#the seals ain’t with the order

[peachdues]

Not quite a rec, but Compass was AMAZING! Pls if it’s not too much trouble I would adore reading a part 2!!!! Truly amazingly written and had me absolutely simping over our favorite scarred lad

Ahhh thank you darling!! Part II (and various other chapters) are in the works — I just need to finish a few scenes in Part II and add a couple of plot things (since right now it’s mostly fluff and smut) and then it will be good to go!

For now, enjoy a little look 😘

“It’s not my fault,” you groan miserably. “I can’t get comfortable.”

With a disapproving click of his tongue, Sanemi flips you to your back and under him.

“You still got cramps?” He hovers over you, nose nearly bumping yours.

Wide-eyed and blushing at his proximity, you nod.

“You took your meds already?”

Another nod.

“And they ain’t helping?”

This time, you slowly shake your head.

And then a smile, a wickedly devious smile, spreads across his lips. “I know what will.”

He vanishes around the corner of your wall that blocks your bed from view of the small hallway containing your bathroom, one cabined by a laughably tiny linen closet.

Sanemi reappears a few seconds later, one of your towels in hand.

“Hips up,” he orders, motioning for you to lift yourself from the mattress. Wide-eyed, you obey, your heart fluttering in your throat.

“For the record, I don’t care if we use a towel,” Sanemi tells you as he spreads it beneath you, creating a barrier between your body and your blankets. “I’d wash the sheets for ya once we finished. But if you prefer to use it, that’s fine by me.”

His hands guides you back down against the bed and linger once you settle, his fingers teasing along the jut of your hip.

“But a period ain’t gonna stop me from helping my girl feel good.” He bends down to seal his promise with his lips against your thigh.

[c3berus]

Kia ora! Are you able to write about 141 having tall!reader bf. What was their initial reaction when they first met Him? Besides, it’s quite hard to find someone when you’re too tall😔😔.

(I’m 6’5🥲. sorry if some of the words don’t make sense, had to just guess some the words, English ain’t my first language)

Can I be 🫀anon?

OF COURSE! WELCOME 🫀ANON. TALL PEOPLE UNITE!

they met you when you all had to work together to catch some terrorist. they all sat around the table, silently chatting with each other at a meeting waiting to meet you. and when you walked in lets say you were definitely a nice surprise. From the way you slightly had to tilt your head to enter the room to in johnnys words you walked like your dick hurt to carry.

they were immediately interested in you.

simon was particularly bothered by it but not mad at it. he liked how you looked down and titled your head at any words he spoke. or when you would brush your hands over his waist to get by him. it left him wanting you more.

kyle insisted you worked out with him so he could yander at your muscles. he’d ask if you could workout with him as an added weight which eventually would turn into you fucking him into the sparing mat, roughly pushing his head into the sparring mat with the sounds of your dick bullying into him.

johnny wasn’t even the tiniest bit ashamed of the way he’d feel you up and stare you down. he’d make comments on how you hand to be some type of giant, or how you shouldve went to wrestling. if you’re above him in rank, he’d come into your office and situate himself on your lap despite your series of ‘not now’s’ and ‘im busy’s’ and put your hand into his pants letting you feel how riled up and leaky he was for you and he whined into your ear about how he wanted you to have him.

and price, the ever so sweet price, he’d try to be respectful he’d greet you with coffee or tea, he’d cook you dinner on base and let you sit in his office as you worked on reports but nothing up above would help him when he trailed his eyes to your dick in the joined base showers. he didn’t even think he’d need any help the way you were fucking the pleas out of him like you were his god.

and let you have a particularly raspy and deep voice?? they’re squirming in their chairs.

if you harbored a bit of broken English?? they didn’t mind, in fact simon often teased you about it like the little shit show he was. you’d often bite back saying something about brits back.

BUT what really sealed the deal for them was how protected and secure you made them feel.

you remembered when ghost ordered a recruit to explain why he was late and the recruit gave some half assed excuse why, before marching off like a little shit and giggling with his lads about why he was actually late. you overheard it was because he was being a creep trying to hit on the female recruits. they didn’t notice that you had heard their entire conversation. until it was time to dismiss and you called him back, forcing him to push his body to the absolute limit. that soon earned him the call sign mute because everytime you were present he wouldn’t utter a single word.

[polo-drone-070]

Gold Football Drone Training

Aight, bruv, I know I ain't the smartest lad out here, but I ain't thick neither. Been trainin’ wit' the Gold Army for a time now—sprintin’, liftin’, pushin’ me body to be the best jock I can be. Got the muscle, got the stamina, got the fuckin’ drive. But when it comes to footy? Bruv, I ain't got a fuckin’ clue.

Like, I can kick a ball, yeh? Run fast, push lads off, do me part. But all them plays, all them positions, all that tactical shite? Fook me, makes me head spin. Tried payin’ attention in team meetings, tried watchin’ the vids, but it’s like it go in one ear an’ straight out the other. An’ it proper bums me out, init? Coz I wanna play, I wanna contribute, I wanna be out there crushin’ it for Gold.

An’ bruv, this ain’t just any match—we got the fukin’ Superbowl this weekend, goin’ up against the Emerald Titans. Biggest game of the year, all the Gold bros countin’ on each other, stadium packed, fans goin’ mental. I can’t be sittin’ on the sidelines like some useless twat—I need to be on that field, helpin’ the team smash them green bastards into the dirt.

"Oi, Maximus, mate, why ya lookin’ like someone nicked yer protein powder?" comes a voice from behind me. I turn ‘round to see Chevy grinnin’, arms crossed, lad lookin’ smug as ever.

"Bruv, it’s just…" I scratch me head, feelin’ proper dumb sayin’ it out loud. "I wanna play, init? Be on the team, do me part. But all them plays? Ain't got a fukin’ clue how it works. Feel like a right muppet."

Chevy chuckles, shakin’ his head. "Ain't gotta know all that shite, mate. Got somethin’ bein’ tested for that exact problem."

I blink. "Eh?"

"New Gold tech, bruv. Some right fancy shit. Football Drone mode." He grins wide. "Slap on the gear, let the helmet do the work. No need to think, no need to worry. Just feel the orders, react, and push yer body to the limit. Pure instinct, pure obedience. You’d be perfect for it."

Me heart speeds up. Ain't never been one to back down from somethin’ new, ‘specially if it means I can be useful. "That actually a thing? Like, I just follow orders wivout thinkin’?"

"Exactly," Chevy nods. "Full drone assist. Instant reactions. No overthinkin’. Just playin’ like a machine."

"Bruv…" I feel me grin stretch across me face. "That sounds proper fukin’ sick. Where do I sign up?"

"Right this way, Maxy boy," he says, pattin’ me shoulder. "We’ll get ya suited up."

The gear is fookin’ insane, bruv.

Gold-trimmed armor, padded but snug, makin’ me feel solid, like a proper unbreakable wall. The gloves feel weightless but strong, the cleats dig into the ground like I was born standin’ in ‘em. But the real centerpiece? The helmet.

Smooth black visor, gleamin’ gold plating, connected straight to the Gold command network. As I hold it in me hands, I feel a weird little shiver down me spine. Anticipation, excitement—somethin’ deep inside me wants this.

"You ready, bruv?" Chevy smirks, holdin’ the chin strap.

"Fook yeah," I breathe. "Strap me in."

He pulls the helmet over me head, lockin’ it in place—

And me mind fookin’ vanishes.

It’s instant, bruv.

The visor flares to life, golden spirals spinnin’, suckin’ me in, pullin’ me under. Me whole brain just... fookin’ melts. The second it seals shut, a deep hum floods me ears, drownin’ out everythin’ else.

A voice—cold, sharp, absolute—cuts through the noise.

"Unit 070 activated. Processing…"

Me whole body locks up. Muscles tighten, chest expands, breath slows.

Words spill through the headset, commands, but they ain't words anymore. They ain't thoughts. They ain't even ideas.

They just... happen.

"Sprint."

Me legs explode forward. I’m movin’ before I even register the order. No hesitation, no decision—just raw, perfect reaction.

"Cut left. Pivot. Charge.

Me body obeys—perfect, automatic, no delay. Me boots dig into the turf, pivotin' sharp, shiftin’ weight exactly as needed. Like me legs ain't even mine, bruv. Just pure Gold execution.

Me heart's poundin', but me head? Empty.

Not a single thought. Just spirals. Just commands. Just perfect motion.

An’ the pleasure? Fuk me, bruv.

Every move, every sprint, every hit—it fukin’ rewards me. Every time I obey, the spirals pulse, sendin’ a rush of pure golden bliss through me skull. A right proper endorphin overload, makin’ me feel like the strongest, fastest, most unstoppable fukin’ machine on the pitch.

No thinkin’. No doubts. No mistakes.

Just react. Just perform. Just obey.

Time don’t exist no more. Me body moves on auto, me muscles burn, but I ain't even aware of it. I ain't aware of nothin’. Just run, tackle, push, execute—

Until suddenly, the visor dims.

The spirals fade. The hum fades. Me thoughts... come back.

I blink.

Chevy's voice crackles through the headset.

"Oi, bruv. How ya feelin’?"

I gasp. Stagger. Holy fuk—me body aches. Me legs feel like fukin’ lead, me arms like they been holdin’ up bricks. Every inch of me is screamin’.

"Wha… what…" I pant, shakin’ me head, tryin’ to focus. "Fuk… how long…?"

Chevy laughs. "Five hours, bruv."

Me stomach drops.

Five fukin’ hours?

But I only just put the thing on—

I glance down at meself. Sweat drippin’. Muscles shakin’. Me chest heavin’.

"Shit," I breathe, grinnin’ through the exhaustion. "That was fukin’ mental."

"Yeh?" Chevy chuckles. "Think ya can keep up with the team now?"

I let out a breathless laugh, rollin’ me shoulders. Pain. Burn. Satisfaction.

"Oh, bruv," I smirk. "This is gonna make me a fukin’ beast, init?"

Chevy claps me on the back. "That’s the spirit, drone boy. Get used to it. This is only trainin’."

I stare down at the helmet in me hands.

Five hours felt like a second. Me body moved flawlessly. Me mind drowned in bliss.

Fuk me, bruv.

I can’t wait to do it again.

_____ (Thanks to @chevy-gold for he help in selecting pics)

Join da Gold Team before da superbowl. Contact recruiters @goldenherc9, @brodygold or @polo-drone-001.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You’re shown to a room of your own. It’s a luxury in your line of work. You often share the back of the truck or some cramped space with your boss. You look forward to a night without Syverson’s rumbling snores. 

As you remove your harness and vest, a knock thumps on the door. You answer and find a man with a pile of fabric in his hands. He gives it to you without a word and leaves, a rifle across his back. You frown and shut the door. 

The accommodations are acceptable. There’s a bed, a side table, and a fan. Nothing fancy but better than a cot or a car seat. Or your favourite, the ground. 

You hold up the patterned swath of silk and let it unfold. The long caftan is cool and sheer. It might not be your usual attire but it’s preferable to your dusty cargo pants and sweaty cotton shirt. You shake out your clothes as you undress then throw the swishy fabric over your head. You feel almost human. 

Another pounding comes at the door. You hear a snort as you approach and know before you answer it, who it is. Sy waits on the outside. He wears the same thing he showed up in; dirty cargo and camo. He blinks at you dumbly and grimaces. 

“What the hell is that?” He flicks a thick finger at you. 

“What?” 

“What’re you wearing, Iz? You look like my mammy.” 

“Shut up,” you jab him and turn back. You push your feet into your boots and tramp back to him. He chuckles at the clomp of the heavy soles. 

“Naw, I mean it, Iz, you pack that get-up or what?” 

“No, it was... given to me. I don’t know.” You cross your arms and look down with a shrug. “I thought... Well, it seemed nice.” You look up and narrow your eyes. “Wait, why’re you bothering me anyway?” 

“Hungry, ain’t ya?” He scoffs. 

“Sure.” 

“So come on, I’ll show ya the mess.” 

You cluck and step out into the hall. After settling from the jump, your stomach has turned ravenous. You wish you were at Retro’s, gnawing at hot wings and downing martinis. Alas, you have work. Well, you’ve had worse than this. 

“Thank,” you grumble. 

He’s quiet as you walk through the halls. Others pass or follow in your stead. He toys with a flap on one of his many pockets. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Mm? Oh, yeah. Kinda.” 

“Get that adrenaline kickin’ and you sleep like a black bear in winter.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” you chuckle. “Maybe you though. You’re pretty good at it.” 

