you explain what is making the Germany government stuff so funny? I can find news articles about it (a coalition is dissolving? There's been tension for a while?) but they're all fairly serious. Thx!

ohhh, sure thing! i'll do my best!

i'll say upfront: this is a pretty serious thing to happen. our chancellor fired our minister of finance, Lindner, which definitively breaks up the governing coalition. germany will likely have snap elections at a moment in which far-right parties are polling extremely well. if news coverage about it seems like people are Worried, that's because, well, they are.

however. the reason it's funny is because our minister of finance was fired. ministers aren't really... ever fired. like, it's not a done thing. i'll fully admit i didn't even know it was an option until yesterday. and our minister of finance wasn't just anyone, he was one of the most mocked and hated figures in politics to germans who vote anywhere left of center.

the coalition that governed until yesterday was made up of the green party, the social democrats, and the neoliberal party (FDP). the FDP is infamous (and i mean, my parents already raised me to hate them for that) for playing kingmaker in coalition governments: they never get all that many votes, but they get just enough that whoever they agree to form a government with will probably succeed. they then tend to force extreme concessions from their coalition partners, because hey, if we walk off, you can't govern at all! so you better play along!

for the past three years, this behaviour has been extremely frustrating for germans who voted for greens or social democrats, because policy from their faction was constantly being blocked by the FDP and often by Lindner personally. the FDP received 11,5% of votes in 2021, but to many of us, it felt as if they were the only party who really had any say in the governing coalition. it made the green and social democratic coalition partners look spineless and passive.

and now, i invite you to imagine how on the day of the US election results, the day the whole world rolled their eyes at the sheer fucking stupidity and pointlessness of it all, at NINE IN THE EVENING, just as germans are getting ready to settle in to bed to dream of nightmare global politics -

the news suddenly breaks that our notoriously invisible chancellor just decided to fire Lindner for that exact behaviour. this chancellor comes out and says, on camera, to the entire sleepy nation, that acting the way Lindner did - blocking necessary policies, refusing to approve budgets unless his party's interests were met - was childish, selfish, irresponsible, and unfit for government, so, whoops, he had to go. shame. coalition over, i guess.

so, politically, that was a long-needed but never-expected moment of triumph for those of us who think the FDP is a clown show made up of human TESLA shares, and it came at a hysterically funny moment.

on a personal level, i can barely explain how uniquely hateable Lindner has always been. he's what would happen if a stock index graph came to life. he hates poor people with a relish; he mocks welfare recipients and would ax minimum wages in a second. he's everyone's business major roommate who shows up in boat shoes fresh off a yacht to discuss NFTs with you. throughout the entire time that he's used his rich boy policy blackmail strategy, he's been smug about it, and he was never taken to task for it, and millions of germans have been longing to throw rotten fruit in his face since 2017. and now we finally get to do it. via memes. on the day of trump's election win.

so that's why it's funny.

[goldsbitch]

Our wedding

Y/N and Lando probably went a little too overboard when planning their wedding. She finally looses it when his friend suggests a product placement bucket hat.

A dream wedding.

Distant palazzo, with acres of private lands to roam around at night. Lavish dress, designed to fit perfectly and re-done three times. Coordinators, who made sure everyone who needed to be invited actually was. And also took care about almost anything one can imagine.

A perfect wedding, that's what they both wanted. Go big or go home. Combining romance, with generously giving everyone they loved, or deemed important, the time of their life. To say that this event was supposed to be extra would be an understatement.

Lando said yes to all of Y/N's wished regarding flower arrangements, menu items and rooming lists. She said yes to all of this ideas about the music, sound systems set up in each part of the venue (because heaven would turn upside down if there had been one quiet spot with no music, according to Lando) and drinks choices. They could not agree on the photographer - so Lando just booked his, and hers option as well. Saving money was not on the table. He knew that the amount of good PR and brand deals the Quadrant team managed to get together was going to pay out in the long run. Everyone loves a wedding.

That's where the first issues started - the amount of people invited grew into higher hundreds. She voiced her point few times, but Lando quickly shut those off with a promise to book a private charter for all friends and family who were coming from her homeland. She caved in and agreed to just few more CEO's she'd never met, as long as they did not share their table.

It was the final two months before the wedding and things could not be more hectic. They had to plan the wedding around Lando's race schedule, so summer break between races it was. Y/N had to juggle her job with all of this planning, so she attended less races than she usually would. Most of the calls she shared with Lando were wedding related and it seemed like his best friend Max took it upon himself to speak on behalf of Lando - so sometimes it felt like she was marrying Max rather than her fiancé. After a total break down she had few days ago, which resulted in her crying on the phone to Lando at 4 am his local time, they agreed she absolutely had to come over to the next race so that they could find some down time.

//

Having to endure a tiring overnight flight, she finally stepped into the hotel where Lando was staying at. Exhausted, jet-lagged and generally in a bad mood were the main ingredients in the perfect cocktail of "you should just avoid me" Y/N. She finally opened the door to his room and let out a groan. Traveling to see him used to be her favorite thing. A bombastic cherry on top was that she immediately recognized Max's voice coming from the living room. Was this guy staying in the same room as them now?

"Y/N, is that you?" she heard, desperately hoping he hadn't heard her enter in. She felt like a bitch for wishing that, but he was the last person she wanted to see at that point. Her hopes of jumping in the bed and cuddling Lando the first thing coming here dissolved like cotton candy, leaving tooth aches behind.

"Yes, Max, it's me," she said, not even bothering adjusting her tone to something more socially appropriate.

"Great, just on time. Can you come in here? We have some decisions that are becoming pressing matters," he said dryly and added his own frustrated comment quietly "...since someone does not feel like answering emails." She heard that, bit her lip and swallowed all her comments, otherwise she would explode.

"What's up?" she asked, entering the living space. There were dozens of baseball caps and buckets hats laid down on the coffee table with Max and some random young guy towering over them.

"We need you to pick out one of these which you'll be wearing after the reception. I have a great brand deal on the table which I need to close today. So, go ahead - pick one." She could not believe the words coming out of Max's mouth. Was he for real?

"May I ask when did I agree to wearing a baseball cap with my dress right after my wedding?"

Max glanced at her and then rolled his eyes. "Can you just pick one? Lando is on board with this, he'll be wearing this green one," he pointed to objectively very nice stylish item of clothing - but still, it was a bucket hat. Rage levels shot up in Y/N blood steam.

"Max, I'm suppose to be wearing my wedding dress until the evening, that's also in some deal you guys made," she proclaimed, hoping this would finally make him get some sense. "The dress is very classical, I don't think this would fit the vibe."

"Oh, come, we agreed to sticking to the Quadrant Athletes color palette and all of these check that. We want to break the classical vibe up with this."

"I'm sorry, who exactly is we in this scenario? And who the fuck are you?!" she pointed at the guy standing next to Max.

"I'm...I'm the product placement controller," he said in a shy voice.

Her eyes just went wide at that point.

"Y/N, no need to freak out again, you need to create a viral moment to make the brand grow," Max said, as if he was talking about a new merch launch.

And that was the final straw. "I'm getting sick of you guys making my wedding into a Quadrant PR stunt. You need to realize this is my wedding, not yours! The whole event is already dripping with brand deals and promotions, is there nothing out of line to you? Will my mom also have to wear one of these hats? Will force the officiant to wear sneakers? Where will you stop?"

Max stared at her, his own cup finally also full. But unlike her, he spoke calmly - again, giving strong business vibes. "Oh, I'm sorry - I'm sorry I am pulling heaven and Earth to make sure your wedding does not ruin your future husband! I apologize that I seem to be more stressed about this wedding than you are. Sorry for caring and trying to uphold some standard."

"Max, this is all too much! I feel like I'm suffocating," she tried to reason with him once more.

He just had enough at that point. So many little moments of mutual disagreement finally grew on him.

"Yeah, well maybe you're just not suited for this world."

Before she could even take a breath to respond, a familiar voice cut them both off.

"Guys, that's enough I'd say," Lando said as he slowly stepped out the same corridor Y/N had entered moments ago. Both Max and Y/N turned around, knowing they'd have spoken way differently had they known he was there as well.

Max gulped, knowing he stepped over a line and immediately started to apologize. "Mate, I'm sorry, we just sort of lost it. I'm sorry."

Lando glanced at him, his face suddenly hard to read for both his friend and his fiancée. He quickly flashed Y/N a look, seeing the obvious distress finally on his own, in a way the camera on a phone just does not capture. It pained him to see them two fighting, but it pained him more to see her on the verge of crying.

She couldn't find words to apologize to Max. In fact she could barely even see him, as Lando took all of her attention.

"Can you guys leave us for now? I think we need to talk alone," Lando said in a tone so serious that Max hardly remembered last time he'd heard it.

"Yeah, mate. Of course," he said shyly, gesturing to his companion to quickly exit with him.

Once the door finally clicked, Y/N felt like she could get out of her frozen state.

"My god. Lando, I knew it would be a challenge these few months, but I did not expect to grow so far away from you," she said, as the words flew out of her mouth without her being able to control it.

He was more careful with his words, but brave nevertheless. "It's true. I don't think we've even been so distant."

Him acknowledging it just made it real and hurt more.

"Right. At least we have that in common."

There was an awkward silence, something these two hadn't experienced in months.

"Why is Max involved so much?" she asked, hoping that she would not hear anything that would make her biggest fear come true - Lando's lack of desire to marry her.

He took a moment to get his point in the right order. "He's my best friend. This is our wedding. I can't stop focusing on racing, but I want it to be perfect. I'd say not giving him any credit sometimes."

Of course, he was defending him. She wondered if he defended her in front of Max sometimes.

All card on the table. She gulped before uttering the next sentence. "I'm scared that I don't want to go to my own wedding anymore. I feel like an unwanted guest."

They shared a look full of hidden pain. It was impossible to tell, but Lando was scared as never before. "What are you saying...Do you want to call it of??"

She looked back at him, praying that he would understand. "God no, that's the last thing I want to do," she sighed and put her head in her hands. How did it got to a place where he could even assume that? "Marrying you, the love of my life, is my dream. In fact, I'd just like to jump to the moment where I can finally say yes to you."

The air still felt really heavy. "Then let's do just that."

"What do you mean?"

Lando took few steps closer to her, missing her close proximity for the past few weeks. He desperately needed to fix them. "Let's book a wedding for next week in Monaco, just you me and any other people required by the law."

The idea of that seemed silly at first. But the more she thought about it, the more she craved that idea. "So, you want to call the actual wedding off?"

Lando chuckled at the image of them cancelling that at last minute and all the hustle that would bring. "No, silly, not unless you really want to. But who says we can't have a fake ceremony there, celebrate with everyone, while already being married at that point? We don't need to tell anyone, keep the magic for them. We can have two weddings."

It was her time to laugh now. "So because we find organizing one wedding hard, we're going to be doing two now?"

"We are anything but conventional. And if this is news for you then, well...That would mean I'm marrying the queen of delulu. Twice."

The weight of the past weeks was lifted.

"Does this mean I can say "No." at the big wedding?" she teased him, closing the distance between them and holding his hand.

"Not if I'll say "No." first," he winked and quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm not wearing a bucket hat. Just stating that now."

"Oh come, at least one of our weddings," he said as he ruffled her hair. "Wow, I think you need a post airport shower, my love."

"Do not try and change the topic - no bucket hats!" she mumbles as she tried to fix her hair.

"Fine, I'll just get you drunk. You'll wear a bucket hat at one of our weddings one way or another."

It felt so good to just banter with him, like they always did before they got caught up in all the stress. A shot of guilt went through her system, as she flashed back at the whole process so far.

"I should probably apologize to Max," she uttered, avoiding his eye contact once again.

He finally hugged her. "Yeah probably. But...let him rot in his feelings for a moment. I hate when someone makes you upset. Apart from me, of course."

"What makes me upset right now is the alarming amount clothes you're wearing."

"That's my girl!"

//

They got legally married the following weekend, Lando bribing anyone he could in order for them to skip few spots that were unavailable. The first wedding was secret and full of inappropriate, but honest kisses. The second one was fake, but they slayed it together, as newly married couple. Without the stress of actually getting married, they really enjoyed their wedding. The little secret stayed with them - and Max of course, because he just had to get involved with everything.

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny chapter 2

Danny weighed his current options. As a civilians he could just walk away and pretend he never saw anything. But as a doctor with very strong morals, he couldn't leave a man to bleed out in some unsterile alleyway.

He wondered for a brief second how future him would feel about this, probably frustrated, still Danny picked up the very unstable patient and laid him in the backseat secured by seatbelts.

He wanted to take his to a hospital but he knew this patient wouldn't consent even if he could which he couldn't right now because he was unconscious.

Danny decided to respect the vigilante to the best of his ability. After parking the car he scooped up the vigilante bridal style and turned invisible.

He flew up to his apartment and went intangible, making it so he could safely pass through the wall.

As soon as he laid the patient on the floor he realized something needed to be done about his "research", he couldn't let the vigilante see it and start questioning it. So he opted for turning the cork board around.

It was regrettable that he couldn't put the guy on a proper bed but he didn't have one himself so there wasn't much he could do in that regard.

Danny peeled off the blood soaked clothes. He hated it when he had to cut clothes but in this case it was the only way to see the wound better.

It seemed like some kind of jagged weopen had made deep gashes to his abdomen.

He got to work cleaning the wound, despite how much he had bled before the seriousness of the injury seemed to be exaggerated by the mount of blood Danny saw at first glance. It looked completely treatable.

