#so they should maybe just get me little plaques with the names on or something

[bedforddanes75]

they should just give me pretty things so i can look at them

[dedalvs]

Would it be reasonable to use a mirative as a way to say that you "ended up doing X" like saying "I ended falling asleep" or "I'll end up getting sick"? I'm having a hard time confirming anything about how languages encode intention, or the lack thereof. After some thinking that's what I came up with, though, but I dunno if I'm just reachinga bit too much with that.

Sure? If it makes sense in your language.

I'm going to pull out a paragraph from the article on mirativity on Wikipedia that I believe helps to illustrate one of the central problems conlangers face in interacting with linguistic research:

As you can see, there's a back and forth here involving Aikhenvald (because of course) and the one who proposed the category of mirativity (DeLancey) and others. In my opinion, the entire argument is f*cking ridiculous and is best settled by asking, "Who tf cares?" It reminds me of the Wikipedia article on the hortative that has red flags at the top saying, if I may paraphrase, "Uhhh...wtf?"

In short, both linguists on either side of this argument believe there's a trophy shelf called GRAMMATICAL CATEGORIES where certain features may sit proudly with their name emblazoned on a plaque above the name of the linguist who discovered it. On the one side, you have DeLancey saying, "Mirativity deserves its own trophy with my name on it!" On the other side, "No, what you've discovered can be encoded with other grammatical strategies, therefore it doesn't deserve its own trophy, and you get your name on nothing!"

Meanwhile, languages do need to have a way to express things like "We ended up going to the slam dance protest after all" and "He's apparently really good at juggling mosquito hawk wings", so what does it matter if either of them get a trophy on the shelf or not?

For a conlanger, what matters is how your language is going to express these meanings. It is not the case that you have to unambiguously express every shade of meaning without resorting to complex explanations. If we could do that we wouldn't have fiction. Part of the trick with learning how to create a conlang that feels more natural (whether you're going for a naturalistic conlang or not) is that the majority of meaning are expressed with non-dedicated morphological constructions.

For example, if you look at everything as morphemes, then there should be a morpheme for everything. If you want to turn a statement like "John is giving a fish to the flower" into a question you simply take your question morpheme and stick it somewhere. But look at English!

STATEMENT: John is giving a fish to the flower.

QUESTION: Is John giving a fish to the flower?

No morpheme there at all but a little switcharoo with the word order. Some linguists and a lot of conlangers want to get all galaxy brained and say "MAYBE THE WORD ORDER CHANGE IS THE MORPHEME", and, indeed, maybe the real conlang is the friends we made along the way, but a better way to look at it is we use what we have to express new meanings before creating something new.

So, if your state zero is you have something that express mirativity (i.e. surprise at some state of affairs), then, hey, why wouldn't use that for "it ended up that"? It's kind of surprising if you end up doing something. It's running counter to your expectations. Sure! If you want to get all "my eyeglasses put on a pair of sunglasses" on it then you can have your genunine-shock-mirativity suffix and your we-didn't-intend-to-but-it-happened-anyway-mirativity suffix and someone-told-us-it-would-happen-but-we-didn't-believe-them-but-then-it-happened-but-we-weren't-dismayed-mirativity suffix, etc., etc. If you keep going down that road, though, you end up with there's a unique word for every possible thought, and you end up with an ultimately unlearnable and unusable language.

In short, you do you. As long as you can explain it and it makes sense to you, then it works.

[obae-me]

A Taste of His Own Medicine- Simeon

Guess who's back, back again, back with sick-fic posts again! Sorry that it's taken me a god-awful amount of time to post an update after my little teaser. Life often has a way of trying to ruin things, but I'll be damned if I don't manage to claw my way out of the depths to finish my works one inching crawl at a time! Anyways, I pray that this was worth the wait! Please, enjoy!

Peace. These last few days, the whole of the Devildom seemed to be experiencing a lull of sorts. Curses, vengeful items, creatures from another world, monsters, mania, and overall magical mayhem felt as if they were in hibernation. Or at least giving you a wide berth. Or perhaps the brothers were repaying your sympathies, beating back problems with several well-intentioned sticks. A much needed break in your opinion. The stars shone brighter, and you had never slept deeper. It was quite like being on vacation despite you still spending most of your time holed up in the House of Lamentation. Even the brothers appeared to be quarreling less than usual. You’d even be tempted to say they were getting along. Yes…there was nothing exactly like this feeling of peace. You continued to rub the towel against the back of your head and neck as you moved down the hall, feeling nice and refreshed after a calming shower. It was rather late into the evening. Dinner was over with and everyone in the House had mostly moved into their respective rooms to get ready for the night. The last week or so had been so normal and blissful, you had completely forgotten about the several ‘events that shall-not-be-named’; a cheap title coined by the brothers to stave off embarrassment. One which you gladly accepted to avoid the risk of superstitiously summoning more incidents. There was something about fine health that you had forgotten to feel grateful for. In fact, you were quite excited to have another moment where you could just jump straight into bed, kick back, and enjoy the silence of the night.

So, with a gentle push of your door, you waltzed happily inside your room.

“Ah, there you are.”

The random sound of another voice had your muscles all jolt. You clutched at non-existent pearls (the towel would have to serve as ample replacement) as you caught your breath. A white head of hair and a small blond one. Two members of a home different than yours. Not exactly undesirable faces, but definitely unexpected ones. They both were sitting on your bed, feeling right at home as they set up a movie on your television, already in pajamas. As you raised an eyebrow, your eyes wandered down to two packed day-bags.

“I… Welcome?” There was clear confusion in your voice as you addressed them. Not to be rude or anything, but this was…your room as so many people seemed to forget. Maybe you should look into getting a plaque for your door… Plus, it wasn’t quite like these two to just show up unannounced. Solomon maybe, but Luke? Did they forget to invite you to a sleepover? A late-night tea party perhaps? The other human was hard at work getting himself settled and relaxed. On the other hand, the angel was avoiding your gaze a little, acting more fidgety than normal. “You both are here…why exactly?” you couldn’t help but ask.

At your question, the two guests looked at each other for a moment, like they were trying to determine who would answer. Both of them were stubbornly staring into each other’s souls. With a little bit of irritation, you cleared your throat, glaring at the more grown of the bunch. The sorcerer glanced back up at you and conceded. A little shrug was followed by a more slumped position as he leaned back against your pillows and started the show. To others, he would’ve come off as unbothered, but luckily you had come to know him better than that. There was a subtle frustrated tone to his voice, his limbs a bit stiff like he didn’t want to be resting, and his eyes seemed to be unfocused. There was something on his mind that was upsetting him, so his actions were attempting to overcompensate for his worries. “Let’s just say that the Hall is a little bit…overtaken at the moment.”

With a shake of your head, you sighed. One side shuffle brought you to stand in front of the screen in an attempt to get him to look at you. “That doesn’t tell me much of anything.” Begrudgingly, the movie was paused.

Then the angel spoke up. Luke stuttered at first, but then managed to find his words. A pillow was held tightly in his lap as he clutched it for comfort. “It’s Simeon! He- He’s been cursed!”

Panic seemed to flood your body. Your eyes went wide and your jaw opened just enough to prepare yourself for demanding more information. Cursed? Was it dangerous? Was he in trouble? Why were they both just sitting around when you all could be helping?! Or was it so bad that they had to escape to safety? However, before you lost yourself to stress, Solomon raised a hand. “Not a curse.” He rubbed away an itch at the end of his nose with one finger. “At least, I’m fairly positive it’s not.”

Luke didn’t appear entirely convinced. “But he’s…” Before finishing his thought, he just went silent. It was clear he was very concerned for his guardian, but didn’t know how to go about fixing it.

“In my expert opinion,” the human continued, “I believe he’s simply not feeling well.” A bitter sensation crossed over your tongue. “I noticed he was acting strangely a few days ago, but any time I tried to pry information out of him, he turned me down. And quite cleverly turned my attention elsewhere, might I add.” Familiar actions started to leave an itch in your brain. A creeping sort of dread covered your skin. But, as soon as you started to notice these details, you shook your head, flinging them off of you. Now wasn’t the time to be feeling that way. Solomon continued to explain the situation. “And then he began to…how do I put this? Become rather obsessive.” He narrowed his eyes a little and glanced downwards, looking at nothing in particular. “I didn’t think anything of it at first…” All the sudden, he sighed, his playful mask falling and turning quite somber and serious. “Simeon’s always been caring, clean, and precise, but its been as if those traits have been kicked up to exuberant levels. It started with just some extra angelic doting- you know how he is-, and then just a few hours ago, Simeon took it upon himself to start tearing the entirety of Purgatory Hall apart to deep clean it.”

Luke made a sad sort of sound, one that broke your heart. “We tried to help so it would go faster and be easier, but he wouldn’t let us.”

“Stubbornness isn’t inherently a demonic or mortal trait, it would seem,” Solomon quipped. “I tried talking him into getting some rest, but he didn’t appear to hear me. And I was…dissuaded from casting any spells.”

Two little eyebrows scrunched up in irritation. “No using magic on Simeon! He always tells us that we shouldn’t force someone into doing what they don’t want to do!” But, even as Luke exclaimed it, he couldn’t help but let a bit of shuddering doubt slip into his voice.

“Well…” The immortal man appeared a bit guilty. “I just hope he doesn’t get himself into trouble trying to potentially clean my room…”

That dug in a different sort of fear… You glanced at the both of them and sighed, glancing out the window. Simeon… If he wasn’t feeling well, why was he trying to convince everyone otherwise? Well, the reason why didn’t particularly matter. If this was…him being sick, he needed rest. The angel probably knew that deep down, but maybe it had been too long since he put his needs above anyone else’s. You’d just have to remind him that self-care wasn’t inherently selfishness. Enough of your own self-pity! You had been given enough of a break. Besides, since when did you get the chance to take care of an angel, especially one so kind and lovely at that? Yes! You were back in business! “Alright!” you exclaimed a little too loudly, almost making your guests jump. “Leave him to me!”

Solomon processed your words before he smiled. “I knew we could count on you.” Cheeky little… So that was why they were here in your room and not over at the castle which had enough rooms to house a gala. Ah well, he could be lectured later.

“Try not to destroy my own room while I’m gone…”

“No promises!"

After a short jog- more like a speed walk- you were in front of Purgatory Hall. For some reason, you expected some sort of… cursed aura to spring from the place, but it stood as it normally did. Fingers crossed that the lack of one meant that Simeon had yet to get his hand on any of the myriad of dangerous items Solomon possessed. Hands tucked inside the pockets of your jacket, you approached the front door. Part of you wanted to immediately let yourself in, but you kept yourself restrained. Not only was knocking first good manners, but you also weren’t quite sure of the state Simeon was in. Hopefully an easier one than the brothers had been. Your knuckles drummed the door a few times. There was no answer. You attempted the doorbell next. Aside from the haunting ringing echoing inside, there was nothing… Normally, that would’ve been concerning, but if you tilted your ear near the door, you could clearly hear some ruckus inside. Sounded like the tooth-achingly familiar squeak of furniture being moved across the hardwood floors. Once more you knocked. “Hello? Simeon? Can you hear me?” The following silence spoke volumes. “I’m coming in then,” you warned, giving the angel a few more moments before opening the front door.

Stepping inside the entrance hall, you could feel floods of angelic magic filling the halls, along with the smell of several cleaning products and also…cookies? The sugary scent mingling with the chemically one made your stomach churn a bit. The sight was also rather overwhelming. When Solomon mentioned the Hall being torn apart, you thought perhaps he was being melodramatic. However, one glance from by the door suggested otherwise. Furniture was pushed from their spots and tipped over, paintings were pulled off of walls and laid out on the floor, blankets and towels and sheets and cloths and clothes were hanging to dry on wires that were strung back and forth in zig-zag patterns across the walls. No wonder Solomon and Luke absconded away.

“Simeon?” You called out again, ducking under some of the clothes as you pushed through the rest of the dorm. The sound of rather aggressive cleaning seemed to get louder as you approached the kitchen, the obnoxious noise of clanging silverware making you cringe.