“Good at what?”  

“Sleeping through the b—chaos,” you keep yourself from swearing. 

“Ah, I guess. Not much of a skill.” 

You shrug. He can be awkward sometimes. Mostly when he talks. When you first started, he didn’t say too much, now he tends to force himself too. 

“Here we are.” He points you to a door. 

You peer down the hall and step out of the way of the men in civvies milling around. Sy opens the door without knocking and nudges your lower back to urge you inside. You stumble in as a figure stands to greet you. Conrad smiles and tilts his head. 

“I don’t like to presume things about you Americans but it is rather uncourteous not to knock,” he reproaches. 

“Eh,” Sy grunts. 

“Then again, it is you,” Conrad snickers back. He moves around the table in front of him. There’s a bottle of wine and glasses, a few cans of beer, and food that isn’t served in tin or vacuum seal. “And you, I do hope the attire suffices. It was all I could scrounge, I regret.” 

“Uhhh, it’s good. Er, pretty.” You look down and touch the silk. 

“Feel free to take it with you. That colour is immaculate on you.” 

“Ha, er, thanks.” 

Sy marches forward and claims a seat with a huff. He shows no patience as he reaches for the dish of seasoned chicken. You come forward and Conrad rounds the table to pull out another chair. You thank him as you sit and your brutish boss glances over at the gesture. 

“Shiraz? Does that suit you?” Conrad grabs the bottle wine and a glass. 

“I’m not picky,” you assure him. 

“Yes, but I hate to leave a women disappointed,” he winks and pours you a glass. 

“What’s in here?” Sy interrupts as he holds up a bowl. 

“Olive? Rosemary, bit of red vinegar. How about a brew, eh?” He grabs a can and offers it. 

“I’ll have what she’s havin’,” Sy insists through a mouthful. 

“You may help yourself. As you have done.” Conrad clunks down the bottle between your and Sy’s plates. 

He sits and offers to serve you before he does himself. You don’t mind the attention though it does strike you as a bit overdone. You have an extra scoop of curry as the aroma drives you mad. 

Conrad watches as you taste the wine and Sy slurps from his own glass. Your boss tuts and puts it down heavily. He scrapes his plate loudly with his fork as you only just start to poke at your own fare. The other man is uninterested in the meal as he stares you down. 

“Please, you must tell me, how did you end up here at my table?” Conrad purrs. 

You chew slowly and look over at Sy. He narrows his eyes and shovels more food into his mouth, a dribble catching in his beard. You stir the rice with your fork. 

“I applied on a job board and interviewed and--” 

“Ah, that sounds rather proper. Syverson, I thought you more the type to snatch up beautiful women.” 

“Hm?” Sy grunts around a mouthful. 

“And yet, a creature like this should be cozened. To have her jumping from planes? Tsk tsk. Oh, don’t tell me he’s had you living on beans and sleeping in dirt.” 

“Her job...” Sy sneers over. 

“It’s exciting, actually. My old job was just the same desk, same walls. I couldn’t even get the time off to go parachuting for fun so... not so bad.” 

“Thrill seeker? Mmm, that’s intriguing. Have you ever been rock climbing? Not in a gym but on a real mountain?” 

“You got barbecue sauce?” Sy interjects. 

Conrad laughs again. He stands and goes over to the footlocker against the wall and opens the lid. He pulls out a bottle of a southern brand of sauce. The same you stocked for Sy. Hm. 

“I have to be prepared for anything, not least of all the way you get when you’re hungry.” Conrad struts back and sets the bottle at Sy’s elbow. “I must admit, I wasn’t ready for you, darling.” He sits again and you’re certain there’s a low growl from your other side. No matter the perks, managing men is never simple. 

[noxsspace]

Pretty Gift for a Pretty Lady

merry christmas y’all! hope you enjoy this little piece☺️ i just know that Arthur is the sweetest with gift giving.

summary: Arthur puts together a gift and gives it to you. just sweet romantic fluff basically.

It’s almost Christmas and Arthur is determined to give you the greatest gift he could possibly find. He’d start out by browsing the sections in the store you had an interest in, noting down what you’d commented the beauty of, sure of himself he’d create the most gorgeous gift you’d ever laid eyes on.

Picking out some articles of clothing you’d liked, and bringing them back to camp discreetly in order to embroider tasteful flowers (that were your favorite) into the cloth, before setting out to hunt for feathers and eye-catching flowers he would arrange for a headpiece.

He’d admit while he wasn’t creative in the aspect of structuring what he had in mind, he tried nonetheless, pinning flower petals to a clip with feathers shifted for flair.

The night of christmas eve, he brought you into his tent, closing the cloth curtains, then sat you down with him.

“Now, you know I ain’t talented in a sense of…well, what you often do,” He started, watching your face contort in confusion. He then handed over a neatly wrapped box, tied with a small bow made with string. You blinked in shock, eyeing the gift, and then back up at Arthur. He smiled a bit, proud of his endeavors, then gestured for you to open, and so you did.

The blouse that emerged from the box had you almost in tears, a smile forming when the realization of his hard work had hit you, your fingers delicately running over the stitches of color. “Oh, Arthur,” you began, almost speechless. “This is beautiful! You did this?” You asked, mouth agape while he bashfully looked away, his hand reaching to the back of his neck. You turned back to the blouse and hugged it, continuously commenting on the placement and stitches of the flowers, each and every single one leaving you in awe. That was more than enough for him, he’d never felt more content.

“Oh, there’s one more, darlin,” He said a bit quietly, ushering you to look further into the box. The gasp you had made in result of seeing the gorgeous piece before you made him smile yet again. You took in every inch of the piece, examining the feathers and petals with such care that made him felt warm.

“Allow me, my pretty lady,” He said, taking the clip from your hands and brushing your hair back gently, adjusting the piece to flatter your features. “Beautiful.” You smiled, touching the decorative piece and then Arthur’s cheek, a reminder of the love you felt for him.

Nothing else could be said at that moment, however, you wrapped your arms around him, the tightness of your warm embrace, your head resting gently against his chest, that was the best part of it all.

He laughed a bit when you began to thank him endlessly, his arms never wanting to let go, though his mind begged to see your expressions once more. He pulled away and kissed your forehead, then your lips with utmost care, a hand placed lightly under your chin, while the light worked in his favor to portray the gleam of happiness in your eyes.

“So, I take it I did okay?” Arthur then spoke, resulting in a light hearted laugh. “More than so, Arthur.” Once more, a light kiss to seal the night ensued.

[cosymelody]

Can I request platonic yandere First with a reader who was wrongfully imprisoned too but kept him company and never let his hopes of freedom fall?

I have returned ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve wrote anything

Lots of drama been happening lately and dealing with moving and all sorts of other things ಥ_ಥ

ANYWAYS I come back with First fic requested by this lovely anon but i ain’t all too sure if this is what you wanted

Either way I hope y'all enjoy! (￣∇￣)

.•♫•♬• 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒀𝒂𝒏!𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕 •♬•♫•.

It had been years since either of you had seen each other, with Hylia herself tearing First away from you despite your desperate cries and his struggle to free himself in order to bring you back to him. He didn't want you to be hurt by the goddess's jealousy, but you were caught in a crossfire while trying to bring peace to Hyrule as you journeyed with him. The whole ordeal had caused you to be chained and imprisoned, bound in bright ethereal shackles that felt as if they were burned into your flesh from how tight they had been wrapped around you, while First was sealed away in the darkness by Hylia's command. Through some sort of blessing or curse, he couldn't be certain, but he could still hear your sweet voice in his mind, lifting his spirits and giving him hope through the dark times that lay ahead.

During the time he was trapped and kept from your warm embrace, he desperately prayed and wished to be freed from his confinements so he could only see that beautiful smile of yours once again, only being able to hear your voice being tantalizing for him. He was driven by the urge to be with you, wanting nothing more than to see you just one more time, even if he had to destroy anyone who got in his way or kill Hylia herself. All he knew was that he needed you more than life itself, and he would stop at nothing to make sure you were in his grasp once again. Despite the pain and everything the two of you had been through, the fact he could still hear you as you comforted him through night terrors and kept him company was the only thing keeping him from spiraling into the depths of his mind and keeping him from going insane. One day, though, your sweet voice seemed to disappear completely, leaving him to face the darkness alone as he lay in the prison he had been stuck in all while being trapped in his mind.

After what seemed to be an eternity, it felt as if his prayers had been answered as he felt the box he was sealed in tumble from somewhere high and break open, freeing him from his confines despite how weak and malnourished he had been due to being trapped for so long. He lay there for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the sudden light, before realizing he had been set free, though what used to be a temple he was locked in was now in ruins. As he lay there on the ground in an attempt to regain his bearings, the loud crashing that was caused by his prison breaking open seemed to alert someone or something nearby. The sound of multiple heavy footsteps was rapidly approaching as he made an attempt to get up and hide or fight back, his legs unfortunately giving out on him and leaving him on the ground to face whatever was coming towards him.

What he wasn't expecting to see, though, was a group of at least a dozen Hylians running around the corner, all of whom seemed eerily similar to him in some way. Although what caught his eye amongst the group of men was the only female in the group, she just happened to look exactly like his long lost guide, who had been painfully ripped away from him all those years ago but still stayed within his mind nonetheless. As he watched the group approach with urgency upon seeing his injured state, he couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity that washed over him. As she drew closer, her eyes met his with a look of recognition and understanding that left him breathless as he realized it had to have been her, the sound of her voice being exactly like that of his guide.

"Oh dear, are you okay there? Here, let me help you. I don't want you to strain yourself anymore than you already have."

Her gentle words and caring touch instantly calmed his racing heart. He couldn't believe it was really her after all these years. As she helped him to his feet, he felt a sense of gratitude wash over him. She had always been there for him, even when he didn't realize it. And now, in his moment of need, she was by his side once again.

As he looked at her caring gaze, he couldn't wrap his head around how she was free and how she was here with him in the flesh now. In that instance, he could feel his eyes well up with tears of joy before he practically threw himself at her in a tight and possessive grip, never wanting to let her go again. She seemed surprised at first, a slight gasp escaping her before she gently wrapped her arms around him, holding him as if he were made of porcelain and any wrong move could break him as he sobbed into her shoulder. He didn't care at the moment about the other Hylian men that had stood back cautiously as he cried in her arms; he was only focused on the overwhelming happiness he was feeling as he was once again in her arms.

"Thank you… Thank you for coming back. I've missed you so much. I thought I'd never see you again after she took you from me."

He whispered into her neck, tears streaming down his face and soaking into her shirt. The other men watched in silence, not sure of or completely understanding the depth of their bond but still feeling a sense of relief that they had found solace in each other's arms. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the two reunited friends, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always find their way back to each other, even if it meant freeing themselves from their chains. He promised himself he would never lose her again, even if it meant destroying all of the goddesses himself.

Is choccy milk time now YIPPPEEEEE

[beefrobeefcal]

Catfish to BigFish feat. Dark!Frankie Morales

Summary: Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. But how did Frankie 'Catfish' Morales, the coke-addicted, lanky mess of a man become its leader? And where did the moniker 'BigFish' come from?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 2,283 | 3+/- years before OTWF begins

Content Warning: threats of violence, crime, violence, betrayal, Big Fish is a bad man in the making, character death, allusions to drug use, swearing, choking, punching, eating, comments on body, weight gain, friendship but at what cost?, Tom is a bag of smashed assholes

Author's Notes: this is a prequel showing us the how, what, why, and where roughly three years before Honey comes into the picture in Chapter One: Signed and Sealed. The biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for brainstorming this with me and to @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for their love and eyes. Pour one out for @xdaddysprincessxx - she will need all the hydration she can get.

On the Waterfront Masterlist

“If it were anyone else…”, Tom warned. 

“Yeah, we know. But it’s not. It’s Fish. He’s one of us.”

Pope sat back and watched Will do something none of them thought they’d have to do – convince Tom to give a shit.

“He’s a fuckin’ coke head! Snortin’ our own shit and lyin’ about it!”, Tom boomed, standing over Will. “You ran the fuckin’ numbers, you can see how much money we lost up his fuckin’ nose! And now you wanna spend more money tryin’ to get that fucker clean again?”

Will didn’t bend. He didn’t shrink and he didn’t back down. “It’s Frankie. Catfish. Our Catfish. And he needs help.”

Tom huffed harshly enough in Will’s face that his hair moved, then turned his ire to Pope. 

