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a-case-of-attachment · 9 months ago

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So in Hell’s Greatest Dad, Lucifer tells Charlie that ‘with a punch of a pentagram’ and ‘usually I charge a sacrificial lamb’ when he’s offering to help her with the hotel and it got me thinking. Surely he must have had people sacrifice things in his honour or for favours before right? So….what if when something is sacrificed to him it ends up down in Hell?

It works like some sort of inter dimensional postal service. Lucifer will just be doing whatever then a portal will open up above him full of weird oil slick coloured clouds and lightening cracking across the endless sky with the boom of thunder not far behind. Out of the portal flies a cherub sized faun wearing a shirt, waistcoat and bow tie brandishing a clipboard that’s got the contract attached to it. All the important things will be on there like who’s doing the sacrificing, what they are sacrificing and what they want in exchange for it. Lucifer can either accept the sacrifice and sign the document, giving the sinner what they want or just straight up refuse to sign, decline the sacrifice and instead have it sent off to purgatory.

The problem is that Lucifer is so jaded that he doesn’t even bother reading the contracts any more. Sinners all want the same thing anyway, fame, fortune, revenge, so what’s the point even bothering to look these days? It’s not like he gets that many sacrifices in his name anymore and when he does it’s mostly just lambs and goats, the occasional dog or guinea pig and a cat that one time. He often just gives them to people as pets, it’s how Charlie had gotten razzle and dazzle.

But you know, people are deranged and over the centuries there have been a handful of human souls that come his way. Lucifer never accepts those, often get angry that people actually think killing someone would make him happy. Shocker, it doesn’t. All it did was prove that humans really are just the worst, a race of violent psychopaths hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. Yes Lucifer felt bad that these people had died and for nothing but he wasn’t about to reward some lowlife scumbag for taking another’s life so unfortunately that meant the sacrificed soul was purgatory bound. It wasn’t ideal but it also wasn’t permanent. At least there they would get the chance to move onto heaven eventually and not be stuck in this infernal nightmare for all of eternity.

So no, Lucifer didn’t do human sacrifices. Except, well, maybe he did.

It was an accident! Lucifer had been distracted, him and Charlie having a slight disagreement about the hotel and her expectations when it came to heaven. He hadn’t meant to upset her but she needed to realise that very few angels would be as open to the idea of redemption as he or Emily had been. It had been just about the time Lucifer had been urging Charlie to proceed with caution when it came to Heaven that a portal opens above him, a little faun flying out, clipboard already in hand and looking down at Lucifer through the spectacles perched on its nose.

Lucifer had attempted to ignore the blasted thing but it just flys around his head, brandishing the clip board and tapping impatiently at its wristwatch until Lucifer finally had enough and snatches the board off him, quickly flipping to the back and signing it before shoving it back at the startled faun. It just huffs at him, jotting something down before tearing off a sheet and giving it back to Lucifer only to disappear back into the portal. Lucifer doesn’t look at the contract he just signed, not caring what shallow and self serving thing the mortal had asked for. He goes back to Charlie, continuing to urge to not trust heaven so easily, all the while holding his arms out expectantly to catch whatever animal is going to drop out of the portal.

Lucifers expecting a lamb or a goat, heavyish for a human but nothing for him, except he gets something much larger and heavier, the shock of it knocking Lucifer to the ground. His first thought is some wretched mortal had sacrificed a cow or horse, either to lazy to find the usual offering or thinking the bigger the sacrifice the better the reward. Either way Lucifer is already regretting his choice to grant their wish, no clue what he is supposed to do with a cow other than send it down to a farm on wrath. Grumbling Lucifer sits up slightly, tugging at his hat that had been pushed down over his eyes but when he mages to pull his hat off Lucifer realises it’s so much worse than a cow.

There’s a person on his lap. A very human person sprawled across his lap and legs, their weight pinning him to the floor. You are dressed all in a white, the fabric almost see through though the top part was stained red with blood. Lucifer can’t look past your chest, the demonic sigils carved there still oozing blood. When he does manage to look up it’s to fined wide fear filled eyes staring back at him. The two of you just stare at one another, Lucifer feeling more and more panicked as the seconds drag on whilst you look close to passing out.

The whole room is silent and Lucifer just knows that they are all staring at the two of you, just as shocked as him and waiting for one of you to do something. Charlie is the first one to make a move, slowly creeping across the room to lay a hand on your shoulder. She probably meant to be a reassuring gesture but it’s a mistake nonetheless. It startled you, causing you to fall from Lucifers lap and giving you the first real view of the room and the rest of its inhabitants. Things go about as well as you would think.

You start screaming, Charlie panics as she tries to calm you down but only makes it worse, Angel dust offers you a drink that gets knocked out his hand and ends up all over Husk and Alastor offers to silence you permanently. Needless to say that none of what they are doing helps calm you down or make you feel any less afraid and all Lucifer does is sit there, staring down at the smear of red on his white pants and struggling to wrap his head around what in the hell is happening because he couldn’t have just accepted a human soul as payment. He’s never done that before, never, and yet there you are, cowering in the corner like a frightened animal, eyes franticly darting around as you look for some form of escape.

It’s that look of pure terror that gets Lucifer up and moving, handing off his hat and cane to Charlie as he gets everyone to back up and give you some space. He approached you slowly, hands held up in front of him to show you he meant no harm and keeping his voice soft and calm as he tells you that no one’s going to hurt you, that your safe here with them. He makes sure to leave a little bit of space between you when he stops, sinking down into a crouch so he’s eye level though you won’t look at him for long, eyes darting around at even the slightest movement. You’re still bleeding, the sigil for his name looking the deepest. It makes Lucifer feel sick, that someone could do this to you and claim that it’s in his honour. He found no honour in an act like this, only hate and disgust, igniting a strong desire inside him to hunt down those responsible and show them the same kindness they had you.

It takes a good few minutes of Lucifer talking at you before he gets any form of response. He introduces himself, tells you once more that he isn’t going to hurt you and that he just wants to help and maybe even clean up those markings so they don’t get infected. It’s slow going but eventually you give him a slight nod, uncurling from where you had been trying to make yourself as small as possible so he can get a better look at the ugly mess of cuts on your chest. He startled you when he conjures water and a cloth, Lucifer apologising as you bang into the wall behind you in an attempt to get away from the sudden action. He does get you to calm down though, at least enough for him to clean away the blood and apply bandages.

These wounds will not disappear like the injuries the now resident of Hell would sustain, their origin in magic and acting as a physical sign of your binding to him. But Lucifer vows to look after them and you, after all this is all his fault and though he knows that Charlie would care for you if he was to up and leave he can’t bring himself to do so. It’s his responsibility to look after you, you are his after all and isn’t that just a horrific twisted little thought. Lucifer wants to cry, to beg your forgiveness because unless he was to gift your soul to another you were bound to him from now until eternity, forced to obey his every request regardless of what you wanted. He can’t cry though, not when you already are, silent tears rolling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin onto his hand and arm as he cleans away the blood. So he fights back the tears, completely focused on his task and trying to be as gentle as he possibly can be.

When he’s done and the now ruined rag and pink water are vanished away with the wave of his hand Lucifer doesn’t know what else to do other than offer you a safe space of your own and a comfortable bed to sleep in so he does exactly that. You look terrified when he asks if you would like to go to bed, eyes dropping down to just below his belt. Lucifer might actually be sick when he realises what you are scared is going to happen and he can’t get the words out quick enough to reassure you that he means to sleep and that you will be the only person in the room. His obvious horror at the implication seems to reassure you and you give him a small nod.

You use the wall to support you getting up but as soon as you go to take a step forward your legs buckle and Lucifer has to lurch forward to grab hold of you before you can hit the floor. Your to weak, wether that be from the shock or the blood loss Lucifer doesn’t know, possibly both, but what he does know is you are not going to make it up the several flights of stairs on your own.

He asks before picking you up, waiting for you to give him a nod of agreement before he slips one hand behind your back and the other behind your knees. It’s nothing for him to pick you up but it had you squeaking in surprise, flinging your arms around his neck and pulling yourself tighter against him. Lucifer can’t help laugh softly, assuring you that he was stronger than he looked and that he wouldn’t drop you. You don’t seem to buy it though, your hold around his neck tightening as you hide your head against his shoulder. He can’t blame you for being scared, Licifer looks like a strong breeze would send him stumbling but he supposes that’s one of the perks of being an angel, he’s stronger than he looks.

It’s only when he turns around that Lucifer realises the rooms completely empty except for the two of you. He doesn’t know when everyone else disappeared but he’s grateful for it, not sure how you would have reacted to a room full of weird looking people staring at you. He talks to you the whole time up to your room, telling you where he was taking you and a little about the hotel and it’s residents, though he mostly tell you about Charlie and Vaggie, the only other people he trusts to look after you correctly if he wasn’t around. Lucifer picks a room for you on the same floor as him though a couple of doors down in an attempt to keep you close and also give you some probably much needed distance. He sets you down on the bed, tells you where everything is including his room, just in case you need him before he comes back to check the bandages in a few hours. He does conjure you some sleep clothes though, making sure they were the softest and most comfortable thing you have ever worn. He wants you to be comfortable, to actually feel safe after what you have been through and though he knows the simple kindness he has showing you will not erase that it will hopefully show you that despite what you may have heard Lucifer isn’t all that bad.

