#the story is written in like 4 different places so here’s another part of it!

[i-am-a-fan]

Since I finished a mini arc…

This happens before the “Miscommunication” comic. Enjoy!

[lennythereviewer]

My favorite Kingdom Hearts fact is that one of the biggest plot-holes that Nomura has never been able to meaningfully retcon or write his way out, a plot-hole so big that it fundamentally breaks the very rules the series is written on...

Is the existence of Steamboat Willie

Let me explain for the uninitiated:

In Kingdom Hearts 2, there’s a small detour in the story involving Maleficent trying to invade Disney Castle, the home of King Mickey. She can’t step foot in the castle due to an artefact of pure light that wards off darkness locked in the basement.

Pete, who is working for Maleficent, opens a door into the past (Before Disney Castle, this land was known as Timeless River) and decides to remove the artifact from it’s place in time so it won’t be there to stop them from getting in.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy chase Pete into the past thanks to another magic door provided by Merlin, and through some shenanigans involving old cartoons and teaming up with Pete’s past-self, they lock the door the villains are using, and return the artefact to it’s proper place so it can exist in the present.

You with me so far? Pretty straightforward-ish time-travel plot right?

Here’s where it goes off the rails.

Time travel would go on to become a staple of Kingdom Hearts going forward and would come with a very strict set of rules over how it operates:

1. You can only travel to a point in time where a version of yourself exists

2. You basically give up your body to do so, and travel as a disembodied soul unless you have a vessel to inhabit

3. You can’t alter the past in a meaningful way, what’s going to happen will happen

4. You lose your memories of said trip once you return, but your actions could leave a lingering instinct on your other self that could influence their decisions

“Wait” you may be thinking “Why should anyone go through all those hoops? Wasn’t time travel super simple that first time?”

And you’d be totally right, because the existence of Timeless River completely renders all of these rules and restrictions meaningless. 

There is no version of Sora that existed in Timeless River before he step foot there, everyone kept their bodies, the trio and Pete were able to mess with the timeline as freely as they pleased, and they all very much remember their trip. 

Nomura has never been able to meaningfully explain this super simple, easy way of time travel and the more convoluted method co-existing other than a cheap-throwaway line from one of the villains saying that Merlin “broke the rules” 

The hilarious part about this line is that it implies that PETE of all characters is actually more powerful than the actual villain of the series, because Pete opened a door into Timeless River through sheer willpower and nostalgia for “the good old days”

But the all-knowing chess-master of a villain who had an evil plan several decades in the making with countless moving parts and contingencies to account for had to use the roundabout, more complicated method of time travel where a lot could go wrong.

Pete though? Dude just casually broke all the rules of time travel because he felt like it. He's just built different.

TL;DR: Steamboat Willie breaks Kingdom Hearts lore in half, Pete is more powerful than Master Xehanort, and I fucking love this beautiful trainwreck of a series you guys it means so much to me

I love Kingdom hearts so much.

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 4 (ona batlle x reader, alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

warnings: none!

---------

“Well, what’s the story of our friendship? Is there anything I should know about there? Any drama that happened, any secrets? Please, no more secrets,” you said with a wry smile. 

Alexia took a deep breath.

“We became friends pretty quickly, when you moved to Barcelona. You’re a very easy person to be friends with, an easy person to like,” Alexia said. “You spent a lot of time with me, and a lot of time with Ona. At the start, I… I was jealous, actually.”

“Of me?” you asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe? Of Ona, of both of you, I think.”

“Why?”

She took a breath, picking at her nails. “Like I said, you’re a very easy person to like. You’re very pretty, you’re amazing on the pitch, you’re kind and funny.”

Her words hung in the air for a minute. 

“You liked me? As in, romantically?” you asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Si,” she said, looking down at her hands. Her cheeks were pink.

“Your hair- it used to be pink, right?” you said suddenly, images of a pink ponytail flashing to mind.

“I- si, did you remember?” she asked, looking up at you. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Um, do you still like me? Like that?”

Alexia shrugged noncommittally, not meeting your eye, then sighed. “Si - but nothing has to change. I do not want anything to change between us. We are very good friends, I would never want to lose that.”