"There seems to be a deep puncture wound near the aorta, thankfully it didn't hit it" Danny muttered to himself.

"There a slight abrasion on the abdomen over the inferior mesenteric but not deep enough to cause any real damage. He would be fine after getting some stitches"

Danny really wanted to do this at the hospital, it would be so much better but he really didn't want to be watched all the time because he knows the vigilantes identity.

Gathering all his courage Danny grabbed his tools. He was hoping the unconscious vigilante wouldn't wake up during this. Danny could administer anesthesia but he was a licensed anesthesiologist. He also didn't have any anesthesia.

Well, most people didn't use anesthesia for stitches anyway, but he didn't have the numbing shots either. The most he could offer of his patients woke up is some pain killers and towel to bite on.

Danny decided to use absorbable sutures, a type of dissolvable stitches.

"Alright now, please don't wake up" Danny pleaded in a whisper.

He began stitching up the wounds. Because he was a vigilante, Danny had a bunch he wouldn't stop just because he was injured, Danny would have to put in extra stitches in case he tears the other ones.

Danny finished and sighed in relief. The man was still asleep.

He picked up the bloody towels and set out a clean shirt pair of clothes for the man. The man's pants were also stained with blood.

Danny left the apartment for a few seconds to get food. He was trying to be polite, he never really had guests so of the man was hungry he wanted to be ready.

Jason opened his eyes slowly. His entire body felt sore. His hand went up to his face only to feel a hard metal. His helmet. He pulled off the helmet and took a big gasp of fresh air.

The helmet must've shut off and stopped ventilating.

Jason scanned the surroundings. It looked like a small apartment, it was almost bare, not even a bed, on fact Jason just realized he woke up on the floor.

Well, at least there was a blanket beneath him. He was restrained on any way he could see, there weren't any visible surveillance devices either.

Jason sat up and felt the wounds to see how bad they were when his hand grazed a bandage. It was tight but comfortable, like a pro.

Jason peeked beneath the wrappings to find stitches.

"Why?" Jason asked himself in bewilderment. Who in their right mind would go through all the trouble.

Jason heard a sound from around the corner of the room he was in. It sounded like the door was opening.

Jason braced himself. Danny walked in carrying two bags, one with two steaks and the other with a case of beer. He didn't make it a habit to drink but he knew that the beer could be an olive branch.

There was just one problem, how would he eat with his helmet on. Maybe Danny could wrap up the food for the vigilante after he is done cooking it so he could eat in peace.

At least that was the plan. Danny almost shrieked when he saw the vague outline of a man's head.

HE TOOK OFF HIS HELMET!

Danny closed his eyes tight and blindly made his way to kitchen tripping in the process.

Jason had been expecting some thug, what he got was this. A healthy man.

He watched as Danny fumbled around trying not to look at Jason's face. He decided enough was enough when he heard a loud 'thump' followed by a silent "fuck~".

Jason put his helmet on and made his way to where Danny was. Danny stood up.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting that" Danny said.

"Who are you?"

Danny didn't answer.

"I'm a doctor"

Jason felt a little frustrated, he was asking for a name.

"Im trying my best to stay out of your way, I only helped you because you were bleeding out in an alleyway and as a doctor I couldn't ignore that"

"And your making food because?"

Danny grew red.

"I'm hungry" Danny said.

"That's a lot of food for one person"

"I figured you would need something to eat, I was going to wrap it up for you"

"No need I'll eat here-"

"NO!"

Jason almost flinched.

"Sorry, I just, if you take off your helmet and I see you, then you'll be watching me so I don't tell anyone who you are. I don't have time for that"

Jason was even more intrigued. This guy acted like he was a vigilante.

"You seem familiar with this kind of stuff"

Danny shook his head.

"No, not really"

Danny started cooking the steaks.

"If you want to take off your helmet you can go to the next room. I'll let you know when the foods done."

"Alright" Jason said numbly before slipping out of the room. The only other room was the one he woke up in and the bathroom. So naturally he started snooping.

Not that there was much to find.

"It's ready!"  Jason bumped into a wall in surprise and knocked a cork board off the wall.

"Shit!" Jason said as he picked it up. He felt something on the other side. Jason flipped it around and laid it on the table.

It seemed like this person was gathering Intel on the biggest crooks in Gotham, he even knew who was "compromised".

"Is that...me?"

There was a picture of Jason that he had never seen before, it was of himself standing on a rooftop.

"I look kinda like Batman" Jason thought for a second.

"I'm coming in" Danny announced. Jason scrambled to put on his helmet but he wasn't able to return the cork board in time.

"Oh no" Danny said setting down the food before he took the cork board he checked it over making sure everything was intact.

"This is just research so I can better understand my patients, It's nothing weird"

Jason put up his hands.

"I don't think it's weird that you have a crock board full of pictures, especially mine. Nope, that not weird"

Danny let out an exhausted laugh.

"Yeah I had to pay for that one, it just reminded me of someone, not that it matters"

"What, did it remind you of Batman?"

"Ha, no. You looked lonely but free, I- know someone who can relate to that"

"Lonely but free" Jason muttered.

"Anyways here" Danny said holding the food out to Jason.

"I hope we never meet again, in a good way"

Jason grinned beneath the helmet.

"I hope we do" he opened the window.

"See you later Doctor" he said waving before leaping gracefully out of the window, food in hand.

"Wait what?" Danny asked.

"Do not!" Danny shouted out the window.

"Do not come back!"

Jason shook his head, there was no way he was going to leave him alone, call it curiosity but Danny wasn't different from most Gothamites.

And he wanted to know more about him. Danny's reluctance to know Jason made him want to get closer even more.

Danny sighed, there was no way he could shake a vigilante off his trail. He just hoped Jason didn't interrupt his work or his research.

[sorensolsikke]

here's some punk diy tips and ideas

[other than crusty pants and battle jacket, although we still love those greatly.]

why should you diy, when you can just find decorated items everywhere, you can ask. what if you are clumsy at painting or anything?

firstly, good questions. we diy so we don't give credit to the big companies who rule the world. we diy to get more independent from the system we dislike. we diy so to save money. to express uniqueness, recognize eachother and be recognized. and especially to have fun and feel cool. diy is not only about clothing, but anything you can set your mind on. of course, one cannot make EVERYTHING for themselves, there isn't enough time and energy. but making at least small steps are already a statement and more than nothing. also, helping small artists by buying their products is also pretty punk.

that being said, i provide you with some tips of mine, all gained from experience:

anything you drew/painted on, you will WANT TO protect. acrylic paint/markers + acrylic paint varnish/transparent nail polish/textile medium are your best friends. read after anything that's new to you.

i highly recommend working with old clothing or thrift shop finds when it comes to textiles, as it is environmentally friendly and you will stay in budget. Anyways, always make sure that the material you use isn't gonna be problematic. for example, if you want to do some patchwork, the material shouldn't decay easily (if it does, it will come off so quickly.). if you want to paint on it, it shouldn't be rugged.

you can not only draw/paint on your canvas shoes, but can also sew, embroidery (just make sure to use a thimble, plus floss instead of thread could make your work more durable), and add beads and trinkets to your shoelaces. in the case of shoes, never use glue (neither hot nor instant glue) – it will come off quickly. for some inspiration, i'll show you my shoes!

(the fake moss is literally unstoppable from falling off or getting dirty. risky idea.)

it's good to carry around water and food!! you don't even have to pay for decorative water bottles and food boxes, as you can draw on glass and plastic just fine with acrylic markers. just don't forget to paint transparent nail polish all over your drawing. in at least two layers. don't be lazy or laid-back. even posca comes off while washing the dishes. and you WANT TO save your reference pictures/final designs, as the case of emergency is likely. but after all, my water bottle is exactly fine after six months, with no accuring problem.

if your current best option to get stickers from is aliexpress or overpriced decor stores, search for local artists and shops on instagram and tiktok, as it may be their most efficent way of getting you to know them. if it seems like you have no chance, you may can still find a print shop with the option of printing on self-adhesive sheets (at least in hungary, those are pretty cheap). and if you want drawings to print out as stickers, you may use your own or –ONLY IF YOU GET PERMISSION– other artist's work. not only good for decorations for like, headphones, but for vandalism too. WAIT WAIT who said that. who said it. not me. no never

(in case that's also impossible, you can create stickers by printing out/drawing a picture, cover it up in transparent adhesive tape, and then put some two-sided adhesive tape on the white side of the pic. it won't be that durable, but it functions.)

if you want to bleach-paint clothing, get some plastic brushes!! any other brush dissolves. draw your design first with chalk!! never forget to put cardboard inside the clothing, and to wash the finished work in a washing machine before you'd put it on. prepare to be patient with the process. and it's not dangerous to touch 5%-9% household bleach, just wash your hands soon after.

if you want your crusty pants to last veryyy long, wax them. look up on youtube jeans waxing.

some more things i made for myself so to give you some inspiration: totebag with pockets, a small crystal holder cabinet, badges, and i decorated some t-shirts, button-ups, an id card case, phonecase, laptop.

theoretically speaking, there is nothing that an individual would be unable to learn how to make, when it comes to diy. you can't imagine how easy it is to bake bread at home. consuming-focused media makes people believe that it's hard to make anything. of course, everyone has to decide about their own priorities, i don't want to convince or change anyone in here. and if you have any questions, send an ask!! i hope i had been helpful.

[copperbadge]

Your latest bread success made me wonder if you've tried or had much luck making gluten free bread? I'm so tired of most commercially available options, they all seem to dissolve instantly. Awful for burgers or anything with sauce. I miss sourdough.

I'm afraid I haven't done much work with gluten-free baking; the problem is the gluten tax. As I'm sure you know, gluten-free anything, even just ingredients, are more expensive, and the process of baking is more labor intensive and time-consuming for a product that isn't the same. Even the best gluten-free bread, lacking gluten, is lacking one of the defining characteristics of the thing it's emulating.

Since I can eat gluten and am not regularly responsible for feeding anyone who can't, there's no real motivation to do it. I try to always have gluten-free options when I'm hosting, but that's usually stuff like crudite and dip, charcuterie, or fruit -- things that can also avoid other allergens, and depending on the item be eaten by vegetarians or vegans.

Now, all that said, I can recommend King Arthur's Cup For Cup GF flour for baking; it makes the process fairly smooth and the final product seems pretty sturdy, although admittedly the flour is about twice the price of their normal bread flour per pound. I haven't encountered Bob's Red Mill GF flour in a while, but partly that's because when we stopped using them they hadn't really reformulated in a few decades and their GF flour was pretty coarse, and sometimes made from beans my family members couldn't tolerate. They may have advanced since, this was like 10-15 years ago at least.

The King Arthur website has a variety of GF baking recipes as well as mixes and I do have some experience making their GF bagels, which are pretty good, although I think they're actually better if you halve the size (easier to manage, easier to store, since they really need to be kept cold, preferably frozen, and eaten warmed). I baked those regularly for a while for a colleague's kid who was allergic to wheat, and they weren't much more work than baking regular bagels, just required more delicate handling pre-bake.

I realize this is basic and you've probably tried it, but just in case, any GF product you're going to be saucing (as you say, like burgers), you might try griddling first -- little scrape of butter, toss it in a hot pan for a few minutes. In regular bread it helps to both create a flat barrier so the sauce doesn't sink into the bread, and it also dries it out a little so that it can take more moisture to begin with. This is theoretical though, I've never done it with GF buns. I do know that generally King Arthur recommends toasting GF products baked with its recipes.

Readers, feel free to chime in with recommendations! Remember to reply in comments or reblogs, as I don't post asks sent in response to other asks.

[sincerelyverena]

pls pls pls charles x short!alive!reader? established relationship, maybe just some fluffy moments between the two?

⟡⁺ THE GHOST OF YOU

tysm for the req, anon! 💞💞 ive thoroughly enjoyed my return here, n now the story is yours n i hoped u enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it <3 special shoutout to my dbd betareaders, i love and appreciate all of u sm!

. . . CHARLES ROWLAND X GN!READER ‘think i like you best when you're just with me and no one else.’ @andforthecoating

inbox is always open for requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒you love him. and he loves you too. a story as simple as that.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒fluff ﹐short!reader﹐alive!reader ﹐established relationship ﹐im still getting a feel for charles character so go easy on me pls ﹐havent written non-smut in a long LONG time

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @love-xoxojules﹐@immortal101 ﹐@fadedpictures91 ﹐@charles-rxwlands﹐ @kidbiscuitt @smallestgremlin

Falling in love with a ghost wasn’t on the cards for you, until you met Charles Rowland.

The supernatural had haunted you since you were a small child, being the victim of a near-death experience isn’t easy on any youngling. Especially you. The consequences of viewing these seemingly mythological creatures took years of patience and silent work to endure, more so, because nobody would ever believe you if you told them you saw ghosts. How ghastly.

And as a young child, you couldn’t imagine that decades into the future, you’d be laid between the arms of one. Two bronzed columns that supported the minuscule length of your torso. And for a ghost? Charles is oddly warm. Or maybe that’s you warming up to your idea of your body heat, marinating in the crisp sheets of your bed. A sanctuary the two of you now shared, together.

But it was nice to think that it was Charles too. He was the reason why you felt comfortable and protected after all. In a world of witchcraft, warlocks, dangers, and death Charles was your home.

A pair of bow-turned lips place themselves against your temple, assisting you in drifting out of sleep. Charles murmurs against the surface of your skin, planting scattered kisses along the top of your head in the process. ‘Dove, we’re meeting Crystal for coffee, remember?’