The kitchen was in a rather right state. Cupboard doors thrown open, every single item pulled off the shelves, a worrisome teetering stack of dishes- that already looked clean, mind- piled in the sink. The room was much too bright, your eyes rapidly blinking as your brain mistakenly thought of sunlight. It took you longer than you’d like to admit to remember you were in the Devildom. The more you adjusted your focus, the more it became apparent that Simeon was the source of the radiance. It was hard to see him clearly, worried about the effects staring right at him would have on your vision. You walked further into the kitchen, stepping over several glistening feathers and loose parchment with scribbled works from his next project. Heat radiated out in all directions, feeling as if you were wading through a sauna.

Several times you called out to him, trying to announce your presence but not even getting a huff of acknowledgment from him. In fact, it seemed that he was completely oblivious to anything in general. The only thing he could do was flit about the room in a panicked state, his fingers raw from all the scrubbing and work he was doing. Some kind of stress response? “Simeon!” The voice that trembled its way from your throat was more frightened than you meant it to sound. But it couldn’t be helped. You had never seen Simeon quite like this before. Was it simply angelic duty intensified by a thousand? A cleanliness is next to godliness sort of deal? Or maybe he was too similar to Lucifer in the sense that he needed to fulfill some sense of obligation to feel ‘normal’. Who knew? It certainly didn’t matter in this moment. Your feet closed the distance between you two in seconds, leaping against him, arms tightening around the angel’s waist. Simeon’s body jolted as your forehead pressed against the skin of his exposed back. Much like the brothers when they had gotten sick, Simeon was much hotter than he should be. It nearly hurt you just to embrace him like this, quite like having your face much too close to an open flame. But you’d deal with it for just a little longer. “Please… Just stop for a moment.”

The hug seemed to put a screeching halt to his momentum. He’d probably been running on fumes for hours now, knowing that the moment he stopped was the moment he would collapse. Even now, his legs were shaking, his body working into overdrive just to keep himself steady. He wobbled and clutched onto one of the kitchen counters. The Celestial light in the room started to dim a little. “MC?…” Finally, he seemed to notice you. “I’m sorry…I didn’t hear you come in. S-Sit down…I’ll get you something to drink.” He attempted to shift in your grasp.

Your hold on him tightened, your fingers curling into the fabric of his warm clothes. You cleared your throat, trying to eliminate the earlier squeak in your voice. “You won’t be doing anything.” Even if you had felt like playing along, you had to wonder how he would do anything with the state the kitchen was in. It was all you could do to keep from imagining that giant pile of plates toppling down on top of him.

“I… Well, at least let me finish up in here. I don’t want to leave it like this for Solomon and Luke.”

Your eyes softened even though he wasn’t facing you. He really was out of it, wasn’t he? “They’re not here, Simeon.”

His back stiffened against you. “W-What?”

“They’re not here,” you reiterated, releasing your arms from around his sides and coming around to face him. Taking in his countenance sunk your heart. His well-kept hair was frazzled and flat, his skin dry, hands calloused. Ink and grime coated the inside of his fingernails. Typically, his eyes held a particular light in them, a small halo around his irises, but now that light was gone, dulled. “They came over to the House of Lamentation to tell me what was going on. They’re still there, worried for you…”

With that revealed to him, his face twisted into remorse. “They left? Because of me?… I didn’t mean…” A sigh left his chest as he stepped behind you, stuffing his hands into two oven mitts as he pulled a sheet of freshly baked cookies out of the oven behind you. “I’ll at least go take these to them…” Even now he was still thinking about caring for others…

“Simeon.” With his name being called, he looked over his shoulder at you. You reached out and took both his wrists in your grasp, taking the mitts off his hands. After you put them on the counter- which was positively gleaming, by the by - you found yourself acting impulsively bold. Without thinking, your touch went to his cheeks, feeling the flush beneath his skin. You gently guided his head down to lean on your shoulder. You tilted your cheek to press against his temple, your palm tenderly resting on the back of his neck. For a moment, there was silence. A comfortable, knowing silence. “I know it might be rather shocking to discover, but those two can handle themselves. At least for a little while.” You managed to chuckle, but he didn’t seem to find it amusing. Or maybe he was simply feeling too miserable to muster any mirth. “Listen…don’t you start feeling guilty over stepping back from those responsibilities for a little while. Your worth isn’t measured by your output…if that makes sense…I’m not the best at impactful speeches. You understand where I’m getting at, don’t you? And you understand that I’m dragging you to bed regardless, right?”

Two arms wrapped around you and ran up your back. “You’re right…”

Despite the situation, you managed a big grin. “Yes, I am,” you chimed. “Let’s go now.” You took one of his hands firmly in yours, leading him through the labyrinth of his own making and towards his room. Unfortunately, his domain didn’t seem to escape the chaos. So, you sat him in a chair and worked to try to get things mostly in order. You pushed the bed-frame back up against the wall, plugged the side lamp back into the socket behind the nightstand, found the bedding hung up in the hallway, and even went so far as to fluff the pillows. When you proudly turned back towards the angel with your hands on your hips, you saw that while you were busy, he had discarded his shoes, cloak, and gloves.

Simeon pushed himself out of the chair and up on his feet, his hand curling around his forehead as he staggered towards the bed. You held out your arms precautiously. He practically flopped onto the mattress, his face temporarily buried into the comfort of a crisp cold pillow. It pained you to see him like this, and you had the sinking feeling that he was expending most of his efforts to hide as much of the sickness from you as he could. A few of your fingers worked on pushing some of the hair from his face. Even his locks were rather toasty. At the very least, he took in a nice deep breath. “Is it wrong…” he started, his voice drifting into a whisper, “…that I’m happy you’re here?”

Those words left you frozen for a while. You just stared down at him, resisting the urge to just hop into bed next to him and hold him next to you. “Why would it be wrong?”

“I…remember how tired you looked.” Your eyes went a little wide at his answer. “I remember thinking at the time how unfair it must’ve been for you. But then…when I first started feeling…under the weather…” His eyes glanced up at you, his arm twitching against his sheets like he had half a mind to reach out for you. “All I could think of was how nice it would be to have you here with me…”

Your lips parted as you went to speak, but no words came out. Guilt swirled in your soul a little. Had he really kept this all hush just for your sake? If that were the case though, he would’ve told the other members of Purgatory Hall, surely. He was partially right though, with the fact that it would do no one good if you wrung yourself dry trying to help someone else. Finally, you sat by his side in bed, pulling a cooled sheet over his body and rubbing his taut shoulders. “I did seem to go a little overboard in the care-taking aspect when the brothers all turned ill, you’re right… But, you can rest assured that I won’t push myself too hard by taking care of you… After all, you wouldn’t let me do such a thing, would you?” His expression seemed to brighten, taking hold of your hand and pressing it against his own face as he shook his head. “And don’t you worry. Tomorrow I’ll be summoning Solomon and Luke back home to help put the Hall back in one piece. So for now,” you leaned forward and embraced him, nearly cradling his head against your body, “rest, and prepare to be fully cared for just as you deserve.”

[spindle-girl]

Daybreak 1.1

Let's get started

It was a second chance for humanity as a whole, and they’d gone and screwed it up from the start by coloring the city gold, of all colors. ... All put together, the light that bounced off of the city and reached skyward gave the clouds linings that were gold, not silver.

i wonder how much of this hate for gold is because of Scion's attacks or Khepri's portals. probably both. i do like the gold lining, seems like a fun visual.

Plaques were recessed into three of the four faces – the fourth had come free and fallen after the collision. Each plaque bore an etching of a face, a name, a date of birth, a date of death, a message. ... They were part of an initiative by an independent cape, a hero turned rogue, helping out.

with all the anti-cape stuff that's popped up so far and knowing it continues later on, i'm surprised projects like this aren't talked about more. a genuine moment where a cape is doing something nice with their powers. maybe this guy is an outlier or the other stuff the capes get up to weights more than it--which is fair since even the apartment stuff in Ashley's prologue is enough to get pissed off at--but with how much hate the Advance Guard gets in this section it seems forgotten that the whole reason the crowd is getting angry is over something a cape provided being destroyed by an accident anyone can do.

The crowd, too, seemed to realize that the situation had mostly de-escalated.

sigh

The summer heat was holding out through the start of September, making things just a little more uncomfortable, tempers a little shorter.

Ah! an estimated date. i want to try and keep track of all these to work out a proper Ward timeline since the one on the wiki is lacking.

We’d called him the second cape after Scion, but he might well have been the first, after all.

hello Vikare, congrats on getting mentioned in the first chapter instead of the first interlude. moving up in the world. if there's ever a parahumans 3 you might get a pov chapter. really tempted fate naming yourself after Icarus.

“Work,” I said.  “They wouldn’t fire me, especially if I explained.  I’d get in trouble, maybe, but I wouldn’t mind much.  Job is… a seven out of ten fit.”

i'm down right jealous rn. 7/10 seems great for a job

As in most things having to do with law or bureaucracy, it took longer than it should have, for a relatively simple process.  I hurried to the high school once they were done with me, and I arrived rather late.

Victoria is going from one bureaucracy to another lol

We had grass and fields, yes, but it was coarse and the ground beneath wasn’t usually landscaped. The area was large with large trees left untouched in the corners, chain link fence separating the field from the roads on two sides, the grade school formed the third boundary to the west, and the high school formed the fourth boundary to the north. The ground was uneven, more hilly than flat, and there were still large stones here and there, and a seemingly out of place play structure for the grade schoolers.

nothing much to note here, just that the paragraph made me remember some good memories.

Point_Me_@_The_Sky: If you stop by? I set up tarps by house. Make sure they still there & no water getting through? Lost cause maybe ~P.5 ... My destination wasn’t in the high school, but was across the street. It was an open building with a partial second floor. ... My office was the closest thing I had to a home, in this world. ... I’d rigged up tarps to keep the water off that corner of the house, but some of that moisture had been coming up from below.

okay. this is just sad. literally calls her office her house

I opened a notebook and began searching through it. I found the name before the internet succeeded in connecting.

this is about Victoria finding the cape who was building the pillars. i have no idea why there was a whole arc of the Undersiders sneaking into the PRT to steal their database. it seems like New Wave had access to it all if she can find random capes in her collection. should have just walked in and grabbed it while they were out heroing.

From: Deferent.I@Mail Subject: Re: Damaged Pillar I already heard.  Advance Guard were on the scene and let me know.  Will have it fixed tomorrow.  Thanks.

this just makes it seem like Deferent has access to much faster internet than Victoria does if they can check their emails and respond relatively quickly while going out and building as many pillars as described earlier. dunno, it's out of place with the descriptions from Victoria booting up her computer and the glowworm chapters. maybe he got better tech to be able to respond to stuff quicker?

She spent a lot of time palling around with a biotinker called Blasto. She kept going back to him to pair up. Might have been boyfriend-girlfriend, even. That ended when the Slaughterhouse Nine passed through Boston. We don’t know what happened to Blasto, but we can guess it wasn’t good.

rip Blasto. Defiant didn't care enough to note what happened to you

“She did her time,” I said.  “She made a mistake, she paid for it as much as she was able.  We don’t have enough good jails and so she’s free, and it looks like she’s trying to do good.  That’s pretty decent, really.  She’s not the enemy here.”

this will be interesting for later. i am surprised in general that Fume Hood is getting brought in this early. i vaguely know what happens to her so I guess it makes sense she gets some focus early on

End thoughts:

i'm like the story so far. while Victoria is obviously weary of there being a coming conflict between capes and non-capes, i think there are a few lines hinting at her feelings of separation from them. namely how she doesn't like the pillars, which seem to be for the civilians. tbf, it could be her not wanting reminders of Gold Morning or a reminder of the Leviathan fight where after there was a similar memorial that a quarter of her family was on. i could understand that.

nothing wrong with the story, but i really don't like the patrol group or Gilpatrick. reminds me of the rotc guys at college

[insomniac4000]

“cute glasses dork” or “take my bed” arthurtv plsssss thank u omg

Arthur had noticed her before. The girl who moved in next door, always carrying boxes or rushing about. They’d exchanged a few friendly waves and brief nods, but that was the extent of their interactions. Still, she was hard to miss; there was an energy about her, something bright and a little chaotic, that Arthur found intriguing.