“You think Fish’s worth it? Already cost us a shit load of money and Will wants to blow more on that fuckhead.”

Pope slipped into his smooth and nonchalant voice and crossed his arms. He’d hoped this would give Tom the impression that he was just as unnerved and steadfast as Will.

“You know he’d do the same thing for any of us.”

“Fuckin’ altruistic bullshit!”, Tom barked, slamming his fist on the table. 

Pope felt his blood heating up and his jaw tightening. Will looked over at him quickly, his blue eyes ice cold and angry, and then back to Tom. 

“I disagree. He’s just as much my brother as Benny is. Or you, or Santi. He’s family and I’ll get’m help as many times as possible. And you know what you’re sayin’s bullshit-“

“Fuck you and your fuckin’ family values dog shit! You and I both know that he’s gonna get clean, last a week or two, then shit’s gonna start goin’ missing again and he’s gonna be right back to bein’ the fuckin’ crypt keeper he looks like now! He’s not gonna change. We need to cut him loose and let him kill himself. He made his choice, Will! Admit it - Fish ain’t worth it!”

Will stood up and moved close to Tom, almost nose to nose. Yeah, Tom was bigger, stronger even, but Will was precise and skilled in a way that seeing him square up like that scared Pope. He unfolded his arms and stepped forward. 

“Hey! Hold up! We’re not gonna do th-“

“You’re supposed to be our leader – our fuckin’ captain.”, Will seethed lowly. “I’m not gonna take orders from some mother fucker who decides to ‘cut loose’ one of our own. Fish needs our help and fuck you for turnin’ your back on’ im.”

Tom glared at Will. “Fine.”, he spat, then dug his index finger in Will’s chest. “But when he he fuckin’ OD’s, it’s on you!”

*****

It felt like more than 90 days when Pope rolled up in front of the rehab centre to pick up Frankie, and when he saw him standing outside, waiting for him, he frowned. Not because he wasn’t glad to see him looking better and fuller, but because this was the third time he had picked Frankie up from a stint in rehab. 

Frankie pulled open the passenger door and slid in, not daring to look up. 

“Fish…”, Pope broke the silence as he put the car in drive. “You look good - ”

“How mad is he this time?”, Frankie interjected.

Pope sighed, knowing exactly how mad Tom was that the Frontiersmen funded another one of Frankie’s stays in an expensive treatment centre. The fact that Tom could be mad at Frankie for this used to baffle him, but by this time - the third time – he could at least see where Tom was coming from. It didn’t sway his growing dislike of their leader though. 

“You keep clean, and he won’t have a reason to be pissed.”

“Fuck… Santi… I try, and – “

“Just shut the fuck up and keep clean, Frank.” Pope snapped, cutting Frankie off in turn. “Besides, I have something in mind to keep you motivated.”

All Frankie could do was nod, despite not knowing what Pope could offer as motivation. He never wanted to relapse, but the call was too sweet, too enticing, for him to stay away too long. He’d said this the day before while he was going through the exit procedure and the facilitator just shrugged and said, “Find something else to get high on then.” 

*****

Less than two months after Frankie came back to the compound, Tom was dead. 

Pope had walked down the hallway to the office where Will waited, and he pushed open the door. Will had looked up, expecting to see Tom, and when he saw Pope instead, blood on his hands and splattered on his body and face, and wide eyed, he stood up, confusion etched on his face.

“Santiago… what the fuck is goin’-“

“He’s dead.”

Will dropped the file folder he held precariously and moved quickly to Pope’s side as he sat heavily in one of the armchairs. He wiped his hand over his face, smudging the semi-dried blood, and he sighed.

“Who’s dea- “

“Tom… Tom’s dead. He’s fuckin’ dead, Will.”

“Santi.”, Will said in a low, controlled voice that just barely masked the panic writhing below. “What happened?”

“I… I was… I didn’t…”, Pope paused, trying to find a way to confess. Instead, his conscience was silenced by his ego, and he found himself lying without even really thinking. “He was… taken out by… by the Gutierrez gang… those fuckers… they ambushed him, Will.”

Pope looked up at Will, daring to see if what he said even sounded feasible. To Will, Pope’s wide, frightened eyes convinced him to ignore the itch at the back of his brain, needling him to probe further.

“I was… I was with him when he… I found him before he died. He was fuckin’ babbling some shit… who was supposed to take over…”

Will’s eyes narrowed subtly, but enough for Pope to register. He knew he couldn’t say he was the one Tom wanted; it would be too suspicious. And he couldn’t say Will because that would give him full control - something Pope truly believed would be his own downfall. 

“He wanted Fish…”

*****

Frankie was a half a year sober – actually, really, fully, no-word-of-a-lie sober – and had been the head of the Frontiersmen for just shy of four months. He’d spent the last six months trying to find a new vice that wouldn’t render him a liability and bankrupt the organization. He was just barely making an impact as the new leader; no one took him seriously. He was skinny and quiet. Only his inner circle knew how violent and dangerous he could be, but even then, they knew he really had to be provoked to get him to that point.

Pope decided he had to do something. His plan to put Frankie in the captain’s chair was failing miserably, and he knew if he couldn’t land this, he would be sussed out. 

“Fish… come on… we’re going out for dinner.”, he said, slapping Frankie’s back.

He looked up at Pope, tired and miserable. “Why?”

“Because you need to eat. You’re skin and bones and no one wants to be led by a corpse.”

Frankie’s expression turned from confused to hurt as his shoulders dropped, feeling the weight of everyone’s expectations gnaw at his sobriety. He carried this somber aura all the way to the restaurant. 

*****

The dingy little Italian restaurant had a name – Marcello’s - and it became Frankie’s haven. It was nowhere near as festive or amazing as Benny had indicated. The way he raved about the place, Pope thought he was taking Frankie to a pasta titty bar paradise, and instead he found them in a mid-century dive with carpet and wood paneling on the walls. 

It wasn’t until the hostess came out from the bar to greet them that Pope understood exactly why Benny loved this place, and he understood it even more when they had their food served.  It had started out as once a week, then turned into almost every night. The effects of pasta, heavy cream sauces, and garlic bread we’re beginning to show on Frankie. Gone were the feeling of his ribs when Pope patted him on his back and gone were his sunken cheeks. Frankie had filled out and he was glad to see his friend looking better. 

That was, until he noticed something. Yeah, Frankie was clean from coke, but he seemed to have turned that same veracity that he’d once carried for the narcotic on to food. It used to be that Frankie could barely finish a frozen TV dinner, being able to stretch one over two meals. As Pope sat across from him at Marcello’s one Tuesday evening, he watched his friend plow through two whole plates of pasta in one sitting. Pope noticed that while Frankie ate, he seemed almost tranquil, serene.

He’d found something else to get high on.

There was a notable change in Frankie as he gained weight. The soft spoken, always amenable Frankie was slowly being enveloped by a bigger, meaner, and more vicious version of him. 

When he was thinner, Frankie could get lucky with women if he tried, but he wasn’t the most confident and rarely put himself out there. But as he grew, so did his self-esteem. He no longer sat back and accepted things as they were said to him – he questioned and even demanded answers, using his newfound size to intimidate if need be. If he saw something he liked, be it clothing, electronics, cars, he took it and gave no one a chance to say otherwise.

The legacy Tom left behind began to fade within the Frontiersmen as Frankie’s violence took centre stage. His quick temper and fists built a reputation; he was still quiet, but the silence he offered was no longer one of contemplation, it was one of simmering rage, liable to explode into violence at any moment. But this was within their group alone. No one outside of their crew took him seriously enough to even warrant giving him a foot in the door.

All of that changed one evening and Pope got a front seat to watch his plan to hide behind Frankie finally bear fruit. Catfish’s temper finally exploded on the right person to get the message out. 

Chuck, the leader of another group called the Golden Kings, had sat across from Frankie at a roundtable, hosted by one of the other gangs to broker agreements and territories. Chuck had taken every opportunity to remind everyone that Frankie was a junkie who used to pilfer his group’s own product to get high. When he stopped getting the reaction he wanted, Chuck moved onto Frankie’s weight, which had pretty well doubled since Tom’s death. 

Will, seated on the other side of Frankie, quietly said, “Let it go, Catfish.”

“Catfish?”, Chuck laughed cruelly. “Fuckin’ Catfish? Really? Fatfish is more like it. What happened, Morales? You eat your feelings ‘cause you can’t get high no more?”

Pope caught a glance at Frankie’s face which only could be described as dark and malevolent as a thunderclap. It unnerved him to see Frankie looking so dangerous around other people. It was one thing for him to beat one of their own for being a dipshit, but this was someone who wasn't below Frankie – he was ranks above him. Frankie sat, glaring across the table at Chuck, his elbows on the armrests and his hands tensely tenting his fingers.

It seemed that the rest of the men at the table could sense the electric tension between Frankie and Chuck. Dan Connor, leader of the Dead Rabbits and host for the evening, motioned to Frankie with a head nod. 

“Get it out, Morales. Can’t move on with you having a bitchfit at some name callin’.”

Pope knew none of these men took his friend seriously and it was either going to be Frankie using his keen negotiation tactics or Frankie showing off his newfound rage. 

The latter won. Frankie sat in silence as Chuck beat his mouth off at him, trying to get Frankie to react, to no avail. He didn’t speak; he just watched, letting Chuck keep talking, letting him fuel his violent rage even more, until it reached a tipping point. 

“You may be a big fish now, you fuckin’ goof, but you’re still a rat-faced junkie.”

It happened quickly. Frankie stood up and grabbed Chuck from across the table by his suit jacket lapel and pulled him to his side as his fist began beating into the man’s face over and over.

Chuck’s men stood up, but Dan Connor’s hand came out, motioning for them to sit. His own men waited for their cue to remove Frankie from Chuck, but Dan just watched in reverence.

The punching stopped and Chuck gurgled in pain, and Frankie wrapped his huge hands around Chuck’s throat and squeezed. 

“I am Big Fish, you fuckin’ cunt.”, he growled in a calm and low tone, then he spat on Chuck’s face.

Will looked at Frankie horrified, and Pope couldn’t help the grin that forced its way to his face. Dan finally motioned for his men to intervene, and it took all four to pry Frankie’s hands off the bloody, gasping mess that was Chuck. 

Chuck’s men moved to get their boss away from Frankie as he sat back in his chair, and nodded at Dan, signaling for him to continue. The room remained silent, save for the pathetic whining of Chuck in the hallway. Dan looked at Frankie, eyes narrowed, then finally he started laughing – hard.

“Fuckin’ BigFish Morales! Welcome to the table, asshole.”

no more taglist! follow @beefnotes for fic updates!

[intoxicated-chan]

Letters Keep Me Warm

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // Johnny catches sight of Ghost writing to a special someone.

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // Inspired by “Gunslinger” by Avenged Sevenfold. Again Tumblr is being a huge pain. Is anyone else having problems with Tumblr?

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 413

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Gender neutral reader, established relationship, very fluffy���

“For someone who seems cold…” Johnny peers over Ghost’s shoulder, “You do love writing letters to this (Y/n).” He dodges Ghost’s fist, “Sorry mate!” He nervously laughs, keeping a good distance between him and Ghost.

“What do you want, Johnny?”

“Jus’ wanted to see what was keepin’ you busy.”

Ghost continues to ignore Johnny’s questions, whacking him whenever he gets too close. He sealed the letter, writing the address and sending it off. It wasn’t long before Johnny began telling Gaz about his findings, but it was only him who had the nerve to pester Ghost about it. That’s until…

“Letter for Ghost!” A soldier shouted, the letter in hand. Ghost didn’t bother to silence the soldier, all he cared about was the letter.

He found a private spot, ripping open the envelope.

Sorry for writing so late. I would’ve written sooner if it wasn’t severe weather. Don’t worry, everything is perfectly fine. Now I hope this letter arrives on time. I got your book that you ordered, should’ve known you were into the sickening love story of friends to lovers. Classic Simon. The puppy you brought before is doing well, she’s quite an eater.

But I’m sure you didn’t wait months for my letter just to hear about the puppy, even though you do have a soft spot for her. I miss you, Simon, and even though it’s your job, I can’t help but worry. I trust you, and I know you always come home. I’ll be waiting for you.

With love, (N/n)

P.S, a ‘friend’ of yours stopped by, it was hard to understand what he was saying because of his scottish accent.

“You’re not a lap dog!” You wince and laugh, watching the large dog get comfortable on your lap. You didn’t have the heart to tell her to get down, she was too cute!