Charles’s gently mustered words are enough to serenade a response out of your sleepy self. You murmur incoherent words, flipping yourself over so that when you inch your eyes open, they can delight in your boyfriend’s beauty.

His ebony-clad curls are fluffed to perfection atop his head, not a hint of bed-head in sight, which you consider impressive before you remember that Charles mostly spent the night just watching you. As if nothing else in the world matters. You extend a hand to the defined curve of his jaw, practically guiding his lips toward your own. They lock together in familiarity, and nothing but pure, honeyed ecstasy buzzes throughout you. This is better than coffee, better than anything. Charles tasted like heaven, hell, and everything in between.

And as you two separated, Charles beamed down at you with something indescribable bouncing around in his whiskey eyes.  ‘I think a sleep-in wouldn’t hurt, now, would it?’ Rising to the day seems like the logical option. Something that barely crosses your mind for a second before you fall captive to those bronzed arms, weaving around the hitch of your waist. And before you know it, you discover yourself half-tossed atop the ghost you had fallen for. The tall length of his legs tangled with your own. And any responsible, adult-like thought dissolved as your lips crashed together. Something oh-so-destructible yet perfect, how could you say no?

And possibly, that perfect destruction is always the reason why you both are considered late to possibly anything imaginable. If Edwin found himself in the depths of the fiery circles of hell again, the entire group would bet that you and Charles would take an eternity to part before he’d get rescued. It’d be more beneficial for Edwin to smuggle out himself.

‘We’re going to be awfully late, angel.’

‘Maybe because you keep distracting me.’

‘Nonsense, I’m brills and can do no wrong.’

You tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror before you. You scrutinise Charles with a disbelieving gaze at his words, which shortly dissolve into nothing less than adoration. Nevertheless, you continued to feign annoyance as you combed a single hand through your hair and down your scalp. Fingers adjusting the little strands to suit your desire for tidiness. 

You abandon this aspiration, pivoting upon your heel. The mask of annoyance you pertain slips away into nothingness as a soft laugh escapes you amid your words. Facing your boyfriend, you slip a hand into his own.

‘You’re lucky that I love you.’ 

'I am so very lucky.'

Charles’ adjusted his position as he moved his lips from the curve of your forehead, toward the curve of your lips. There was something passionate about how the deep onyx of hues sparked with something even deeper. Something warm and honeyed, indescribable. And before you could even decipher what it was you could feel the honeyed taste of him upon your lips, Charles scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.

His arm relented against the small of your back, even as you holler out empty threats and meaningless curses amid your laughter. This merely prompted Charles to bounce you atop his shoulder blade, a chuckle of his own heard as you huffed and puffed. Nevertheless, you would refuse to admit that the action of soft intimacy made you feel over the moon with exhilaration.

A curse of Charles’s own accompanied your laughter as he was a breath away from the side of his torso slamming into the doorway he attempted to parade you through, which frankly made you laugh harder.

‘You’re such a dick.’ You managed to wheeze out.

‘I think you may be right about that one.’

Charles’s voice sounded with a tinge of mischief, which crept, announced in his tone. You could almost hear the grin in his voice as he articulated his words, even through your limited peripheral vision as you were held captive in his arms.

‘You love it, though.’

The Charles-like cockiness your boyfriend presented caused you to blow out a breath of feigned exasperation. Yet, unbeknownst to him, the slow ghost of a smile proceeded to creep onto your lips. Especially as he continued to balance you upon the bridge of his broadened shoulder, for a hint of dramatics, of course. Because you did love it.

And as the two of you ventured toward inevitable lateness, you couldn’t help but think how you couldn’t wait to do it all again the following morning.

WORD COUNT: 973 MASTERLIST REQ ME!

[idanceuntilidie]

Can you do Yan detective x murder reader

(If you want a name which is optional I got a few, Jason,Kyle,Ashton <- [most recommend in my opinion],Frank)

I hope it was okay! Sorry for not posting anything for so long- Had small problems with my mental health and school TW; mentions of death, murders, blood, yandere behaviour, kidnapping, stalking

reader is gn

Yan Detective x Murderer reader Requests open

The messenger strikes again! Whole group of highschool friends were found dead.... click to find out more!

Ashton bit his thumb as he read another article that night. His tired eyes scanned the painfully flashy site. His co-worker sent him a few of the articles along with this one. For anything that could help him catch the murderer.

Hands shaking and lips pressed into a thin line.

So many people have died recently.

He closed his eyes before getting up and walking to the balcony to smoke. The best stress reliever he had right now. The night was cold. The beautiful once view from his tenement house now covered with ruthless modern architecture. It looked fucking ugly. He took a deep breath in, the smoke burned his throat slightly. It felt nice, he exhaled watching as the gray smoke slowly dissolved in the air.  The case he decided to take seemed simple. It started with one person. Judy Millers. Very pretty young adult, she came from a wealthy family. Ashton actually knew her, back in the day they went to high school. 

A queen bee. He was lucky enough not to get crushed by her. People loved her despite her being an absolute asshole. Judy looked like she was dragged out of some highschool drama. Wealthy, pretty and known for being a bitch.

Her father found her dead in her bathroom. Ashton remembers that night so clearly, when he walked into the bathroom the stench of blood and death overwhelmed his senses. Eyes watering. 

Judy was in more than a bad shape, he could barely recognize her. Face slashed,he could see parts of the bone. She was naked, and the girl was gutted like a pig. Homicide. His eyes darted to the wall behind her head.

“It’s not so funny now is it?” That’s how the murderer got their name, messenger, it sounded slightly stupid but it was a name nonetheless. After Judy, the messenger killed more and more people. Oddly enough they were all from his old high school.

He swore to the father that he will solve the case, but months passed and he still hasn't caught the killer.

Suddenly he heard the door open. Someone walked into his apartment, they were slowly approaching him. He didn’t move, but a smile appeared on his lips. Wide, unnatural he waited as the person behind him got closer. Slowly the person wrapped their hands around his waist. The stench of blood hit his nose in an instant.

They whine. He chuckled as he threw away the cigarette. “Someone got to them before me, can you believe it?” Their voice was rough, but oh so beautiful. It made Ashtons heart burn.

“Oh, oh my love I’m so sorry.” He turned around to hug them back, kissing their head. It was messy, the blood started to already dry out.

“You should take a bath y/n, the blood will be hard to get out, huh?” They nodded, smiling at him before dragging their body to the bathroom. He watched them disappear behind the doorway. He must admit, you look hot in bloody red.

Truth to be told, he found the killer or well the killer found him. After a few of the murders, he decided the question the people who went to the same highschool and were still alive. 

You were the last person on the list, and man when he saw you again after all these years the feelings hit him back. You looked like a wreck, dark circles under your eyes and he swore you had the smell of death on you. Man, even after all these years you were so so lovely. He had fallen for you again.

From then on he started to watch you, even getting to your house. It was full of evidence, and plans to kill everyone who bullied you over the years. He saw the photo of judy with huge X and knife plunged into the middle of her face. He admits he might have got off to the smell of blood on your clothes.

You were the messenger, and he was so sure but he didn’t give you away. Hell, he planned to steal you away actually.

He might have killed a few people along the way, mostly co workers. 

Some got too close, some asked too many questions. He couldn’t share you. He couldn’t share his case. You were his, you were his to understand. To solve. To catch.

He watched you kill some of the people on your list, dreamily sighing as he watched you laugh maniacally as you did. You almost died once, not expecting the victims friend coming back early you didn’t notice them slowly creeping on you with a knife. You were oh so lucky he was near. He saved the day, successfully killing that fucker only to find you were nowhere to be seen. He felt so disappointed. He didn’t even get a chance to even talk to you. Then he found a small gift. A single finger and bloody message.

Every week he got a small body part, along with some threatening messages, but in Ashtons mind, those very love letters. He cherished them.

Then you got into his house, full of rage, bloody, ready to kill him. He didn’t fight you, you looked so beautiful. His heart rammed in his chest as you were ready to stab him. His hands grabbed your face and he kissed you. You bit his tongue and blood filled his mouth. It was so romantic. Let’s say you didn’t leave the house for a good year after that. He kept you in his bedroom for a whole year, finally he had you.

You suffered a whole year, in his grip, answered his questions with a wide smile, describing the murders he already witnessed. Music to his ears. He made his love known, he killed the rest of your victims and brought you their hearts. He watched as you ripped them apart.

After that one year, you fell for him too, and that’s how both of you got to this point, and he knew, you won’t leave him.

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

What Lurks In The Dark

Pairing: Marcus Lopez Arguello x fem!reader

Word count: 3.7k

Warning: Mild cursing, Mild Graphic description of violence

Summary: Paranoia had always been a common occurrence in her life so when the feeling of being watching started to rise in the back of her mind she couldn't tell if it was just a conjured-up feeling or reality. After a heavy night of avoiding anyone and everyone at all costs, a deal is sent her way that she would be a fool to pass up on or maybe a bigger fool for agreeing to it.

(Y/N): Your name

(H/C): Hair colour

(E/C): Eye colour

(F/C): Favourite colour

*Gif does not belong to me

Worn out Converses smacked against the concrete sidewalk as (Y/N) walked through the streets with purpose. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her oversized hoodie, the back of the (F/C) piece of fabric falling past his skirt and rubbing against the back of her stocking-clad thighs. Her (H/C) was pulled back and out of her face, a few wisps of hair falling out of the tie that kept the rest of her hair back and invading her vision.

(Y/N) tried not to stay in one place for too long, not when she had a doped-up dad with buddies all over the city. It was still beyond herself why she hadn't decided to flee the city yet. Perhaps the only reason she chose to stay was to keep an eye on her mother, but even then there wasn't much the woman was doing that gave (Y/N) a proper reason to stay behind.

She had only ever run into a few people that seem to recognise her. Normally, they would try and ask her if her dad had anything good going around or if she was carrying any on her. There was only one occasion where one of her dad's mates had tried to get physical with her, claiming she had to be brought back to where she belonged. It didn't take much to get the man off of her, mainly because he was drunk and clutching onto a half-empty beer bottle for dear life.

Tonight felt just like any night to begin with as she walked through the streets of San Francisco. She kept her head down and her hood up as she tried not to draw any more attention to herself than a teenage girl walking through the dark streets of San Francisco could get.

It was only when she saw the same boy with a bright green mohawk skate past her for the fourth time that she began to raise her guard. (Y/N) was willing to shake it off at first, but after seeing him a few too many times for comfort she began to realise she was being circled by the boy.

(Y/N)’s pace picked up only slightly along with her heartbeat. Her original plan was to try and lose him in some back alley that ran behind some of the apartment blocks and led back to one of the main roads. But upon further evaluation, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be followed into a back alley, even if she was being followed by a rather flimsy-looking boy that seemed to be around her age.

She had two other options that could work out in her favour, of course, with the possibility that her plans could backfire in her face. Her first option was to wait the boy out and lead him out to the main roads where she could hopefully lose him or he would be detoured because of the uprise in people. The second idea that had come to her mind was to try and meet the boy head-to-head and throw him off his course where she could try and get away from him in his moments of instability.

Both ideas could work out in her favour but just as easily give the green-haired boy the upper hand. In the case where she tried to lose him, he could get to her before she made it to a more crowded area and with the second choice he could overpower her, his looks may be deceiving to something stronger. Neither necessarily worked out in her favour but at least with the first option if she needed to she could make a run for it or later dissolve into the fight she was hoping it didn’t have to come down to.

In her head, the decision had already been made before she could properly think and weigh out her choices.

Turning left, (Y/N) felt the flesh of another hand latching onto her upper arm. Whipping her head around with a few strands of hair flying in the wind, (Y/N)’s eyes landed on the same boy that had been circling her as the night progressed. A choked yelp escaped from behind (Y/N)‘a lips at the sight of the boy, instantly trying to pull her arm away from him once it registered that the limb hanging onto her belonged to him.

“Woah,” The boy quickly called out, a laugh on the tip of his tongue as he planted a foot and held onto (Y/N) a tad bit tighter. Raising his chin a little, the green-haired boy said, “I’m just here for a fun time. You have nothing to worry about.”

“You creep,” (Y/N) quickly exclaimed, her lip curling in disgust. The boy's eyes seemed to widen at (Y/N)‘a words, like what he had said had finally registered in his head for the first time. Trying to keep a steady voice, she said, “Get off of me.”

“No can do, Runaway Legacy,” The boy’s overjoyed voice rang out, a matching unwavering grin plastered on his face. “Need to get you back to King's Dominion so I pass the assignment. I can’t let Lex get a good grade for this assignment this time around or he’ll have two to hold over my head.”

“One, I'm not going anywhere with you and your greasy mohawk,” (Y/N) started, getting cut off by the boy as he made his dissatisfaction known.

“It’s not greasy.”

(Y/N) gave the boy a deadpan at his words, watching as he raised his free hand in surrender and gave her room to speak once more. “Two, I don’t care about Lex or this assignment you claim that I supposedly am. If you want to kill someone, pick a different target. And three, the hill is a 'Runaway Legacy?'"

“I’m not going to kill you,” The boy exclaimed with a mortified gasp. “The whole point of this is to bring you back alive. Master Lin wouldn't have a use for you if we brought you back dead.”

“That’s not helping your case,” (Y/N) said, giving the boy a moment to answer before she kicked the skateboard out from under his foot, sending him skidding back in his moment in surprise. In his fall the boy had let go of her, so with a few steps forward, (Y/N) took control of the skateboard that the boy had just lost.

“Oh, come on!” She heard him call out from behind her as she began to pick up speed. As the boy stumbled to his feet, preparing to run after her he yelled, “Not cool man. Not cool.”