One Saturday afternoon, he was pacing around his kitchen, half-listening to a podcast and half-wondering if it was too early to order dinner when he heard the distinct sound of a laugh from outside. He peered out the window and saw her, talking and waving to the concierge of the building who was finishing his shift, Arthur couldn't help but notice the book in her hand. The sight stirred something in him. He figured he might as well go out and say hi, on his way to go and dinner of course.

As he walked out, he locked his flat slowly and sure enough by the time he was done the lift pinged and out she walked, she saw him, giving him a friendly smile. But something was different. She was wearing glasses—thin, silver-rimmed, slightly oversized, and a little smudged from being handled so much. The sight caught him off guard. He had never seen her in glasses before, were they new? Somehow, they added a new dimension to her that was both cute and endearing. But Arthur, of course, had to play it cool.

“Nice glasses, dork,” he said with a smirk.

She arched an eyebrow and gave him an amused look. “Wow, a greeting and an insult all in one go. I’m impressed.”

“Oh, it’s a special skill,” he replied, grinning. “But seriously, they suit you.”

“Thanks,” she said, adjusting them. “My contacts were bugging me, so I had to go old-school today.”

“Old-school?” Arthur chuckled, “Do glasses really qualify as ‘old-school’ these days?”

“Depends who you ask, but yes, absolutely,” she said with a laugh. “I feel like such a nerd wearing them out here, though.”

He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that followed. “Trust me, you’re a long way from ‘nerd.’ I think you’re just making it work,” he said, noticing her cheeks flush slightly.

“So… Arthur, right?” she asked, finally closing her book and setting it down.

“You remembered.” He nodded, a bit flattered. “And you’re…?” Arthur asked like he hadn't studies her full name on her post or overheard her phone conversations through the wall.

“Lily,” she replied, sticking out her hand. He shook it, holding her gaze a moment longer than he intended.

“So, Lily,” he began, trying to keep things casual, “you new around here? I don’t remember seeing you until recently.”

“Yeah, just moved in a few weeks ago. Starting a new job nearby, so it made sense.” She tilted her head, glancing at him thoughtfully. “And you? How long have you been in this place?”

“Oh, I’m practically a local legend at this point,” Arthur said, feigning importance. “Been here for… two years now.”

She laughed. “A legend, huh? Should I start seeing plaques around the neighbourhood in your honour?”

“Oh, they’re coming. Plaques, statues, maybe even a mural,” he joked, pleased to hear her laugh again.

The two of them continued chatting, swapping stories about the area, laughing about the eccentric older couple who fed the stray cats every morning, and exchanging favourite coffee spots. She was witty, quick on her feet, and unafraid to challenge him in their banter, which he found both refreshing and strangely thrilling.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow on the street, Arthur realized he’d been talking to her for over an hour. The conversation felt effortless, and he didn’t want it to end.

"I was actually on the way out to get some food, have you eaten?" Arthur asked, he could feel his heart beating out of his chest as he was plucking up the courage to ask her something.

"Not since this morning, I could eat. It’s a date, then. Just… be nice to the glasses, okay?”

“Only if you promise not to take them off,” he replied with a wink, noticing her blush once again before she turned to go back to the lift.

As she closed the door, Arthur found himself grinning like an idiot. Maybe having a cute neighbour wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[starysky1289]

Toxic!Sorority!Vanessa X Reader. Father.

Shout out to @707bot1 for giving me the sudden inspiration to finish this <3

You left your English philosophy classroom in a rush, Vanessa had told you to meet her by the fountain before 2, so you could both go out and get something for lunch. You where to busy on moving that you didn’t see the man in front of you, bumping into him face first.

“ Oh my, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you. “

“ oh, not a problem kid, I shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the path anyways. “

You looked up at the man, he had wrinkled features, but still looked pretty young, had to be just above middle aged. He wore an old pair of thin metal framed glasses, and his hair was brown, combed over slightly. The lower part of his face was a stubble grey goatee that went up to his ears.

“ are you lost? Looking for someone? “

You politely asked, you’d still have time to meet Vanessa and help this kind stranger.

“ nah. Just looking at my building. Names on the plaque Yaknow. “

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, you looked up quickly at the plaque above the big doors.

The ‘ William Afton ‘ English Hall.

You practically shook with excitement, turning back him.

“ your Mr.Afton?! Oh this is amazing! I’m such a big fan sir, I’m studying to be an English major, an English philosopher to be exact! Oh but also author, I’m sorry I’m just so excited to meet you! “

“ Haha, oh no worries, why don’t I walk ya to where your going, so your not late. I’ll answer any questions you have too, love meeting a fan. What’s your name? “

“ Y/N! Y/N L/N. Oh my girlfriend won’t believe this, I’m meeting her now. Thank you for taking this time to do this. “

William smiled, offering his arm for you to hold. You graciously took it, wrapping your arm around it as you both walked. You’d ask him questions on his career, and he’d respond in big stories.

“ so, your a mechanic by trade, but you also Drabble in poetry? Those two can mix quite well if you know what to write! I once had to write a whole poem about a car. I had no clue how to make a ford F150 into a stanza. “

“ Ha! Yes, in my earlier years I worked in animatronic technology that was used to make performing robots much more interactive with children. But poetry has always been natural to me, I’d never forget it. “

“ amazing! That technology is surely something. Oh, there she is. Vanessa! Look who I found! “

You waved vigorously to the blonde sitting on the fountains edge. She glanced up at you, before staring at him. You let go of William’s arm and trotted up to her, taking her hand.

“ Vanessa, this is- “

“ well, if it isn’t my little rabbit. How had my girl been. “

Vanessa stayed silent, gripping your hand tighter as she stared at William.

“ Y/N, has Vanessa never told you? This..blonde law major is my daughter. I figured you’d realize from her last name. “

“ my name is Vanessa Shelly. Y/N let’s go. “

Your heart fluttered, you dated the daughter of the man whom you had looked up too for years.

“ why didn’t you tell me Nessa! Oh he should come get lunch with us! “

“ No Y/N. He’s not. Now let’s go. “

William chuckled again, rubbing his head.

“ ah, don’t worry about it. I can see Vanessa’s doing just well. Spending my black card on those outfits and god knows what else for your little house. Maybe I should stop by and meet everyone- “

“ NO DAD. Stay the fuck away from my sorority, stay the fuck away from this campus, and stay the FUCK AWAY FROM MY GIRL. Now let’s go Y/N. “

Vanessa dragged you with her as she stormed off. You tried to wave bye to William as you left, but Vanessa just grabbed your hand. You made your way down to the parking lot. You sat in the usual passenger seat of Vanessa’s car, as she quickly started to drive off.

“ I don’t want you to ever. And I fucking mean EVER talk to my father again, do you understand me. “

“ why? You know I look up to him- “

“ He’s a horrible, horrible human. Now you fucking promise me you won’t talk to him again, let alone hold his arm like that. “

“ Ok! Ok fine, I won’t talk to him again. “

You both remained quiet on the rest of the car ride, starring out your window as she drove. When you both arrived at the small cafe, Vanessa pulled your face towards her by your chin, kissing you gently.

“ I just don’t want you getting hurt, ok baby? “

“ alright…I’m sorry..”

She kissed you once more, and smiled.

“ mm, good. I love you~ “

“ I love you too nessy…”

[channoticedmeuwu]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂. 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

tsk — who were you? what were you? that's all 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 thought about when you stood next to him on the auditorium stage, smiling at the dozen school photographers and fingers holding a plaque that now belonged to both of you. How dare you; disrupt Part-Time Perfect's chance of being the one and only. How dare you; try to make your way into being the face of the school next to him, after being someone he watched from afar for years?

and how dare you look so fucking hot while doing it

W — mention of hospitals. otherwise none?

A/N — a small kiss to the cheek to distract from the fact that this series isn't ending too fast bc I absolutely refuse to let it just end.

you two sat outside the hospital, sitting on one of the benches near a garden where many patients sat, watching the huge fountain hum lazily. the night was growing on, stars twinkling in the sky as the both of you absorbed the night.

"you seriously didn't have to," soobin was protesting, stacks of completed homework answers in his hand as he stared at you with his pleading eyes, "y/n, I can't take this!"

"why not?" you only pushed it back into his hands, "you're the only one who doesn't beg me for homework answers. you kind of deserve it."

"but..." his voice trailed off after he noticed the heavy stack of answers had little doodled hearts and sea animals on the corners, and instead, he broke into a laugh. "thank you."

something about your little additions to what you gave him warmed him from the inside. he found himself just staring at you, going dumb in the head while the reflection of the moon peered onto your features.

you only hummed in response, staring at the night sky as the wind blew your hair into your mouth. "ugh!" you exclaimed.

soobin just giggled underneath his breath, watching you ruffle your hair and settle them down. every strand you touched curled between your fingers. he wanted to know what it felt, maybe, just maybe, to run his hands through your hair, to listen to you breathe against his chest. he wanted to know what it felt to match each others breathing, to hold hands and dissolve in each other's warmth....

"soobin!" you snapped your fingers infront his lost eyes, "this is the third time I said your name, smartass."

and then he saw your face. oh, your face, eyebrows raised, eyes bright and lips wearing your signature teasing smile. he pursed his lips, memories of the tight space back on the rooftop during the trip returning. oh, how you were magic. the way you left him craving you, your eyes staring at his lips, your mouth parted and eyelashes fluttering— you were practically asking him to kiss you on the spot. and it was shameful, to say the least, that he wanted you to get closer, to shut the space between the two of you, to feel your lips on his own.

he found himself swallowing as your lips curled into a smirk. flowers of adrenaline started nipping at his knees. he felt himself going lightheaded, staring at you like he only wanted to kiss you. shit, soobin, not now!

"what's wrong, soobin?" you inched closer on the bench, causing soobin to lean back. "y'know," you began, "you get awfully quiet staring at me these days."

"force of habit," he huffed out, looking the opposite way, "you make my mind go blank."

and then he realized how that sounded out loud. fuck, why did you say that, soobin?

you blinked at him. now your mind was going blank, "oh." silence followed you two as you fought the burning sensation in your chest.

the fountain continued to hum. the night continued to grow.

"well," you tried to force out something, anything, "here's seri's gift," you felt a smile creeping to your lips as you met soobin's darting eyes.

"uh—thanks, but you didn't have to."

"shut up."

you stood on your feet, "I better get going. it's getting late and you should get some sleep."

soobin just mumbled protests, giving you the same guilty look he gave you on the rooftop as he involuntarily laced his fingers with your own, begging you to stay. he tilted his head at you, studying your movements, as if to say just a little bit longer?

you smiled, trying to forget what soobin blurted as you bent closer. although you were better at masking it than soobin, you've been observing his fidgeting fingers, his bitten lips, his messy hair, his eyes tenderly gazing at you like you had something he wanted—you.

you felt butterflies hitting against your stomach walls as you repressed the urge to stay. you stared at him, at his tired eyes from staying up too long, at his burning ears from just being with you, at his permanently pink cheeks— feeling yourself grow warmer, fonder.

"try not to overwork yourself," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. you heard his breath hitch as you felt his fingers tighten around yours. you realized he still hadn't let them go from when you stood up. but he didn't protest, letting out a slight hum, or a gasp, or both—of relief, as if you finally awarded him for being so composed around you.

his eyelids threatened to close, finally finding sleep seeping into his eyes for the first time in days. he felt your warmth spread all through his body. his grip tightened. you ran a hand through his hair, his features melting to your touch.

"it wouldn't really work if this co-president thing became solo, would it?"

41 — crew love

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[noellie-writes217]

Unemployed and Uneducated

Summary: Peter is desperate for a job after months of living on his own

Warnings: none really, just a few mentions of loneliness and a lost relative

“Peter Parker?” A woman from the unemployment office calls into an overall dejected lobby. Peter looks up from holding his head in his hands as his knee bounces anxiously.

The same few thoughts flood his brain:

* I’m pathetic

* I can’t do this much longer

* I can’t do anything

* I need help

- Who the hell could I ask?

- I’m fucking alone!

- I couldn’t save May, who else can’t I save?