“Okay, then. Nothing will change,” you agreed. “Although, I don’t really remember much about what it was like before, so for all I know this could be entirely different to how things used to be. It’s kind of weird, not really knowing what I’m like or what my life was like. Really weird, actually.”

Alexia, who had been quiet since her admission, brightened up. “I have an idea!” she said, sitting up straight. “What if I show you what your life was like before? I can take you to your favourite places, show you what you usually would do!”

“That sounds great!” 

“It will have to be after training,” she said, frowning. “Will you be okay during the day on your own?”

You waved her off. “I’ll manage. It’ll give me time to go through everything here, try to remember more.”

By the time Alexia left for the night (after repeatedly asking if you were sure that you’d be okay on your own, and if you needed anything to call her, or anyone else from the team), you were exhausted, both physically and mentally. Despite how tired you were, getting into what was supposedly your own bed felt wrong, and you spent the night twisting and turning, unable to get comfortable.

Still, waking up and seeing something other than the hospital walls felt like a step in the right direction. You spent the morning going through everything you could find in your apartment that could give you clues about who you were. A journal from when you’d first moved to Barcelona (that you’d only managed to write three entries in before giving up) described your first days with the team, how nervous you’d been and how welcomed Alexia made you feel, and how you were so intimidated by Ona and how attractive she was but that she was so friendly to you, immediately putting you at ease. A paragraph about Alexia made you pause, the way you had written almost made it sound like you had a crush on her, the way you described her, raving about how good she was at football, how nice she was, how pretty. It was followed by another paragraph about Ona, and how amazing she was, and you rolled your eyes at your past self.

Reading about Ona felt weird, and you put the journal back, trying to push the thoughts of her out of your mind. Still, when you got hungry you were reminded of her once again, the fridge full of food that she had prepared for you. You pulled a covered bowl out to find a handwritten note on top, telling you what food was inside, with a smiley face and a heart. You told yourself that the funny feeling in your stomach was purely due to being hungry, nothing else, but you carefully left the note on the counter, not wanting to throw it away. 

By the time Alexia arrived you were starting to feel a little stir crazy, your leg making it hard to move around. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you told her as you opened the door.

“Hello to you, too,” she laughed. 

“Yes, hi. I miss going outside, and I’m all ready for our trip!” you told her, waving your crutches in the air.

“Woah, okay, I can see that!” she ducked as you waved your crutches a little too close to her head. “Okay, the first place we are going to go is a café nearby. It is your favourite. Usually you walk but I think we will drive.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said, slumping a little. You’d been looking forward to moving a little, your body feeling tense from inactivity. “You’re too sensible.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as she suppressed a smile. 

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the café. You took a deep breath as you hobbled inside, and the smell of coffee and fresh pastries filling your lungs. It instantly felt familiar, and you were drawn to a seat by the window. 

Alexia watched as you moved to sit down, smiling. “That’s your favourite spot. You always sit there.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I like to watch the people going past.”

She raised an eyebrow, and you cocked your head, then realised what you’d said. “Huh. I don’t know where that came from, but it feels right.”

You watched Alexia as she ordered at the counter, thinking about what she’d told you last night. You weren’t sure how to feel - remembering her words made your stomach flutter, but you weren’t sure why. When she sat down, a drink for each of you and a pastry on a plate, you felt a sudden wave of emotion. 

“This is my favourite, right? This is what I always get,” you asked, and she nodded, smiling shyly. “You remembered?”

“Of course, chiqui,” she said. 

As you ate, you talked about football, which seemed like a safe topic. Your mind kept wandering though, thinking about the way that Alexia had known where to take you. She knew your favourite café, your usual order, she had known all the right things to say to you. You felt your cheeks warming up as you realised how much she cared about you, your old journal entry coming to mind, and you caught yourself wondering why nothing had ever happened between you.

“You seem distracted,” Alexia said, interrupting your stream of consciousness. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, uh, not much,” you quickly said. “Just about training, when I’ll be able to go back.”