Simon’s letter, you held tightly onto that, afraid to let it go.

Hey love, I know I was supposed to arrive weeks ago but we got held back. This will probably be the last letter before I have to go dark again. I know it’s difficult for you, and I’m sorry. I’m just happy that you are willing to wait for me. You know writing small isn’t my best ability and with this small paper, there’s only so much I can tell you but, I will forever love you.

From, Ghost

It was clear from the start how little information Ghost tries to leave behind, he’s worried about enemies intercepting the letters. Which is why you sighed with a nickname and not your full name.

P.S, the ‘friend’ won’t bother you anymore.

“What?” You stared at the letter, confused, flipping around trying to find out what he meant.

“I don’t know what yer talking about.” Johnny silently snickers, “I haven’t left the base in the past week.”

“I ain’t talking about the past week, I’m talking about the past few months.” Ghost crosses arms as he glares at Johnny, “How’d you find her?”

Johnny jumps to his feet with a cocky smile on his face, “Let’s just say it’s a brother’s intuition.”

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

…

[the-most-humble-blog]

Official Archive of Playa History, 1895 The Glitter King’s Coronation Doctrine Ratified under the Supreme Seal of Pimpology and the Feathered Order "Let it be known," proclaimed Big Daddy Supreme, the newly crowned Glitter King, "that the worth of a hoe shall never exceed the weight of my cane or the shine of my crown. Question my authority, and bitch, you're gonna find out firsthand how this stick do." Article I: The Rule of the Cane It was declared, under unanimous playa consent, that the cane is not just an accessory but a tool of discipline, justice, and hoe regulation. The doctrine clearly states: Section 1.1: Any hoe attempting to speak unprompted or suggest her opinion holds value shall be met with "immediate disciplinary glitter-slap." Section 1.2: If the hoe persists, a second strike is authorized under the clause, "Am I gonna have to slap a hoe twice? Let’s not test my patience, bitch."

Article II: The Hierarchy of Glitter The glitter on a playa’s crown and cane officially outranks any sparkle displayed by a hoe. "Your shine ain’t shit unless I grant you the right to sparkle, bitch. Bow down and reflect my light, or get dimmed permanently." Article III: The Enforcement of Playa Supremacy The Feather King’s coronation also established the legal framework for swift disciplinary action: Clause 3.1: All hoes present at the coronation who refused to bow or pay tribute to the Feathered Crown were subjected to "public hoe humiliation and monetary extraction." This included the historic "slap-a-hoe demonstration," where dissenters were lined up and cane-slapped into compliance, with the Glitter King uttering the now-immortal phrase: "Am I gonna have to teach every bitch in here why this crown sits on me? Step wrong, and the cane speaks for itself." The First Seal of Drip: Stamped with the Feathered Seal and ratified by the International Playa Council, this doctrine became the cornerstone of hoe management worldwide. Witnesses reported hoes glittering with tears as the Feather King ascended his throne, saying, "This ain’t just my game, bitch, it’s my f*ing universe. And every hoe in it answers to me."** This doctrine remains enshrined in the Playa Archives, a symbol of eternal hoe regulation and supreme cane justice. "Glitter is earned, not given, hoe."

[memethebum]

Had a Inukag fic sitting in my wip pile for a while now, so I decided to shoot it out before I completed forget about it again lol

———————————————————————

Kagome hadn’t realized how marriage would give her a heightened awareness of almost every thread which wove between her relationship with Inuyasha and the domestic life they’d carved out for themselves after three long and agonizing years of being separated.

She was sure that the soft caresses her hands would massage into Inuyasha’s bare skin would offer some sort of new understanding for the man she’d chosen to wed, but the weight seemed to be much more real and heavy than anything the miko-in-training could’ve imagined.

The realization came in slow waves, like the way her eyes would dart towards the scarred skin around her husband’s heart while she worked her lips along his collarbone or how her thumbs would silently trail through a fresh cut he’d gotten from working in the fields.

He trusts me enough to see what his life has been like, both before and after being sealed on that tree Kagome sighed to herself as she laid within Inuyasha’s grasp during a breezy spring evening.

“Hm, what ya’ thinking about Kagome?” Inuyasha questioned, causing the young woman to tilt her head up and regard him a gentle smile.

“Just how much I love…you know all this ,” Kagome responded, eliciting Inuyasha to give her a loving gaze of his own before rubbing his palm along the skin of her back.

Their lips then reached towards each other in a silent tandem, serving as the only gesture she needed to lull herself into sleep.

————————————————

“It’s almost ready,” Inuyasha called before Kagome hummed from her cocoon within the blankets on top their futon.

She then let out a steady sigh while shedding the covers and raising her arms in a stretch.

“What were you cooking again?” the young woman asked Inuyasha as she began a lethargic crawl towards their fire pit.

She recalled him mentioning that it was a dish his mother used to cook frequently for breakfast, which caused her to bask in the fact that she was continually being gifted more information about the highs and lows which made up his life before meeting her.

“It’s kinda like a stew. My mother…would say it’s usually made with spices, but she obviously ain’t add those in because I wouldn’t like it,” Inuyasha elaborated as Kagome finally reached the warmth radiating from the fire pit and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“It smells delicious,” Kagome added before planting a small kiss on her husband’s earlobe and then gently raking her fingers through his silky hair.

The young woman couldn’t help but smile to herself while watching Inuyasha’s ears begin to slightly twitch in content, prompting her to split his hair into two parts in an attempt to loosely braid it for him before they both had to go tend to the fields.

Kagome’s eyes then wandered from the base of his scalp to the start of his tanned neck, causing her to let out a gasp at what she saw.

“Hm, what’s wrong Kagome?” Inuyasha immediately questioned as he shifted his weight in order to meet her eyes, which remained glued towards his neck.

“Inuyasha, h-how long have you had these?” Kagome murmured before gliding a finger over the faded maze of scars that outlined the entirety of her husband’s nape.

She usually found a very vague explanation behind each of his scars, but the area before her had never served as a juncture for a story that could only be told through bated breaths and tight embraces.

“Heh? Oh, probably some demon tryin’ to grab me back when I was a pup. Damn thing never got me though, so I’d say- hey are you crying?” Inuyasha then exclaimed before angling his head to the side once more, causing Kagome to vigorously rub at her eye sockets.

“Ugh, you know these things get me emotional,” the young woman rebuffed while gently waving her husband away, only to stop in her tracks when he suddenly cradled her hand within his own.

“I know, I know. Wasn’t trynna make fun of you woman,” Inuyasha murmured before gently placing his lips against the back of Kagome’s hand, eliciting her heart to flutter within her chest as he circled his arms around her figure and let out a low sigh.

“I won’t deny that the memories still sting but…being able to talk through each of the scars with you is all the healing this hanyou needs really,” the young man mumbled, probing Kagome to gently rest her forehead against the smooth surface of his kimono and let out a sweet hum in understanding.

A comforting silence then passed between the two until an aromatic smoke began to waft it’s way through their home, forcing Kagome to tilt her head upwards after feeling Inuyasha’s hands begin to trail along her ribs.

“Fuck, hope it ain’t burnt,” her husband exclaimed before loosening his hold upon her with a small peck to her forehead, crawled across their creaking floorboards, unclasped the lid ontop the large metal pot situated within their fire pit, and let out a boisterous aha! as the aroma of a rich stew began to waft around the room.

The miko-in-training couldn’t help but let out an airy giggle at the domestic nature of the moment, only for her grin to widen even further when Inuyasha looked back at her with a serene smile in understanding.

[demona-andariel]

A Simple Act of Kindness - 29 / ??

Fandom: Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Leatherface) x OFC

Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in a stranger's home. Her fate to become another victim of the Hewitt family is all but sealed till a simple act of kindness changes her life forever.

Warning: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) dead dove, rape/Noncon, violence, forced marriage, kidnapping, cannibalism, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, angst

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,747

Chapter 29 - Trust

The wind blew through the patrol car in a vain attempt to cool it off. Fucking AC. It had to break a few weeks ago and they didn’t have the money to repair it yet.

Stupid bitch.

It was all her fault that they couldn't fix his cruiser. Hoyt’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as his eyes focused on the road. The extra money they’d get used to go to him and whatever he wanted to buy. He was their true protector after all. The one who looked out for them and kept the police away. The one who brought them their meat to eat. 

“Fools,” he muttered under his breath. All of them. He had to be strong. He had to wait just a little bit longer. He wasn’t going to fall for the act like everyone else had.

Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to think. 

Damn. He’d fucked up. He could have ended it a couple months ago. He should have shot her instead of fucking her. Or, fucked her and then shot her. What Tommy didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. In fact, Hoyt could have staged the whole thing as if some random ass wanderer did it. Make Tommy hate the world even more to the point that he would never fall in love with a stranger again. 

His mouth twitched at the thought. He really should have planned better. But, how was he supposed to know that his nephew would turn on him like that? The Tommy he knew would have strung her up and punished her for lying for so long about being able to get pregnant. Hell, Tommy’s temper at times was unpredictable. Hoyt had figured Tommy’d end up killing the girl on accident, which was why he raped her when he did. He wasn’t sure he’d have a chance once the truth came out.  

Fuck! He severely underestimated just how deep her claws were in his sweet, innocent nephew.

Hoyt grounded his teeth in annoyance. How the hell did that little cunt turn his family against him? He couldn’t blame Tommy, as much as he wanted to. The boy had grown up being feared and hated by the world. One simple act of kindness was all that was needed to melt him and turn him into a loyal guard dog, and Hoyt knew that. Being pretty just added to her appeal. But now the rest of the family seemed to be convinced that the girl was truly in love with Tommy. 

“She ain’t like the others, Hoyt.” The sudden approval in Luda Mae’s voice made him cringe at the thought. It was her goddamn idea to dress the girl up in that goddamn wedding dress for a faux-wedding night so Tommy could “experience what it’s like, just once to be married and have a normal wedding night”. Normal. 

Hoyt snorted. As if it was normal for the bride to beg the groom not to fuck her. Unwilling. 

He shouldn’t have let it happen. He should have insisted she be passed around like the meat she was before they butchered her. He wouldn’t be waiting for that moment to say “I told you”, when she inevitably betrayed them. And she was going to betray them.

Hoyt automatically turned down the all too familiar road, leading to their house. Excitement swirled through his stomach before it was quickly squashed with dread. 

Fuck!  

This feeling, it wasn’t right. He used to love coming home to his family to eat dinner together. But now, he couldn't wait to grab his plate, a beer and sulk in his dark bedroom until morning.

Hoyt pulled up to the large house, half surprised that he didn’t see Tommy, Lizzy and that damn dog playing outside. He saw Monty though, his older brother. Sitting on the deck in his wheelchair, watching him park. 

Getting out of his cruiser, he slammed the door shut.

“They went for a walk,” Monty called out from the porch as Hoyt made his way toward him.

Hoyt rolled his eyes. Of course they did. 

“Good. I’ll be able to eat in the dining room for once,” he muttered, more to himself. Their walks were usually long. Not that anyone was stopping him from eating with the family in the first place. He just hated seeing her there, as if she belonged. 

The wooden stairs creaked and groaned as he stomped up them to the house.

“She ain’t leaving, Hoyt,” Monty stated.

Hoyt huffed in disagreement. “We’ll see about that,” he said, placing his hand on the door handle. He grimaced as Monty’s bone fingers wrapped around his wrist and squeezed hard.

“I told Luda Mae that you ain’t gettin’ no more dinner to eat upstairs on your own. We a family. We’ve always eaten as a family. And you’re going to start eatin’ with us like before.”

Hoyt looked down at his disabled older brother. Despite being younger, Hoyt was the patriarch of the family. Even when Monty had legs and looked healthier, not as frail as he looked now, Hoyt was still the patriarch of the family. They trust him to protect and take care of them. He knew how to do that and he was good at it. And Monty always fell in line with the others. Probably grateful not to have the burden on his shoulders. But, Hoyt didn’t mind being the protector. 

“Well, ain’t you suddenly grown some balls,” Hoyt said.

Monty’s eyes narrowed in anger, but he let him go. “Stubborn, bastard,” he muttered. 

Hoyt shook his arm and nodded his head. That’s what he thought. 

“They gettin’ married next month,” Monty said as he turned his attention toward the woods.

“Sure they are,” Hoyt said as he opened the front door.

“They is,” Monty said firmly. “The dress will be paid for and Luda Mae already talked to the preacher to confirm the date. Betsy came by earlier with her daughter. Heard them talkin’ about the wedding and who was gonna attend.”