* I am so fucked in the head

- Lost everyone

1. First my parents

2. Ben

3. Tony

4. May

5. Everyone else, including my best friend, my doppelgängers, and of course, the love of my life

Man this shit is gonna give me a complex

* I am so depressed

- I should get medication

- I can’t afford medication

- That’s why I’m at a fucking unemployment agency

* And I’m back to being pathetic

“Here,” Peter pushes away all of those invasive thoughts for the next fifteen minutes in that woman’s office. She types his name into her computer and pushes her glasses up, as if that will change the astonishing lack of… anything.

Peter sits there, awkwardly, eyes darting around the room as if he has no clue about what she’s seeing— not seeing on that screen.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, “I think we’ll just have to “build your resume on print.” The red haired middle aged—Gina, Peter reads the name on the plaque on her desk— grabs a pen and some paper.

“So where did you graduate?”

“Oh, I uh… I had to, uh… dropout…?”

Gina nods and writes something down on the paper. She kinda reminds Peter of a glorified guidance counselor… but maybe a little meaner. “Look Peter, I’m not gonna lie to you, this isn’t looking good for you. Without a GED and a diploma shits gonna get real difficult. I seriously recommend you getting that GED. I can’t give you some entry level jobs to start until you get that degree.”

Now it’s Peter’s turn to nod.

“So tell me about what you like to do.”

‘Apparently, I like to self sabotage a lot.’ He filters himself so he doesn’t projectile word-vomit all over this stranger’s office.

“I wanted to be an engineer. I had my sights set on MIT before I had to drop out.”

———

Trying to think of a time before a traumatic event is extremely difficult. A victim of rape can be triggered by something that once was innocent, like a lemonade stand; a son who used to be pushed by his father on the football field might not be able to play football ever again after they stop talking to their father; a victim of domestic violence might not be able to respond to sudden movements from their partners the same way. And for all of those people, looking back on their memories before the abuse might be difficult to do with a totally unbiased opinion.

Something’s you never forget, like the way Aunt May felt in Peter’s arms just before she died. Or the words she spoke in those final moments, the same words his uncle Ben said when he died.

‘Nothing will ever be the same.’

Peter can’t afford flowers for May’s grave, but he still visits her grave three times a week on average, no less than two in that span.

And that’s where he is right now. Sitting across from her grave stone with his journal between the hedge and him.

“So I’m still looking for a job, and I haven’t really had time to make friends, but it’ll get better soon…” as soon as he feels a tear fall down his right cheek, he sniffles, blinks. And uses his sleeve to wipe it all away.

“Good God, May. Why didn’t you tell me it’d be so hard to make it on my own?” He chuckled somberly, the same way anyone would when they were trying to hide their emotions.

“I don’t want to keep going.” He cries. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can.” A familiar, yet unfamiliar voice says from behind him. “She’d want you to.”

It’s Happy.

Peter closes the journal and stands up as fast as possible for him.

“Sorry,” Happy starts, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Peter hides his face and can’t even bring himself to self to glance at Happy even by accident, “No no, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. I should probably leave anyways.” He starts to step away but Happy takes hold of his jacket sleeve.

“Wait, let me take you to get something to eat,” He smiles, “please. My treat.

Tom takes a moment to consider the offer. The most surprising thing about his moment of hesitation is the fact that he thought about saying no.

“Why would you want to take a stranger out to eat?” He asks.

“I don’t know. You just remind me of someone that I can’t quite place.”

Peter smiles with a glint of hope in his eyes.

— — —

“So,” Happy starts as Peter munches on his cheeseburger, “what’s a young kid like you doing visiting someone’s grave instead of going to school?”

Peter puts down the burger, “I had to drop out actually.” Happy leans back on the booth bench.

“It’s not drugs or anything,” Peter reassures the older man, “I just don’t have the money for anything and I need to earn money for rent.”

“So was May helping you with that before she died?” Happy asks.

Peter debates being forthcoming about his past, but decides against it because he doesn’t have the strength anymore. He lost that at the Statue of Liberty.

“Yeah. My parents died and she always managed to find someway to help me.” Peter smiled.

“I was her boyfriend,” Happy begins, “she never mentioned you. Peter, are you hiding something?” Peter gets a l little nervous.

“I went to the soup kitchen after school. She helped so many that she probably had no idea the effect she had on me.” He covers his ass.

Happy is still suspicious but doesn’t push. “Well, Peter, you seem like a good kid. I’m sure everything will work out eventually.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hogan.”

“So where’s the first place on your list?” He asks.

“What?”

“You said you’re looking for a job, tell me where you’re looking and I can give you a ride.”

“Stormy’s Autobody.”

[athkatla]

“I wanted to say something, while you’re all gathered around,” Ven began. The half-elf cleared her throat, looking down at the curious faces of her friends as they sat around the campfire. “You’ve all trusted me with your secrets. I appreciate it and - and I’d like to return your honesty. I trust you all. I consider you to be my friends and there’s something about myself I should have made known.”

“Oh, how wonderful! More surprises," Astarion said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "As if this group wasn’t weird enough. What other fun secrets can we have?” 

The group looked at her expectantly.

“That little rant actually made me feel better about myself, thank you,” Ven said flatly. “I’m a child of Bhaal.”

For a moment, there was only silence.

Wyll spoke first. “Bhaal, the god of Murder? One of the Dead Three? That Bhaal?”

“The very same,” she confirmed.

“I knew there was something about you. It’s because you’re part god!” Karlach said. She looked Ven up and down, as if seeing her in a new light. “Wow. Do you have any Bhaalspawn powers we could use? Can you smite someone? Make them explode? Turn ‘em inside out with your mind?”

“Uh, no,” Ven said with a small laugh. “Sorry. I surrendered my divine essence a long time ago.”

Astarion made a noise of annoyance. “Of course you did. Gods forbid one of us have a special power to help us on this doomed little quest of ours. Are you certain you can’t - I don’t know - melt anyone? Have you tried?”

“I’m sure,” Ven assured him.

“Tch. Why waste our time when it offers no advantage in battle?” Lae’zel asked, looking rather irritated that her sword sharpening had been interrupted. 

“That’s very rude, Lae’zel,” said Wyll. “She trusts us enough to tell us about herself and this is how we receive her? Thank you for telling us, Ven.”

“You were open-minded about my worship of Shar," Shadowheart said evenly. "I’ll be open-minded about your heritage."

Gale, whose gaze had been far-off as if he were locked in his own thoughts, suddenly looked to Ven with enlightenment in his eyes. He spoke for the first time since she shared the news.

“Ven is a nickname,” he said slowly. It was not a question.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Derived from Venhaerys,” Gale continued.

“I was going to get to that part-” Ven began, but was interrupted by a loud holler from Karlach.

The tiefling held up a red hand to silence anyone that was about to speak. “Hold on! Venhaerys Summerstar? Hero of Baldur’s Gate? There’s a statue of you in the city!” she said. “Well, I mean, it’s a fountain and it doesn’t have your face on it or anything, but - your name’s on the plaque! For defeating Sareveok! Holy fuck, soldier. This whole time-”

“So you’re the Bhaalspawn who came to the city a hundred years ago?” Astarion asked, assessing Venhaerys in a new light. “Well. Maybe this news isn’t so bad. You might have powerful allies we could use.”

“I’ve heard stories about you and your friends my whole life,” Wyll said. He looked a little dazed. “We’ve all been sleeping next to a famous hero every night.”

“You’re the Blade of Frontiers, Wyll. You’re famous, too,” Ven pointed out with a roll of her eyes.

“Sure, but I’m not part god,” he pointed out.

“Technically, I’m not part god anymore-”

“- and you know Jaheira - “ Karlach rambled to herself.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to keep it to yourself,” Shadowheart said, looking amused as she jerked a thumb in the direction of the enthusiastic tiefling.

“I didn’t intend to keep it to myself. When I met you and Lae’zel, I introduced myself only as Ven because I assumed we’d either die in our escape attempt or we’d go our separate ways soon after,” Ven explained. “I didn’t think it was worth getting into. And then we got caught up in other problems and time just slipped away from me…”

“Is there anything we should be aware of?" Shadowheart asked. "Any divine liabilities?”

Astarion straightened. “Yes, I’m not going to wake up in the middle of the night-”

“And find me trying to suck on your neck?” Ven asked, pointedly looking at the vampire spawn. His shoulders slumped and he quieted. “No. Nothing like that. People do occasionally try to kill me when they find out I’m a Bhaalspawn, though, so… watch out for that, I suppose.”

“I’m sure we can handle whoever is foolish enough to make the attempt,” Wyll said confidently.

“Is everyone okay with this?” Ven asked, surveying the faces of those in the campsite. 

“Sure, why not?” Astarion asked with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But if you do happen to develop god-powers, I’d like to be the first to know, darling.” 

[ktlurry]

CAIN - 8. Mr. Lisslow

As Cassandra walks cautiously behind the tall stranger, she can't help but feel uneasy being around him. Although he helped her get out of that scuffle in the Iceberg Lounge, something doesn't seem right about a random man helping out a young lady he barely knows. On top of that, he isn't just some regular man. Cassandra could tell by how he handled some of those guards at the lounge that this guy has had some legitimate training. Could he be some kind of cop or federal agent? Or maybe even another masked vigilante? Gotham seems to have a lot of those these days.

The stranger glances back at Cassandra to witness her cold stare beaming at him. He then looks forward and continues down the street.

Stranger: We aren't too much further from my place. You can hang out there for a while.

Cassandra continues to stare at the stranger and makes no response at all. The stranger then looks back at her again this time to actually engage in actual conversation.

Stranger: So do you choose not to speak or are you physically unable to?

Cassandra just shakes her head and continues you glare at him.

Dane: Hmmm interesting. By the way, my name is Dane. Dane Lisslow.

Cassandra has no idea who that is, but at least she has a name now. Dane Lisslow. Now all she needs to know is who trained him and why is he helping her.

Dane: I work for the special crimes unit for Gotham. I heard about the situation at Black Mask's place, so when I saw you in the Iceberg Lounge, I assumed you were the mystery girl. You fit the description perfectly. Plus no normal girl would have broken that man's hand the way you did.

Although Dane just admitted to who he is, Cassandra is still not fully convinced of his intentions. Someone from the special crimes unit usually doesn't have that kind of combat prowess.

Dane: So you like the Bat, huh? I saw your little shirt underneath with his symbol.

Cassandra then lightens her mood a bit with the mere mention of The Batman. Not many people know that she idolizes him. Before she had gotten to Gotham she would always hear stories and see the news about The Batman and all he does. He's well trained just like her, but uses his skills to help people and not hurt them like she was taught to do. Something Casandra secretly admires and would love to see in action.

Dane: Yea the guy is good. Really good.

Cassandra looks down at the ground as she tries to contain her slight grin.

Dane: But he could be doing better if you asked me.

Cassandra's grin went away instantly as she went back to glaring at Dane. She didn't quite understand what he meant by that.

Dane: I mean if he really wanted to make Gotham better and take crime off the street, he should kill some of these lunatics. Instead, he puts them in jail or insane asylums just for them to be released again or even escape.

They both approach a garage-like building just at the corner of the street where Dane resides.

Dane: If I were the Bat, I would have ended these lunatics years ago.

Cassandra is kind of surprised to hear that coming from him. It just makes her even more suspicious of who he is. Dane then pulls out a set of keys which he uses to unlock the door of the complex. The both of them enter the complex which is small and only consists of a tiny desk with an open laptop sitting on it, a small tan couch, an old Harley Davidson motorcycle by the garage door, and a bunch of plaques and military awards. In the back of the complex was a plain black door likely leading to another room in the small space.

Dane: I know it's not much, but it's a spot you can crash until we figure something out.

Cassandra looks at Dane with a blank look on her face as if she has no idea what he's referring to. She then looks over at the military plaques and walks up to them. She can't read them of course, but she can tell they are important to who this Dane guy is.

Dane: I was a marine before joining the crimes unit. A damn good one too.

Cassandra not at all interested in what Dane has to say then looks over at the black door. She walks up to it and tries the doorknob to reveal that it is locked from the inside.