"Looks like your gonna have to go back to Master Lin empty-handed and fail your assignment," (Y/N) shrugged as she looked back at the boy only to find him a few paces from where he had originally fallen, not putting in too much effort to go after her. "I guess Lex is gonna be the one to bring home the gold."

"You would have much rather gone back with me, I promise," He called after her in a sing-song tone making chills shoot down (Y/N)'s spine. "If I don't get you, Lex or someone else will."

Shooting her head back around, (Y/N) focussed on getting away from the creepy boy and out of the part of San Francisco where she currently found herself in. But no matter where she went the feeling of someone watching her stuck with her throughout the night, making her never stay still for too long on the stolen skateboard she had obtained.

In the end, she didn't end up getting too far before another mysterious figure was making their way towards her.

"Oi, you've been assigned," A boy with cornrow braids said as he stepped towards (Y/N). He wore a dark athlete's hoodie with a toothpick between his teeth as his eyes scanned over her, landing on the skateboard beneath her feet where his lips twisted upwards. "Master Lin don't do well tardiness so we gotta move."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," (Y/N) uttered quickly, turning around the boy as she leaned heavily on one side of the skateboard. "As I said to your green-haired freak of a friend, this is an assignment you're gonna have to fail."

A loud scoff rang out from the taller boy. "Don't let any of the Rats hear you speaking about one of their own like that. They're known to not be as friendly as I am."

"I'll keep that in mind," (Y/N) said dryly, her (E/C) eyes half-hooded as she circled the boy. "Note to self, if you ever see someone looming in the dark, ask them if they are a Rat are not. It will certainly work out well in your favour."

A bemused chuckle left the boy's mouth as his shoulders bunched up and his head lowered. He reached up to pluck the toothpick from his mouth and flick it somewhere behind himself. "You're going to have to drop the attitude. That's the sort of thing that gets you killed in King's Dominion."

"Well, as I said to your Rat friend," (Y/N) began, not bothering to look over her should as she escaped from the boy as she already knew he would be lent against the wall behind him, "Master Lin's gonna have to learn that he ain't gonna get everything he wants."

"I would congratulate you for your bravery if what just left your mouth wasn't complete stupidity," The boy called out, not bothered by the ignorance he got in return. "Good luck escaping this one kid. No one gets away from Master Lin."

(Y/N) tried not to pay any mind to what the boy had said, attempting to let the words go through one ear and out the other. But the warnings she got from both strangers were daunting. Once was a coincidence but twice was an omen. And it didn’t take long until that omen was put into play.

Coming to a quick stop, the skateboard whipped out from under her feet as something knocked (Y/N) off her feet after rounding a corner. As she came crashing down a tall boy with blonde hair made his presence known. He spoke with a thick accent as he said, “We were told you were a Legacy, but I don’t see anything but a Rat.”

“Are you sure we’ve got the right girl?” Another voice spoke up with a just as thick accent. Coming to stand next to the taller dude was a girl with curly blonde puffed-up hair. She wore a cheerleader outfit with two dark-shaded pom-poms resting on her hips. “I’m not one to say Master Lin is wrong but this can’t be the girl everyone’s throwing a hissyfit over.”

“Would hate to agree with the emo cheerleader,” (Y/N) started as she stood from the ground, eyes landing on where the skateboard had fallen before looking up at the two blondes in front of her again. The girl had a glare on her face as she watched (Y/N), the title not sitting well with her. “But I think you and your other friends running around have to reevaluate who your stalking and threatening to kidnap.”

"We ain't going to have to kidnap you if you follow along willingly," The girl spoke up, popping a hip to the side as she stared expectedly at (Y/N).

"You see, as much as I would love to make this easy for you both," (Y/N) started to circle the two of them, stopping once she was at their sides and they had turned to face her. Trying to keep the attention on her face, she slowly stretched a foot out until it bumped into the skateboard lightly. Lifting her foot up until it rested on top of the board, she slowly pulled it back towards her. "I was taught not to go with people I don't know. You know, stranger danger."

The girl scoffed while the guy's face seemed to lift slightly. "There is no need to worry about strangers. I assure you, if you are the Legacy Master Lin claims for you to be, I am positive we will be far more than strangers."

"Ew, gross," (Y/N) shook her head, face twisting into disgust as she backed away from him with a few stumbled steps. "As enlightening as this whole interaction has been, I'd much rather decline and be on with my day."

"That's not going to happen, sweetie," The girl said stepping forward. With her steps, her hands moved from her hips, her pom-poms growing two large blades out of each one. (Y/N)'s eyes quickly flickered down to the spikes, taking a gulp as they seemed to glint in the streetlights. "We're allowed to take you back using whatever means necessary, and if that means by force… then so be it."

(Y/N) didn't need to wait another second to figure out what that means. Turning and launching herself onto the skateboard and onto the pathway. Thinking back to her earlier plans, (Y/N) starts to migrate her way back to the more crowded places of San Francisco. Maybe then she would finally be able to escape the several advances of strange teenagers and Master Lin, whomever that may be.

The pair of blondes must have been prepared for (Y/N) to make a run for it since they weren't too far behind her. The skateboard didn't act as much help and she probably would have been better off legging it herself but there was no time to jump off and hope for the best.

At the first sight of a large crowd of people, (Y/N) could feel some relief starting to creep up inside of her. That hope quickly diminished as something sharp pierced through her shoulder. She didn't scream but a deep disgruntled sound tore through her throat as she fell from the skateboard, crashing into a few pedestrians that gave her disgusted looks as they went barreling down with her.

Climbing to her knees, (Y/N) pushed herself up quickly. She crawled forward a step before she was tripping over her feet to stand once again. People parted the way for her as a hand craned back to wrap around one of the blades that had lodged in close to one of her shoulder bones. A steadying breath was taken as she began to inch the blade from her flesh. She kept walking as she tried to pull it out, stuttering in her steps every once in a while as she fought down a wince and had to pause in her movements. When a coalesced hand gripped hers, she turned around quickly, ready to see one of the attendants she had already run into that night. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"What?" (Y/N) questioned as she focused on the boy that had come up behind her. He had dark curly hair that was cut into a short mullet. He wore a black long-sleeved shirt and some jeans, something plain to blend in. In one of his hands was the skateboard (Y/N) had discarded earlier.

"Pulling the weapon that punctured you from the wound," He said as he carefully tore (Y/N)'s hand away from the blade stuck in her shoulder. "It's like basic knowledge at this point."

"I think I was more concerned about getting away from the two lunatics that were chasing after me." (Y/N) watched with narrowed eyes as she pulled her hand away from the boy. "And why do you sound so calm? Anyone else would be a bit more worried about the massive chunk of steel sticking out of my back…"

"Well…" The boy said, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" The words came out like venom, already backing away from the boy as her hand shot back up to clutch at her shoulder while her head tipped back so she could stare up at the sky. "Why won't you and the rest of your Rat and Legacy friends leave me alone?"

"If it makes you feel any better, you were able to avoid Saya and Maria last night. They didn't come back to King's Dominion until lunch today because they didn't want to be failed," The boy offered the information to (Y/N), trying to smile in some form of reassurance. All the boy got in return was the annoyed stare of (Y/N) as she began to turn away from him. With hurried steps to keep up with (Y/N), the boy said, "Of course that wouldn't make you feel better. Look, I know I'm probably one of the last people you want to trust, but if you let me take you back to King's Dominion-"

"Absolutely not," (Y/N) exclaimed, effectively cutting the boy off. She shook her head as she waved a hand at the boy, trying to shrug him off. "I've been running away from people trying to drag me to that place. Why would I willingly go with you of all people?"

"Because we have healers," The boy said exasperated. One of his hands jotted forward to reach out for (Y/N) but stopped at the large flinch on her part when he got too close. "I'm not saying you have to stay, hell you could be out of there as soon as the medics are done with you. But you'll have a better chance of coming with me than you will be trying to get help at a hospital.

When (Y/N) couldn't think of anything to say, the boy took it as his signal to keep on speaking.

"I was just like you once, okay? Scared and living on the street, on the run from cops and anyone who got too close. King's Dominion is far from a home or somewhere safe, but if you're willing, you can find yourself fitting in with the right group of people and making something for yourself there," It wasn't the lecture (Y/N) wanted to hear but it seemed to knock some sense into (Y/N)'s head. “Yeah, most of the people there are scum-sucking ducks, and the teachers couldn’t care less if you got poisoned or shot at, but at least you’ll have a future there. And hey, maybe in a month or two you’ll get to be the one chasing kids down the street trying to recruit them into this secret society where they could go and work for NASA even.”

“What does NASA have to do with any of this?” (Y/N) questioned with furrowed brows, allowing the boy to get a little closer to her and place a steadying hand on her back near the puncture wound.

“More than you think,” He laughed. (Y/N) turned to him, trying to arch one of her brows to show her confusion, only getting a shake of the boy's head as if signalling it was for another time. "I'm Marcus."

"(Y/N)," She says, allowing Marcus to push her forward and lead her King's Dominion, keeping an eye out for any of the strange faces she had run into previously that night. "You know your little rant wasn't very effective if you were hoping to get me to stay at King's Dominion."

"Yeah, the more I spoke the more I began to realise that." No one seemed to care much for the blade sticking out of (Y/N)'s back, passing by as if there wasn't a thing wrong with the image. (Y/N) couldn't decide if that was a good thing or if it was alarming how much people were willing to ignore what was right in front of them. "But I was inspirational, wasn't I?"

"Oh, very," (Y/N) concluded, a scruff of a smile appearing on her face. "Had the troops rallying. Could barely contain my excitement to get to this place where I'll have scum-sucking kids drooling over me and knobs of a teacher cursing me to do homework that will hopefully get us all killed"

"Don't be surprised if that's their objective," He warned before abruptly turning into a food store where a few people were already waiting. As (Y/N) followed after him, a question on the tip of her tongue as she stepped into the store which quickly dissolved as she saw some familiar faces.

"Hey Marcus, you got my skateboard back," The green-haired boy from earlier yelled happily as he jumped off one of the tables he had comfortably taken a seat on. Bounding over he extracted the board from Marcus before looking over at (Y/N). "I thought Marcus may have been able to woo you over here. I get it, I'm not your type. At least Lex wasn't able to get to you and bloody you up too badly."

"I wouldn't say that," Came the voice (Y/N) grew to find annoying. The same bush of blonde hair came wandering over, plucking the blade from (Y/N)'s shoulder, earning a gargled-out wince from the (H/C) haired girl as a hand shot up to apply pressure to the now exposed wound. Thick welts of blood began to smear across her fingers as she was guided through the store. "I think I did a pretty dandy job of giving her her first King's Dominion scar."

A scorn flashed across (Y/N)'s face as Marcus kept her moving, pushing her away from the blonde girl. It was then that her attention was caught by a boy with poorly bleached hair that he had been able to spike up. "Looks like you were able to strike out before me Marcus, good work there chap."

An uncertain familiarity took over (Y/N) at the sight of the boy. She found herself going out on a limb and asking, "Are you the famous Lex that greasy over there was going on about all night?"

"Someone been talking about me?" Lex asked with a bemused grin, eyes skittering around the room.

At the same time as Lex spoke, the green-haired boy yelled out, "My hair is not greasy!"

"Oh, I'm gonna like this one," Lex announced before he started to walk to the backdoor of the small building. "Now, you've been keeping Master Lin waitin' a long time. You ready to meet the man and be turned into a killer?"

Despite herself, (Y/N) found herself looking back at Marcus. She was either seeking out his reassurance or guidance, something she wasn't sure why she was doing. His shoulders quickly raised in an act of surrender. He spoke lowly, almost a whisper like it was a secret between them, "Don't look at me."

Turning back around to face Lex, she found him leaning against a door with a sign on it that read staff only. The boy with green hair was standing next to him while the other three he had seen earlier were standing slightly out of the way, waiting for her answer.

"Lead the way," She settled on saying.

[starlightrosa]

LEE JAX lers pomni and rags pleaseee ur fics are amazing

Jax's Downfall

Summary: Jax has played one too many mean pranks, and Pomni wants revenge.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Rather intense tickles, Jax is an asshole but he gets his just desserts, swearing (haha censored though)

A/N: Jay! Thank you for the wait! And I'm happy to hear that you like my work! I'm sorry you have had to wait so long, but I do hope this one is good. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jax snickered to himself as he hid in the corner of his room. It was rather early in the Digital Circus today. While everyone was still asleep, Jax had found the key to Pomni’s room. Pomni was relatively new to the circus still, having been only there for a couple days. What kind of person would Jax be if he didn’t give the new girl a nice housewarming present, right?

Except the housewarming present may or may not have been a sack full of cockroaches. And maybe Jax knew that Pomni had a fear of cockroaches. Apparently the little jester hated the way they moved.

Jax had also been extra kind and put cleverly made fake cockroaches around as well, so the jester would have a hard time telling which roaches were real, and which were not. Jax giggled to himself as he heard the noises of Pomni stirring awake. He didn’t even need to check if his prank had gone to plan, as he heard a hair-raising shriek from behind the door.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! THERE’S COCKROACHES EVERYWHERE! NO, GET AWAY! EW!”

Jax slammed his hand over his mouth and he snickered as Ragatha raced into Pomni’s room and got her out. Caine popped into view, rubbing his eyes.

“Pomni, its most early…” Caine complained, but then he saw all the cockroaches and both sets of teeth that also made up his head comically fell open. “Oh goodness.”