Hoyt snorted.  As if the list was going to include anyone who wasn’t family.  “Whole Hewitt family affair,” he said.

Family.  

He froze at the thought. 

Her family.

Any girl would want their parents to attend. And she knew her family was looking for her. She was probably already trying to convince Tommy to let her parents come to the ceremony. Have dear old daddy walk her down the aisle. What a disaster waiting to happen. 

Disaster.

“What about the girl’s parents?” he asked with curiosity. 

If they came, he would use them against her. Get her to want to go home and then show Tommy that he wasn’t special to her like she pretended he was. That she would leave him when true freedom was within her grasp. But Hoyt would be ready for that moment. And then they’d would feast.

Monty shook his head. “Naw. She didn’t mention inviting her folks or anyone for that matter. She got quiet after the meetin’, though. I think that’s why Tommy took her for a walk. Distract her.”

Damn. Tommy cared too much for her to let her go. And Hoyt had drummed it in his nephew’s head since the moment they decided to keep her, to never let her use the phone to call her family. She would leave him. She would break his heart in an instant. One phone call would remind her of her old life and he would never be able to win her back. 

Movement caught his attention. A dog rushed out of the woods, barking happily as it made its way to them. It wasn’t long before Tommy and Lizzy appeared. She had her arms wrapped around his and leaned against him. 

The beauty and the beast.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Hoyt said.

Monty raised his eyebrows in surprise before narrowing them. Hoyt let a small smile slip across his face.

“The girl’s been different from all the others. I ain’t gonna deny that. But, ya know me, hard to trust those pretty little bitches.” He watched the two make their way toward them. If it was possible, Lizzy pressed closer to Tommy the closer they got. 

Good. She was still scared of him. But her fear only went so far now. She had confidence that Tommy would protect her. And, as long as she played her wife role she would keep Tommy happy. 

“I’ll see you at the dinner table,” Hoyt stated before turning around and heading inside. 

His heartbeat picked up slightly as he felt giddiness flutter inside of him. He didn’t want her to see. Didn’t want her to suspect he was up to something. Her guard was always up around him, but it was never up around Tommy. She trusted the soon-to-be husband. And Tommy trusted him. It would take a little bit of convincing, but he would have to change Tommy’s thinking. Convince the man to let her make that phone call. And that would be the beginning of the end for her.

Lizzy sat curled up on the living room couch and stared out the window into the dark yard, trying to distract her mind. The crickets and night bugs chirped their nightly greetings. Chance lay on the lawn chained to a post. He was much more of an outside dog than an inside one. She had realized. Not that she minded. It made her feel safe, knowing that he would alert them to any trouble. 

Her guard dog. 

She smiled. 

He was already getting so big. He was going to be quite impressive once he was fully grown.

Despite being reassured multiple times now by various members of the Hewitt family that she was safe. Their words meant little to her. She still felt more at ease with Tommy or Chance by her side. She was safe as long as they were around. Even from Hoyt.  

Her stomach twisted with nerves. It still hurt, knowing that he would never see true justice for what he did to her. He was the clear leader of the Hewitt clan. Tommy beat the shit out of him, didn’t make him lose that role. And Tommy wasn’t interested in taking up that role. He wasn’t a leader, he was a protector. 

She let out a deep sigh.

Unfortunately, Tommy still loved and obeyed his uncle. Still evident by the fact that after dinner he went with Hoyt when Hoyt asked him to chat. The old man wasn’t going anywhere, but neither was she. Hoyt didn’t get it, but she wasn’t going to sit down and explain to him that she had drowned in Tommy’s love and she had no intentions of swimming to the surface. 

To his credit, Hoyt had been avoiding her like the plague for the last few weeks. Hearing him stomp up the stairs and then slam the door to his room like a petulant child, had been the highlight of her evening. Until today. She was the only person not happy to see him sitting at the table. Even Tommy showed visible excitement at seeing the old man in his usual spot. Hoyt even said the prayer.

Her stomach twisted as a wave of nausea rolled through her. Taking in a deep breath, she held it for a moment before slowly letting it out. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” she whispered under her breath, preparing her little speech. “I’ll never be able to forgive your uncle.” 

A door creaked open, causing her to turn her head. 

“Tommy,” she said. She quickly got off the couch and gave him a crooked smile. “I know it’s a little early,” she continued, in a sultry voice, “but it’s been a hot day today and I was thinking-” Her brow creased with concern as she rushed over to him. “Are you okay?”

Something was wrong. He looked worried, even anxious. Raising his hand up, he gently stroked her cheek.

She gulped as her heart started to thump in her chest. Oh no. What did he say?

She shouldn’t have let Hoyt talk to Tommy alone. She knew the old man was up to something. She should have-

Tommy reached down and grabbed her shaking hands, bringing them up to his lips.

“Safe,” he said softly. “Love.” 

Butterflies filled her stomach with the word and she let out a shaky breath, nodding her head. “I’m safe, love,” she repeated.

His eyes softened and he wrapped her arms around him to hug her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, burying her head in his chest. “I’m doing my best.” It was difficult for her not to fall back into that old fear that something bad was going to happen. 

She felt him nod his head in understanding.

Leaning back, she smiled at him. “Love,” she said in a teasing tone. Rising up to her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. 

She let out a surprised cry as he suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her as close as he could to her body. His lips quickly found her. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on to him, not wanting to let him go. She needed him to reassure her that everything was alright. 

His hand ran down her body before stopping over her ass and squeezing it. She moaned into his mouth. 

Fuck. Not here where anyone can walk in.

“Tommy,” she mewled, her hands grabbed onto his belt as she loosened it. “Let’s go-”

Her body rocked as his arms let her go and he quickly stepped back. His hand went to his face and he shook his head clearly collecting himself.

Shit. There was something wrong. 

“Tommy?” she tried to keep the fear out of her voice. 

His eyes met hers and he let a small smile cross his lips to reassure her. It didn’t help much. 

“I-” wish you could tell me. She shut her mouth and shook her head. There was no point in finishing that sentence. It would only hurt his feelings. It already took a great deal of effort from his part to even say a word or two when he could.

Tommy reached out and took her hand before motioning her to follow him. Her mind protested, but her body obeyed. Where was he taking her now? 

The two of them walked down the familiar hall, but away from the stairs and their bedroom. She couldn’t help but gulp as they passed the door to the basement. An end she was so sure awaited her at some point. Now, she wasn’t sure.

He stopped in front of a door. She cocked her head to one side. It was the only room in the house she had never been in. She had no idea what was behind it. And considering what the basement held, she never had an urge to open it up and see what other awful thing to be discovered.

His hand slowly squeezed hers. She frowned and looked up at him. He didn’t look down at her. Instead, his eyes focused on the door. The emotions on his face were clear. He was worried and anxious. 

Whatever was behind there, she didn’t want to find out.

Her heartbeat picked up with anticipation. “We don’t-”  Her words were cut off as he twisted the door knob. 

But, he didn’t push. His eyes moved to look down at her. They darted around her face as if he was searching for something. 

“Tommy, you don’t-”

Leaning against the door, he pushed it open. 

The hinges creaked and groaned from having not been used in a while. Her breath caught in her chest for only a moment before she let it out and tilted her head to one side in confusion. He was being rather dramatic for opening a door that clearly led into a study. An unused study at that, given the amount of dust and cobwebs that filled the room. There was a desk and chair in the middle of the room with a couple of bookshelves with worn out books in them. Nothing scandalous or mentally scarring. 

“Jesus, Tommy,” she said, letting out a chuckle of relief. She let his hand go and started to look around the room. 

“You were being so dramatic, I thought-” Her words caught in her throat as her eyes widened.

Tommy had stopped by the desk and was watching her. His face was surprisingly neutral. And in his hand was a phone receiver. He held it out to her. Her mind went blank as she stared at it.

It wasn’t that she had no access to a phone. There was one at the gas station and one in the kitchen. But she never entertained the thought of using either of them. She would never have been able to get away with a quick phone call to anyone. 

“Tommy, I-”

He reached out his free hand and she automatically took it, allowing him to pull her toward the desk and the receiver in his other hand.

Call home.

“Tommy, I don’t think-” Her body ignored the protests that rushed out of her mouth. He placed the phone in one of her hands and she automatically clutched it. 

She couldn’t move as she stared at it. She felt his lips press against her forehead, but her body refused to move to acknowledge him. The dial tone blared loudly, telling her that the phone line worked. 

His warmth left her as he moved away. She heard the creaking of the floorboards from his weight. And then the door groaned as he shut it, giving them some privacy. 

“Tommy, I-” 

Her eyes widened in surprise. Not them . Her. He didn’t close the door and just stood there waiting and listening. He’d left. Perhaps he was standing outside, but he left her in the room alone with a phone. He wouldn’t be able to stop her if she called for help. 

Privacy. He was giving her privacy!

You trust me. Tears welled up in her eyes. Oh, Tommy. She clutched the receiver next to her heart for a brief moment before taking a deep breath and letting it out. 

“Okay, Lizzy. Let’s do this.” She placed the phone back on its base and walked around the desk to sit on the chair. Squaring her shoulders, she rested her hands on the desk.

You don’t actually need to call them. What are you going to say?

“Hey mom, dad. So, I’m alive and well. I’m actually in Texas. You won’t believe what happened.” She snorted. As if they could ever know the true story. No one could. They’d call her crazy. Her parents would probably send people to find her and take her away. Get her evaluated because there was clearly something wrong with her for falling in love with Tommy and actually wanting to stay with him and his cannibal family even after all that had happened. They hadn’t even changed!

But you don’t get it, mom, dad. He takes care of me like no one ever has. I’ve never felt as if I could lean on someone for help. But I can lean on him for support. Yes, we didn’t have a good start, but he’s been doing his damnedest to fix past mistakes. He trusts me. He loves me. He lives for my happiness and I live for his now. 

Mom, dad. I met a man who will kill for me.

She shook her head. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just call them all of a sudden like this. She needed to prepare herself with some story. Otherwise she’d probably fuck up somehow by letting them know where she was. And then her father would use his resources to track her down, see her living situation and take her away. And maybe even worse.

She stood up and started to move away. Better to wait. Clear her head.

Her eyes landed on an old dusty clock, making her pause.

“Actually,” Lizzy said thoughtfully. “This is the perfect time. They’re usually go out to dinner. So I can just leave them a message. Hey, mom, dad. It’s me. I’m doing just fine. I saw a poster of me as if I’m missing. Just wanna let you know I’m fine. Healthy, happy. I just need more time to myself right now. You know me. So, stop searching for me.  Please and thank you. I’ll call you guys later. Gotta go. And, I’m getting married. Okay, bye.“

Sounds perfect, Lizzy.

Picking up the receiver, she quickly dialed her parents home phone number. It felt so natural and automatic, although she hadn’t called them in months.

Breathe.

The phone rang once and she slammed the receiver down.

“Shit! No, Lizzy,” she almost yelled. She stood up and walked away from the desk. Running her fingers through her hair, she paced as she chided herself for her cowardice. “You got this. You got this. The answering machine will pick up. Just leave a message.” 

Grabbing the receiver, she dialed the number again.

Patience. Just, short and simple message. They won’t answer. They won’t-

“Hello?” a familiar voice answered.

A chill ran through her body as she froze. Her mouth dropped slightly in surprise. Someone answered.

Shit.  

Lizzy gulped. Hang up. Hang up.

“Hello? Who’s there?” her father’s voice said, sounding more annoyed. 

Her heart pounded in her chest as her hand moved the receiver back to her ear. 

“Listen, asshole. I’m not playing. I will get the cops involved if-”

“Hey, dad.” Her voice cracked, much to her surprise as tears sprung in her eyes. Really ? The tension that held her body straight eased and she sank onto the chair.  

He didn’t answer immediately. Clearly, he was just as stunned as she was. 

“Lizzy?” her father asked, cautiously. He sounded surprised and skeptical at the same time. “Lizzy? Is that you?”

“Yes, daddy,” she said. Why did her voice sound so hollow all of a sudden? “It’s me.”

“Christ! Lizzy! We’ve been looking for you. I’ve been so worried. My sister said you never arrived and that was months ago. None of your old friends have heard from you. Where are you? Are you safe? Do you need help? Let me know where you are, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Something broke inside her at the sound of desperation from his end. “Oh, daddy,” she sobbed.