Dane: That's just my closet. Nothing interesting in there but old gear.

Cassandra's suspicion grows more. Why lock up old military gear? Cassandra is eager to know what is behind that door, but that might have to wait till later. She then walks over to the tan couch, sits down, and glances up at Dane.

Dane: Just sit tight. I'm going to go make a phone call real quick to my captain. Then we can figure out where to go from here. Be right back.

Dane then exits the complex to go out front. After watching him leave out the door, Cassandra then looks back at the black door. This is her only chance to see what's really behind there and maybe find out more about who Dane Lisslow is. She gets up from the couch and approaches the door looking over her shoulder to ensure Dane doesn't walk in on her. She looks into the keyhole to see if she could peek inside the room through the slit but to no avail. She then reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a small kunai knife and attempts to break the lock with it. Cassandra struggles to get the door open, but she is persistent in seeing what's inside. She continues to giggle the knife into the door, but it doesn't seem to be making any progress at all.

After several minutes of trying to break down this door, Cassandra hears Dane approach the front door to enter back into the complex. Cassandra tries to get her knife out of the door, but it's wedged in there tight. She Slightly panics and tries to pull on the knife harder to get it out. The front door then opens and Dane enters.

Dane: Alright here s what we are going to do...

Dane fully enters the complex and looks over at the couch to see Cassandra sitting there as if she had never moved. He then glances over at the door which remains closed and seems untouched.

Dane: We are going to go meet up with my squad and then go from there. Sound good?

Cassandra nods then stands up from the couch to walk towards the door. She glances back at the door for a quick second then proceeds to exit the complex. She is overly curious about what it is he is hiding in there and almost doesn't want to leave just yet.

Dane: Wait. I have to grab something right quick.

Dane then pulls a set of keys out of his pocket then approaches the black door. Cassandra doubles back into the complex with her face lighting up as he puts the key into the doorknob. As Dane twists the key, you hear a series of electronic switches and locks activate from behind the door. Cassandra realizes that she wouldn't have been able to get past all of those locks regardless. As Dane opens the door, Cassandra immediately walks up closer to peek at what's inside.

Dane: Eager, huh? I told you it's nothing but old gear of mine.

Dane was right. It was just a closet with tactical gear hanging and an old duffle bag. He then leans over to the duffle back and pulls out a holstered 9-millimeter pistol from it.

Dane: This is what I need.

Dane then wraps the holster holding the handgun around his waist.

Dane: Alright now we can head out.

Cassandra (slightly disappointed) starts to make her way to the exit of the complex, but right before she turns fully around she notices something peeking out of the duffel bag in the closet. Laying in the bag with half of it still covered up appears to be an orange mask with a slit for the eye but no opening for the mouth. She can't tell what's on the other half of the mask, but even so, Cassandra has never seen that mask before. Dane then closes the closet door and all of the mechanical locks automatically set themselves. Growing even more curious by the second, Cassandra isn't fully sure that Mr. Lisslow is who he says he is.

Dane then grabs Cassandra by her shoulder on their way out of his complex.

Dane: Come on. We can't keep my people waiting much longer.

Cassandra looks at his hand on her shoulder then looks up at Dane with a grimacing look then shrugs his hand off her shoulder. She doesn't like when people touch her. Dane then gives her a slight scowl and walks ahead of her.

Dane: Just follow me, kid.

As Dane starts to walk down the street, Cassandra paces very slowly behind him still not sure if he can be trusted. She learns a little about him, but at the same time grows even more suspicious of him. It's as if she's back a square one on who really is Dane Lisslow.

[the-firebird69]

Youngsters Take Their STACYC's To The BMX Track!

I'll send suggested a metal or an award or a plaque to do a few races for people who volunteer for the race and the guy had them ready and a whole bunch of volunteered knows 10 and they went through it and he goes you got 10 places and so he goes I'll have to have 10 prizes so he had these flags and the name and their plaque it's just a frame thing and he gave them out to each child and he said this is the first race and so he said it it should be like for every race they give you a place but you're in the race and you're still placed me and you made it through the race and he's a little children so he suggested and they said it's awesome so the scooting around and you did it three times the same kids and they had different places then they said we want a real race and he had numbers and he put them on it and there was a winner and he had prizes for all 10 a little cup for the first three and they loved it and really this is the first race this formal and it worked and their little kids just like you said you have to have the right kids and these are Jason's kids and Emily's kids different kids and Gaga's kids Meghan markle's kids and they're are going to be children in it and that's their goal there with the blonde hair said I had such a great time I almost forgot myself these things are like little motorcycles and they're fun and she heard our son say there's stars in her eyes and she was crying after and said I want to do it again and said I think he can beat all these boys but you're a little bigger you might be in a different class and she said you're right and she's a little bigger so she came in like fourth or something no everybody goes too slow her bike was slow and she was almost last pretty much was and it makes a big difference so she's gone up a class and they have it and she's going to get the race going and she says I want to beat these boys they're so mean to us

Thor Freya

Olympus

Haha my husband said you're all my kids the gather around he said when are you going to grow up and said I don't know whatever the race is on I'm down here it would be fun because I could try and do it it probably wouldn't move me but maybe half a lap but I'm younger than you guys are my body is and they started to laugh and they said that's ridiculous he's one of us everybody but the other way around and they seen it before but it's because someone's becoming a giant but not someone is naturally that way and they started to laugh they see people shut down he says like Tom Cruise he shrunk down and they laughed and said he's bigger than Tom and yeah he's struck down he's not as big as I am but he has been larger for a long time and they start laughing and said it's a one of a kind he says yes is the mouthpiece falcon Maltese falcon

Hera

And we said the bottom half

Thor Freya

[underswitch-official]

Ch3 Part8

I decide to go visit Napstablook, so I head up the middle path. I enter the house on the left and gremlin-walk up to Napstablook. I shout hello, and he jumps so hard he vanishes for a moment.

“oh… f-frisk, it’s just you…… you scared me,” he says.

I apologize with a sheepish grin. Then, I go over to his fridge and ask him if I could have a snack.

“oh… are you hungry… i can get you something to eat…”

Napstablook goes over to his fridge as well and offers me a ghost sandwich.

I attempt to bite into it, but I phase right through it.

“oh…” Napstablook says, “nevermind…”

Then he offers that I join him in lying on the ground and feeling like garbage. I accept his offer, and we lie in the middle of his floor.

As we lie there, I begin to feel like I’m floating through space. I lie there for what feels like hours, and I must have dozed off at some point.

After I wake up and manage to get on my feet, Blooky says, “well, that was nice… thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” I say as I try to stop my stomach from churning. I then leave and interact with the savepoint again. A strange blip happens, and suddenly my stomach stops churning.

“What just happened?” I ask as I try to wrap my head around all that’s going on.

“* The Player loaded a save. Chara had done that a couple times. The side effects of lying on the floor and feeling like garbage seem to have disappeared completely, but…”

“But what?”

“* You should be experiencing a panic attack very soon.”

I swallow hard and just continue down the path. I stop to talk to a clam lady.

“I’m visiting Waterfall from the city,” she says. “Synchronicity…? My neighbor’s daughter looks about your age. Her name is ‘Suzy.’ I feel like you two should be friends. You have a neighbor’s blessing!!!”

Strange, I think as I continue.

The next room has a three-way fork. I take the path that leads down.

Gaster is there, sitting on his raft.

“Hea hea hea… Welcome back, little one. Would you like to ride on my raft? … Oh, hold on. You haven’t met up with Alphys. Go do that, and maybe then I’ll give you a ride. Hea hea hea.”

Gaster’s raft floats down the river immediately afterward.

And that’s when the panic attack starts.

My hearing gets muffled. It gets so bad that Player has to take over. I can’t even hear Asriel.

Player takes me back up and into the next room.

The feeling of water going up to my chest startles me enough to have some sense of what’s going on, and I watch as Player walks me right past the plaques that no doubt have a very interesting story on them.

The next room holds a maze full of light-up mushrooms and hidden paths.

A small cat-dog-creature wearing a shirt suddenly appears. Player gives me control, and I watch in confusion as the creature vibrates so hard its face levitates off its body.

I press ACT and select Check.

* TEMMIE – RATED TEM OUTTA TEM

* Loves to pet cute humans.

* But you’re allergic!

“Wait, I’m allergic?” I ask.

“OMG!!! hOOMAN too cuTE!! (dies)” Temmie says before a poorly drawn version of herself with super long legs. I get hit a bunch of times. 14 HP left.

“Hi, Temmie,” I say.

“hOI!!! i’m tEMMIE!!” Temmie responds.

Same attack as last time. Hit again. 8 HP.

I spare Temmie. I get nothing from it.

Player takes control again.

I reach a village full of Temmies. Oh my.

There’s a savepoint, and Player interacts with it.

* You feel… something.

* You’re filled with determination.

[ariaboughton]

rippedstitch-s​:

The arm that loops around his feels comforting and adds a bit of stability that he desperately needs. He walks along with her, glad for the less-busy aquarium. Especially when he hasn’t gotten the pleasure of seeing these types of tanks so up close and personal. Eventually he has to release her arm to walk up to one, seeing moray eels poking their heads out of a giant coral reef. Big bulging eyes and gaping mouths, they just sit there like that and don’t do anything… but their gills move, showing that they’re alive. Asa watches in curiosity before looking back at Aria with a grin.

“Work’s a good enough place to start as any.” He points out, finally moving away from that tank to walk with her to another. Each room’s a little different. Some have fluorescent colorful lights to add to the ambience, while others are brightly lit so you can read plaques and information on the walls. “Sounds like me at work, too.” He says honestly. Clears his throat. “Just… I’m kind of… around if I’m needed, but not necessarily always working. Sort of like a consultant.” He explains. That’s not… untrue? He is usually on-call, waiting for someone to need a stitch or a bone re-set or a clean-up or something. “It’s easy to forget how much you’re needed, I think. When you’re not there all the time, you know?”

-

She follows him when he moves away, seeing the eels before she turns her gaze to some of the smaller fish flitting in and out of the reefs and plantlife. She doesn’t know the name of them, but her gaze follows their patterns. It’s oddly relaxing. When they move again, she keeps looking through and around the tanks for whatever might catch her eye. She even lets out a little soft gasp at the sight of a larger shark slowly floating overhead.

“It’s true.” Aria concedes, a bit absent-mindedly. “But.. yeah, that makes sense. When I was freelancing, it felt like I wasn’t getting enough. Not I’m getting more than, and I still crave more.” If only to not think. “Consulting sounds fun, and it.. well, it honestly seems like you get paid well.” She laughs, “Hell, maybe I should apply.”

[cockatrice-writers-guild]

Jaxon Galaxy

intro to the space au. a.k.a the only au where jax is a different size in that he is much bigger

warnings: swearing, fear

I’m out here.

Come find me.

Please.

It’s night now and the hum of overhead LED lights guide my steps as I move around the venue, following the same patterns I do every night. I’d play some music to dull the silence but I know now that the way the halls tend to echo at this hour is worse so, mop in hand, I continue on, the path I need to take long since muscle memory.

With a sigh, I push the bucket into the next room, eyes sweeping over the plaques and the chairs and the gaps between the chairs that I’ll need to force the mop into to reach. I frown, already knowing how long this part takes but surveying the scene regardless. It’ll be tedious, unbearably tedious as always. There will be pain, back aches, God knows what else. It’s the largest room in the observation centre I work at so I always save it for last. I look down at my mop, at the bucket already filled with cloudy water, back up at the room again, eyes tracing the walls, the chairs and this time, though I try to fight it, finally landing on the stage.

And the lone microphone that sits there.

…to be honest, there’s another reason I’m stalling.

This place gives me the willies.

Sure the way the light plays off the chairs and casts shadows on the walls is unsettling, but what isn’t at night? It’s the microphone that always gets me. And I know why too. I come in early sometimes so I can go home faster, around 6pm when all the scientists are prone to lounging around and talking. And sometimes they forget I’m there. So I hear things. And recently, I’ve been hearing a lot of things. So from what I’ve gathered from their hushed words and inside jokes,

The sun has finally collapsed.

Our entire star system is dead.