Ragatha hurried Pomni out of the roach-filled room and consoled her. “Hey, hey. Pomni, calm down. I don’t know how they got in there. Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of them all.”

“Hey. Bugs matter just as much, you know.” Jax cut in with a drastic eye-roll. Ragatha sent Jax a look. Oh, if looks could kill, Jax would be a pile of bones by now. Her eyes were hateful, as she comforted Pomni.

“Jax, what the (HONK!) is wrong with you? Why would you do that to Pomni?!” Ragatha accused. Jax scoffed and held his hands up.

“Don’t be blaming me, Ragdoll. I didn’t do anything.”

Caine went closer to that door. “Well, I’ll put this right in a jiffy.” the ringleader responded. One simple click of his fingers and these digital bugs, both fake and real, disappeared at one simple snap, making their little chirping noises even as they dissolved into pixels.

“Thank you, Caine.” Pomni murmured, even as she pressed closer to Ragatha, the jester refusing to look at her room even as the last roach disappeared. She had woken up to find one of those on her bed. Granted, it was a fake one. But then she looked up and saw real, moving ones, which had caused her initial scream.

“No problem, Pomni. Well, I’m off to touch some grass.” Caine excused, the ringleader vanishing with a pop. Jax scoffed and walked by Ragatha, who still sent the lilac bunny a very angry look indeed. He bent down to Pomni’s level, whispering into her ear.

“You know, Pomni… fun fact. Female roaches can lay eggs after like sixty days.” Jax teased, loving Pomni’s whimper of fear as he left. God, he loved messing with her.

Pomni growled once Jax had left. “Ugh… I hate him so much.”

“So do I, Pomni. I don’t know why he’s the way that he is.” Ragatha said, doing her best to sympathise with the upset jester. Jax was unfortunately like this. Just the other week, he had done a similar prank to Ragatha, only with centipedes, which happened to be Ragatha’s fear. Seems she and Pomni were on quite a similar wavelength in regards to their fears.

“I want to get him back.” Pomni hissed, at her wits end with this stupid rabbit.

Ragatha wasn’t sure. Turning the other cheek sounded like a better option, but Jax was the kind of person to never get bored, and his pranks tended to become much more mean if he got a reaction he didn’t want, as it was blatantly obvious that because of life in the circus, Jax either had little or no regard of consequence coming to pay its dues to him.

“I want to do that as well. But we don’t even know how to get him back.” Ragatha reasoned. But Pomni was dead set on paying the rabbit back, and then some.

“Then we ask Caine. Let’s go.” Pomni said, leaving no room for excuses as the two girls ran off to go find the ringleader.

Caine was outside the tent with Bubble. He was doing what he said, at least. His mismatched eyes were on the lush, digitally-created green grass, and his gloved hand was stroking up and down the green blades, them swaying softly in the wind.

“Caine.”

The ringleader looked up to see Pomni. She looked most irritable, and her arms were crossed.

“Pomni, dear. What’s wrong?” Caine asked. Pomni sighed, one hand twirling at the stray strands of hair under her hat.

“Jax has been playing such horrible pranks. I want to get him back.” Pomni stated, looking at the ringleader, even as he played with the blades of grass idly as he listened to Pomni air out her singular grievance against Jax. Oddly refreshing, considering that the other members must have had a list of grievances against Jax that was about three miles long by now.

“Hmm. Well, I suppose there is one way that you could pay Jax his dues. I found out some rather valuable information about Jax, and he doesn’t know that I know. Care for me to spill the tea, as it were? Though I don’t really have tea. Just a teacup.” Caine rambled, a flowery teacup popping into his hands. Caine pretended to drink tea from it to sell the illusion.

Pomni grinned as she nodded her head. “Spill, Caine. Spill every drop of information.”

Caine chuckled. “Well, Jax is actually rather ticklish. More than he wishes to admit. If you give him a good tickle, he should back off for a little.”

Oh, Caine had just helped Pomni strike a gold mine head-on. She smiled, an evil glint in her eye. “Oh, Caine. I don’t think you know how happy I am right now. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, my dear. Oh, and Jax can’t stand nibbles on his stomach.” Caine added.

Pomni rubbed her hands together, the way a cartoonish villain would. She chuckled lowly as she began to plot with Ragatha.

“We have our plan. Ragatha, you’re gonna help me.” Pomni said.

“Sure. Jax has been more annoying than usual. I’d like to see him laid out and screaming like a baby while we tickle him to tears.” Ragatha stated, winking her real eye as her button eye focused upon Pomni, content to listen to the jester explain her plan.

Pomni chuckled a little mischievously, as she and Ragatha assumed their places. They waited in Jax’s room, because Jax had so foolishly left his door unlocked while he went to go wreak havoc on Gangle again.

Gangle’s muffled cries were cut short at the snarky laughter of Jax slowly growing louder as the rabbit walked back to his room and closed his door. Perfect. Ragatha and Pomni took their chance and they both jumped on Jax.

Jax shrieked like a little girl as he was taken to the floor. Ragatha gathered Jax’s wrists and yanked them sharply above his head as Pomni straddled his waist, and she smirked down at him.

“What the (HONK)?! Pomni, get off! You little-!” Jax yelled, trying to struggle, but then Pomni traced Jax’s underarms. Jax clamped his mouth shut faster than he ever had, trying to swallow down the laughter steadily rising in his chest.

“A little birdie told me you were ticklish, Jaxie-Paxie.” Pomni cooed, the jester never losing that mischievous look.

“Jaxie-Paxie? Oh, cohohoHOHOHOME OHOHOHON! P-POHOHOHOHOMNI!!”” Jax deadpanned, but then his sarcastic remark was cut off by a loud shriek and laughter as Pomni stuck her hands in Jax’s armpits and started off tickling.

“Yes, Jax?” Pomni asked, in a sickly sweet tone that made Jax squirm. But Jax couldn’t even say anything, overwhelmed by laughter as he couldn’t even wriggle, Ragatha holding him down easily like he weighed nothing.

“POHOHOMNI, STOHOHOHOP!!” Jax wailed, the rabbit’s legs kicking as he tried to find purchase to escape the jester and her tickles. But there was nowhere to go, and not like Ragatha would let him get very far.

“Stop? Aw, but I barely started!” Pomni responded, moving her hands slower than a snail’s pace to Jax’s stomach, pulling his shirt up.

“WAHAHAHAIT, WAHAHAIT! NOT THERE, POHOHOMNI!” Jax begged. He hated how ticklish he was sometimes, especially when other people found out about it. Well, hate may have been quite a strong word. Like hell he would tell anyone how he really felt about getting tickled, though.

“Not here? But why, Jax?” Pomni asked.

“B-Becahahause no!” Jax lamely responded through his laughter.

But Pomni didn’t listen and vibrated her fingers into Jax’s stomach. Jax had no chance at resisting, as that was his number one tickle spot. He fell into loud, wheezing cackles near-instantly.

“NOOOOOOHOHOHOHO!!! ST-STOHOHOHOP IHIHIHIT! THAHAHAT TIHIHIHICKLES, POHOHOMNI!”

“Aww, is the wittle wabbit all ticklish on his tummy-wums? Ohh, poor baby.” Pomni teased, not letting up on her tickles one bit. She grinned, letting Jax see her teeth. “Such delicious giggles, little bunny-bun. I’m hungry for laughter. And I think I could go for a snack~”

Pomni dipped her head down and began to softly scrape her teeth against the ticklish skin. Jax screamed and thrashed at the feeling, loud and boisterous laughter leaving him.

“Just give it up, Jax. Let me hear them giggles.” Pomni encouraged, before going right back to nibbling Jax’s belly, and Ragatha laughed along with Jax. This was the best entertainment Jax was involved in, by far.

Jax screamed and wailed like a baby as his legs kicked out. Pomni was so mean.

“Have you learned your lesson yet?” Ragatha asked. Jax cried out as Pomni was now kneading Jax’s stomach with her fingers.

“NOHOHOHOHO!!” Jax screamed, but Ragatha tutted from above him.

“You haven’t? Oh, dear. Well, you need another lesson. Pomni, give him some good raspberries.” Ragatha instructed. Jax swore he saw God for a minute.

“NOHOHOHO! DOHOHOHON’T YOU (HONK)ING DARE!” Jax yelled. Once again, Pomni didn’t listen as she ducked her head down and her lips met Jax’s stomach as she inhaled and blew a raspberry right over his bellybutton. Jax shrieked at such a high pitch, that if the circus tent had windows, Ragatha was pretty sure that Jax would have shattered the glass.

And Pomni didn’t stop there. She blew smaller raspberries and moved her ticklish little raspberries all over Jax’s tummy. By the time she had enough, tears were flowing down Jax’s face as Ragatha finally released his hands. The girls chuckled as they high fived each other. Jax held his stomach with one hand as he pressed the other against his mouth to muffle his remaining giggles.

“Don’t you dare prank me like that again.” Pomni said, as she and Ragatha left him to his own devices. Jax watched them go as he flopped back on his bed. Jax made a note in his head even as his exhaustion from such intense tickles took him to a nice nap.

Way more roaches in Pomni’s room next time.

[fict1onallyobsessed]

I have a request; Reader and her family isn’t on best terms, so when they come to her show and try and act supportive seeing how popular she is, reader acts out knowing they abused her for years saying she would be nothing.

Rhea basically comforting reader please? I’m so deprived of the lack of content recently in the Rhea tags…you’re a amazing writer and I miss your work for her :(

No pressure though, have a good day :)

The World Outside

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

It hurt to see them smile behind the barrier as if nothing happened. It didn't make you feel better. It didn't just make those years of degrading go away. Most importantly, it didn't make you any better of a wrestler when they were watching.

Rhea could almost smell the dread dripping off your body when you looked around from the corner of the ring, eyes plastered and stuck onto one place like your body suddenly decided that neither flight or fight was an option. It felt debilitating, your brain refusing to acknowledge anything other than them.

Rhea grabbed your waist and picked you up from the ropes, cheering in victory with the crowd at the win you just earned yourself. Momentarily, everything was okay. Time stopped when you looked into Rhea eyes, her smile almost reaching her eyes. For a moment, you forgot they existed. You were so focused on Rhea that you didn't notice her own attempt at distracting you from whatever made you freeze up.

You smiled and cheered with your group, looking into the opposite side of the crowd and cheering again. Thankfully it was the end of the match, and you all made your way down the walkway. You stayed close to your girlfriend, fighting back tears as you pretended your parents weren't sat 5 meters away from you.

"Hey, what's up?" She asked the second you were out of camera's view. Her gentle touch on your shoulders just made you want to sob more, the want to leave was stronger than ever. You shook your head silently, looking down as you rubbed your face with your hands.

"Can we just go back to the hotel? Please?"

Her eyebrows furrowed but she nodded, leading you to the locker room. She placed her coat on herself and didn't even bother changing, reaching into her pocket for her car keys to give them to you.

"Go to the car, okay? I'll get the rest of your stuff."

You nodded and offered her a small smile, grateful she wasn't one to push for answers. You grabbed your coat, let the key drop into your hands and you left the building, heading for the car park as quickly as you could. Nobody backstage bothered you, thankfully, the match only being a small one that you didn't have press conferences for.

Your feet dragged as you felt the cold air of the car park hit you, all the colour on your face dissolving when you saw who was standing next to Rhea's car. There was a moment where you just wanted to turn back, but why should you?

This was your environment, they had no right to invade, especially after they basically told you that you were going to be nothing. You didn't have to feel scared of them anymore, didn't have to hide you passion anymore. Because those cheers you hear and the bell that rings every time you win makes up for the childhood you spelt with them.

"We went backstage but the crew told us you were gone!" Your mum laughed, walking towards you as you blankly stared at them, opening the car door to push your coat into the back seat. "How have you been!"

You scoffed at her act of innocence. Act as if she didn't end up locking you in your house just to stop you from going to wrestling practise. It hurt, her sudden change in demeanour. You rolled your eye and went to open the passenger door, thinking of how you'd explain this to Rhea. You were planning on completely ignoring them until rhea got here, but it wasn't until your mum tried to hug you that you snapped.

"Get off me!" You pushed her off. "You have some fucking nerve showing up here."

She seemed stunned, taking a step back and watching you slam the car door roughly before she spoke up again.

"Wasn't my support the only thing you begged me for when you were a ki-"

"Yes! When I was a child! You know, when a kid needs their parents support the most? Yeah, then. Now you can shove your support where the sun doesn't shine because guess what; I don't fucking need you anymore." You sniffled, unaware of the fact you even started crying. "I don't need you, or dad, or the thing you so call support. You're only here because you saw I've finally made it! Something you told me I will never do when I was little. You have no right showing up here. Go back home, wherever you are now, I don't care. I don't need your pity, and I certainly won't give you any."

"Well, we're here now, aren't we?" Your father stepped up from behind your mother and gave you a sympathetic smile as he held onto your mums shoulders reassuringly. He was the exact same as you mother, a fucking hypocrite. "We want to say-"

"Sorry?" You scoffed through your tears. "Say that to the 15 year old you used to lock away and deprive of social interaction for months because she was going to training. Honestly, fuck you both and leave me alone."

"But-"

"You heard her." Rhea's voice sounded from behind you, opening the back of the car to place your stuff in before walking towards you and your parents. Her hand ended up on the small of your back as she led you away and closer to her passenger door. She ended up closing your door before turning towards them, limiting what you could hear before she started to speak again.

"Who are-"

"She's right, you have no business here. She asked you to leave her be so fuck off." She talked as she walked to her side of the car, opening the door cutting your mum off.