Lucifer hates himself just a little bit more after what he does next, crouching down to look you in the eye and telling you that you can’t leave the hotel room unless he comes to get you or you are going to his room and nowhere else. Normally it would just be words but you are bound to Lucifer now and even you don’t want to you will have no choice but to obey him. You stiffen, nodding your head slightly but still you don’t say a word, not even when he bids you good night. He doesn’t even get the door half way closed before he hears you start to cry. He wants to go back, to take you in his arms and apologise for what has been done to you whilst reassuring you that life here will not be as bad as you think. He doesn’t though, wanting to give you time to greave and mourn the loss of your life.

He doesn’t even make it two steps down the corridor before it all really hits him and Lucifer crumbles, sinking to the floor and pressing his hand against his mouth in an attempt to muffle his own sobs. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, or how he’s even meant to care for you correctly. Animals were easy, simple to please, humans not so much. Plus Lucifer owned you, he would have to be extremely carful of what he said because even an offhanded comment would be taken as a command and you could end up getting seriously hurt.

It’s too much, Lucifer not equipped to deal with such responsibility but he has no choice, he has to. This is all his fault after all and he couldn’t abandon you in your hour of need. No he would figure this all out, tend to your wounds and help you adjust to life here in hell. He would help you find a place to call home, maybe at the hotel helping with the sinners or maybe something down in one of the other rings. Just somewhere you could feel truly safe and at ease. Whatever you wanted Lucifer would make it yours, giving you as much a slice of paradise as he can. How else would he atone for his mistake?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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saintmeghanmarkle · 3 months ago

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Imagine how William feels about that narcissist sociopath desecrating his Mother's memory and name by u/ElectricalAd9212

Imagine how William feels about that narcissist sociopath desecrating his Mother's memory and name Seeing the latest hideous spectacle in Colombia and the hideous 'Diana' PR effluent.Made me think of our future King.William lost his mother.His mother was exceptionally loving and close to him.In some ways, too much so.She would not hide her emotions and feelings from him.It was a lot to process for a young person.To be in eye of the storm of his parents relationship, and to feel the burden of his mother's intense love and emotional turmoil placed upon him.Her sudden death left him traumatised, and having to process his feelings privately as the whole world was watching him.He would have felt anger, pain, grief, and the numbing sense of helplessness that he could not have protected his mother.Eventually, time began to heal the wound.He was fierce and righteous when needed, as he was when holding the BBC to account for the lies over the Panorama interview and the evil manipulations and cover up.But look what he did. He refused to be haunted by grief and resentment.And he met someone who took away his pain.Who healed his heart.And gave him children and redeemed his heart.And I think he has spoken obliquely about this. I feel he doesnt want to speak publically about his mother too directly, because of the privacy and sanctity he wants for his Mother and her memory.He speaks about not being defined by the pain of the past, about making a happy life for his children, and about his wife forging her own path, not following in the path of his Mother, creating her own way.So I think William thinks of his Mother deeply, and loves her, and does so privately, because he views himself as guardian of the sanctity and sacredness of her repose. He endeavours to remember her through his life, and how he gives stability to his children, and his relationship with his wife, the stability he never hadAnd then just imagine how he must feel to see that evil, sociopathic, necrophiliac demon digging up his Mother's grave, like a psychopath, every day desecrating her name, trying to paint herself as his Mother's reincarnation, to earn money, like an inexplicable evil.Stalking her in death, claiming that she is the inheritor and descendent of his Mother, all for money and 'fame', think of the violation and desecration.I'm glad William has his wife and children and extended family to take away the thought of what that woman does.When you think of it like that she seems more and more like something of the Devil herself. post link: https://ift.tt/lpk7OxF author: ElectricalAd9212 submitted: August 22, 2024 at 01:58AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

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gregor-samsa-said-i-could · 3 months ago

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Humans are terrifying

Recently (like today, a couple hours ago) I came across this whole "humans are weird" and "humans are space orcs" trend and I have been furiously reading every post I come across. The subject, besides enormously entertaining, feels like a collective sociology debate or something where we describe, using aliens as some sort of audience, the most diverse aspects of human nature. Like some metaphor we're using just to enjoy what we like about ourselves as species.

And, honestly, most of these post are wholesome, cute or even funny but for some reason I feel drown towards the ones that explore the darkest and more gruesome aspects of human, as species. Now bear with me because English isn't my first language but hear me out:

Humans as apex predators. Aggressive humans. The liars, the vicious, the wreckless... It probably goes on and on, since I know for sure I have only touched the tip of the iceberg in my reading.

So, what I'm trying to say it's that sure, it's cute to get along with other species and ride their ships and impress them with our special talents and "properties". But what if we didn't?

What if aliens were afraid of us? What if protocols aren't such a thing after some centuries and there were all kinds of roge, pirate-like, human vessels and colonies around? What if we murder, hunted, ate, assaulted and cheated?

Imagine the horror in the souls of the soft, pacific aliens who are accustomed to their ancient ways of sharing, caring, and respecting, when they suddenly find themselves dealing with a new species that is as unpredictable as it is dangerous. Picture humans hunting a specific kind of alien because their meat is said to taste like some sort of addictive delicacy or because they have horns or nails made out of certain material that sells extremely well in the black market? Imagine humans flirting their way into power only to betray those who entrusted them with everything. I'm pretty sure apex predators can do that and more. The actors. The ones who can laugh at a Roomba with a knife taped to it as if it isn't something a little disturbing to begin with.

They can do horrors. They live in horror.

And aliens pray every day to not find those humans.

Because they all look alike. When and alien meets them they all smile and pat each other. They all ask questions out of juvenile curiosity and offer what they have, no matter how little. But they all can also have scars and sinful grins. They all can stab you in the back. And if you happen to meet the ones who will, you know is gonna be hard to scape. Because humans are some sort of fucking Land Rover-like beasts, specially on their adrenaline fueled moments. How can you avoid becoming the next barbeque? I don't know.

What about serial killers? Sociopaths? Psychopaths? There are a whole lot of new species to mess with. Imagine a narcissist gaslighting the hell out of some naive alien who wouldn’t understand why and how they are being mistreated, yet remains infatuated nonetheless. Dead bodies appearing on the ship in gruesome ways, as if someone were playing with their anatomy, portraying the dead aliens as some sort of spectacle, as if they were trying to say: "Look at what I did, this horrible, horrible thing". Aliens wouldn't understand, nor would they be ready to deal with the absolute disdain humans can sometimes have for life itself.

Even suicide...

I don't know why I find it interesting to think about these kinds of aspects. I'm not precisely enjoying it, but I just find it interesting. It's just some sci-fi headcanon, but still... Humans have so many shades, so much dark in their light. I don't feel the fantasy is complete if I don't consider that as well.

#humans are weird #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #but what about the real disturbing shit about humans #humans are scary #aliens are not ready

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rynekins · 1 year ago

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Once again my mind is plagued with Sideshow Bob brainrot and I must infodump about him for a bit to clear it. This is a sorta continuation of this post where I ramble about how prison warped Bob’s personality. While I often consider doing a more structured series of Sideshow Bob reviews, I have nothing concrete planned at the moment, so posts like these will remain sporadic. However, I am rather open for more discussion with those who dare ask.

The focus today is on Sideshow Bob’s defining character trait.

There are many popular labels used for Sideshow Bob that fail to paint a full picture because the very opposites of those aspects are also true to his character. Highly educated with a great capacity for idiocy. Sophisticated with bouts of unhinged rage. A mastermind whose plans never work. A murderous psychopath who’s never actually murdered anyone and has attempted to reform. A villain who has saved the day, more than once. A failure that never gives up. All of these apply but I feel he has a more comprehensive character trait. One that remains true in every appearance, exemplified in all of his actions and downfalls. Above everything else, and I say this with the utmost affection, Bob is an attention whore.

Bob needs an audience like he needs air to breathe. All the world’s a stage and he lives to perform. He's pathetically desperate for your reaction, whether it’s praise, scorn, fear, or a laugh. He’ll sing, act, tell jokes, contort his body, or share the details of his cunning scheme with you, even if it jeopardizes everything he’s worked for, in exchange for a fleeting moment of recognition.

He wants to be seen, heard, known, understood, celebrated. Don’t we all. But his craving for validation can never be satisfied, which led him down this road of suffering. In the flashback in “Brother from Another Series”, during the sidekick audition, Bob looks a bit more composed than usual.

This is the earliest moment in his life that we witness. He’s hiding all his iconic hair in a hat and presents himself with dignity and poise; is this where he gets bit by the acting bug and everything changes for him? Doubtful, since his mother is a famous actress and he probably grew up in a home that valued the arts. I think he might have been repressing a lot of his more comical tendencies at this point, then unleashed them due to an unexpected pie to the face. Bob is angry at first, but within seconds relishes having an audience’s approval. All it took was Krusty calling him a “genius” and Bob’s fate was sealed. In “Krusty Gets Busted,” it’s up to interpretation if Bob genuinely wanted to solve Bart’s problem out of the goodness in his heart, or if his ego demanded that he prove to his audience what a good role model and host he can be. In” Sideshow Bob Roberts,” he charms everyone in town with his silver tongue, but is still so insecure about how he’s perceived that he feels he has to cheat to win the election. In “Cape Feare,” Bart compliments his voice and he’s all too eager to boast his musical talent. In “Sideshow Bob’s Last Gleaming,” being called “smart” is enough to let his guard down.