[ausetkmt]

NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JULY 21: Rakim performs during the "Dj Cassidy's Pass the Mic Live" at Radio ... [+] City Music Hall on July 21, 2023 in New York City. (Photo by Richard Bord/Getty Images)Getty Images

Set to release his fourth solo album in 15 years, hip-hop luminary Rakim Allah is making a return to the hip-hop cipher.

Although 15 years have elapsed since the God MC’s last solo project, his stance remains interwoven in the fabric of hip-hop culture, ensuring he has never truly left the scene.

Two weeks ago (May 16), Masta Killa of Wu-Tang Clan took to Instagram and posted an image with Kurupt and Rakim, announcing the upcoming release of a single featuring the three renowned lyricists. Though Masta Killa did not reveal the single's name, he shared it would come from the “#GODSNETWORK” and instructed followers to remain attentive.

Cover of Rakim Allah's single, "Rebirth (N.M.A.) featuring Kurupt and Masta KillaInstagram | @almightym80

On Friday (May 24), Matthew Markoff, a markerting A&R for the project, announced on Instagram the solidification of a contract with Rakim for the release of his fourth studio album, G.O.Ds Network (REB7RTH).

Set for a worldwide release on July 26, there will also be a special edition released as a six-inch A and B side vinyl, with “REB7RTH” on one side and “Love is the Message” on the other. This special edition, limited to 500 pieces, will feature an array of hip-hop heavyweights such as Masta Killa, Kurupt, Nipsey Hussle, Snoop Dogg, Planet Asia, as well as seasoned creatives including Sally Green, Louis King, Kobe Honeycutt, Summer Yuki, and more.

The debut single from the album, “Rebirth (N.M.A.),” also produced by the “I Ain’t No Joke” lyricist, featuring Masta Killa and Kurupt, is set to drop next month on June 21, coinciding with the web and pre-order launch. Kurupt shared the single’s official cover on Instagram Friday (May 24), confirming the coming of Rakim’s new album. “July 26th - ‘Rebirth’ Rakim new album…Produced by Tha God Mc himself,” the caption noted.

Cover for six-inch special edition side A and B side vinyl, “Love is the Message” side.

The album is thoroughly produced by Rakim Allah, with Markoff also serving as an executive producer.

G.O.Ds Network (REB7RTH) marks Rakim’s first solo effort since 2009. He transformed the landscape of rap in 1987 with Eric B. on Paid In Full, and the duo went on to shape the Golden Era of rap with three additional albums: Follow The Leader (1988), Let the Rhythm Hit 'Em (1990), and Don’t Sweat The Technique (1992), all deemed classics of the Golden Era.

Rakim’s solo debut came in 1997 with The 18th Letter, featuring production from Pete Rock, DJ Premier, DJ Clark Kent, Father Shaheed of Poor Righteous Teachers, and more. It debuted at number four on the Billboard 200 and went certified Gold. In 1999, he quickly followed up with his second solo album, The Master, which includes the DJ Premier-produced standout single, “When I B on tha Mic." Afterward, Rakim took a 10-year hiatus before releasing The Seventh Seal in 2009, the first project on his record label Ra Records.

Throughout the years, Rakim has made guest appearances on unapologetic rap songs including G-Dep’s 2001 track “I Am” with Kool G Rap, the 2003 Dr. Dre-produced Jay-Z track “The Watcher 2,” Lloyd Banks’ 2006 song “You Know the Deal,” and he even added a surprise verse on Linkin Park’s 2014 track “Guilty All the Same.”

With his latest performance alongside Slum Village and Talib Kweli at Panic in L.A., the hip-hop luminary has been making his presence felt in the culture. He narrated a Bronx history video for the New York Yankees' opening season, and last month, he joined DJ Jazzy Jeff and Ravi Coltrane for a showcase at the Kennedy Center. As hip-hop enters its 51st year and Rakim makes a comeback, it's safe to conclude that hip-hop was never a fad and is bound to continue dominating and persisting as not only a music genre but a culture.

[justicerikai]

Charisma House - Superhuman Sharehouse Story “Charisma” - #91 Tenant

Please read alongside listening to the drama track on Youtube.

Let me know if I missed something!

TL note:

山ズボラの助 (yamazubora no suke) is an other one of Rikai’s name-isms. ズボラ (zubora) means slovenly. The way this name is formatted is like an old clan name, ex. Suke of the Yamazubora Clan. I believe 助 (suke) also has the double meaning of being called babe/chick/broad (basically, he’s belittling them). Due to my previous take on making such an instance a literary reference of some kind, this pattern continued here too. 

奉死 is a pun on 奉仕 (free service), both are pronounced as houshi. The former has the kanji 死 for death in it, however. The way I translated 奉仕 to begin with as ‘free service’ makes it a hard one to play it off from. Thus, I have opted to also translate 奉仕 as deference to be able to make a pun out of it as the original. 

無免 (mumen) is used in the context of being without a (driving) license. Think of One Punch Man’s Mumen Rider. Has been changed to illegal to keep it short.

Rikai getting on Fumiya’s case about speech was more related to 敬語 (keigo), the common polite/formal way of talking Japanese. Which Fumiya doesn’t do normally.

Terra: Ahahaha, geez! How worthless!

Amahiko: So worthless~~

Iori: So very worthless~

The three of them: Hahahahaha!!

(PIIIIIIIIIIII)

Rikai: Stop making a fuss about worthless conversation! What about cleaning!?

Rikai: Must I remind you how you all promised to spend the day cleaning?

Rikai: October means a change in seasonal wardrobe, away with summer clothes and bring out the winter ones.

Rikai: And clean your rooms while you’re at it, to start the new season fresh. 

Rikai: Bunch of fools thinking they’re The Grime Gatsby

Amahiko: Who is that

Terra: First time I got scolded to change my wardrobe--

Iori: No worries Rikai-kun♪ I’ll be the one taking care of everything.

Rikai: As if I will allow that. The order of this household will end up in disarray.

Iori: You know depriving me of what I must do will make me end up in disarray?

Rikai: Eh? 

Iori: Everyone, come stamp a new seal on the slave contract. The renewal date is around the corner. 

Terra: Renewal date!?

Iori: Your seal here

Rikai, Terra, Amahiko: We refuse.

Iori: Duly noted. The contract has been automatically renewed.

Rikai, Terra, Amahiko: EEEH!?

Iori: Ahhh~ I’m glad we’re back home. Sharehouse life is the best

Iori: Self-sacrifice! Contribution! Free service!

Iori: To die from deference is written here…

Iori: Dieference!!!!

Iori: BURDEEENS--------!

(Iori being instantly tied up and his mouth taped)

(Iori flailing)

Iori: Hmmngh…? Hnng!!! Hhhhnnggg!!!

Rikai: Okay, so everyone will take care of their own matters by themselves.

Rikai: Now then, since we’ll be making things nice and tidy here 

Rikai: Rikai-oniisan shall make the rounds to check all of your rooms.

Amahiko: Woaw

Terra: Sheesh~

(Room 104)

Amahiko: First up is Sarukawa-kun’s room, huh.

(Knocking on the door)

Rikai: Saru, we’re coming in.

(Door opening)

Rikai: Saru.

(Confused Sarukawa taking off his headphones)

Sarukawa: Ah! The hell you bargin’ in for!

Terra: What’s up with your room, was there some riot?

Rikai: Clean this up.

Sarukawa: Shuddup, don’t order me around

Terra: No way it’s easy to live like this

Sarukawa: Ain’t no biggie at all! It’s comfy! Leave me alone, stupidhead!

Terra & Rikai: ………

(Amahiko moving all over the place, looking for something)

Amahiko: Is it here?

Amahiko: Here?

Amahiko: Under the bed maybe?

Sarukawa: AMAHIKO! The fuck are ya snoopin’ around for!

Terra: Rikai-kun, can I?

Rikai: …I don’t really approve it, but…

Terra: Sarukawa-kun, you absolutely can’t clean up your room, ‘kay?

Sarukawa: I can’t!? Then I gotta! Io! Duster!

(Iori tossing the duster)

Iori: Hiyah!

(Sarukawa dusting off, cleaning up, seperating trash)

Sarukawa: TAKE THIS!!! GWOAAAA----! UOOOOH! YAAAAA!

(Sarukawa’s room sparkling)

Sarukawa: HAHAHAHA! Made it fuckin’ clean, dude! Serves ya right! 

Rikai, Terra, Amahiko, Iori: Nice job~

Sarukawa: Eh?

(Door closing)

(Sarukawa clutching his head)

Sarukawa: FUCK! SON OF A BIIIIIIIIITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Room 103)

Terra: I guess next up is Iori-kun’s room

(Door opening)

Rikai: Eh!?

Amahiko: OH, this is…

Terra: Filthy~

Iori: Really?

Sarukawa: This guy’s always been like this

Rikai: Disorder has taken full control, what is wrong with this room.

Iori: Ehehe, how embarassing~ But this is fine for a slave.

Amahiko: This is not the time to be looking after others.

Iori: And it’s not the time to be looking after myself!

Iori: After all I do have a mountain of stuff to do from morning till evening. Okay, let’s go to the next room♪

Rikai: Hold it. Iori-san, you stay behind and please clean your room. 

Iori: Eeeeh!?

(Sarukawa throwing the duster)

Sarukawa: Here, duster

(The four of them leave)

Iori: Waiwaiwai- wait, wait! Who cares about my stuff! 

Iori: Besides I don’t have time to! And it’s a breach of contract! Waaaait!

(Door closing)

(Room 101)

Rikai: So time for my room. Not a doubt it will serve as an example for everyone to follow. 

(Door opens)

Rikai: Look! Clean! Every nook and cranny! Tidy as it can be! Not a single speck of dust!

Rikai: Everyone please do take a good look at it. It will truly make you feel great.

(Rikai taking deep breaths)

Rikai: Haah~ Haah~

Rikai: Even the air tastes somewhat delicious.

Rikai: Fufufu, it’s a very clean room, yes?

Terra, Sarukawa & Amahiko: …..

Rikai: What’s wrong?

Rikai: Ah, you feel the level of difference in comparison to what kind of man I am and it makes you feel defeated?

Rikai: It is okay! This very Rikai-oniisan is here for you all!

Rikai: I shall make everyone happy!

(Rikai striking a pose)

Rikai: Righteousness--

Rikai: Righteousness--

(Rikai runs to open the window)

Rikai: RIGHTOUSNESS IS GLORIOUUUUUS!!!

Terra, Sarukawa & Amahiko: Thank you sooo much---

(Door closing)

Iori: Who’s next?

Terra: My room! Go ahead~!

(Door opening)

Terra: There it is! The best!

Terra: Terra-kun’s beautiful looks and personality goes as far as his room too~ 

Terra: As if he’s flawless! Not a single blind spot!

Sarukawa: Ain’t it… like some flashbang went off in here? 

Rikai: There’s too many mirrors. The whole room is heavily illuminated because of these. 

Sarukawa: What a cringe ass room.

(Terra looking into the mirror)

Terra: Wah! Such a beautiful person! Who is that!?

Amahiko: That’s you in the mirror, Terra-san.

Terra: Ah, Terra-kun, huh. I thought some kind of goddess descended from the heavens above. 

Rikai, Iori & Sarukawa: …………

Terra: Wah! So pretty! Who is this!?

Amahiko: You in the mirror, Terra-san.

Terra: Cute! And this?

Amahiko: It’s you, Terra-san.

Terra: Cool!

Amahiko: You, Terra-san.

Terra: Superb!

Amahiko: It’s Terra-san.

Terra: Charming!

Amahiko: Still Terra-san.

Terra: Marry me!

Amahiko: Terra-san.

Rikai: How long do you wanna keep this up!

Iori: Amahiko-san, it’s okay to not respond to every single remark.

(Terra starts muttering against the mirror)

Terra: You’re so like, amazing, just flawless.

Iori: Ah, he started talking to himself in the mirror.

Iori: He’s won’t come back to earth for a while when he’s like this.

Sarukawa: CRINGE!

Iori: Let’s go

The four of them: ….

(Door closes)

Terra: Terra-kun! I WUB YOU~~!

(Terra dives into bed and smacks his head)

(Room 203)

Iori: Next?

Sarukawa: Ohse’s room, right

(Door opening)

Rikai: So dark…

Iori: Aaah geez! I wanna clean up so bad!

Amahiko: Ohse-san?

Terra: Ghost-kun?

Sarukawa: Is he not here?

(Sounds of thumping)

Iori: He’s here!