"Excuse me, that's my daught-"

You handed her the keys and she turned the car on, immediately starting to drive away from your now screaming mother. You were still sat sniffling as Rhea pulled into the hotel parking, her hand drawing circles into the inside of your thigh as she put the car into a stop.

"You okay?" She whispered, looking at you from the side. You gave her a weak smile and nodded, getting out the car with her and picked up your stuff before heading towards your hotel room. You didn't even manage to put all of your stuff down before she came up to you and wrapped her arms around your waist, picking you up into her embrace.

You hugged her shoulders and let your legs wrap around her waist, a sign leaving your lips as she carried you towards your shared bed. You let out a laugh when she fell onto the bed with you still attached to her, both of you bouncing as the beds mattress caught your bodies. Her smile when you laughed instantly made you feel better, a small giggle leaving your lips.

You loved her, especially her ability to make the world outside go away.

THE END

[bunnypansy]

Loveit? (Ep.1/?)

This episode is rated M for VIOLENCE and BODY HORROR themes, if those things are not for you, please, do not continue.

Welcome, beloved viewers, to the first installment in our series Loveit? In this episode, you find yourself cursed by something beyond human understanding. Unfortunately, this episode is horror only and has no explicitly romantic elements (in this installment).

Featuring: Mahito and You!

Beware! This film contains: reader is male but this chapter makes no reference to gender and can be considered gender neutral, graphic descriptions of transfigured humans, body horror, light Mahito x reader if you close your eyes, the reader can see curses, mentions of mental health professionals/medication, the reader is kinda a loser, brief vomit moment at the very end

The psychiatrists claim you’re getting better- the only thing you’re getting better at is lying. All children are honest to a fault, and you were no different; spilling to every person you met about the strange creatures you saw in the corners of your vision, grotesque and monstrous hallucinations. Your “overactive imagination” was cute for one or two years, but that cuteness didn't stick. What was once charming and silly becomes frightening in your teens, and worth medicating when you’re an adult. You were prescribed a veritable cocktail of pills, the medication doesn’t do anything to help- no matter how much you’d like it to. If anyone wanted the slurry of chemicals and hormones to cure your disorganized brain, it was you. Taking purposeless pills seemed like a waste and the side effects were doing you no good, so at some point, you stopped- cold turkey -and nothing changed. A small part of you hoped your delusions would worsen, so hungry for a scrap of proof that you were capable of recovering, but the visions stayed exactly the same. When a remedy became little more than a pipedream, you turned to the next best option: lying.

With a thick smattering of concealer on your dark circles and a weak grin, you insisted to your therapist that the hallucinations had all but cleared up; then swiftly canceled any future appointments. You carefully trained yourself to stop reacting when you caught a monstrous creature following your coworkers, pretending you couldn’t see it twitching and muttering. If acting was your path to acceptance, to the normal life you’d always dreamed of, you’d perform your damn heart out.

To say playing at normality is easy would be another, bigger lie, but it was worth it. Living the life of your peers felt beyond amazing- it was euphoric. Dinner with friends after late nights, coffee dates on weekends, texting on lunch breaks; for the first time in your life, you were content. Part of you was still waiting for the other shoe to fall, but maybe, just for tonight, you could let those worries dissolve at the bottom of your glass. A couple of coworkers had decided to gather for drinks after their shift ended, you listened while they chatted, but never intended to insert yourself; being passed over for such events was so commonplace that it no longer stung you. To say you were pleasantly surprised to be invited was an understatement- the only word to describe your state of mind was ecstatic.

That spring showed in your every step down the sidewalk, your heels lifting off the ground with an ease you haven’t felt for years. Each movement feels feather-light, lead weights turning to sand beneath your shoes- you’re completely giddy. You find yourself twirling in the empty walkway, arms outstretched to absorb the streetlight like a spotlight; the world is your stage, and this is your standing ovation. There’s no audience to catch your childish moment of victory- your coworkers are a few too many minutes ahead of you -but you’re still caught up in a wave of embarrassment when you fling your keys out of your hands amid your celebratory performance. There’s a sharp jingle as they skid across the concrete and to the mouth of an alley several paces ahead, glinting beneath the golden light. You sheepishly shuffle over to retrieve your keys, freshly ashamed of your display from a few seconds ago.

As you’re knelt on the pavement, something timidly parts the silence. Slowly, you’re made aware of a presence, somewhere beyond the light of the streets, hidden from view by the veil of darkness. Your prickles with goosebumps, senses sharpened to a fine point.

“Is…” For a heartbeat, you consider shutting your mouth and turning tail, letting this odd event become little more than a droplet in your ocean's worth of strange occurrences. "...Is someone there?"

You're expecting silence- hoping for it, truly -but you’re met with a murmur instead. The words are garbled and quiet like someone was struggling to speak around the weight of their own tongue. “La… late..”

With apprehension weighing on your joints, you slowly return to your full height, fist closed tightly around your keys as you exit the safety of the street lamp.

“Do you need help?” The points of your keys are carefully tucked between each finger, your voice taking on a vulnerable tone you don’t prefer. “Should- should I call someone?”

The farther you pad into the alleyway, the darkness ahead of you gains a texture to it, the formless shadow of a figure slumped against the ground. You squint and strain to see the person ahead, only sound and vague flickering shadows alerting you to their movements as they drag themselves across the pavement a few arduous inches.

“You…” Their voice is no clearer now, even with only an arm's length separating you. The words are garbled and noisy; as if several voices were trying to speak with a single tongue. “You’re too… Late…!”

At last, your eyes adjust to the low lighting and the figure comes fully into focus. It might've been a person once, but those days were clearly over. What lay on the concrete before you could only be described as a monster, its head so swollen that it overshadowed the creature’s entire body, too heavy for the mangled neck to remain upright. You can hear its teeth scraping against the concrete with a grating shriek as it inches closer. The few hairs still attached to its head are thin and oily, sticking to its pimple-coated scalp. Its flesh is a blotchy, maroon-violet, as though the entire body was one continuous bruise, and the thing groans in agony to confirm that assumption.

“Oh- oh my God-” Where your adrenaline should be urging you to flee, it only makes your sneakers feel heavier than the concrete you stand on. It's the same instinct that makes children stare at roadkill, the same thing that leaves you unable to move and unable to look away. Your body won’t let you blink; the longer you stare, the more you see, and the worse you feel.

Further along the alley, there's a woman- you're guessing, from the pencil skirt that she no longer fits into -so bloated she resembles a corpse dragged up onto the beach, with the cloudy eyes of a dead fish to match. Indigo veins spiderweb across the pallid skin where her swollen throat strains against the lanyard that once hung loosely around her neck; a lanyard you recognize. The collection of familiar cat pins makes it clear to you who this woman used to be: your coworker, Honami. You look again, prying into the darkness, an awful sense of dread crawling under your skin as you do. At the dead end, there’s a figure with limbs so long and skinny they more closely resembled toothpicks; the creature’s legs had snapped straight in half at the shin, rendering the victim unable to move, trapped in a permanent state of being folded over. His face is obscured, but you recognize your manager Tatsuya by the shoes you've spent so much time staring down at.

“You're… late…!” A moist, clammy hand paws at your pant leg, dragging your attention back to the nearest creature. Though you assume this was another of your coworkers, your slow trickle of guilt grows into a torrent of shame when you realize you can't even place a name on this one anymore. “Too late…! You're late! You're late! La...te!”

Those words ring in your ears, joining the cacophony of static filling your brain. You'd seen atrocities like this before- some worse -but never before had they been so real, so tangible. Your visions had never reached out their shaking hands and touched you. They had never been people, either, let alone people you know- or knew. Yet, despite the unadulterated terror and disgust coursing through your veins, there’s a twinge of familiar resignation; of course, this happened. Your joy had gone untainted for far too long.

Indistinct noise behind you begins to fade in; a voice, clearer and stronger than anyone in front of you. The words only become clear when he’s come close enough for you to feel the breath grazing the back of your neck, raising goosebumps everywhere the air touches.

“Hey,” his voice buzzes against your ear, high and plaintive. An insect, a petulant child, something that wants your attention desperately and will have it. “Hey, can you even hear me?”

Hands. One on your waist, the other on your shoulder- you’re absolutely appalled to have someone touching you in this instant -can he not see what’s right in front of you both? Or does he just not care? The tunnel vision you're experiencing is so complete it's made you as good as blind, but the adrenaline rushing through your veins picks up the slack for your sight. The stranger stands too close, the body heat between the two of you should be enough to make you sweaty, but everywhere his touch lands becomes colder than stone. Worse yet, he smells foul; like wet, rotten leaves in autumn; or roadkill that’s been baking in the sun for hours; or mildewed clothing that’s been hiding in the basement; you can’t seem to find a single thing it quite reminds you of, other than death.

All at once, the arm around your waist seems to break itself a thousand times over, weaving around your torso so the palm comes out just below your chin. Frigid fingers grasp your face and turn your head, forcing you to meet the eyes of your captor. Just viewing the figure drowns you in a reflexive sense of dread, as though all of nature had never intended for the human eye to rest upon such a horrible thing. You’re thankful for the shadows in the alley, granting you respite from seeing him in any finer detail; like this, all you can make out is the glint of amber streetlights against small and silver dashes buried in his flesh. Your rational mind wants to say those are only piercings, but instincts insist otherwise.

“Ah! You can see me! Good, good.” The voice isn’t at all what you’re expecting- snarling, furious, or cruel. Instead, he only sounds lightly entertained, pleased that he has your attention now. Somehow, that’s so much worse. The strange man tilts your head back and forth, like you’re nothing but a ragdoll to him; he's a rabid dog and you're a toy to shake around as he pleases. "It’s rude to ignore people, you know.”

Five long seconds of silence feel closer to hours of you trying to will a single action from your body. You should scream or cry, try to run or fight, or do anything but stand frozen and take this without so much as a squeak. Something wet laps at your ankle and you refuse to look- you can't bear seeing it again -but at least the sensation shocks a few syllables out of you.

“Did you…?” The words burn away on your tongue as acid builds in your throat, threatening to leap past your teeth if you keep your lips parted for even a moment longer. You don’t have any rational reasoning behind asking if he did this. He couldn’t have, no one could have, you're just having another episode. The words from decades' worth of doctors seep into your mind, struggling to persuade you that this couldn't possibly be reality. Maybe, if you convince yourself this night is all another delusion produced by your sick mind, the nightmare won't be real when you wake up tomorrow.

He glances past you towards the portraits of suffering down the alley, ones he’d painted by hand, like he had forgotten they were still there. “Hm? Why? Were they your friends?”

Only an hour ago, you would’ve answered no; now, with death looming over your shoulder and a corpse at your feet, a tidal wave of grief washes over you. Your entire face crumples as you attempt to hold back tears- you will not cry, not here, not now, not like this.

As the man leans closer to press his forehead against yours, a thick curtain of silvery hair envelopes either side of your vision. The outside world disappears and in this hell, there is only you and the monsters you run from.

“Aw, don’t worry.” A smile spreads across his face like the plague, and the longer you're forced to see it, the closer you get to vomiting. His arms slither around your body like snakes, constricting you into an embrace as comforting as a straitjacket. “You can call me Mahito, and we’re gonna be best friends.”

When you can’t hold back and finally throw up in that damp, desolate alleyway, Mahito only laughs.

That's all for our showing today, thank you for tuning in!

HIIIIII GUYSSSS. Sometimes I feel like a deadbeat dad leaving my kids to get milk and cigarettes, only reappearing once every 6 months... but Here!!!!! I'm planning for this to go on for a little, can't promise regular updates though. The Barbatos fic MIGHT be coming out in October for a bit of a kinktober type thing? And I got into Black Butler, so I have an Undertaker mini-fic I'm cleaning up that will hopefully be posted soon!

[bks-writing-adventures]

The Fish (Aemond Targaryen X OC, Sapphires and Carnelian Part Two.)

Read part one here!

https://www.tumblr.com/bks-writing-adventures/754389761267056640/sapphires-and-carneliansource=share

I also have this on Wattpad where I update almost every day, and you can find edits of the story on my tiktok: bk.calliope.

As the raven left with the letter, he found himself watching it until it was merely a black dot in the sky. He cursed beneath his breath. Could the raven not fly faster? It was like the creature didn’t even want to deliver the letter. As the bird dissolved into the clouds, his focus went back to the miniature in his hand. The more he looked at it, the more he could see beauty in her face. She did not have the sharp, neat look of ladies at the court, but something more charming, a bit more wild. And different was nice. He was different, so it would only make sense that his future wife be so, too.

Unless, of course, he was too late and the girl was already married. It had been several years afterall. And she was only five and ten in this photo, awkward with the touches of puberty and the expectations of society. He took a deep breath, and eventually, placed the picture down on his bedside table, scolding himself as he saw the marks his touch had left. The corners were crinkled from the weight of his sweating thumbs, and his cheeks got rosy as he blew on the parchment in hopes of evening it out. He couldn’t believe his own behavior, it was humiliating. 

He knew it would probably be days before they received any letter, if they received one at all, and so he found himself going to the training yard. He looked over all the options for swords, and every single one of them seemed dull. The sun was doing the aged metal no favors, and they were far from luxurious. Where had royalty gone wrong? He had seen depictions of old gowns and garments, ones that were divine and godly. Sleeves used to puff, and head pieces were worn like treasure. It was like they were moving backwards. All of that wealth going to the garbage. When he got a wife, and surely he would, she would never look plain. He would cover her in the best of gowns, have her hair braided with flowers and gems. She would be a true Princess. 

“My Prince, looking for a challenge, are you?” Ser Criston chuckled. Aemond looked back at him, a ghost of a smirk on his face. 