He needs constant reassurance that he’s smart, talented, and loved. I believe that in “Black Widower”, Bob’s courting of Selma wasn’t a ruse, at least not at first. They probably had nothing in common (certainly wouldn’t bond over media taste) except that both were painfully lonely. They fell fast in what they thought was love because they showed each other the slightest bit of affection, then opened the floodgates of built up feelings that had nowhere else to go. But realizing there would always be another man in her life more important than him, MacGyver, any love Bob felt towards Selma evaporated.

Combine this pettiness with his freshly warped sense of morality courtesy of Springfield Penitentiary, and he would find this sudden violent hatred justifiable. But everything has to be a spectacle with Bob, so of course he would end things with a heckin’ fiery explosion. As we have established, Bob is prone to self-sabotage. He can be unbearably pretentious, so he struggles finding others that share his passions. But Bob isn’t a gatekeeper for these interests. He would love nothing more than to discuss art, music, literature and theater and convince others to appreciate them as well. He has a desire to teach, and finds fulfillment when he helms his own educational program with an audience willing to listen and cheer him on. He doesn’t have such luck with his peers, who tend to throw his books back at him. In the episode “The Man Who Grew Too Much”, Homer mentions Mozart’s name and you can tell Bob is ready to drop everything and gush about a special interest, but Homer then reveals that he doesn’t really care. So imagine being in an incredibly niche fandom with no one but the void to hear your headcanons or fan favorites. That’s Bob's predicament, but he’s persistent (and maniacal).

Little brother Cecil is similar, but he’s more likely to back down when the audience doesn’t indulge him.

It is left to our imagination what their childhood was like. Their mother might have encouraged them both to pursue theater, but did either of them ever feel pride in their accomplishments? Is there a reason Cecil gives up and Bob can’t be stopped? Perhaps Bob leans into the villain role because he’s convinced himself he was born for it (give him credit, he does play it cartoonishly well), but when the tables turn he’s equally as enthusiastic playing the part of a noble hero. He seems unable to turn off the dramatics either way. There have been a few moments when he admits he does not want to commit to a violent act, and you could argue it’s because deep down he knows he’s playing a character that he's taken too far and that it isn’t his true self, or maybe he's horrified his true self is a monster and he’d rather play a different character as a means to contain it (I am not referring to moments from “Day of the Jackanapes” or “The Great Louse Detective”, moreso “The Man Who Grew Too Much”, “Gone Boy”, and “Bobby It’s Cold Outside”). His instincts during these moments seem to be to run away.

But Bob can’t live secluded in his lil lighthouse forever, even if it means no one gets hurt and he would be free. Prison made him crazy. Isolation would destroy him.

#sideshow bob #the simpsons #simpsons #robert terwilliger

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randomthefox · 2 hours ago

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Anti shippers are the kind of psychopaths that you'd find in cautionary tales. Telling someone to look at actual child porn instead of fictional characters is the most self-defeating, demented, and destructive thing I've ever seen while browsing online. Jesus christ these people need to get off the internet.

It really speaks to their complete and total disconnect from reality.

The funny thing is you can really tell that they have no capacity for empathy whatsoever from stuff like that. And not for the reason you think. Their whole thing is performative activism and virtue signaling. Making a spectacle out of being good people, basically. Pretending to be a good person in public, for the sake of social clout. And they think everyone else operates like that too.

So when they see people with "problematic" kinks posting their content publicly, they can't comprehend it. It doesn't compute. Because they think everyone else is like them, and only cares about LOOKING like a good person.

They're legitimately broken. Something inside of them is missing. I feel sorry for them.

#anti ship

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j1998v · 8 months ago

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medicpauling school sketches !! ! !

cringe under the cut aka the ones i dont like

made her head too big

#medicpauling #medic x pauling #spectacles psychopaths #og posts #my art #tf2 medic #miss pauling #not tagging a lot bc i know people will scream at me.

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smilingangel582 · 1 year ago

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Someone recommended this soooo enjoyyyyyy!!!

Mighty Kings fall!!!

Hiii, I'm writing another haikyuu fic. I got a lot of likes and reblogs, so thanks a lot!

As always, Lee kageyama is my only fav thing to write! Enjoy then!

Warning spoilers alert

"Truth or dare, Noya?"

Nishinoya hummed in thought, the libero grinned "Dare"

Tanaka sneered now "Oh yeah? I dare you to bounce the ball without dropping it to the ground for at least five minutes."

"So mean of ya, Tanaka!" Was the shortest fellow's response, and surprisingly, after five tries, he did manage to keep the ball stable with perfect receives to himself.

"Nice Noya! Alright, now Tsukishima..." it was Nishinoya's turn to offer either a dare or a truth to him. The libero added, however, "But you used all your three truths, so it's a dare, buddy."

Everyone snickered at Tsukki's plight as the blocker pushed his glasses irritably.

"I dare you..." Noya takes some time to consider his dare, then his eyes scan the players and noticed Kageyama, "Aha! I dare you to make Kageyama laugh -very loud!"

Tsukishima froze now, eyeing Kageyama wearily. "What regal punishment will I get to assault the king with such frivolous cause?"

"Oi!"

Noya grinned, now pushing spikes further up as he spoke, "You see... you both need to lighten up, and Kageyama could use a laugh... look at his frown..."

It's a dare after all, and Kageyama wasn't equally as thrilled as anyone else in their court.

Now Daichi watched Tanaka, Noya, Tsukishima (who was forced to the game), Hinata, Yameguchi, and Kageyama (who was also forced)...then he smiled "Seems like the kids are having fun for once"

Sugawara grinned and used a chopping hit on his head. "You sound like a Grandpa captain"

"Use jokes, Tsukki!" Hinata's expression was exaggerating, and Kageyama wondered why he was so thrilled in this."I'll make sure you win against the stoic King of the court!"

"Would you shut up!" Kageyama was ignored.

Tsukishima wondered, maybe it would be fun to see the king laugh and be embarrassed later on. Might as well try it.

But still, jokes isn't his forte. "Where do the crazy people go if they were lost?"

Kageyama answered blankly. "They are crazy so they take the psychopath"

Widening his eyes, Hinata never expected kageyama to know the answer, "Wait, you heard jokes before?"

He frowned. "My sister used to tell them they're pretty boring and common so... that was a very weak attempt..." he turned to Tsukishima with a smug look."You can't win this dare. "

Motivated Hinata turned to Noya "Can't I try! I wanna see him laugh too"

Noya thought knowing its against the rules... but then before he could refuse he heard the third years approaching "What's this? Make Kageyama burst out laughing...? Count me in"

Kageyama was shocked. "W-what? You can't do that... Tsukishima is only dared to do so..."

Noya clapped his hands in enthusiasm "Now I'm pumped let's finish him off!"

Kageyama felt like they took this way too seriously. He realised how some jokes were lame and common, especially from Tsukishima. Sugawara's had a funny sound effect, which sort of seemed funny that Hinata burst out laughing. Tanaka's absurd face contortions were out of this world. Noya joined in with equal talents as Tanaka and Hinata got worse jokes which didn't make sense to anyone at all...

Whatever obstacle they tried... nothing broke the star setter.

Tired they were, Daichi seemed to see how everyone was giving their all. But he remained watching the spectacle with interest along with Asahi, Yameguchi, and Ennoshita.

Kageyama looked at Tsukishima now with a smirk. "Seems like not even the bird brain can handle such a simple task as this"

"Yeah a Kings sense of humour is much wicked than you think"

Everyone was ready to give up but that was until Hinata whispered something to Tsukishima.

"Psst..." he rapidly began spilling the joyous secret.

Tsukishima's eyes widened. Wait...? He should've done that at first... why didn't he think of that?

He slowly sneaked a couple of fingers towards Kageyama, who was unaware of the dangers coming towards him.

A squeak.

That was all it took from him the moment Tsukki poked his side.

He glared now "Oi, four eyes don't touch me!"

Tsukishima grinned widely, kageyama froze now, seeing sinister darkness beneath his glasses. "Ah... I see now that I failed to see that someone with your personality tends to be a lot more sensitive than we think"

"H-huh...?" Kageyama was hovered over and Tsukishima was wiggling his fingers menacingly "Tell me your highness, are you ticklish?"

"No..." was a hesitant answer, and yet Kageyama clamped his arms down to avoid any room for Tsukishima to attack.

Hinata giggled brightly "Oh he is ticklish, alright! It was my idea!"

Noya snickered now "Shall we get him...?"

However or perhaps fortunately for Kageyama, Tsukishima stopped them. "This is my dare, I get to make the king lose his sanity.... you can try after I'm done."

Everyone snickered with villainy, and they were all ready to overthrow the king with his weakness.

"First I start here..."

Kageyama gasped but didn't laugh immediately when Tsukishima skillfully sneaked his long fingers on his waist, and Kageyama jolted but with no laugh still. He was squirming but also had the audacity to say, "Is that all you got skinny bastard? This is nothing!"

"Ah, ah, ah king wrong move... I was planning on going easy on you, but..." he raised his fingers as if he were playing a dramating piano piece."You are finished now..."

"Gah -wait!"

Kageyama felt those fingers now sneak at the back of his ribs he shrieked but didn't laugh immeidatelt. So Tsukishima was half satisfied with what he got, though he wanted to make him laugh more.

"I know ribs are bad for you, so maybe I got the wrong angle..." it was like a science experiment. Except he wasn't being dissected like frog... now he wished he was that frog.

"Y-you have the nerve t-toho be soho bohold!" Kageyama flinched and twitched from one side to another, he was good at concealing but he had underestimated his fellow first year.

"Andd I spy a tickle spot here!"