(Ohse runs away)

Terra: He’s running away! Get him!

(The five of them chase Ohse)

(Sarukawa removes the bag from Ohse’s head)

Sarukawa: The hell ya runnin’ away for, you rascal

Ohse: Sorry, I thought it would be best to leave immediately. A piece of shit is contagious.

Rikai: Again with such things.

Terra: Let’s let some light in. Moves everything aside and open the curtains

Iori, Sarukawa & Amahiko: Yessiiiiir

Ohse: Eh! Ah, don’t…

Ohse: Aaaah, it’s bright, it’s so bright~ My eyes~

Rikai: Bask in the sunlight, Ohse-kun. You must treasure your body. 

Rikai: I’m worried about you.

(Rikai shining brightly)

Ohse: AAAAH!! My eyes~! It’s too bright! I can’t look at him!

Ohse: It’s too much for a piece of shit! I’m sooorryyyy~~!

(Ohse runs and throws himself out the window)

The five of them: EEEEH!?

The five of them: Ghost-kun!? / Are you okay!? / Ooooi…!

(Room 204)

Amahiko: Thank you for waiting. Perhaps I made you wait far too long.

Amahiko: A tour of Amahiko’s bedrooooom 

(Door opening)

Amahiko: This is the World Sexy Ambassador, The Minister of Sexy Affair’s----

(Sound of door being shut with a lot of force)

Amahiko: EEEH!? Finishing this early??? 

(Room 206)

Rikai: The last one is Fumiya-san’s

Ohse: Yes…

(Door opening)

Terra: A murder scene? What’s this feeling

Rikai: Something’s suspicious, it’s the opposite of normal.

Amahiko: There’s a lot of plants surprisingly.

Sarukawa: These legal to raise? Is this allowed?

Terra: Rikai-kun, should we report to the police just in case?

Rikai: Yes

Iori: Now hold on a second! Fumiya-san hasn’t done anything yet!

Terra: Iori-kun, you did just subconsciously say “yet”

Iori: Agh!

Sarukawa: Where did he go anyway, havin’ the nerve to just not be at home every now and then 

Amahiko: I wonder what funny bussines he's up to

Ohse: It’s suspicious.

The six of them: ….

(Door closing)

Rikai: Okay, failing grade for all! Clean properly and live a life of order!

Iori: (After living a life on the run, we came back home and lived in peace as always.)

(Everyone yelling and screaming)

Everyone: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Amahiko: ECSTASY WOOOOORLD!!!

(PIIIIIIIII)

Rikai: DEATH PENTALY FOR AAAAAAAALL!!!!!!!!

Iori: (But this didn’t continue for long… a certain incident occured.)

(Fumiya coming back home while supporting a mysterious man on his shoulder)

Fumiya: You good?

Mysterious man: ….Yes….

Fumiya: Oi, anyone--

Amahiko: Fumiya-san? What happened?

(Mysterious man is injured)

The seven of them: ….

Iori: A-are you okay?

Terra: Who is this? What’s all this

Amahiko: Seems like an accident

Terra: Eh?

Fumiya: No… I was riding my moped when he suddenly jumped out in front of me…

(The six of them are surprised)

The six of them: Wuh!?

Fumiya: Told him he should go to the hospital but…

Mysterious man: Aah, I’m really, okay though

Fumiya: I couldn’t leave him alone, so for the time being he should st--

Terra: Wait!

Fumiya: ?

Terra: A moped?

Sarukawa: …Eh, you were ridin’ a moped

Fumiya: Yea

Iori: You got one?

Fumiya: Yea

Iori: EEEH!?

Amahiko: Since when

Fumiya: Lil’ while ago

Terra: And your liscense

Fumiya: Hm?

Sarukawa: Permit.

Fumiya: Hm?

Ohse: Driver’s certificate.

Fumiya: Hm?

Amahiko: License to drive

Fumiya: Hm?

Iori: Permission!

Fumiya: Hm?

Rikai: A driver’s liscense! Do you have it!?

Fumiya: ……………………

Fumiya: Yea

Terra: What was that long pause for. You sure? No illegal stuff, you know? 

Fumiya: Illegal? Do not be so absurd now.

Fumiya: I would do no such nonsense as operating a vehicle without a valid license. 

Rikai: WHY are you talking formally now!

Sarukawa: How’dya get yer hands on the bike? You snatched it or sumn’

Fumiya: Nah, bought it

Amahiko: You had the money for it?

Fumiya: Sure sure sure

The six of them: HAAAH!?

(Fumiya staring directly into the camera)

Fumiya: I was able to buy one, thanks you guys.

Iori: WHO is he thanking!?

Ohse: Rikai-san, we must report to the police

Rikai: As you say, Ohse-kun

Fumiya: Huh? No wait a sec

Rikai: I have a feeling we can’t leave this be.

Fumiya: Dude

Rikai: Please do not interfere, Fumiya-san

Mysterious man: Aaah, um!

Everyone: ?

Mysterious man: Um…my leg… is aching… 

(Everyone getting flustered)

Everyone: Aaah right, right! Sorry!

Rikai: Amahiko-san, if you would.

(Amahiko carrying the man)

Amahiko: Very well. 

(The mysterious man being in pain) 

Mysterious man: ….!

Iori: Sorry! 

Iori: (I noticed while giving him emergency treatment. This man was strangely thin.)

Iori: (As if he hasn’t eaten any proper meals in a while.)

(The mysterious man wolfing down all the food given to him)

(Sounds of showering)

Iori: (His clothes were all tattered too.)

Iori: (Maybe he’s someone with special circumstances. I didn’t ask anything though.)

Iori: (I thought he should take it easy and rest well before anything else.) 

Terra: Running over with his moped, our little Ito Fumiya sure is a scoundrel.

Fumiya: I keep saying I didn’t run him over, he suddenly jumped out and collapsed.

Terra: …. 

Iori: (And that day we let him be and he stayed over at the house.)

(The seven of them seeing the mysterious man off as he enters his room)

Mysterious man: …Um, I feel like I should apologize.

Rikai: Please don’t worry about it.

Iori: This is room 202. The futon is already laid out.

Mysterious man: Thank you, then I’ll be off

Fumiya: Wait

The six of them: ?

(Fumiya getting closer to the mysterious man, standing right in front of his eyes)

Mysterious man: Wha… what is it…?

Fumiya: Sorry

Mysterious man: Eh? …Ah, no, no I should be the one-

Fumiya: Take it easy ‘kay, sleep well

Mysterious man: Goodnight

(Door closing)

Iori: (No one had ever come here and stayed at this house before.)

Iori: (Which is why everyone might’ve been a little bit happy about this.) 

(The five of them, except for Sarukawa and Ohse, smiling)

Sarukawa: Tch

(Sound of a telephone ringing)

Mysterious man: Where do you think I am now?

Mysterious man: Inside the Charisma House. Yes, ofcourse they haven’t noticed.

Mysterious man: Sensei, I promise that you will be avenged.

Mysterious man: By this very Torahime.

[ms-scarletwings]

A Speculative Analysis about Bliblies No One Asked For

Upon their nature and just where they slot into the chaotic worldbuilding of the Smiling Friends, that is. Written by an actual pest control technician.

Starting off, we know for sure is that they seem to be a highly gregarious, nuisance species of critter.

While it may seem like they could be eusocial organisms, like ants or wasps, I highly doubt they actually follow the structure of such, as it involves a rigid caste hierarchy with one breeding queen.

We’ve only seen regular bliblies that do not behave in a very organized manner, so we can rule out hives and queens. Instead, I think the available evidence suggests that they are a common pest similar to invasive rats (meaning the cheese and mousetrap analogy might actually be intentional), which can live in massive social colonies in the wild.

Like rats, the bliblies also seem to be capable of an impressive amount of intelligence. They are able to cooperate enough to summon help in order to subdue a shared threat (Alan), but also are more than capable of turning on their own. It’s possible they may even become cannibalistic during periods of scarcity/overpopulation, which is a guess going off of the RL behavior of rodents and some insects. The actual hierarchical structure of a biblie nest to what extent it might exist appears to be a matter of might makes right. While active biblie hordes will share territory and behave as an overwhelming collective wave when threatened, the colony members still act as individual units competing for immediate resources such as food and tools.

All in all they appear to be a fairly dangerous household pest if allowed to take up residence in an area, breeding incredibly fast and nesting in large sacs, possibly for warmth, as small creatures loose body heat quickly.

That said, it’s also possible that they nest together purely as a defense tactic. In the real word we see this in harvestmen, which clump together in huge balls of arachnids in order to ward off larger predators, and also scatter everywhere once disturbed.

Their biggest strength is in numbers and intelligence. They’re clever enough to run from a fight they clearly can’t win and alert the rest of their colony, but are individually quite fragile. They will even use this pathetic appearance to their advantage, feigning cowardice in order to lower their opponent’s guard. Likely, they resort to aggression as a last resort upon discovery, since they spend the earlier parts of an infestation foraging, growing numbers, and trying to avoid detection from their hosts. It’s more than a little concerning that some of them are capable of tool use to the point of arming themselves with improvised weapons AND replicating an execution by crucifixion. The fact that they have a rudimentary understanding of Christianity or at least ancient torture methods is also its own can of worms my biology education ain’t touching.

Now, if you forced me to guess how an infestation starts…. It’s tricky when we have no idea how they even reproduce. Either they don’t display any outward sexual dimorphism, they’re hermaphroditic like snails, or they breed asexually. Whatever the case, I’m willing to bet that they begin a budding invasion like roaches do. See, when one roach finds a great spot for scavenging food, they’ll mark the site with chemical signals that attract others of its kind to the area. Eventually, enough roaches gather in the same place and start spawning young collectively, hiding together in their own filth during the day, and emerging at night to hunt for scraps. And like roach infestations, one of the easiest ways to detect Bliblie harborage is the presence of feces (in their case, taking the form of “mysterious purple shit pellets”).

Likely, the best way to prevent a Bliblie infestation is keeping a clean space, sealing off entry points, and eliminating access to food- as with any similar issues. However, once a large enough nest has been established, the safest solution lies in a complete mechanical extermination of the colony. If they are smart and aggressive enough to nail you to a cross, they are going to be capable of plotting revenge in your sleep if you evict them and don’t finish the job completely. You’ll get a few of them with traps and poison, but the rest of them will only learn and adapt. Directly killing them all in one go, outright warfare, no survivors…. would be the most effective tactic. At bare minimum a decimation of the infesting population could help to break the morale of the survivors, which will be easier to push into vacating a structure once their nest site has been destroyed.

Which above else makes me so just glad we have such dedicated professionals like Desmond around to handle these creatures.

TL/DR: Bliblies are basically a smarter and scarier equivalent of Norway rats, or perhaps cockroaches.