“If I was looking for a challenge, I would not be looking for you.” He responds. He had beaten Ser Criston time and time again, and sometimes he wondered what life would be if they were not just practicing. Perhaps, if he could, he would take Criston’s head clean off. He didn’t care much for the man, no matter how much he pretended. He was a man with no honor. One with loyalty to no one. He was no great knight, and he did not deserve his title, nor his cloak. He had broken his oaths time and time again, and it would not be long before someone suffered from his negligence. Constantly leaving his post to sleep with the Queen in the midst of the knight, rinsing his mouth of the taste of women. On his knees in the Sept, as though that washed away the lasting effects of his actions. That man could crush the whole realm to pieces, the way he crushed women like sand beneath his feet. 

“Oh, is that so?” Ser Criston smiled, grabbing a sword. “Then we should ensure that you do not get rusty, like all those cocky knights before you,” He spoke, and the two men took their positions. “I am not like the men who came before me,” and for better or worse, the words were true. At least he was exactly who he claimed to be. He was not a bastard, and he was no hypocrite. And he would never be like his father, who married a child. And he would not be like his uncle, who whined and cried and created drama left and right. He would not be like his brother, who made every person miserable every time he opened his mouth.

He was not sure who he would be, only that he would not be them. Perhaps he could be a good husband, a good father. And he could pray to the gods to make him King. If only Aegon was not alive. He fought harder against Criston’s weapons as the thoughts swam around his brain. How easy it would be to find Aegon in his delusions, wrapped in women at the brothel. It would not be so difficult to slip milk of poppy into his wine. Just enough so that he would not wake up. How easy life could be, then. 

But then of course, there was Rhaenyra, who his father loved more than anyone. But even that love was not pure. There was something dark inside his words. Something ingenuine, because the only thing a King can ever love, of course, was his crown. The thing must be cursed, for every time it touched the head of man, he became insufferable. Sitting on the iron throne filled the blood with ignorance. Maybe that is why the realm was spinning further and further into poverty and misery. With a final blow to Criston’s sword, the metal split in two, and the Knight smiled. “With those skills, you should be ready for a Tourney.” He said proudly, and Aemond tried to ignore how much it touched his heart. Hearing someone be proud of him, it was the finest luxury he had ever known. That validation that made his soul come alive.

 “I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” He said, taking a deep breath as he went to return his sword to the barrel. His wrist ached ever so slightly, and boredly, he cracked his knuckles. 

“Perhaps you should. That is the easiest way for a fine man to catch the attentions of a fair lady,” Criston responded as he slid his sword back to his holder. With a smirk, Aemond looked back at him. 

“Is that what happened to you?” He asked, making the knight go quiet. 

“I am only saying that it is worth a try. If you wait any longer to marry, you were no longer be in your prime.” As if he knew anything about marriage. Aemond rolled his eyes, shaking his head with an empty laugh as he approached the gardens.

 “If this is my prime, it will be a miserable life to live. I am not even twenty.” He responded. And besides, it was not like a mans seed could ever die. “And besides, I am already taking steps, for your information. And perhaps it would do you best to care about your own relationships. I am sure my mother would appreciate it.” He spoke, walking alone to the gardens. His book rested heavy in his cloak, and he walked until he found his favorite tree, a large willow older than himself. A robins nest sat in the depths of the branches, and as he sat to read, a ladybug ran across his book. His instinct was to smack it away from the parchment, but he held his breath. Helaena was always going on and on about the value of life, in things big and small. And guilt ate away at his belly, until he eventually took the bug on his fingertip and gave it a gentle blow of his breath, sending the small insect flying calmly to another tree. His head leaned against the bark as he propped himself up, his book in his lap. A History of Dragons. He had read it twice before, but what was the harm in reading it again? Besides, it was good to keep his knowledge fresh. And it was not as though a new book was going to come any time soon. 

That was his only problem with the library. It was all too limited. The histories of Westeros, the Science of Dragons, the Philosophy of The Seven. All fine literature, but all old. All things said before, time and time again for centuries on end. The newest book was still thirty years old, at least, and there was not a single novel about romance or magic. No fiction, no escaping the present. It was exhausting. And so, he decided, that tonight would be the perfect time to take himself to the city, to the small bookstores and presses until he found something that would interest him. The evening meal was nothing special. Rosemary potatoes and pulled pork. It was good, but it was all the same as any other day. “Did you embroider a lot today, Helaena?” His mother asked, but her daughter was far more fascinated with the grooves in the table, looking at them over and over. 

“I am excited,” She said quietly, and Alicent’s brows raised. That was a rare thing for Helaena, any form of happiness.

 “You are? What for?” She asked quietly, and Aemond looked at her, too. 

“For the fish.” She said quietly, a smile forming on her face. Alicent blinked, brows furrowed. As she was about to speak, Aegon opened his mouth. 

“This isn’t fish, it’s pork. It’s pig,” He said, laughing as he shook his head and filled his mouth with wine. It was a miracle that his lips weren’t permanently stained with purple. Helaena hummed, her eyes wandering quietly. Alicent shifted uncomfortably in her chair, looking at all of her children with her big brown eyes.

 “The weather was nice today. Did you get out to the gardens, Aemond?” She asked, and he nodded silently. Trying to create conversation at the table was like trying to turn water into wine. 

“Yes. I read a great deal of pages.” He mumbles. Silence again. The sound of forks against plates echoed off the walls, and Aemond was itching to leave. It was a miracle when the dinner hour was finally done, and he went to his chambers in a hurried manner. Looking under his bed, he carefully picked out his sack of coins, looking at them under the light. Books were a luxury, especially amongst the common folk. But he was good at bargaining. It was quite the thrill. Taking two coppers and a single golden dragon, he grabbed his cloak and went to his washroom, making sure to pin all of his hair away from his face.

If the merchants caught glimpse of the silver wisps, he would be overcharged, he was sure. He was silent as he moved through the streets, his cloak pinned to the very top of his head. So long as he stayed away from the Streets of Silk, he was as good as invisible. The book stores were nothing fancy, a simple hole in the wall with an oil-filled lantern to keep it from getting too dark, bugs buzzing on the walls as he looked over the titles. He could not find a single shop that only sold books, for all of them sold a plethora of things. But this one, Books and Beads, was quickly becoming his favorite. 

It had its own charms, figuratively and literally. Orange peels burned constantly with cinnamon, making the whole room smell like autumn, and his eye squinted as he traced over title over title. They were all things he had never heard of, unique with crooked cut parchment, and some still smelling of ink. Fresh copies. He flicked through the first few pages of a fairytale: A breakfast in the woods. It seemed fairly demonic in nature, going into the ideas of old fairytales and the old gods, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

Written with illustrations and brief poems, it didn’t make sense in the slightest. But it would give him something to do. He could fill a whole notebook with quotes, and perhaps he could add it some lines of his own. He would do that often, which is why he cut off his personal library to everyone else. They didn't need to know what he wrote in the margins. It was like therapy. Except, not as good, and it didn’t solve much. His eye continued to wander until he came across the most curious thing. 

The Big Book of Sea and Sand. It was the only copy, and it looked as though it had been beaten with a hammer. It was full of drawings and diagrams of sea creatures that he couldn’t even be bothered to pronounce, and passages full of words he didn’t know existed. After a moment of pondering, he went to the counter, where an old woman resided. Her hair was gray and thin, and her head was covered with a crown of shells and wood. It was messy, and ugly, but pretty in a way that was both endearing and off putting. “Just these, please,” He said, holding up both of the books. 

 “Three silvers,” She said, her fingers trailing over the titles as she wrapped the hard covers in gritty paper. He scoffed, shaking his head and placing his hand down. 

“They are not worth that much and you know it. That book looks as though it has been stomped on by a herd of filthy sheep,” He said, eye narrowed. He knew he could afford it, but there was a thrill in the bargain. And besides, if he walked out with a good deal, he would be able to buy more books with the same pocket. The woman raised her brows, her forehead wrinkling like the face of an old dog.

 “But the knowledge is still worth three silvers. The covers may be ugly, but the value does not change,” She said, wrapping the stack in twine. He sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked down. 

“Two books do not cost three silvers,” He mumbled.

 “How about this. Two books, and one fine quill.” She spoke, holding up what seemed to be a peacock feather. It was large and extravagant, the fibers of the feathers shining with the colors of the deep sea, swirls of green and rich violet. “You have a deal,” He said, popping the three silver coins on the counter and pushing his package into the pocket of his cloak. As he moved for the exit, he walked past a bin as large as a wagon, full of glass beads. Some were humongous, while others were the size of a pin head. Small burlap sacks were placed next to the box, along with a sign.

A bag of beads for a copper. What was anyone to do with so many of them? Make bracelets for a whole kingdom? He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he left the shop, before an idea tickled his brain. What did women love more than money and flattery? Gifts. And what was better than a gift? Something handmade, with love. Slowly, he walked backwards until his feet were back on the wooden floor, and he didn’t bother looking as he filled up a burlap sack with two scoops of beads, glass and nut and wood. 

“This, too.” He said, putting the copper down before the woman could respond. The night was growing old, and he did not care to be out when storms were brewing and sex was in the air. He groaned as he moved through the forest, the cold air lapping at his warm skin and nipping at his exposed ears. He could see the glow of candles gleaming in the windows of the maids quarters, and the silhouette of Helaena doing her nightly pacing. Perhaps she would like a bracelet, too. And he was very aware of how many beads he had purchased. Maybe one for his mother, as well.

Even though he knew that she would not wear it. His hands twitched as he dragged himself to his chambers. Whoever built the Keep had to be smoking something stronger than the Gods if they thought this place would be walkable. It took him half an hour to navigate in the darkness, until he finally collided with his bed, slapping his purchases down on his bedside table as exhaustion climbed up his spine. But he could not sleep just yet. 

He would have to bathe, to wash the scent of the city off his skin. There was a constant smell of smoke and sweat in the air, and his shoes would need a wash too. He had no idea what he had stepped in that smelled so vile, and he wasn’t certain that he wanted to know what was in the mystery substance. He poured himself a cup of wine, running his bath until his mirror was coated with steam. His heart thumped as he stared at his reflection. He hardly ever had his mirrors uncovered, he often forgot what he looked like. It was easier this way. His eyes wandered down to his chest, covered in small bruises of love bites and knicks and scratches from training.

His hands were calloused from holding swords and reigns. He’d let himself be hardened like a diamond in the earth. With a sigh, he slowly sat in his bath, wincing from the heat as his skin flashed bright red like a boiling crab. He pulled the pins from his hair, letting it get covered in water, the artificially straight strands scrunching into their natural curls. How he hated it. It was too Hightower. It took away from his regal appearance, in his opinion, at least. 

He only bathed every few days, and he knew the morning would be spent in his chair, hours of having a hot comb scraped across his scalp and ends. It would only last three days before his hair would get too heavy with grease and need another wash. His ankles rested on the edge of the tub, and he drank his wine until a splash spilled into the water, twirling like blood. He groaned, downing the rest of the cup before he finally washed himself, scratching his scalp with his nails as a mountain of shampoo grew on his skin.

The sun would be up soon, and just as the first touches of sun spread across the sky, his cheek hit his pillow. He knew it was close to noon when he heard the loud screeches of the birds and the maesters, and he groaned as he lifted his blankets over his head, burying his face in the plush. His hair was a mess of frizz all around him, like an unkept mane of a lion. A knock hit against his door, echoing off his wall. With a huff, he slowly sat up, pawing around for his eyepatch that had gone flying off in his slumber. It was upside down and hardly secured to his head when he called out, clearing his throat.

 “Yes?” He calls out, waiting for a response. After two seconds, he rolled his eye, standing up and throwing on his long, heavy robe, swinging the door open, finding his knight. “Yes?” He repeated tiredly.

 “Your mother requests your presence in her solar,” The guard responded. He didn’t understand why his mother could never come to his chambers to speak to him. It made him feel a certain way, one that he didn’t really understand. She frequently visited Helaena, and yet.. He was not worth the effort. He nodded quietly, thanking the knight before he rang his bell, summoning his maids. There were maids that were meant to help him dress, but he didn’t care much for people touching him, or seeing his bare body. Especially people that he would have to see around his home. It was an odd concept. And he liked the one that did his hair. She was quiet, and she didn’t expect anything. She would simply light a candle and heat the metal comb, wiping it on wet fabric until it sizzled. 

“You could do well with a thinning.” She said. He didn’t respond, sitting still and biting down on his lip as the teeth of the comb bumped his skin. It took nearly an hour for all of his hair to be hot and straight, and the maid helped him to get the leather bands in, keeping it out of his face. “It is supposed to rain today. Do not go outside, or all of this will be in vain,” She spoke, and he nodded as she wrapped her supplies back up, slipping out the door. He dressed in his day clothes, which were not so different from the ones he wore to bed. A white undershirt that was hidden by the darkness of his doublet, a golden buckled belt resting on his hips.

Giving himself a glance in the mirror, he quickly corrected his eyepatch before heading out his door, heading to his mothers solar. She had learned very quickly that when she wanted to speak with him, it was best to send for him an hour earlier than she actually expected. He took longer than most princesses to prepare for his day, knocking on the door. When his mother opened the door, she looked bright and excited, like a puppy. His brows raised. He was not used to seeing his mother so enthusiastic, so unmasked. He smiled back, slowly, though he wasn’t sure why they were smiling. “We have a response,” She says, quickly going to her desk and holding up a letter. It didn’t look to be very long, and he carefully grabbed it in his hands.