He certainly can tease. Kageyama broke into giggles when his higher ribs were targeted "I told you your ribs will get you in trouble!"

Hinata jumped on his butt now excited to join but remained still as the rest who were itching to join the fun.

"Laugh out loud... you are still giggling, so this doesn't count" Tsukki was already enjoying tormenting the setter. He was ready for the finale and Kageyama was anxious enough to glower at him but also fear foe the worst.

Starting him instantly, he began to flip him, realising where he was going. "OK! Wait... I give up. This has gone too, faaa-aaahahar!"

He shrieked out a laugh when a finger slid down his spine.

"Jackpot..." Tsukishima smirked "Now prepare for the hell you've been waiting for!"

He laughed. It was loud and contagious, bubbly and cute. nobody expected him to sound so cute.... not even Hinata. He heard grumpy giggles sure it was adorable too but this squeals and loud belly laughter was unfair!

"Ahhh, he's so cute..."It came from Noya, who was also waiting for his turn, "man Tsukki got the a pretty good dare I wanna mess with him Too!"

"DOHOHONT IHIHI GEHEHT A SAHAHAHAY IHIHIN THIHIHIS??" Kageyama yelled out through his laughter.

Daichi clapped now and Tuskki stopped in thst signal "I won.."

"Alright we'll mess with Kageyama after practice"

Everyone cheered on that while the youngest player was agast. "Haaah??? Captain! Nohohot you tooo!"

He was ignored yet again but ended up getting pokes from his orange friend, "Awwww, don't be upset sulky-yama shall I tickle it away?"

"Gehet off yohou human tangerine!" He pushed him off but then glowered at the guy with glasses who smirked back with a triumphant sneer."Don't let your guard down king now that your weakness is exposed"

"Bastard..." he grumbled.

#tickle fic #cute #haikyuu tickling #lee!kageyama #lee!tobio #ler!tsukishima #haikyuu

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mielmoto · 5 months ago

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@humilisilence / prompted. (inbox call) [ im... so sorry honey ]

A fairy? Out here??? What Luck! Link will have to take the opportunity with utmost care as he sneaks up on the glowing spectacle sailing on by... before leaping out like a mad man and cupping his hands securely around them! He slowly pries a crack open in his grasp to get a look... and huh. This... isn't like any fairy he's ever caught before. Uh oh...

Blinking softly and trailed by subtle wisps of light, a faint chiming sound—no doubt the sight of it was a welcoming thing, but Honey also found she attracted less attention from more... unsavory passers-by in the wilderness when flitting by in this more diminutive shape, aside from the occasional curious bokoblin lazily watching her float by, or the occasional mountain crow hopping from branch to branch with interest.

Simply put, it was the safest form to travel long distances in...

Or, at least, it had been, 'til now.

It happens so quickly she wouldn't have had time to shriek, even if she'd had the lungs and vocal chords to do so. Instead, she merely blinks brighter as everything goes dark, a sturdy set of well-worked hands clasped around the little light with surprising speed. ( one might think it wasn't his first time, the psychopath ).

He sure gets an eyefull when he does take his peek; and an earful to match. Voice be damned, this thing can still make a racket; and he could no doubt pick up on the fear, anger, and irritation in the bell-like clamor the flickering fae emits. Only after a moment does she muster the energy to make it something he can understand, chiming joined by a voice spoken directly into his thoughts:

❝ WHAT IN THE GREAT GOLDEN GODDESS' NAMES IS, LIKE, WRONG WITH YOU? what sort of SOCIOPATH just goes around SNATCHING people out of the air like that???!!! How would you like it if some huge freak came and clapped you up in their big sweaty palms, huh?!! ❞

#( ...to be fair that's pretty much exactly what her aunties/fellow great fairies do [on occasion] isn't it. )#( BUT AT LEAST HE KNOWS IT'S COMING!!! )#[TWINKLES AGGRESSIVELY AT YOU].#botw verse.#humiliis.#answered.#( bless you this is perfect. )

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adorieheartz · 2 months ago

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Melodies with the heart, A Demons dance with Desire: Part 1 [RadioStatic] [FanFic]

Hells sky, streaked with ominous clouds, seemed to pulse with the chaotic energy of the annual Extermination. Shadows twisted and darted through the streets, demons scrambling like roaches before the approaching extermination. Screams echoed in the air, a cacophony of fear that marked this dark event, coming through the alleys and rooftops. High above, the Exterminators descended.

For most, this was a time of terror, a moment to hide and pray. For Alastor, it was a show.

He stood amid the mayhem, a figure of dark elegance against the backdrop of chaos. The Radio Demon. He surveyed the scene with unshakeable delight, his sharp grin widening as he took in the pandemonium. His red eyes glinted with amusement, and the crackling sound of his laughter filled the air as he held his staff between his fingers.

"Well, well, well!" Alastor called out,.

"Our little festival is in full swing! Such delightful chaos, don’t you think? You’d think they’d learn by now that the demons of Hell don’t like visitors!"

He spun around, arms open wide, basking in the madness. Nearby, demons tried to fend off the Exterminators, only to be struck down, their howls of agony harmonizing with Alastor’s amusement. It was a grim performance, one that Alastor relished.

Then, from the heavens, a figure descended, it was Adam, leader of the Exorcists, landed with a flamboyant flourish, a goofy grin plastered across his face. His halo shimmered, and his vibrant wings fluttered with a life of their own.

“Hey, Alastor!” Adam called, his voice bright and teasing. “Mind if I crash your little party? I brought some heavenly justice just for you!”

Alastor chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “Ah, the main act finally arrives! You certainly know how to make an entrance. Shall we dance?”

Without waiting for a response, Adam lunged forward, his guitar glowing with divine energy. Alastor barely had time to react as the Exterminator charged, his expression a mix of playful mischief and fierce determination.

“Catch me if you can!” Adam shouted, his tone light as he aimed his weapon at Alastor.

The battle began - a blend of sheer power. Alastor wielded his cane, summoning waves of tentacles that erupted around him, each pulse accompanied by crackling static and the ghostly echoes of laughter. Yet Adam, with his childlike glee, danced around the strikes with surprising agility.

“Nice moves!” Adam called, dodging another of Alastor’s spells. “But have you ever tried twirling? It adds flair to your.. whoops!”

Alastor seized the moment, sending out a wave of energy that sent Adam staggering. “Oh, dear Adam, your humor is delightful but a bit over the top, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps more suited for a Saturday morning cartoon than a battle to the death?”

Adam laughed, his spirit unfazed. “Well, it’s hard to keep things dark when I’m just so… bright! Get it? Because I’m an angel?” He winked, clearly enjoying the banter.

✧༺★༻✧

Vox was watching from his lair, the glow of his screens illuminating his face as he monitored every angle of the fight. He rubbed his hands together, as he delved his hand into a popcorn box. “Now this is entertainment! If Alastor falls, it’ll be the juiciest broadcast in all of Hell, And I'll finally show that walking outdated radio just who he's messing with! Perfect! Just perfect!”

As Alastor and Adam exchanged blows, the tension in the air thickened. Each clash of their powers sent ripples through the surrounding chaos, drawing more demons into the fray, their eyes glued to the spectacle unfolding before them.

“Wow, you’re really persistent!” Adam exclaimed, dodging another attack. “You should think about going pro! Maybe even join the Exorcists - just kidding! We can’t have psychopathic nobodies in heaven!”

Alastor’s grin faltered for a moment as he felt the weight of the fight. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Adam. I’m afraid you’ll find that I’m not so easily defeated.”

The banter continued, the playful back-and-forth making the battle feel like a twisted game. Alastor conjured illusions, distracting Adam with distorted images of himself, while Adam spun around, trying to discern the real threat.

“Nice try! But I’ve seen better illusions from a funhouse mirror!” Adam shouted, laughing as he swung his spear.

The chaotic dance pushed and Alastor began to realize the severity of the situation. Each attack from Adam landed harder, and the playful atmosphere began to shift as the stakes grew higher.

“Come on, Alastor! Show me what you’ve got!” Adam teased, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “I didn’t come down here for a boring fight! Let’s kick it up a notch!”

Adam flew up into the air, he conjured his angelic power & snapped Alastors cane in two. Alastor looked down, "Fuck." And then he was slammed against the wall.

✧༺★༻✧

(A/N) From now on, this story will feature one of my own characters! If you are confused at any point, I'd suggest reading the introductory xo -viv

In a swirl of shadows, Ryoba appeared, stepping into the fray with an elegance that silenced the chaos for a moment. Her presence commanded attention; her regal demeanor contrasted sharply with the pandemonium surrounding her. She moved with fluidity, her eyes scanning the battlefield with calm focus, a serene smile on her lips, Double playing Alastors iconic one.

“Such a ruckus for a simple dance,” Ryoba remarked, her voice soft yet resonant. “Mind if I join?”

Adam turned, his goofy grin broadening. “Whoa, a new dance partner! I’m flattered! I hope you like the theme - Chaos! It’s all the rage this season!”

“I’m sure it is,” Ryoba replied, her gaze steady as she assessed the situation. She saw Alastor on his knees, bloodied and weak, and felt a surge of trying to prove to Alastor who she really was, her ego stepping in to lead her to a battle already decided. “Step aside, Alastor. I’ll handle this.”

Without waiting for his reply, she lunged at Adam, her blade glinting as she teleported behind him. Adam, momentarily surprised, spun around just in time to block her strike.