[sourcreammachine]

us state flag tierlist by how urgent the need to change them is

(not necessarily by objective quality, although they are ordered by my own personal preference within the tiers)

yeah everyone and their cunt’s done a tierlist of how good the us state flags are, but here’s one that’s more useful imo - how much they need to change. ie, how far up the statehouse’s agenda changing the shitass flag should be

the ‘perfect’ flags shouldn’t ever change. yeah, alabama’s good, i said it - it’s iconic and recognisable. and yeah colorado might be cheesy but it’s american cheese, it’s an icon. and arizona is the best flag do not @ me

‘ain’t broke don’t fix it’ means you can start nitpicking the flag, but honestly, nobody cares and there’s no point in changing. alaska and indiana are here because their mute colours hold back their excellent designs. california’s here because the bear should probably be bigger and have a different face. utah and mrs sippy’s new flags are both here because they’ve got the same problem - they’ve both chosen really horrible dark blues, honestly so bad that they should be in lower tiers, but they changed them too recently so they should stick for a while, until people get used to the, yeah, iconic and recognisable new designs. a placeholder for minnesota is here too, based offa the six finalist designs released on tuesday, because any of them would probably end up in that spot - imperfect but relatively good

‘minor tweaks maybe’ is where the nitpicks start becoming flaws and the good designs could be made perfect very easily. hawai’i doesn’t need the british canton, it just doesn’t. wyoming doesn’t need that seal inside the buffalo. and rhode island? well idk but it’s a bold design held back by, something. stew on it for a while

the final three tiers are the ones i believe should change. the first (non urgent) is for bad flags that remain somewhat distinct, and so are still managing to do their job - but could be had so much better. NC is ripping off texas. iowa and missouri are both overcomplicated and dull. and arkansas, ignoring the word ‘arkansas’ i’m definitely getting slavers’ rebellion vibes from it

the bottom two tiers unambiguously must change. ‘fairly urgent’ are the flags where there’s maybe one redeeming quality that sets the flag apart, and could be carried forward to the new one. LA’s pelican and OK’s osage shield are iconic, but they’re still a something-on-blue and need upgrading. florida is just alabama but with a seal, honestly pathetic and one of the list’s biggest tragedies. washington, yep, there he is, but it’s still just something on a plain background. i hesitated between putting delaware here or the tier below, but its boon is its recognisability with that yellowy diamond. then there’s georgia, probably the most controversial placement on the list. but yeah. that’s the fucking CSA flag. and the iconic state deserves so much better than just an undistinct crest on the slaver flag

and yeah the last category are where all the truly pathetic failures sit. the opening few have curious motifs that could be used for the new flag, like connecticut’s grapes, michigan’s elk and oregon’s 🅱️eaver. but they still suck utter pisswank, the distinguishing thing about them only becoming clear when you stop to look at it. the latter flags of the tier are fucking irredeemable trash. tell me you know which states those final four are when the picture’s zoomed out. it’s a fucking tragedy that new york the state is amongst the union’s worst, when the city’s iconic blue-and-orange could lend it so much inspiration (same could be said for IL being outshone by chicago). or if new york wants to make it distinct from the city, it could always look to old york shire’s iconic white rose. combine it with a tulip for old amsterdam and bam we’ve got a brilliant motif. i am honestly happy to call the vermontese flag the worst in the us, for a state with such history, with such a pronounced identity and spirit, how can it let itself have such horseshit. especially when the green mountain boys’ flag is such stupid, dumb brilliance. yeah, vermont is the worst because they should just change to the green flag end of story

BOUNS ROUND: provinces of canadada

perfect: la quebec

ain’t broke: sass, newfie & lab

tweak: nova scotia, new brunswick

non urgent: BC, PEI (both controversial picks ino, but they’re fuck ugly d@m)

change now: ontario, manitoba, albert

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Thirty-Three

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, Corinthian Tries to Flirt w/ Reader, Reader Ain’t Havin’ It (But Finds It Amusing).

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later).

Word Count: ~2.1k

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“I’m not gonna hurt you,”

“You just killed that man.”

“I just saved your life, again.”

“From who?”

“From Morpheus.”

“Enough!” You snapped out from where you had been pacing in front of the couch in the Junior Suite. You pointed at the Corinthian and gave him a dirty look. “Stop twisting your words.”

Those round sunglasses turned to you and that sly smile was back.

“Come now, your majesty, even you know what he plans.” You held up a hand and waved it in warning.

“He keeps calling you that, are you a queen?” Jed asked, looking between you and the Corinthian. You clenched my teeth.

“This… exquisitely beautiful lady here, Jed, is the queen of the Dreaming.” The Corinthian spoke all too gleefully. You felt Rose’s gaze burn into the side of your head, but refused to break your stare from the Corinthian’s glasses.

“Jed, would you kindly give us a moment to talk?” You asked, keeping your gaze set. You could feel Jed’s hesitation, but thankfully he agreed.

“Yeah, okay, um, your majesty.” You sighed, now Jed was going to call you that too? You chewed your lip until the young boy was in the bedroom of the suite.

“You’re the queen!?” Rose blurted out the moment you had privacy. Your eyes closed and you took a deep breath.

“Technically speaking, if you so wish.” You responded, looking at the flabbergasted girl. “I did tell you our relationship is complicated Rose. I’ve been the queen of the Dreaming for three months and I didn’t even know it until a week ago when the librarian told me. Do not misunderstand my relationship with Morpheus, Rose, this isn’t something I chose.”

“So what, you’re his prisoner?” Rose snorted out waving a hand. “And how do you know him.” She then gestured to the Corinthian.

“I don’t,” You answered, giving the Corinthian a look. “Another technicality if you will, but he is the last missing arcana from the Dreaming. May I introduce you to the Corinthian, a Nightmare. As for your previous statement, I had no choice in my ties to Morpheus, but you can say I got off easy after what my family did to him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My great-grandfather, Roderick Burgess, is the man responsible for trapping Morpheus for over one hundred years.” You explained softly, ignoring the way the Corinthian seemed to enjoy this. “He wanted to resurrect one of his sons, he summoned Dream rather than Death, and refused to let him go until Morpheus gave him what he wanted. Morpheus being stubborn, refused. One spell later and an Endless was bound to the Burgess lineage. Morpheus got to choose which Burgess and had plenty of patience is seems. Long story short, I was the one he picked.”

“So that means…” Rose looked like she was still having a hard time understanding what you meant. the Corinthian finished for you.

“Y/N here, has had her fate sealed with Morpheus’. She’ll live as long as he will and for lack of a more technical term, they’re now soulmates.” The Corinthian said all too gleefully.

You couldn’t help the disgusted snort that passed though your lips as you crossed your arms in irritation.

“We are what they called Bonded. We are attracted to each other and will be until Morpheus is killed or dies. That doesn’t mean he treats me like a queen, or that he likes having me around. All I appear to be as of late is a burden and stubborn human whom he annoyingly cannot control.”

“Ah yes, I’d love to see him stew in place when you tell him no.” The Corinthian chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “Bet he’s never had to deal with that before.”

“You aren’t helping so do shut up.” You snapped at him. You turned back to address Rose. “Look, Rose, a vortex to the Dreaming is a threat because you have the capability to completely destroy it. Do you understand that? When you fall asleep, you could destroy my new home. Morpheus has destroyed previous vortexes to protect the Dreaming, this isn’t anything against you. It never was.”

“I don’t want to destroy the Dreaming, I never would.” Rose protested, you couldn’t help but give her an apologetic shrug. It didn’t matter what her intentions were, a vortex was not something that could be controlled. She couldn’t control it. She had already messed with the Dreaming’s scales by making Lyta’s dream of becoming a mother by her dead husband, true. Who knew what kind of trouble she would dream up if her power was left unchecked.

“I’m sorry, but your power isn’t something that you’ll be able to consciously control.” You said, shaking your head slightly.

“So you’re gonna let him kill me then?” You let out an eloquent snort and raised your eyebrow in slight insult.

“My darling Rose, what do you think I am doing here?” 

It had taken some convincing, and a little discussion between Rose and the Corinthian, before she agreed to what the Nightmare had told her. He would be back in an hour, she and Jed were free to leave if they so desired during that time, and if he got back and they were still there? They would talk. Rose had looked at you and you had given the Corinthian one stern look, rather then return her gaze.

“I will be having a conversation with Corinthian, I believe it is long overdue.” You stated flatly, yet with a little malice. “Now come along.”

“Yes, your majesty,” The Corinthian replied as you strode for the door, him following shortly behind. You snapped up a finger.

“Don’t start with me!” You scolded. He chuckled while following you through the door and closing it behind him. You heard the lock click and looked around at the many doors of the hotel. “We do need to talk, preferably in private.”

The Corinthian held up another key.

“I’ve got just the room.” He grinned. You had a feeling it was from the recently deceased Fun Land. You cared little for the life of a serial killer who liked to prey on children. Following the Corinthian down the hall, you entered the hotel room of Fun Land. You carefully took your time walking around the scant living room and maintained distance. “In all honesty, you are not what I expected but everything he would go for. You do have the strong personality type though, he was always a sucker for woman in power.”

Your eyes flickered up to his with an unimpressed look, you knew what he was trying to do and wouldn’t play into his game. Pressing your lips together, you leaned back against the small kitchenette in the room and regarded the Nightmare.

“What are you doing?” You flat out questioned him, not referring to the game, but what he was doing with Rose Walker. “Granted I can understand why you would give Roderick the keys to trapping Morpheus of all Endless, but why do it in the first place?”

“Certain you don’t need little ol’ me to explain that one to you,” The Corinthian chuckled, pushing his round sunglasses up his nose. “You think I get any freedom under his thumb?”

“It’s not about freedom, Corinthian.” You returned, looking him over with a softer gaze this time. “I know what it is like to live with him in your head, but what would drive you to trapping your creator for that long?”

“Spite? The desire for freedom? Despite what you may think of me, my lady, I actually like humans, I want to understand them, feel like them. Unfortunately for me, the only way to do so is a little crude for most peoples tastes.”

“You steal their eyes, you kill them,” You pointed out. He shrugged.

“Eyes are the window of your soul, they see everything, I get the most life from them.” You couldn’t decide if it was poor design or simply that he was a Nightmare. Either way, you could feel for his want to feel humanity.

“Still wrong,” He cocked his head to the side, his smile growing.

“Perhaps. Why’d you run?”

“I’m not running,” You retorted defensively, digging your fingernails into your crossed arms. His eyebrow rose at you.

“Sure you aren’t, why else would you be helping the girl who can destroy the Dreaming. You’re Bonded to him, how much is it hurting to keep him shut out right now? What did he do to push you so far away, that you are willingly helping the one thing that poses a threat to yourself?” You felt called out, but had to admit that the Corinthian wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Morpheus doesn’t treat me like I am his equal, or that I am capable of taking care of myself.” You finally said. The Corinthian shrugged. “He doesn’t want to acknowledge that I am not just another one of his subjects he can order around and expect to be obedient.”

“He’s lost lovers before, Y/N, he’s not gonna change just because you can tap into his power. Why do you think he’s so obsessive with protecting you? Feels like your in a cage, or on a leash. You can’t stray too far for he’ll yank you back.”

“Or push you away,” You countered while your eyebrow arched. “Trust me when I say I’ve felt it all.”  Uncrossing your arms, you pushed away from the kitchenette and stepped forwards, your eyes looking closer at his round sunglasses. He never took them off.

“I can feel your curiosity,”

“Then you know what I want to see.” You softly said, slowly walking over to him. He didn’t stop your approach, but raised his own eyebrow when you stopped in front of him and didn’t reach for this sunglasses.

“Well?” He goaded.

“I’m not going to remove them if you don’t want me to, Corinthian. I know boundaries and I was raised to have manners.” You replied quietly, your eyes following the stitching along his blazer. “I’ve dealt with many things I can’t control as of late, I’m not going to take choice away from you.”

“I can already tell he doesn’t deserve you.” The Corinthian mused quietly before reaching for your wrists and pulling the up so your fingers brushed against his black sunglasses. Fingers brushing against the metal and plastic, you slipped your fingers beneath the sunglasses and started pulling. What you saw beneath them shocked you, but you didn’t start gaping. Morpheus had been quite creative when designing this version of the Corinthian. “Well?” He asked, his eyebrows going up.

“I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this,” You spoke while brushing your fingers across his temple, looking at the two mouths the were in place of the Corinthian’s eyes. “Creatively beautiful, I should have known.”

The Corinthian smirked down at you.

“You don’t have to stay with him in that gilded cage, don’t have to put up with him.” The Corinthian said softly, his fingers running up the wrist of the hand you had touching his face. Fingers brushed across your palm as they wound their way through yours. “Not when he is hurting you like this.” You knew what he was doing and that was very dangerous waters. Not just for him.

“You’re dancing with fire, Corinthian,” You replied, giving him a knowing look. “All the while dousing yourself with petrol, do you not realize what kind of game you are trying to play?”

“Oh I understand it perfectly darlin’,” The Corinthian answered, his figure leaning closer to yours. You could feel the hum from his body, from his lips. He really had little care for what his actions would bring if Morpheus caught him this close to you. “But I don’t think he’ll take care of you the way you deserve. He’s already hurt you, pushed you away, why would he do that to you of all people? Surely you can see that, you deserve so much better then him.”

“I’m the one that get’s to make the final decision.” Your reminder only made him chuckle, which you could feel on your lips. “I’ve already had to deal with Desire trying to poke the sleeping bear, I don’t need you adding to that turmoil, no matter how handsome you are.” You slipped your hand from his and took a few steps backwards to get out of his space. “What do you want from Rose?”

“What? Clever little thing like you haven’t figured it out yet?” He taunted with a small laugh. Your eyes narrowed at him, done with his off handed flirting and attempts at making this into a game between you. “You got me, your majesty, I want Rose Walker to bring the Dreaming to it’s knees once and for all. Only she can.”

“You want to destroy our home,” You whispered out as your face paled. The Corinthian’s lips twisted into a jagged smile. What he wanted felt nearly as bad as when Desire had kissed you, but destroying the Dreaming was far, far worse.

Date Published: 12/5/22

Last Edit: 8/20/23

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