And the only reason we haven’t experienced another ice age is because of some kind of massive entity that lives in the cosmos. It, or I guess I should say he, doesn’t seem to have a name but from what I can gather, it’s his proximity that prevents us from freezing, specifically his body heat. He has to be touching the planet at all times and he can’t let go lest we all perish.

All of which sounds fucking insane by the way. I don’t really believe it myself but hey, an artist has to eat. I will give what they’re saying a little merit though. I remember reading a while ago that the sun was on its last legs but I haven’t heard anything about it since. There had been a period of time where people couldn’t send anything out into space. Anything sent up was stopped by some kind of invisible force and promptly sent right back down. Somehow, not one of the pieces of equipment crashed but that just made things more confusing. And then one day the force was just gone and space programs went on as normal. The scientists say it’s because the entity got bored or maybe even lonely and altered the barrier he created to touch the planet safely so we could find him. Which doesn’t make any sense but

I’m out here.

Come find me.

Please.

The results these programs got back were…strange. Not something they could release to the public apparently. Dozens of research centres around the world were sending shit up. Satellites, beacons, even a rover. And apparently, there was a point where all of them, every single last machine sent up there experienced a catastrophic earthquake at the exact same time, something on a magnitude they’d never even dreamed possible. But once it was over and they started studying the vibrations, they’d finally picked up on a frequency and started going from there. And finally they discovered that it was a voice. A voice that sounded disturbingly human. A voice that sounded like a man. A voice that longed to be heard.

And now they’ve apparently found a way to talk to him.

That microphone up on the stage.

Conferences have been held here every day for a while since the microphone was made. I’ve never heard what was discussed since the conferences are held in the day and I doubt they’d let a janitor in anyway but I’ve seen a few of the types that show up. First just the scientists but over time it’s been mandated to only host a new crowd. People in power, to put it lightly. I’ve heard they ask the entity questions and that they’re not that happy with having their entire lives metaphorically and literally entrusted into the hands of some massive cosmic being they barely know. But what other choice do they have? …there’s irony in that.

But now the mic just sits there as it always does at this hour. Waiting for the next meeting. And when’s that gonna be? One month? Two? The meetings have been getting less frequent lately. Most likely they’re just using this story as a cover to discuss something else, God knows what, but still. In the off chance that some entity really does exist and really did save us and really did try to contact us, even after all that effort he really was still getting the short end of the stick. Barely anyone to talk to and then only about official stuff. Meetings every day and then every week and then every month and then every other month as people realized he wasn’t going to kill them or demand any kind of compensation or

I’m out here.

He’d be out there in space right now, waiting hopefully for the next time there was a boring ass conference because at least then he’d have someone to talk to. At least then he’d have something.

Come find me.

A whole planet full of people in his hands and he’s a government secret. A freak of nature. A scientific discovery. Something to be kept behind closed doors and high status and hushed gossip.

Please.

A whole planet in his hands and he says please.

…

Goddammit now I’m making myself sad over a cover story. I look away from the mic with a small shake of my head and turn to the nearest corner I’ll have to scrub clean. I brandish my mop, getting ready to start when…

…I turn to the mic again and

Please.

lean my mop against the wall, pursing my lips.

…

And then I start walking towards it.

This is stupid. I know it is but I can’t stop myself. I make my way past the rows of dusty seats and step onto the stage, looking out at the dozens of seats now shrouded in shadow. They made it all so unnecessarily flashy too. Why a stage? Why the plaques? Why any of this? Why treat him this way?

An enigma. A terror. A spectacle. But never a person.

Still, I can feel my heart rate spike just slightly once I finally bring myself to reach for the mic. …what do I do if he’s real? If all this was real? If there was some kind of response, would I even know what to say? My hand clamps hesitantly around the mic stand and I lean forward to move my mouth to the receiver.

What would I do if the sun collapsed? If our star system was dead? If the sky was fake? If a giant cosmic being responded to my words? How would I continue on with that knowledge? I pull back a bit, hesitating again. It’s all too elaborate to be a hoax, right? What are these people trying to pull? It makes sense and it doesn’t and it has to be real and it can’t be.

Please.

I feel my brows crease and I swallow, bringing the mic to me and before I can get cold feet again, I open my mouth and

“…hello?”

And my only answer is the distant hum of the lights outside.

And I just stand there in silence for a moment. I’m sweating. Trembling slightly. All worked up and for what?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I should’ve known. The sun is fine. The planet is fine. Weird things just happen sometimes. Of course. Whoever started that cover up story was damn thorough with it, I’ll give them that. But now I need to get back to cleaning the floor so that I can get home before the sun comes up.

I sigh, making sure to wipe my fingerprints off the mic before I move to step off the stage. If I’m fast enough I might be done in the next hour or so. I’ll just need to-

“…h…hello? Is someone there?”

And I stop dead in my tracks.

A man’s voice. Whispered. I spin around but only see the bland white wall the stage is pressed against. Spin back and only catch the light spilling in though the empty doorway, the unoccupied seats and my mop leaning against the far wall. I listen for any sign of other people and get back silence.

“…hello?” The voice calls out to me again, somehow even quieter than before.

I can’t find the source of it and it’s strange. There doesn’t seem to be any kind of direction to it. It sounds close, it sounds everywhere. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d almost say that it feels like the voice is coming from inside my…

…inside my…head…

No.

No.

Nononononono this can’t be real. This can’t be

I turn back to the lone microphone on the stage, my heart rate slowly starting to pick up again. What do I do? Whatever it is, the entity?, doesn’t seem to know I’m here. Not really. I could leave. I could stay quiet. I could hide. I could…I could…I could…

“…please, I just…”

The voice is barely a murmur.

…

Fuck.

I take a slow breath in and a slow breath out.

And then I step back onto the stage.

The voice doesn’t call out again but it doesn’t matter. A shaking hand grips the mic stand once more and leaning forward, I try to fight the tremble out of my voice before I speak again. “…hello?”

A pause. And then

“Hi!” I bite back a yelp. There’s excitement in his voice when he speaks now, relief, his words forming in my head like they’ve always been there. “Sorry, I must have lost you there for a second. I…actually don’t think we’ve met before. Who are you?”

It takes me a second to find my words again. “I…uh…”

“Yeah?” the man prompts.

“I’m…Emelia, I guess. Emelia Markov. …though you can call me Mia if you’d like.”

There is a long pause before the man speaks again. “…that’s everything?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, it’s just that people usually give me…I guess a title or something too. Like their job I think? I just thought that was the standard for humans.”

For humans.

It takes a second for me to collect myself.

“…uh…well, I’m an artist. …part time artist, anyway. I carve and sell wooden sculptures online and in between jobs I…well, I’m a janitor.”

“That’s two titles then! Very impressive, Mia.” My heart jumps when I hear him say my name but I simply clench my teeth and let him continue. “What’s an artist? And what’s a janitor?”

My head spins. “I…it’s…wait could I ask you a few questions first?”

“Sure.”

“Are you…is everything…”

The man waits and it takes a few seconds to realize I have too many questions to ask. What happened to the sun? How did you find us? Why did you help us? Are you actually a cosmic entity? What are you planning to do with us. On and on the list goes but for just a second, one sticks out to me. How many times has he heard those questions before? How many times has he had to answer the exact same things over and over to calm down the next overlord of the week? I frown, thinking over it a bit longer before I finally ask

“…what’s your name?”

And the man pauses. “My…name?”

“Yeah like, what can I call you?”

“I don’t…I don’t have a name,” he says quietly. “…how do you get a name?”

I purse my lips. “Well, usually…someone gives one to you, I guess. Though you can always change it if you don’t like it.”

The man is silent for a really long time and I’m about to ask him if he’s okay when, “…Mia?”

“Yeah?”

“…could you give me a name?”

I blank at that. “But…you don’t even know me!”

“I know you about as well as I know anyone around here,” the man responds and I sigh.

“Fair point. How about…why don’t you let me finish my job here and then I’ll read out some names to you. You can pick one that you like.”

“You’re coming back?” He sounds hopeful and my heart pangs.

“Sure. Just give me like…maybe an hour?”

“I…don’t know what that is.”

Ah.

“Just…hang tight then. I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Alright.”

I takes me a few seconds to pry my white knuckled grip from the stand but soon I’m mopping in silence again, the familiar motions helping to calm me some. I finish the back row of seats and take a moment to rest before something occurs to me. I turn back to the microphone on the stage now a distance away. “Hey, big guy, can you still hear me?”

“Yeah! …also big guy? Is that my name?”

“Nah, it’s just a placeholder. Think of it as a nickname until we find you a real one.”

“…nickname?”

“It’s like when…uh…I guess it’s like a name that people can call you that isn’t your real name? Like…my real name is Emelia but my nickname is Mia. Your nickname can be big guy and we’ll find you a real name later.”

“…can you have more than one nickname?”

“Sure.”

“Hmm.”

I decide not to comment on the hum  eyeing the distance from the mic as I try to gauge the distance. “Could we try something though?”

“Sure.”

“You can still hear me, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I wanna see how far I can get from the mic where you’re still able to hear me.”

“Mic?”

“Microphone. …the thing the scientists made to communicate with you?”

“…oh that. It’s alright, I don’t need that to talk to you anymore.”

“…huh?”

“The…mic basically just helps to get my attention. It helps me…I don’t know, focus on you? After that I can listen to you pretty easily.”

“That…doesn’t make much sense actually.”

“I still don’t really get what a nickname is.”

“I guess we’re even.”

A light laugh fills my head for a short moment and I can’t help but smile. “I guess we are.”

There’s a brief period of silence before the man speaks again. “…Mia?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you think maybe we could…keep talking?”

“Sure, big guy. It’s not like I have much company this time of night anyway.”

“Oh no I- thank you but I mean like…whenever.”

“Whenever.”

“Yeah. …if that’s alright?”

The hum of the lights overhead. I can hear one of the faulty one blinking erratically in another room. There’s the distant roar of rain now. I’ll go home. I’ll sleep, maybe. Wake up. Start carving or maybe carve through the night. Go to work. Watch everyone leave for the night. Get my mop again. Go through the same patterns again. The hum of the lights overhead, the faulty one blinking erratically in another room. Maybe it’ll rain tomorrow too.

…when’s the last time I talked to anyone?

“…Mia?”

“Sure.”

“What?”

“Talk to me whenever. I’ll let you know if I’m busy but maybe…check if I’m sleeping first I guess? Maybe like…I don’t know, whisper or something first and if there’s no response I’m probably sleeping.”

“I…you’re serious?”

I nod but the man doesn’t seem to respond to the gesture so instead I speak. “I am.”

“Thank you! Thank you so so much, Mia! I…let me know if there’s ever anything I can do to repay you.”

“You’re preventing the whole planet from freezing over so trust me, big guy, you’re doing plenty. …though don’t think of this as a favour so much as it is something mutually beneficial.”

“What do you mean?”

“You get someone to talk to. I get someone to talk to. I’d hardly call that a favour.”

The man is quiet for a few seconds. Then, “…oh, you’re…,”and then he trails off.

I raise a brow but the man doesn’t say anything for a long time. I want to say something but…don’t know what. Is he…did he leave? I continue cleaning in silence until the job is done, turn off the lights, lock all the doors, swear under my breath when I realize I forgot my umbrella and I parked relatively far from the centre today. I fucked up I guess. Even the insanely lonely space entity that holds the world wants nothing to do with me. The absurdity of it all catches me off guard and a bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. It’s loud but then there’s no one around to hear it either.

I sigh.

Whatever. I lock the front doors of the building and feel my muscles clench in anticipation of the freezing cold shower I’m about to get pummelled in. I take a breath and then step out into the downpour and…

…nothing.

I’m not getting drenched, even as the storm roars all around me and I’m not under cover. More than a little confused, I look up and…

What the hell is happening now?

It’s raining above me too. I can see the drops falling overhead but then they just…stop. It’s like there’s a glass roof just over me and not knowing what else to do, I lift a hand and find my fingers brushing against something solid. …did the company build some kind of shelter while I wasn’t at work? How haven’t I noticed it before? Why-

“Mia!”