“Whoa! You’re fast!” he exclaimed, the thrill of the fight igniting his spirit. “But can you keep up with my moves?”

Ryoba didn’t respond; instead, she focused, her attacks precise and elegant. Adam’s playful demeanor contrasted sharply with her deadly intent, and their clash was a whirlwind of blades and angelic power. She weaved through his strikes with the grace of a dancer, countering with swift slashes aimed at his exposed sides.

“Nice footwork!” Adam cheered, dodging another of her strikes. “But I’ve got moves you’ve never seen before!”

“Then let’s see them,” Ryoba replied, she hardened her tone. With each clash of their weapons, the air crackled with tension.

Vox watched with rapt attention, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Now this is what I call prime content! Two overlords battling a divine fool? The potential for humiliation is just amazing..” A smirk played on Vox's face as Valentino and velvet grinned as well.

Ryoba’s resolve intensified. She could feel the stakes rising; Adam was relentless, and the energy of the battle was shifting. Despite her power, the weight of the situation pressed down on her.

Ryoba ducked beneath another of Adam’s strikes.

In a moment of distraction, however, Adam saw his opening. He lunged forward with renewed vigor, “Time to wrap this up, lovely lady!”

With a swift thrust, Adam’s Guitar connected, piercing Ryoba’s thigh and ripping the heel cohersive. The impact sent shockwaves through her, the angelic light searing into her flesh. For a split second, the world slowed, and everything around her faded into a blur.

“Not so fun when the tables turn, huh?” Adam quipped, his tone half-serious, half-amused.

Ryoba let out a small yelp, pain coursing through her. She staggered back, her facade cracking as blood dripped from her mouth. But even as she faltered, a fire ignited within her. she steadied herself.

Summoning the last of her strength, In an instant, she teleported away, disappearing into the shadows just as Adam prepared for another strike.

✧༺★༻✧

Vox’s eyes gleamed with triumph as the screen cut to black. “That’s right, Ryoba! Flee while you can! The ratings will be delicious! Two overlords, reduced to a fleeing wretch!” He chuckled to himself, already envisioning the headlines.

Adam watched her disappear, a mixture of surprise and concern on his face. “Wait! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings!” he called out, half-laughing, “I was just trying to lighten the mood! Don’t go, it was just a little fun!” he said in a mocking tone.

He turned back to Alastor, who struggled to rise from the attack managed a pained chuckle. “Oh, Adam, you’re a riot. You’ve just sent one of Hell’s finest packing. Now, that’s not exactly Bright of you, is it?”

Adam shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “Hey, all in good fun! But she was pretty intense! Did you see her moves? Like a ballet dancer on fire!”

Alastor rolled his eyes, wincing as he pushed himself up. “What a delightful metaphor, Adam. Now, if you could kindly focus on the matter at hand rather than waxing poetic, I would greatly appreciate it.”

As Alastor regained his composure, a sense of urgency washed over him. He needed to find Rosie, the only person who wouldn't take advantage of his vulnerable state.

“Enough of this nonsense.” Alastor declared, his voice rising with static as he Clutched his now broken cane and disappeared into the shadows.

Vox side viewed val and velvet, "HAH, that was actually the best thing I couldve seen happen today! I can't wait to finish off that sad heart-broken egotistical prick! " it was unevident if Vox was referring to Ryoba or Alastor, but either way he had a resentment for them both so..

(A/N) Don't really know where I'm going with this book lolz, Btw the only reason Ryoba stepped in was to try downprove Alastor. But Alastor and Ryoba aren't on bad terms x!! Since this show will feature Ryoba slot, I wanted to clear up why incase y'all don't have the time to read the description. She is my own OC and I feel writing boring without adding my own creative touch!!

Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #alastor #radiostatic #fanfic

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elesary · 1 year ago

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Hi everyone! I know I’ve been a bit awol but I thought I would post the first chapter of CATO the first one of my books to be published NEXT month I can’t even believe it. I hope you’ll give it a read. If you like it, you can preorder it on Amazon.

And if you like it so much that you want to read more right away, you can find more on my Patreon.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Skyler

“Do you know what will happen next?” the woman asks, leaning forward in her chair and looking at me over her spectacles like I am a zoo animal behind glass. She is always younger than I expect her to be, with playful cruelty in her drooping blue eyes. Something in her screams monster, but Ramona Archer isn’t one, not really. She may be a psychopath, but she is still human.

I do not know the answer to her question, and her glittering eyes tell me that she knows that, tell me that she’s enjoying this. The truth is, I have been trained for this my whole life. The truth is, there is still no way to be prepared for what comes next. I nod anyway.

“I meet Cato.”

There is a file in my hand, thinner than I anticipated. Somehow, in all my years of training I never realized just how little the agency really knew about their monsters. Case in point, my first assignment is to fetch the bodies of the last two Tamers they paired with Cato. The first one he had let live, merely taking one of her eyes. He doesn’t like green, Kari explained, her single remaining olive eye filling up with tears.

Ramona simply nodded and dismissed her. Useless now, she would be sent home with a substantial enough stipend to make her disappear. No one wants a broken Tamer, and there is no room for kindness in this corner of the world.

Neither of the next two Tamers Ramona sent had green eyes, but neither survived the encounter to tell the rest of us what else Cato might not like.

“Do try to survive the encounter,” Ramona advises me with a smile. “I’m sure he’s running out of acceptable explanations, and the job really does need to be done.”

I wonder if dealing with Ramona is a test, but even if it is, I will pass it. If I cannot handle a blithe psychopath, I’ll stand no chance against a Berserker.

“Then you probably shouldn’t have enabled the problem for so long,” I reply sweetly, tilting my head and meeting Ramona’s selechian eyes.

She laughs, very nearly pleased.

“There’s that attitude,” she says fondly. “I wonder if you’ll be allowed to keep it when he breaks you.”

My smile stays firmly in place; there is no point in fearing the inevitable, only in trying to make it work for me.

“Is there anything else?” I ask politely, toeing the fine line between respecting her and respecting myself. She is my boss, after all, the person who prepared me for what I must do, for what I was born to do. My role in keeping the world safe. More importantly, keeping my family safe.

“Yes, Skyler,” she says, and she lets herself be human for a moment. “Good luck.”

I nod and stand up, fear clutching my throat like a vice as I leave.

–

I sit in my car in front of Cato’s skyscraper and read through the file one more time. It settles me, reviewing the string of mutilated bodies that have begun appearing in playgrounds around the city, just in time for recess. I think about Livia sauntering out of her classroom and stumbling onto one of these horror scenes, and rage and fear slice through me.

I am not the Ripper tearing through the city and I cannot stop her, but I can hold the leash of one who can hunt and kill her.

Unless he doesn’t want me either, and I wind up as dead as the last two Tamers.

Still, the thought of my niece motivates me to turn off the car and exit into the rolling heat and stench of the city in the summertime. Standing by my vehicle, I adjust the sleeves of my suit and run my hand through my hair. Then I turn toward the building.

The skyscraper is all blinding glass, surging upward toward the flawless blue of the sky. Cato’s apartment is right at the top. As I cross the street, I wonder if he’s watching me, if his eyes truly are keen enough to pick up some level of detail forty stories off the ground.

The doorman smiles at me as I pass, tugging on one of her honey curls with a coy smile. It’s clear she doesn’t recognize me for what I am, because no one looks at Tamers like that. Whatever we are—feared, worshiped, or scorned—we are necessary, but we are not built for casual flirtation or sex. In another world, perhaps I would linger at her desk, pull on one of those pretty curls myself.

But in this world, I merely nod at her. I wonder if she will recognize me when I come back down.

If I come back down.

The survival rate of Tamers at their first meeting with a potential Berserker is just under ninety percent, although mutilations and rejections are more common than that. If you have all your parts after the first hour, my trainer Sara liked to tell us, your likelihood of dying violently plummets … unless it doesn’t. Berserkers rarely let their Tamers die after they’ve accepted us, unless they kill us themselves. But even that is rare, and not always something the Berserker survives themselves.

Still, Cato has already undermined the statistics.

I press the up button and wait until the door opens with a cheery ding. The first thirty-nine floors are laid out in a neat row, but the button to the penthouse sits behind safety glass, only accessible after I step close enough that the scanner can sense the microchip that sits under my skin.

The elevator rises with a smooth purr, and I breathe deeply to control my nerves. Part of me wants to run and hide; part of me never expected to get this far. Tamers are rare, few and far between. The ones that are found often fail out of the program long before they are matched. And still, even after matching, there’s only a little less than a one in five chance at actually being chosen.

Cato has already run through the three Tamers he was most likely to accept. I am number four. Only Reynaldo will be left if I am killed, rejected, or incapacitated, but the important thing is that Cato accepts one of us. Still, I do not want it to be Reynaldo. Among the five of us, he is the one I least want it to be. Reynaldo is intolerable enough as he is—I can’t imagine him with the power of a Berserker behind him.

But I don't want it to be me either.

As the elevator rises, I fight the urge to run. It is just now setting in that in mere moments, the doors will open and I will be face to face with a monster. My monster, if he wants me. If he wants me, I will belong to him. There will be no more freedom or family or friends unless he allows it. There will be nothing but serving him and guiding his violence toward the ones who deserve it and away from the innocent.

It is important, necessary work. Work for which my family and I have been generously compensated since I hit puberty. And yet, fourth in line, I never expected to have to do anything more than train.

The elevator dings once more and opens.