Your Grace,

We are delighted that you have chosen to reach out to us. Luckily, Emberwyn still remains unwed and is almost a woman grown. While she is not overly fond of the idea of marriage, she would be willing to meet with your youngest son, Aemond. We would like to invite you and your son to our home on the 20th day of the Moon. We will provide a dinner of fish, clams, and crabs, and would love to have you stay as guests for the night. Our guest chambers have just been redone and are in great need of a break-in. 

Lord Tully.

Aemond read the letter a few times over, just in case he misread anything. “The 20th day? Isn’t that in only four days?” He asks, brows scrunched. It would be a long journey by carriage, unless, of course, he went on dragonback. Which could go brilliantly, or lead to him horrifying the woman he hoped to court. “It is. It would do us well to start packing. And do your best not to say anything unsavory,” She spoke, waving to some maids, having them get her trunks. “Unsavory?” He repeats, staring down at her. It was hard for him to believe that he had been shorter than her, once. When he was 14, he had the biggest of growth spurts. For four moons straight, all he did was eat and sleep, and suddenly he was 6 feet and built like the statues in the Sept. 

“It would not be proper to speak of the histories and philosophies. While I know you enjoy such topics, it is not appropriate to discuss at a lunch with a lady. Be sure to stick to simple topics that could not lead to arguing. The weather, the meal, her gown, your journey. And try your best not to speak of your swords,” She spoke, and as much as he would love to argue, he bit his tongue and nodded. He didn’t understand the rules of courting. What was the point of speaking on the passing of the clouds and the burning of the sun? It would tell nothing of his character, nor Emberwyn’s. And he did not want to marry a simpleton. She would have to have at least some interest in his hobbies, as he would in hers. If she had many hobbies. And he hoped that she did. A pit grew in his stomach as he watched the maids pack up his things. It was becoming too real.

 The excitement of the letter was greater than this feeling. Of not knowing what would happen. But now that he knew he would actually be meeting her, face to face, he twisted in discomfort. He frowned as the maids packed his ugliest clothes. The coats that he hoped he would never have to wear in the public. He always found his formal clothes to be hideous. The high colors, the bright red, the gems. He only sighed to himself as he took his books and his bag of beads to the library, burying himself at a table between the shelves. They were like a protective wall around him. As he untied the twine that kept the packaging paper together, he was careful not to cut it or wrinkle it too much, stretching it out. It was as big as his wingspan, and he tried to get an idea of how short it would be. 

As he cut it with his knife, he silently ridiculed himself. Why would a noble lady want a beaded mess crafted by his hands? He only got more agitated as he tried to get the tiny beads onto the material, his eye squinting. The end didn’t want to get into the hole. Licking his lips, he took a deep breath as he sucked the end of the twine, trying to get the end to be more narrow, trying to shove it through the hole once more. It took him perhaps an hour to get ten beads on teh twine, and he stared tiredly at it, setting it down. “Maeya,” He spoke, calling over one of the maids as the sweeped the library floor. She was quiet and chubby, a bit younger and shorter than him. 

“Yes, my Prince?” She asked. She looked anxious, as if he were about to fire her on spot, despite the fact that he didn’t hold that authority. He always felt guilt in his belly whenever the maids reacted to him in such a way, perhaps afraid that he would treat them the same way that his brother did.

 “Come here, please. Let me see your wrist,” He spoke, waving her over. After a moment of hesitance, she lifted the sleeves of her dirty gown. Her fingers were squishy and stumpy, and her skin held no jewlery. Based on what he was picturing in his mind, her and Emberwyn were probably the same size. “You are a woman. Or a girl. You are something.” He said awkwardly as he wrapped the twine around her wrist, pinching the material where the twine would wrap comfortably on her skin. 

“...Thank you?” She mumbled, brows scurnched. She couldn’t tell where he was going with this, and her cheeks were getting a little pink. “You’re welcome.” He said, taking the twine back. “So- what do you know about women? Do you think a woman some years older than you would like something such as this?” He asked, holding up what he had so far. He was trying to copy a pattern from a book of traditional beading, but it was much too advanced for him to follow correctly. He was certain he had repeated the same step a few times.

 “...I think a woman would,” She responded honestly. “It is not my taste. But it is the thought that counts.” She spoke. He nodded, fiddling with the jewlery in his hand. “I think these beads are prettier,” She says, reaching into the bag and pulling out a few shell beads. Some were clay, but she seemed to stay away from the glass ones. 

“You like them more than the glass?” He asked, watching her nod. She slowly sat down, combing through the small spheres. 

“I think that you should use a shell as the center piece. Who is this for?” She asked, taking the twine into her own hands. “A lady. A fine lady of Riverrun.” he said, a hint of pride in his tone. She hummed, turning the project in her hands a few times. “Well. For a lady of riverrun, perhaps she would like something with a natural look. Use the wood and the shells, and try to follow a zigzag knot for the closure,” She suggested, and he nodded as though he understood.

 “A zigzag knot, of course,” he mumbles, sighing as she walked away. When he finally finished crafting the bracelet, it was time for his afternoon meal of a meat pie and eggs, and he ate as he leaned over one of his books. 

“Posture,” Alicent reminded him softly, making him sigh as he straightened up. She was one of the only people that ever saw him act like a child. Hunched over, picking at his food, mumbling under his breath. And yet, he could never see the same from her. She had played her role so hard that she forgot her own little quirks. He just hoped that he would never live that way.

 “Are you anxious?” She asked quietly, and he nodded as he set his book down. 

“I am, of course. I do not like being away from home. And I do not like travelling by carriage,” He reminded her. The last time he had done so was before he lost his eye. Since then, he was not keen on travel. He preferred to stay home as much as he could.

 “I know that. But this is only the first meeting. And once you both agree to a proper courtship, things will progress. Perhaps she could come here, or maybe she will even be interested in meeting Vhagar, but I cannot make any promises,” She responded, and he nodded as his eye wandered. 

“Eat your food before it gets cold,” She spoke, and he chewed quietly. “Enjoy it while you can. In Riverrun, all they ever eat is fish. Disgusting.” She mumbled, sipping her tea. He fought the urge to scoff, leaning back in his seat. 

“I hope you do not say that while we are in their home,” He said, and she laughed quietly against her cup. 

“Of course not. I know better. Now, we have to leave in a day, so make sure that you have everything you wish to bring,” She said as she dug into her small bowl of fruit. 

“In a day? I thought they were not expecting us for a few more nights?” He asked, to which she nodded. 

“It is a long journey. It is best to leave early than arrive late.” She spoke, and that night, he slept in his bed as a single man for what he hoped to be the last time. For the next afternoon, he would be on his way to Riverrun.

Thank you to everyone who reads!!!

-BK ♡

[jewish-vents]

i feel so alone. Im a die-hard leftist but since october 7th ive become so isolated from my comrades, seeing how little they value jewish lives and input and how unwilling they are to listen to jewish perspectives or research jewish history. And while in ways ive grown more connected to the jewish community than ever, i feel ive grown isolated from a lot of other jews who have been pushed towards extremism in its wake. I hate how quickly and severely the gap is widening, I hate how little room for nuance people will accept when talking about a historic geopolitical conflict of all things just because their VALUES are understandably unnuanced.

I hate that im conflicted. I hate that seeing the palestinian flag and the phrase "free palestine" put me uncontrollably on edge. I hate that I instinctually question the validity of palestinians asking for donations. I hate that no matter how many gfms i donate to, i still have to consciously remind myself that I care more about the safety of people being killed and displaced en masse than i do about my defensive feelings or the skewed values of their leadership and other westerners claiming to speak for them. I hate that I cant talk about my very real and valid fear of what will happen if israel is dissolved or destroyed like so many "leftists" are calling for without getting shut down with "but what about palestinians." I hate seeing "antizionists" repost palestinians criticizing israel while ignoring all the ones criticizing hamas and i hate seeing zionists doing the opposite. I hate this, i hate war, i hate extremism, i hate buzzwords and tokenization and historical revisionism and the devaluing of human life. i hate the world. sometimes I just want to die about it.

I hate how alone I seem to be in my position as what i can only describe as a nonzionist - someone who may believe in the values of nonpolitical zionism, but believes a jewish nation-state in the modern world was not only unnecessary but always doomed to lead down a path like this, that the best option to secure the safety of the jewish people was to create international initiatives to hold existing countries accountable for protecting their jews. I hate that now that the path has been tread, I can't see any near future where Jews aren't continuously put in danger over Israel's existence and it's actions- or where other groups aren't terrorized in or against our name.

I hate how scared i am to say something like that publicly, because no matter what I'll piss people off on both "sides"

.

[sytoran]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 (𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋) ⌇ wanda maximoff

summary: you used to think that nothing could heal the scars wanda left on you. but time can heal, and so can natasha romanoff.

☰ PAIRING: (past) wanda x gn!reader, (present) natasha x gn!reader, (present) vision x wanda

☰ TAGS: modern!au, angst, hurt no comfort, heavy angst, jealous!wanda, happy and healthy!reader, natasha romanoff is an angel, wanda has past trauma, i will make you feel bad, god there's so much angst

☰ NOTES: men dni | this is based off a request i got on AO3

this is part 2 of a two-part fic, here is part 1 | masterlist

time skip: eleven months later

once upon a time not so long ago, you thought you would never be able to get over wanda maximoff.

she had entrapped you, in every state of matter, and freedom was an option you didn’t get the liberty to pick. that was, until you met natasha romanoff. turns out you had a thing for redheads, huh.

though it had been difficult, natasha helped you get over the emotional trauma wanda had implanted. slowly but surely, your heartstrings were mended by the angel the heavens sent. slowly but surely, you managed to untangle yourself from wanda’s web of lies.

it was eleven months and going strong with natasha, but that also meant that the next christmas had rolled around again. decorations galore, you felt rather nostalgic as you walked the cold streets with natasha’s hand in yours.

“baby, baby, look,” natasha said with excitement, basically dragging you along to one of those claw machines with the christmas-themed stuff toys.

one thing you had quickly learnt with natasha was that despite her smaller stature, she could easily flip you over in a matter of seconds and chain you down. i mean, it wasn’t like you would complain, though.

you let natasha drag you along, a lovesick smile reaching your eyes. she was laughing about something you didn’t quite decipher, being too occupied with adoring the entirety of your girlfriend.

unbeknownst to you, a certain wanda maximoff was strolling those very streets.

she was with her on-and-off boyfriend, vision. though considered a couple, the toxicity in their ‘love’ was acquaintance at best. he had cheated on her, she did the same in retaliation, but they always somehow ended up together. it was a cycle that repeated itself.

it was unhealthy, she knew, but they sort of used each other as an outlet, to dissolve stress and seek a peace of mind. maybe it was because he was as messed up as she was.

though this ‘peace of mind’ usually ended in arguments more bitter than aragulas, it was nothing compared to the depths of darkness wanda was faced with when she saw you with another girl.

you were stood just a few metres in front of vision and wanda, trying your luck with the claw machine, a redhead cheering you on with a smile of passion of love. you had that frown on your face, with knitted brows and sheer concentration. wanda was rendered speechless as she came to a standstill.

vision didn’t even seem to notice, his monotone ramblings of the fifa world cup fading away. the snow seemed to fall heavier, and the silence grew louder.

wanda just stood, watching as you let out a groan of disappointment when you failed yet again, and natasha laughing amusedly at your comicality.

she gaze burned, not with fire but with ice. it wasn’t tears prickling at her eyes, it was a winter storm. wanda soon realised she wasn’t sad. she was angry. she was jealous.

you were supposed to be hers. it was selfish, she knew, because she had used you in ways that could never be forgiven.

but seeds of selfishness couldn’t blossom without the sprinklings of care.

it was far too late for confessions or apologies, but wanda had always known. it was a dusty book of secrets sealed with lock and key, deep inside her heart. in the depths and corners of something you never got the chance to see the light of, wanda had craved you. not your body, or your ever-willingness, just...... you.

she neglected your feelings because she wanted you to run back. she wanted someone to need her, because no one had ever wanted her. she wanted to break you so she could mend you and claim you as hers.

and maybe that was why she grew selfish.

but maybe that was why she lost you.

but that wasn’t even the worst part, gnawing at her insides till she was nothing but a shell of a lonely young woman. the worst part, the bad ending, or maybe the happy one, was that you were happy.

you looked so…… free, able to love without regret, wonder and awe and passion and admiration swirling in every cell of your existence. you picked up and spun natasha around, both of you whooping with joy when you finally got the plush natasha wanted.

then all of a sudden, before wanda could even react, you and your girlfriend were walking past her and vision, hand in hand.

wanda didn’t dare look up, didn’t dare to meet your eyes, didn’t dare to see your happy smile. she stood there, staring at the ground, fists clenched but steely. her eyes focused on the tiling of the brickwork on the snowy ground.

blistering cold wind rendered wanda’s ears ridden red. her legs were shaking still, but she dared to look up after an eternity of tensed silence. when the cold air reached her face again, you were gone.

wanda would never know if you saw her, if your eyes ever widened with shock or anger, if a ‘merry christmas’ ever fell from your godforsaken lips.

but maybe that was better, knowing she was just a footnote in your history.

and that was when the ice in wanda’s eyes melted, becoming teary pearls of broken promises and unsaid words.

once upon a time not so long ago, wanda maximoff never received her happy ever after.

i wrote this chapter while listening to mr loverman...... i wouldn't say tears were shed, but i would say a bit of my heart crumbled away. i fuckin' love writing angst it leaves me in shambles but maybe i like shambles.

masterlist