I jump instinctively. “Big guy? I thought you-”

“No I…sorry, no, I was just…I got lost in thought I guess. You’re like me, is what I wanted to say. I couldn’t sense any other humans around you at all. Like the whole time we were talking you were completely alone.”

I click my tongue. “…thanks.”

“No I mean.. it’s just the others usually come in groups, you know? They come in groups, give me titles and ask me questions about my intentions and the state of things and don’t let me ask questions but…you didn’t do any of that. You’re not an...uh…a leader?”

“Nope. Just a janitor. That means I just clean shit up when everyone else goes home.”

“…and the artist?”

“Means I have to be a janitor to make fucking ends meet.” I pause. “…also I…create, I guess. Wooden sculptures in my case.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah.”

“…but Mia if you’re not a leader then why did you even bother talking to me in the first place?”

“…what do you mean?”

“The leaders are scared of me. But they talk to me anyway because they want answers. They want to know if I’m up to anything. But you just…you’re just talking to me. You don’t seem that scared either.”

“Oh trust me, I am.”

“…oh.”

“It’s nothing on you though, big guy. You seem like a pretty decent guy but…well you’re…uh…”. I trail off, looking at the sky and then just spreading my arms apart.

“What, big?”

There’s a surprising amount of mirth in his voice when he says this.

“Yeah, actually.”

“…ah. Sorry.”

“Nonono, don’t apologize. It’ll just take some time getting used to, you know?”

“I…yeah, I get that. …but Mia?”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks for giving me that chance.”

The words are warm and I feel a smile start to graze my lips. “…hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I just…you saw me doing the arm thing?”

“I did, yeah. It’s nice to finally be able to see you.”

“You couldn’t before?”

“You’re out in the open now. You were in a…building earlier. I can’t see through walls, Mia.”

“That’s…okay, sure. So you can see me now?”

“Yeah! You’re hair is a really nice colour, by the way. Green, I think? It suites you.”

My hair…he can see my hair.

…there’s something almost chilling about that. And I don’t know, the more I think about it, the more unsettled I feel. I don’t know why but him stating the colour of my hair seems to cement something. It’s real. All this is actually real. An actual space entity is watching me right now. A man big enough to hold the Earth is watching me and I can’t even see him. His fucking eyes might be bigger than the Earth. And now, right now, they’re both…trained directly on…me.

I look up at the blackened sky, clouds obscuring the usual dark blue. The sky is fake. And just past the clouds, just past a small invisible barrier and a projected illusion of light is a giant’s eye.

Watching me.

I can’t see him but now I can feel the hairs on my neck start to rise as I stare back at the sky, at the man, at the concealed eyes of something too massive to comprehend. And I don’t know if it’s because I’m thinking about it or if this some long slumbering survival instinct starting to raise its hackles at the inconceivable threat it somehow knows we’re up against. A giant watches me, a giant who holds the world, a giant who could demand anything because he has all the cards, the lives of every single living being on this planet between his fingers.

A giant who can somehow make out the colour of my hair.

I…I don’t…I can’t…I…I…

flinch hard when I hear his voice again

“…Mia, are you alright? You’re breathing really hard. I…I’m sorry, is this my fault? We…we don’t have to keep talking if it’s causing you this much stress. I…I’m sorry just…please breathe, Mia. I’ll leave you alone, I promise. Just breathe. Please.”

A giant who holds the whole fucking world in his hands and still says please.

I’m shaking, I’m shaking so hard I think I dropped my car keys. I’m crying too, can feel hot tears spilling down my cheeks even as the rain continues to fail at hitting me.

I breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

My breaths slow. I focus on the sound of the rain until finally I have the strength to stand again. I must have curled up at some point. I keep breathing. Wipe my tears and dry my hands on my jacket. Breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe.

I let out a long, slow, slow breathe.

Then I turn my gaze to the sky again. Feel my hairs start to rise at the unknowable. Breathe.

“…hey,” I try.

There’s no response so I squeeze my wrist and try again.

“HEY, BIG GUY! I KNOW YOU’RE STILL LOOKING AT ME!”

Nothing.

Then, finally

“…Mia?” The voice is barely a whisper, each syllable laced with raw tears.

“I want to keep talking to you. Mutual benefits, remember?”

“…yeah. You talk to me and I…,” he sniffs, “…I’m sorry, Mia. I’m so so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s…it’s not you’re fault, okay? You seem like such a sweet guy but-“

“Big, yeah. I know.”

There’s no mirth in his tone now and I purse my lips.

“…just give it some time first, okay? I know I can get used to this in time. You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily”

There’s a small pause before a pained chuckle rings out. “You act like I’m doing this on purpose.”

And I can’t help it but now I’m laughing. And soon my head fills with laughter too. It’s the stress of course but…this is kinda nice.

It takes a while for either of us to calm down but once we finally do, I just stand there in the rain for a while, looking up at the sky while the man watches me too. And despite it all, it’s almost…comfortable.

Eventually, I break the silence. “Wait, big guy?”

“Mmm?”

I reach up and rap my knuckles on the invisible barrier above me. “Is that you?”

“Yeah. Barrier. I didn’t want you to get soaked.”

I smile at that. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he whispers back. “I’d show you some more barrier stuff but….”

“Maybe some other time.”

“Yeah.”

I pick up my keys and start walking to my car, the small barrier following me as I do. I’m halfway across the lot when I turn to look at the sky again.

“Hey, big guy.”

“Yeah?”

“Names?”

“Oh yeah! Go ahead.”

“Uh…Alexander?”

“Mmm…no.”

“Alfred?”

“Nah.”

“…Alex?”

“Isn’t that just a shortened version of Alexander?”

“…I guess. It’s its own name though. I’ve seen people called either.”

“…eh, maybe not.”

“Fucking, I don’t know, Arnold?”

-

I’m scrolling through my phone, sitting on my bed in the dark, the dim light coming off my phone making my empty apartment look even darker. I…couldn’t sleep again.

“…what about Jasper?”

“Mmm.”

“Mmm?”

“Could you keep going?”

“Jackson.”

The man pauses.

“And look, there’s a version of it that that has an x instead of the cks. Kinda unnecessary if you ask me. Like why would anyone ever-“

“I like it!”

“…come again?”

“Jaxon! Or…oh, maybe Jax for short, just like you!”

“Jax.” I test the name out and…it actually doesn’t sound too bad. “…you’re sure?”

“Mmm,” the man hums. And he sounds so happy I immediately relent, setting my phone down and staring up at the now dimly lit ceiling.

“And so the massive fuck huge cosmic entity who holds the entire world in his hands has a name. And for the love of God that name is Jax.”

The man laughs. “Thanks, M.”

“No pro-…wait what did you just call me?”

“I…it’s a…nickname…I think.

“M.”

“Yeah. …I mean…I can think of a different one if yo-.”

“No. M. It’s…hmm. …could you try saying it again?”

“Mmm…your..your hair looked really fluffy earlier, M. …when I could see it.”

And now I smile. It’s…almost endearing coming from him.

“Jax?”

“Yeah?” He sounds happy.

“…thank you.”

[angelamajiki]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧

PAIRINGS: Yandere! Fatgum x Female! Sidekick! Reader

CW: noncon, voyeurism, bell bulge, size kink, praise kink, breeding, cunninglingus, bondage, dumbification

AN: This is a piece for Fern’s 1k Event! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ! Read the intro and first piece before reading this one! Ty <3 P.S. the italicized quotes are Nighteye’s and reader prior convo

Gluttony: The Second Circle of Dante’s Inferno

“What I like about gluttony,' a bishop I knew used to say, 'is that it doesn't hurt anyone else.'”

You hadn’t the faith to believe him when he said it.

It was hard to call the exchanges that occurred between the two of you a conversation. More or less, he spoke the truth of your reality and you simply didn’t have the gall to question it.

The elevator he thrust you into was cold and unnerving despite the cheesy jazz music that thankfully filled the void of silence you were sure would have deafened you if it prolonged itself. It gave you time to think on his words, more so than you would have liked to.

“The flesh endures the storms of the present alone; the mind, those of the past and future as well as the present. Gluttony is a lust of the mind. It is a poison that is all-consuming of the senses.”

Gluttony was the next trial, so it seemed. Lord knows what lies ahead for you, leaving you foolishly clutching to the notion that this circle couldn’t possibly be worse than the last.

The abrupt halt to the elevator allows the gravity of the situation to sink in fully. The inescapable horror was creeping in through the crack in the door, especially when it opened to find a man waiting for you.

And what a man he was, standing at nearly eight feet.

“Just the gal I was lookin’ for! I was worried my favorite lil sidekick had run off right after quitin’ time.”

An enormous, gloved hand clapped down on your shoulder, lingering far longer than you would have liked.

“Follow me to my office, yeah? I got something I wanna discuss with ya.”

And just like that, the string of fate slipped around your neck like a noose and pulled you along down the empty hallway, save for you, the man, and the numerous amounts of plaques, awards, and other celebratory memorabilia decorating the agency halls.

Judging by the pictures you saw yourself in, you were a hero of sorts, working alongside the unnamed man and two others you had yet to meet. Hopefully, your paths would never cross.

Even inside his office, you could see the remnants of what your life would be in this circle of hell. Whoever was with you seemed to be very fond of you, given the number of photographs and newspaper clippings adorning his desk and walls of the office.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and not just your fantastic work as a hero. Been thinking about what a fine woman you’ve grown to be.”

Those large hands found your shoulders again, stroking and rubbing to set you at ease in his grasp.

“Strong.”

One dipped down to your waist.

“Sweet.”

The other onto your arm.

“Everything a man like me needs. You sure fill my appetite in more than one way.”

Finally, the rest on your hips, thumbing circles into the soft flesh he took purchase in there.

Ah, so this was the glutton in question.

“I’m not sure I’m following what you mean.”

Just play dumb, maybe this circle will have mercy on you.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, honey. There’s no reason to get all shy on me; I promise I don’t bite-”

His hand slid up to your neck, resting comfortably while enveloping the entirety of it with just his palm.

“Unless you ask for it.”

The whisper in his voice sent shivers down your spine, leaving you frozen in his grasp. It was undeniable that you would never beat him, no matter what your power may be in this world. Hell, if you even had one, how certain were you that you could use it?

Your options were far and few between, but laying down and taking it like some pathetic little bitch was not going to be an option for you. Not here, not now.

The shrill sound of your own voice even hurt your own ears as you cried for help, thrashing wildly in the grip of the man.

Your cries for help should have been chosen more carefully, seeing as when your two apparent saviors sped into the room, they opted to help the man pin you down even further.

“Damn, she’s being a feisty little thing-”

“Fatgum, let go of her neck! You’re gonna hurt her.”

“S-Should we really be doing this?”

And so you were left bound against the top of the desk, shrouded in a swarth of tentacles pinning your legs open and your hands above your head.

“Thank you, boys. Didn’t realize she would cause such a stir.”

So Fatgum was his name, or so it appeared to be an alias of some sorts.

“Fatgum, please-”

His smile was sickeningly sweet as he towered over you.

“Awe, no need for formalities with me, sugar plum. Just call me Tai, yeah?”

The two other men stood beside you, watching their boss closely as he dealt with you.

“Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour.”

Damn that cursed man for sending you down here in that goddamn elevator. This journey alone made it nearly impossible to keep this strength to see your mother again alive.

“Tai, please. I don’t-” His hearty laugh cut you off. “Begging already, sugar? By the fight you put up, I’d almost thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I don’t!” You protested, squirming in your slimy bonds before they tightened uncomfortably around you.

“Don’t yell at him like that. It's unbecoming of you.”

The raven-haired man snapped at you, looking down with a blush seared across his face and up to his ears.

“Relax, Tamaki. She just needs a reminder of who she belongs, ain’t that right? But, he’s right, I can't have you mouthing off like that, now can I?”

Slipping his black mask off his eyes, Tai fastened it around your mouth and head, loosely gagging you.

“Yeah, you belong to us!”

It was the redhead’s turn to pipe up before Tai shushed the pair of men.

“Now, now, I know you’re fond of our sweet little sidekick here, but this?”

He clapped a hand over still clothed pussy, rubbing gently.