I breathe deeply, reaching for any inner sense of calm I can find. One of the earliest lessons we are taught is to meditate, to control our fear and natural instincts. Berserkers are true predators, and fear only makes people—especially Tamers—increasingly resemble prey. I square my shoulders and enter the apartment, pulling confidence around myself like a cloak.

I step onto dark hardwood. The hallway is smooth and bare. There is a table next to the door for keys and coins. Beneath it are shoes. I see a pair of joggers and a neat row of gray oxfords, all buffed to gleaming. The jacket hanging on the wall on the other side of the door is as thick as fog and the same color. It will allow Cato to disappear in the night along the water's edge but will do nothing to hide the blood. I wonder why he has it when he isn’t supposed to have ever left the apartment. I wonder why it is hung up as if for daily use.

I swallow. I have been trained for Cato nearly my whole life. I know that Cato doesn’t care about hiding the blood. The apartment is silent and still. No lights are on. The hallway opens up into the living room, bracketed on three walls by floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the entire city. I am drawn toward the view, as helpless to resist it as an insect flying into a spider's web.

There is no blood on the walls, but the stench of fear permeates the otherwise luxurious space. Still, there are no obvious bodies. On the left, the hallway branches into a chef's kitchen. I walk past it with a brief glance, just to make sure that there aren’t any bodies bleeding onto the tile.

I step into the living room with hackles raised. I feel vulnerable, but I force myself to breathe deeply and relax my shoulders. This is my job, this is my purpose. I have no control over Cato, not yet. There is no pretending or hiding—he will choose me or he will not. I will survive the encounter or I will not. Fearing it will only drive me crazy and give Cato more satisfaction.

I am petty enough that I do not wish my death to be fulfilling for Cato. Something moves in the right corner. My head turns to look and I exhale sharply in surprise. Amor looks back at me with a whimper.

My hand flies to cover my mouth. I have never liked Amor; she was always too pretty and too dangerous, both traits giving her power that she enjoys exerting over others. She planned to use her ambition and bloodlust to her advantage as a Tamer. It clearly backfired.

“Skyler,” she tries to say, but if it wasn’t my name I’m not sure I would have recognised it. Her mouth is destroyed. Blood dribbles over her torn lips in a congealed mess, sliding over her gore-stained chin and pooling on the floor beneath her. Broken teeth shine in her mouth as she struggles to control her jutting jaw, clearly dislocated at the very least, if not broken.

Rage rips through me, though I control it the same way I control my fear. Amor is broken, yes, but she is hardly dead. I don’t know why Ramona lied to me, but I intend to ask her, if I get out of this apartment alive, or at least able to speak.

“Where’s Elmar?” I demand, crouching in front of her, heedless of the blood.

Amor reaches for me, gripping my suit with a shaking, stained hand. She tries to speak again, but the state of her mouth makes it impossible. My stomach roils, fear and anger and disgust and pity joining forces to try and make me heave.

Coming in, I knew violence was possible, likely even. I have seen horrific videos and been given access to the crimes of the Rippers that stalk the streets, but this is far from a classroom.

I rise to my feet with a grimace. Amor is in no position to help me, so I leave her there, in a puddle of her own blood and drool. She will probably survive this if she stays silent and out of sight.

I still don't know where Cato is.

My hands drift up to my clavicle and I press against my skin, locating the transmitter just below the bone. It doesn’t hurt as I tap it, but it’s how I know that Ramona knows that Amor is alive. We are all tracked like animals. It’s supposed to keep us safe, and I am furious at Ramona for using it to convince me that Cato is crazy enough to have killed his Tamer. A lesson, I decide. No one is on my side.

I turn to the right, toward the bedrooms. I still need to locate Elmar and convince Cato to let me remove both of them from his territory. No one but his Tamer is allowed in his space, not without risking his wrath.

I think about Amor and feel sick. No one cares about exposing Tamers to their Berserker’s rage. It’s why we are there.

There is a noise behind one of the doors, a muffled panting, the squeak of furniture moving. My tongue skids across my suddenly dry lips. Another experiment? I wonder. Has Ramona sent me into the lair of a Berserker who has already claimed his Tamer? If so, I am already dead.

I am not sure what Ramona would get out of such a cruel game, but it doesn’t matter. If Elmer has done his job, then I have just become redundant. I fight back the urge to run before I am caught trespassing.

“It is rude to enter someone’s home without invitation,” a mild voice says. I freeze in my tracks, one hand reaching for the door. I grit my teeth and force myself to calm down.

“I apologize,” I reply, fighting hard to keep my voice from breaking. “I mean no disrespect. I was sent here to collect Amor and Elmar.” I keep my voice bland, as if finding the broken remains of the people with whom I was raised is pedestrian.

There is another noise; I think it is Elmar. I think that Elmar is with Cato right now. Something squeezes in my stomach at the thought. Worry for my friend perhaps, or maybe it is just fear for myself.

“By all means,” the voice responds, sweetly polite. “Do come in.”

I push the door open and step into the room. It’s an office, cozy and inviting. The walls are lined with stuffed bookshelves. In the corner, a worn leather chair sits under a lamp with a warm woolen afghan laying over the arm. The table next to it holds a book and a pair of glasses. Elmar is curled in the other corner, as far away from the desk as he can manage. He whimpers, one fist stuffed into his mouth to muffle the noises.

I don't see blood, but there are ways to break a person without making them bleed, and anyway, I don’t really even look. I can’t. I’m transfixed by the man sitting behind the desk, looking irritated at being disturbed. The man flicks his eyes over me dismissively before turning back to his newspaper. I recognize the picture on the sheet facing me. Unless Al’s Vacuum Emporium bought more than one ad for the morning edition, Cato is reading about the body left on the playground this morning. It has to be a good sign that he is already looking into this Ripper. His Ripper.

Cato doesn’t look dangerous, not right away. His eyes are brown and droopy under a flop of wavy brown hair that would just brush the tops of his shoulders if it wasn’t pulled back into a utilitarian ponytail. Even sitting down, I can see that he’s not a particularly tall man, but his body is lithe and graceful, each joint poised on the edge of action. His skin is rich and tan—from birth, not the sun. If I didn’t know exactly who this man was, I would dismiss him as a threat.

I stand, waiting, but he ignores me just as effectively as the hyperventilating man in the corner and the gurgling woman in the foyer. “Ramona sent me,” I tell him, just to say something. I didn’t think that I would care, but the idea of being ignored by this man in the same way as his other rejected Tamers riles me.

Cato looks up at me and I immediately regret drawing his attention. I freeze like a mouse under the beady glare of a falcon. Cato meets my gaze and I flush hot and cold in quick succession. There is no beating this man at any game, there is no escaping or running from him. If he decides that I am dead, I am dead. If he decides to keep me, I will be kept. No wonder Elmar broke, I think. He was always the softest one of us.

“Ramona needs to stop sending me toys to break,” Cato says. “It stopped being fun after the one in the living room. Is she still alive?”

My stomach quakes at the casual disregard Cato shows for people who have dedicated their lives to his service, but I try not to show it on my face. He is a predator, he will pounce at the first sign of weakness.

“Last I checked,” I say, as carelessly as I can manage. “Funny, that. Ramona sent me for their bodies. Are you the liar, or is she?” There is no evidence that Cato found and removed Amor’s chip, so I know the deception is Ramona’s, but I don’t know if Cato knows how closely we are monitored.

Cato smiles, a disingenuous thing.

“Do I look like a man who needs to lie to get what I want?” His posture in his chair is languid, but his eyes are sharp and hungry and focused on my face. My heart beats hummingbird-fast in my chest, and I feel unable to move for fear of provoking him to pounce.

I breathe deeply and force my shoulders to drop away from my ears. He will kill me or he won’t, I remind myself, so what’s the point in worrying about it?

“You look like a man who might not stick around to see if someone you hit gets back up,” I say before I can shut myself up. Cato’s unwavering brown eyes remain so intense that I think he can probably see the racing of blood in my carotid artery. The skin protecting it has never felt so fragile before. The words taste, a bit, of a lie. “If you don’t care about them, I mean,” I amend a bit clumsily, trying to make my statement ring true.

Cato cocks his head to one side and keeps looking at me. I want to look away, to shift my weight and break the tension, but I’m held in place just as firmly as if he had a hand around my throat. In the corner, Elmar whimpers quietly, curling around himself even tighter.

He is just the distraction that I need to pull myself from Cato’s thrall. I force my gaze away and go to my knees in front of my friend, reaching for him slowly.

“Hey, Elmar,” I greet, smoothing a gentle hand over one of his curls. “How are you doing?” I keep my voice as low and soothing as I can.

His eyes latch onto mine desperately, and it takes a moment for recognition to overtake the terror and desperation within them. He whimpers, one hand curling around the sleeve of my suit jacket tightly enough that I know he is scared I am going to leave him.

“What did you do to him?” I demand, turning back to Cato with a vicious snarl. It is unwise to let my fury get the best of me, but Elmar is my friend, and seeing him like this up close is too much.

Cato blinks back at me, interest glimmering in his droopy eyes. It sends a shudder through me, dark and enticing. Being the center of his focus is a dangerous place to be, and even though I have been training for it nearly my whole life, I want to run.

But that would only make him chase me. My nipples tighten underneath my shirt, until another whimper drags my attention back to Elmar, resparking my fury. “Well?” I demand harshly, twisting my lips at Cato as I stroke Elmar’s lovely black hair as gently as I can.

Cato’s eyes narrow on my hand on Elmar and his fingers twitch, a violent, aborted gesture that catches my breath in my throat. “I told Ramona I didn’t want a Tamer,” he says darkly. “I cannot feel guilty over her bad decisions. Get your pets and leave before I decide to break you too.”

A shiver runs through me. At the agency, it continues to be debated whether or not our predators are capable of feeling anything at all, let alone remorse for their actions. The few existing partners who lived long enough to become trainers are close-lipped about the ins and outs of their relationships, despite the rabid curiosity of the baby Tamers.

My temper sparks at his dismissal, even though it’s the permission I need to do my job. Shut up, Sky, I order myself, compressing my lips into a thin line. Just grab Elmar and get out. I’ve always been good at biting my tongue when I should and letting things go, but my mouth opens without my permission. “Break me?” I taunt, hauling Elmar up and supporting the majority of his body weight. “I’m not sure you could.”

I don’t even have time to regret my words before Cato is on me. Elmar slips from my grasp as he grabs me by the throat and shoves me back until I hit the wall. My pulse flutters rabbit fast under his grip but I don’t make the mistake of averting my eyes from his. Any sign of weakness will make him go for the kill, like a cat with a mouse by the tail.

“Oh little Tamer,” he croons, “I won’t even have to try. The only thing saving you now is my need to send Ramona a message. The next Tamer she gives me leaves in a body bag, do you understand?”

I should nod, apologize and flee. I tilt my head as much as I can instead. “Why?” I ask. “You can’t go to work without one of us, and you have five to choose from. Why fight it?”

“Hmmm,” Cato muses, bringing his nose to my pulse as if he can smell my fear. “You are not a reward or a partner, you are a leash and I have no wish to be caged any more than I already am.” I don’t understand what he means, not really, but his lips brush my throat as he speaks, with just enough of a hint of teeth to make me shiver with awareness.

Thoughtlessly, I bare my throat. He snarls and drags his tongue up the tendon in my throat and my world zeroes into the rough glide over my carotid. Just as quickly as he grabbed me, he shoves himself away from me with a violent snarl. “Get out,” he commands. “If you ever let me see you again I will kill you, do you understand me?”

I nod slowly, but I have to fight down a dark laugh. With the Ripper attacks increasing to the point of attempting to activate Cato, it is doubtful that Ramona will let him be, and that means that Reynaldo and I, and maybe even Elmar, will be thrust in front of him again and again until he fucks one of us or kills us all. The thought of Cato’s cock makes me pant, even though I know there is a high chance that I would not survive the encounter.

“It’s nice that you think that I have any choice in the matter,” I tell him honestly. “If you break us all, you’ll be of no use to them and they’ll put you down.”

Cato grins a bloodthirsty grin and I imagine my blood between his teeth. “We all have choices, little Tamer. Theirs might have consequences if they try.”

My heart thumps out of rhythm at that. Even though I know that no single Berserker, no matter how determined, can bring down the entire system that keeps him corralled, the surety in his tone ripples through me. If Cato chooses to, he will come at them with unflagging aggression until he is destroyed. Who knows how many people will die in the crossfire?

I care because I will be one of them. As far as Ramona is concerned, he is my responsibility now, even if he rejects me. Tamers are both the carrot and the stick, the reward and the noose around our Berserker’s throat, at all times a passive threat to their lives.’

“Then you should kill me now,” I advise, somehow driven to honesty. The thought doesn’t fill me with as much fear as it should. My life has been tied to Cato’s since I was twelve years old. I’ve long since come to terms with the idea of my death at his hands.

It would be vaguely galling to die in a dick measuring contest, but that, like most things, is out of my control.

“Kill you now,” Cato repeats, tightening his grip on my throat until I think he’s going to do it. He’s going to tear my head from my body and traumatize Elmar further. I don’t have time to be afraid until he’s already stepping back, dismissing me with a careless flick of his wrist. “Get out.”

I pull Elmar up and against my side and then take him from the room. It’s hard to juggle him and Amor, but I manage to get us all into the elevator and pull out my phone. Come get us, I text Ramona, because the thought of getting them back to the agency myself is overwhelming and I can’t bring myself to worry about formality after coming so close to decapitation.

And it was close. Now that I am out from under those flat brown eyes I can’t stop shaking. Freezing sweat clings to my skin and dampens my suit, which will begin to smell as it dries. I lean against the cold marble wall in the lobby, barely attempting to supervise the other two Tamers on the uncomfortable gray couch.

Amor is staining it with blood, but I can’t bring myself to care. The doorman is looking over at us nervously, hands fluttering over the phone on her desk like she’s trying to decide between calling security or an ambulance. I catch her eye and shake my head slowly. She knows who lives in the apartment we just left, knows what I am now. She subsides and pretends to ignore us, but she can’t hide her unease.

Ramona doesn’t text me back, but within fifteen minutes a black sedan with tinted windows pulls up in front of the building, parking illegally. I am still too rattled to snort derisively, no matter how unsubtle the agency is.

The lobby floods with medics and supervisors. The medics hurry over to Amor and Elmar, wrapping them in blankets and rushing them out the door. I wait numbly. A man and a woman in matching suits approach me.

“Were you harmed?” the woman asks. She doesn’t care. If they really worried about my health, one of the healthcare workers would have been sent.

I don’t bother to answer her. “Take me to Ramona,” I demand tonelessly, watching the van bearing Elmar disappear around the corner.

The suits don’t even bother to glance at each other. “The director is a busy woman,” the man says. “You will come with us for debriefing.”

I do not argue. I let my anger go, for now, at least, and I follow them from the building and into one of the remaining vans.

I do not look up as I get in the backseat. I won’t be able to pick out the window of Cato’s office, but I don’t want him to see me glance back at him, on the off chance he cares enough to look at all.

–

The woman who takes my statement back at headquarters is petite and blonde, but her eyes and fingernails are sharp enough to peel the whole story from me and type it into her tablet. I do not hold back. I do not hide my anger and disgust at being deceived by Ramona about the state of the other Tamers. I do not hide how close Cato came to killing me. The only thing I do not share is the way my gut clenched as his fingers closed over my windpipe.

That is not a necessary detail, mostly because it would surprise no one. There is a reason I am a Tamer, and my sexual preferences play a role in that. They are common knowledge in this building, my fantasies a matter of public record. There is no such thing as privacy for Tamers.

How much of my statement the woman edits, I do not know. How much more will be deleted or retracted does not matter. I still feel a bit better when I run out of words. She doesn’t look like she feels anything at all. She stands up, snaps her tablet closed and nods at me crisply. “Ramona will be with you shortly,” she tells me, heels clicking sharply on her way across the floor and out the door.

–

She lied. Ramona doesn’t summon me before dinner, and I don’t feel like sticking around, eating mass-produced food off of a plastic tray before trotting off to my small, sterile set of rooms. I leave headquarters at sunset and only then remember that my car is still outside of Cato’s building, probably already papered with parking tickets.

I won’t have to pay them—a special privilege of being a Tamer—but the fact remains that I do not have my car. My stomach grumbles and I glance over my shoulder towards the building behind me, wondering if I should eat, but the thought of re-entering Cato’s territory after dark makes me shudder.

Another, bigger part of me pushes back against that. I don’t like the thought of him looking down from his window and seeing my car, knowing that I fear him too much to retrieve it. I can’t beat him, can’t fight him off if he catches me, but I still can’t just let him win.

I go back inside, but not for food.

I find Reynaldo on the balcony of the large suite of rooms we share with the rest of Cato’s potential Tamers. It is too late for coffee, but he doesn’t care. “Espresso?” he asks me, tilting his own porcelain cup in my direction.

I wrinkle my nose. I will have enough nightmares tonight without having to fight off caffeine. “I need a ride.”

Reynaldo raises an eyebrow. “Why would I do anything to help you?” he sneers.

I shrug. I know that he wishes Cato had killed or maimed me the same way he did the others. I know that he wants the power of being a claimed Tamer, that the danger and exclusivity get him off. The thing is, they get us all off. We are all deviant in that way, some of us just know how to hide it better than the others.

“You’re taking me to Cato’s home,” I explain, purposefully leaving out the reason why. Let him stew in it as he plots to get rid of me the whole ride.

Reynaldo’s other eyebrow joins the first one near his hairline. “You want him to meet me?” he asks dubiously, sensing a trap.

No. My lips twitch, hiding my instinctive rejection of that notion. “The odds of you making it out of the meeting without being maimed are awfully low,” I point out. “But I do not care what he does with you.” Something tightens in my stomach, and I hate that I am lying a little bit. I blink, and I imagine Cato pressing Reynaldo against the wall the same way he had me, but this time, instead of threatening him, Cato takes his mouth, and Reynaldo moans and opens to him.

I look away, exhaling the tension from my stomach. “If he picks me,” Reynaldo says casually, abandoning his espresso with a faint clink. “I’ll let him kill you.”

I roll my eyes. “You do that.”

Reynaldo grabs his keys and follows me from the room. We don’t talk at all on the way down to the lobby, but the elevator is crowded enough that the hum of conversation would be undesirable even if Reynaldo were someone I would want to talk to.

The ride is quiet too. Reynaldo plays music, but I ignore him and it. With each block that we pass, my stomach gets tighter and tighter and my lungs climb higher and higher up my throat. I feel restless and anxious, and worst of all, thrilled. Adrenaline sings through my blood as Reynaldo pulls into a loading zone beneath Cato’s building.

I look up at the windows, but even if I could identify which ones were his, I can’t see through them.