“This here is mine; you boys can’t have this. But you’re more than welcome to stay and watch as I indulge myself.”

You whined into the gag, looking at him with teary eyes as he ripped a hole in your bottoms and panties.

“Hey, hey, hey. No need for tears, honeybun. You're safe with me, okay? I’m gonna take such good care of my little sweetheart, don’t you worry about a thing.”

His large fingers stroked over your clit slowly and tenderly, kissing your salty tears away as he shushed you with praise and loving words. Thumbing your clit, he pushed his middle fingers into you at a slow pace, grinning softly when you bit back a moan.

“Come on now, girl. We wanna hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel, ain’t that right, boys?”

Their collective groans of pleasure gave you all the response you needed; those sick fucks were getting off on you being harassed by your boss.

His finger sped up in pace, making you squeal once he curled his finger in an upwards motion. “Can’t wait to hear what you’ll sound like on my cock, sweet girl. Gonna sing us a nice song?”

Another finger slipped in as his free hand pawed at your tits, fondling and groping as he finger fucked you a new sense of vigor.

“As much as I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart, I’m just itching to get inside you and feel that pretty cunt around me. You understand, don’t you? I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

His lips continued to litter your skin in kisses to your face, licking at the tears that fell from your eyes when he added a third finger into your tight, wet hole.

“Mhm, you won’t mind if I have a taste, do ya?”

You could only whine in response.

“Of course you don’t, my good girl never says no to me.”

A hot mouth sealed itself around your clit as three fingers pumped in and out of you steadily, hitting all the right spots repeatedly. You squealed and shook in your binds, feeling your orgasm approaching hard and fast with the aid of his tongue lapping and suckling at you.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

That was all you needed to feel yourself reach that blinding peak, sobbing and writhing as he rode out your ecstasy. His tongue continued to work at you far after you were finished, overestimating you without a care in the world. Your whines of protest fell on deaf ears as he just pulled your body closer to his face.

“Taste so good, sweetheart. I’ll stop when I’m finished with my meal, y’understand? This is my pussy, and I’ll do what I want with it.”

Leaving you twitching and sobbing, Tai finally pulled away and stood up, pulling his cock out and stroking it above you.

“Can’t wait to breed my pussy. Gonna make you my cute little cream puff.”

Both of his massive hands circled around you waist, pulling you flush against him as he sank all the way into your tight heat. The stretch of his girth was quite nearly unbearable as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of you, rubbing the small bulge in your belly with fondness while peering down at you.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. I knew you’d be so good for me. Yer takin’ me so well.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he slowly pulled out, leaving your legs twitching wildly when his thumb found its way back to your clit before he sank back in all the way. You could snark about how courteous it was of him to allow you to adjust, but the thread of consciousness was hard to grasp onto as he completely dominated your mind with numbing pleasure.

“You were made to take my cock, sweet thing. Let me give you a treat for bein’ so obedient for me.”

His praise went straight to your gut, as much as you hated to admit it, leaving you feeling pliable and soft under his demanding touch. Those hands around your waist pulled at your body, bringing you back and forth on his cock like you were a goddamn fleshlight.

“Ah, ” he grunted. “I don't think I can hold back much longer; you’ll let me be selfish, won’t ya?”

With that, all sense of tenderness and gentleness was thrown out the window as he picked you up from the desk, holding you against his chest as he jackhammered into you with an impossible pace of his hips.

“Shit! Squeezing me so tight, bein’ such a good little fucktoy for me.”

The sounds of skin slapping and the collective sounds of pleasure rang heavy in the room as he used and abused your throbbing pussy, feeling his grip on you tighten when he was reaching his own high.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum, gonna stuff my pussy nice and full!”

The bulge on your stomach grew even more as he came, stuffing you to the hilt with his cum and his cock. Ropes of it leaked out of your hole, even as he stayed inside you, panting and kissing at your sweaty forehead.

“Gave ‘em a good show, didn’t we, sweetheart? Say thank you, boys.”

Their thanks were mumbled out as they too had exhausted themselves just from the display of your pleasure. Tamaki’s tentacles retracted themselves from you, allowing you to stretch and return feeling to your arms and legs.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart. We’re - hey, are you with me? I’m gonna clean you up and take you back home with me, okay? No more hero nonsense for you, ya hear me? All you need to do from now on is stay home and keep that pussy warm for me.”

Like hell you were going to stay for another damned second in this realm, not after being violated so horrifically.

“O-Okay.”

Play it cool, play it cool.

“Let me go to the bathroom, then.” You swallowed, hoping to fool the men. “A-And I’ll get my change of clothes and we can go home.”

You didn’t wait for a response, hobbling out of the office before making a break down the hall for the elevator. Their shouts echoed off the hallway walls as you ran with all your strength left back into the safety of the elevator, leaving them running after you before the door shut on them.

“Gluttony is a great fault; but we do not necessarily dislike a glutton. We only dislike the glutton when he becomes a gourmet-that is, we only dislike him when he not only wants the best for himself, but knows what is best for other people.”

— tagging: @sightoru @anarchicmartyr @natsuonii @whumperooni @viixens @lunar-nebula @trafalgar-temptress

[cantalouupe]

collar

nsfw!!! xiao x f!reader

sub top xiao, very mild petplay, pet names, semi public sex

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You know Xiao loves you. He’s a sweetheart despite being a bit aloof or closed off to others and you know he would do anything for you - almost.

When you came to him with a peppy bounce in your step, big grin and hands holding something resembling a animal collar, though, he closes you down immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to do,” you faux pout. “Maybe I was showing you the new accessory I got for my cat.”

Xiao deadpans at you. “You don’t own a cat.”

“Sure I do.”

Your grin grows big again and you show him the collar more closely. An encrusted golden plate that sits at the front of the dark piece of leather reads “xiao” in all capital letters.

He blinks at it, once, and then twice before looking back up at you. “....I’m not wearing that.”

You open the latch that holds each side together and reach out to put it on him anyway. “I got it specially made for you, so you have to wear it.”

Leaning away while pushing your hands down, he murmurs “that’s humiliating. I don’t want to wear it.”

The way his eyes follow the item tells a different story, with a light flush running across his cheeks confirming your suspicions. From past experience you’ve found that he likes the feeling of something - usually your hand - around his neck and thought this would be perfect to have while your hands are busy touching him elsewhere.

“You’ll look so pretty though,” you tell him, keeping the collar in hand while you reach to slide your spare onto the smooth skin of his throat. “Don’t you want to be a good kitty for me?”

He freezes momentarily at that, eyes staring unblinking at you before a shudder rolls down his body. For other people, he may be like a stone statue, emotions never showing through. But for you, he was easy to read like a book.

“Ah, was that a yes?” He doesn’t answer you but his head falls back, neck on display for you. An act of submission.

You squeeze once with the hand that sat on his neck, making his eyes flutter shut momentarily. In that time his eyes were closed, you swapped out your hand with the collar, clicking the clasps closed so it stayed in place.

The collar suits him, you think, a dark leather band that fits snuggly around his neck. Connected to the golden plaque with his name engraved was a similarly golden bell that hung just an inch down.

You poke the bell with your finger and it swishes, jingling. Xiao glares - unthreatening - at you when he hears the sound.

“I wish you could see yourself,” you murmur to him, ghosting your fingers over the metallic name plate.

He’s so quiet like this, already breathless even though you hadn’t really touched him yet. “Do you like it?”

You pull him along to sit at a chair near a round decorative table, sliding onto his lap once he is seated before responding with an affirmative hum. “You look like you need to be taken care of.”

If you grind down you can feel him under you, already hard from getting collared. He’s so easy to rile up, your subtle hip roll making his own stutter back up into yours.

With the constant cool pressure of the leather around his neck you doubt he’ll last long. He already looks gone, his pupils blown out so only a small ring of his iris is visible and his chest rising and falling in little hot pants.

You pull his shirt, all the way up so his chest is exposed. He lets you do it, falling back against the seat when you brush your thumbs on either of his nipples.

They’re so sensitive, too. If you didn’t already have a plan for him you’d probably try to make him come just by playing with them alone.

Once their hard against your fingertips you move on, shuffling back to sit more on the ends of his thighs, where they meet his knees. With space made you’re able to slip your hand below his baggy pants and pull his hardened cock out.

Making your hand into loose circle shape, you let it slide down the length, friction of skin against skin making him twitch in your grasp.

It’s a little dry, so you hold your hand up to his mouth. “Can you spit for me, kitten?”

His mouth is already opened a bit and you’re surprised he isn’t drooling. He lets out a little noise but listens to you, spitting in your hand so you can use it as lubricant.

The slide is wet now, making it easy to do a continuous up, down, up, down movement. It must feel a lot more, because he gets a little louder, a little more into it. He’d be fucking up into your fist if you weren’t sitting on him and you momentarily wish you had sat beside him so you could see him do that.

Despite how good your slicked hand feels around him, he seems nervous about someone catching to two of you in the act, now gripping onto your wrist that moved up down the length of his cock.

It’s night time so you personally aren’t worried about it, as the inn is much less busy - pretty much dead - at night. The only time anyone is up here is to get a glimpse of the view, but even then they chose to go lower down because they know Xiao likes to stay up here, preferably alone.

He’s a little out of it though so it makes it easy to continue without him protesting much, the slick grip around him making it hard for him to say no to you.

When your wet palm circles the head, he releases a shaky sigh and the hand that was tightly wound around your wrist loosens.

He seems to forget about the possibility of onlookers after that, especially when you finally sink down on top of him.

Tight wet hear engulfs his cock, squeezing around it and he has to hold back from coming right then and there. “Oh, god, wait wait wait-“ he struggles, grappling onto your hips to try to stop you.

“You better not, Xiao.” You reply lowly, slipping the rest of the way down so you were seated right in his lap, whole length inside you.

He lets out a sob, cock kicking against your constricting walls. It’s so good, so tight and he wants to come so bad, hanging right over the edge.

“Please, please please please,” you don’t know if he’s begging you to let him come or begging himself to hold it. Either way, you don’t respond, giving him a moment to struggle against the onslaught of pleasure on his own.

You wait for the feeling of being filled but it never comes. With a gleeful pinch to his nipple you start moving, a slow gyration of your hips that makes Xiao’s thoughts turn syrupy.

The both of you stay like that for a while, with you leading a smooth roll of your hips while Xiao stifles sobs of pleasure into little desperate whimpers.

“Will kitty hold back for me?” You request once you feel as though you’ve given him some time to adjust to the feel of your cunt around him and he nods tearfully.

He’s so good, you think as you raise yourself a little, so the head of his cock is just pushing inside your entrance. “Go ahead then,” and you don’t have to tell him twice for his hips to start thrusting up into you, chasing the soaking heat.

Your thighs burn a little from holding yourself up at an angle but it’s worth it to see him so needy. The bell on his collar jingles with the effort to fuck upwards and it seems to spur him to keep going. You realize quite quickly that he won’t last much longer.

You let him do his thing, but lean in, resting your hands on his shoulders for balance while you lean in towards his ear. “You know, you’re so good for me like this, kitty.”

The rhythm he has stutters and he moans an “oh fuck, oh fuck” while trying to regain it. You latch your lips on a spot right above the edge of the collar, sucking a mark - a claim - into his skin.

It must be too much for him, the poor thing moaning loud and bucking his hips harder into yours.

“Next time,” you murmur against his neck, “I should get you a leash. Then you’ll really be like my little pet.”

He comes and god it’s a sight to behold. His eyes squeeze shut and his mouth parts and his back arches, so hard it looks a little painful. You seat yourself down so his come fills inside of you instead of spilling out onto himself.

Hair falls in his face when he slumps forward as he’s coming down and you push it back, petting him in a comforting manner.

“Good kitty.” His hips jump and he whines, overstimulated by your words and your cunt still wrapped around him.

You go to unclip the material around his neck but he immediately stops you, mumbling that he wants to keep it on for now.

The next time you see him he’s wearing the collar, along with the time after that. He doesn’t seem to want to take it off and you’re not sure if it’s because he likes the pressure around his throat or if he likes feeling owned but either way it makes you hot inside and almost always results in his moans and the jingle of a bell filling the quiet night.