I still feel like I’m being watched. A chill races its way down my spine and crouches in my tailbone. I glance over at Reynaldo to see if he feels it too. He doesn’t tell me, of course, but he’s gone still and silent in the driver's seat. His eyes are thoughtful and pointed upwards. “Get out,” he says with teeth.

I pull the lever of the door until it releases. “His violence is escalating. He really might kill you.” I don’t particularly care about Reynaldo or his life, but I still warn him. If he ignores me, that’s on him. There are very few laws that can govern a Tamer, but we still aren’t allowed to straight up murder each other, especially over a Berserker. There are multiple of us and one of them, and only one spot up for grabs, but only a handful of potential Tamers actually want the job.

It is a much better prospect to survive any introduction with our Berserker with as few scars as possible and take our pensions and flee back to our families. But most of us are perverse and damaged and jealous.

Not all Tamers have a family to go home to. But I do. I shake all thoughts of Reynaldo and Cato from my brain as I cross the street.

I feel heavy eyes watching me until I drive away.

As soon as I step into my brother’s house, I feel like I can breathe again. It smells like warmth and tomato sauce and home, and Livia hears me coming. “Uncle Sky!” she howls, bare feet slapping against the hardwood as she races down the hall. She skids around the corner and flings herself at me like a rabid cat, seemingly determined to knock me to the ground. I catch her and swing her around with a laugh.

“Hello, beast,” I rub my face in her riot of curly hair and drop her back down to her feet. She is wiry and lean and my favorite person. “What trouble are we going to cause tonight?”

“You know her teachers blame us for her bad behavior, right?” Ilona comments from the doorway, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No matter how often we tell them it’s your fault.”

I grin back at her, lifting Livia out of my way so I can cross the floor and kiss my sister in law on the cheek. “We need to work on your lying. Ask your daughter, she’s a fast learner.”

“That,” Ilona scolds with a laugh, “is exactly the kind of stuff that’s getting you both in trouble!”

I laugh with her, letting the blood and shame and uncomfortable interest leak from me. My shoulders relax and everything within me loosens. Down the hall, Oskar calls my name from the kitchen and I swoop up my niece and follow my ears and nose to my brother.

–

After dinner, Ilona takes Livia to the living room for homework, and Oskar and I slowly begin to clear the table and start the dishes. “It’s time, isn’t it?” Oskar asks softly as he fills the sink with hot, soapy water.

I scowl and wring the dish towel between my fingers until they go red and numb. “It doesn’t have to be,” I tell him.

“But Cato was activated,” Oskar presses, as usual, intolerant of my bullshit.

I shrug. “He maimed Kari and Amor and broke Elmar. I doubt I’m tempting enough to make him obey if they weren’t. Chances are, I’ll be released by the end of the week and we can move out of this shit-hole city—”

“You love this city,” Oskar interrupts. “And you didn’t tell me about Reynaldo, or when they’re going to hand you over to him like a toy.”

“I don’t know about Reynaldo,” I hedge, not wanting to tell my brother that I have been tossed to Cato—and returned. “He’s there now.”

Oskar drops the dish he is scrubbing into the sink with a soapy clatter and grips my arm tightly, dampening my shirt. “That’s great, Sky,” he rasps, pulling me into a brief, hard hug. “If he picks him, you’ll be free!”

Something rises in my throat, choking me. It is likely, since Cato let me leave untouched, that he has no intention of keeping me, leaving Reynaldo his only option if he wishes to remain unculled. The thought of Reynaldo beneath Cato makes me want to make him vomit his own blood.

I ignore that thought. It has no place in my brother's lamp-lit kitchen. “I hope so,” I say, the lie bitter and burning as bile.

–

Later, alone in my bed in Oskar’s house, I give the question another answer. “I hope he picks me,” I say to myself. I still feel sick, nausea and fear colliding in my bloodstream. I don’t want to be picked. I don’t want to be torn from my life and my family and turned into a monster’s chew toy.

“I hope he picks Reynaldo,” I say instead. The sinking in my stomach calls me a liar. I think about standing in Ramona’s office and looking at Reynaldo’s smug bitch face as she thanks me for my service and dismisses me. I think about turning on the TV the night I move into my little cabin out of the city and catching the end of Reynaldo’s press conference detailing the capture and execution of the Ripper currently dissecting fifth graders. Cato would watch him, fascination in his droopy mahogany eyes as Reynaldo answered the questions, shirt opened enough to reveal the marks Cato left deeply enough to be visible, even on skin dark as Reynaldo’s.

The thought makes me want to hurt them both. It isn’t logical or reasonable—it isn’t me. I have never coveted a man, and only partly because we are kept away from lovers as much as possible. It isn’t supposed to work this way. Berserkers might fixate on their chosen Tamer as soon as they see them, but I have never heard of any Tamer who felt the same way.

Of course, I never see any Tamer once they are claimed.

As soon as a Berserker is activated, they are introduced to their potentials within days if not hours. The chosen Tamer disappears into the Berserkers lair and is only ever seen again on TV or in brief, stolen glimpses through glass.

They even use a separate elevator when they come into headquarters.

But we are taught that it is the Berserker who knows. It has never occurred to me to ask how the Tamer feels. Of course, I never really thought—I never planned on being picked myself.

I roll over. I haven’t been, I remind myself, staring at the silent phone on the bedside table.

My stomach hurts.

–

The phone rings.

I’m not sleeping. I’m watching light climb the shadows from my blinds like a stepladder in the early morning and thinking, quite intentionally, of absolutely nothing else.

“What?” I say, bringing my phone to the pillow and turning on the speaker. It’s not a particularly professional greeting, but there’s nothing professional about calling someone before six in the morning either. Besides, what are they going to do? Fire me?

The pit in my stomach yawns further, because probably. It is rare for a Tamer to face any true punishment for our behavior. We are too important, too valuable. It is often assumed that rejection and claiming are equally punishing. But endangering another Tamer is a bad enough crime to warrant expulsion from the order.

No pension, no relevant job experience or training, and the intense public shame and judgment for your actions.

I shudder, still waiting for the voice on the other end of the line. “Reynaldo is dead,” Ramona says crisply. “You should not have allowed him to approach Cato’s building after you had not been rejected.”

I go hot, and then cold. My breath catches in my throat and I am hit with a wave of emotions. Relief, terror, grief, fury. “I am not his mother,” I say numbly. “I cannot allow him anything. He offered to drive me back to my car so I could get home. I did not tell him to go to the apartment, and I’m not sure how you expected me to stop him.”

It’s not entirely true. I had known what he would do, and I had made no real effort to stop him. But I hadn’t expected, hadn’t truly thought, that Cato would kill him, leaving me the only option if he wishes for a Tamer.

“Come in,” Ramona says, her voice dark and empty and cold. I shiver at it. She is angry, yes, and still in control of me, but any consequences for my actions will not come from her. Not until—not unless, Cato goes rogue, and if he does, likely as not he’ll begin or end his rampage with me. I am dead if he kills me and dead if he spares me. My only chance at living, regardless of quality of life, is under Cato’s thumb.

My heart pounding, I sit up. I could run. Necessarily, I have not told anyone at the agency of my retirement plan or the cabin I have slowly been stashing my money away for. I could take it and vanish, move beyond the reach of the agency's control, across the sea where finding me would be difficult, where unleashing Cato would be a disaster for everyone.

I dismiss the idea almost immediately, because if they cannot find me, they’ll start with Oskar and Ilona, and selfish as I might be, I can’t be responsible for their deaths or imprisonment.

My stomach burns, but I can’t tell if it's because of grief, excitement or dread. I am quiet when I get ready, and thorough in the shower. My fingers shake slightly as I clean my body, paying particular attention to the cleft of my ass. From here on out, I do not know what to expect. Tamers are prepared for everything up until the moment of being chosen, but there is nothing predictable about what happens after. Berserkers are too different, too wild and unique in their reactions to being leashed. Some treat their freedom as a cost well worth paying for their Tamers, some treat their Tamer like a whipping boy, suitable to punish in lue of the agency.

But it’s always, always, sexual. It’s what we both were made for, the reason the system works and is not torn apart by apathetic Berserkers and bloodthirsty Rippers alike.

I have known my role since I was identified as a Tamer at puberty; it is not like me to question it.

I am quiet when I leave my bedroom, not relishing sharing my mixed feelings about my fate with my family, but my effort is wasted. Oskar is in the kitchen, brewing the morning coffee. He looks up when I creep by the doorway and holds up a steaming mug in offer. I consider ignoring him, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to see him again.

“Thanks,” I whisper and enter the kitchen, warming my hands around the hot porcelain.

“What’s going on?” he asks, because when I stay over I make waffles with Livia for breakfast, not sneak out at dawn like a criminal.

“I got the call,” I tell him, making it real. “I’m the last Tamer left.”

Oskar puts his mug down, ceramic rattling against the marble. “Skyler,” he breathes, eyes wide.

I look away. “I know,” I interrupt before he can say anything else. I don’t need to hear his reaction. I know all too well how inevitability can turn into impossibility and back again.

“What are you going to do?” Oskar says after a stunted pause.

I chug my coffee just for the burn and put the empty cup into the sink.

“My job,” I tell him and leave the kitchen. This time he lets me go. He doesn’t follow me into the hall while I pull my coat on, or out to the driveway as I get in my car. I’m glad he doesn’t. If we don’t say goodbye, this can’t be the last time I see any of them.

#spicy books #mm romance

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