“Ah,” she said, frowning. “I am not sure. Maybe you can ask the doctor on Friday?”

You nodded, your cheeks still pink. As you reached for your drink, your phone vibrated on the table. 

[Ona:] Please can we meet, and talk? Tomorrow?

[tsukimefuku]

Let me die

I've been obsessed with a bit for a fic I want to write, so I just decided to put it here. Nanami fluff and some angst ahead, be careful.

Disclaimer: NO ONE DIES, it’s just a conversation in a bar where y/n requests something.

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a fic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :) 

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

You had just finished a mission that left a pretty bad taste in your mouth. You were forced to choose between two people to save, and one of them was your friend. Was.

The glare she had as she embraced her beloved's dead body made you sure that she would never forgive you for saving her instead of him. You chose to save her for egotistical reasons, you knew that. You knew (or thought you knew) that his death would not weigh on your shoulders as much hers would. However, you just didn't account in your egotistical equation how much his death would weigh on her, and how much more suffering you bestowed upon her by choosing to let him die in exchange for her life.

"Nanami, I need to drink." you said on the phone. "I had a horrible day. I'd like some company."

"We can meet at the bar by your house at 7PM." He promptly replied.

You and Nanami had grown close during the course of the last few months. He was assigned to you as your informal mentor until you were promoted from a grade 2 to a grade 1 sorcerer. There was some history before you went to work for Jujutsu High. Both of you met when he was on a mission that led to him eventually saving your life, and your gratitude eventually started to become something more. Sometimes, you wondered if he felt as close to you as you felt to him. These night drinks were turning into a regular thing, and you usually let your mouth say things you couldn't think to say out loud if it weren't for a few beers in, and Nanami being the person you were talking to.

***

After a while, when you spend so much time around somebody, you tend to pick up on their mannerisms, like their brows frowning, the way their mouths twitch when they feel mad, or how they are dead silent because they're drowning in unsaid things.

"What is it?" Nanami asked, out of the blue, surprising you. Both had already been drinking for a while, and you specifically were 4 beers down in misery. "I can hear your thinking from the other side of the table."

“I have a request for you.” You answered.

He took another sip of his drink, and said, unfazed, "What request?"

He inquired like he already knew you wanted to ask something from him, even before you knew you would.

"If you’re ever faced with a situation where you have to choose between saving my life or someone else, don’t choose me." you said. Nanami lifted his gaze to meet yours, and seemed surprised.

You continued. "Please, don’t make me live with the fact that me being alive is because someone died in my place and I had no choice over that. Don’t assign me that guilt.”

It would be something harsh to say to anybody, but you knew Nanami. You knew him well enough to be sure he'd not take that as an accusation of sorts. That's why you chose to tell him this kind of "if this ever happens" desire before telling anybody else. Shoko would probably chastise you for such a request, given you were prone to overthinking and martyrdom, and Gojo would never listen to that in the first place, simply doing whatever he felt like.

Nanami went silent for a while, mulling over what you asked him to do. Different from you, someone that had a little trouble controlling your emotions and how they impact your words and actions, Nanami was the man that you used to call in your head as nerves of steel. You had never seen him lose his composure. Ever.

He started talking, his face lightly flushed from alcohol. “There are two sides for this. You assume I’d be willing to live with the guilt of not saving you when I could have done so."

You were not expecting that answer. He was the most dutiful sorcerer you had ever met — hell, he was the most dutiful person you knew. If there was one thing Nanami was known for, it was not letting his emotions interfere with his judgement when making a decision. You never thought he could ever feel guilty if you died in a situation where you gave him permission to let you die.

"You'd feel guilty?" You questioned.

"Yes." He replied. "Your request would make me live with a guilt I don’t want, either."

"My request of letting me die, with my authorization, to save somebody else?" You inquired.

"Yes." He replied, looking down on his glass.

You were both silent for a moment.

"I can't accept your request, because you’re assigning me your guilt just as much." He took another sip from his now almost empty glass of whiskey. "I don't think I could bring myself to let you die, even if you asked me to.”

That pulled on your heart strings. Hard. You were instantly flooded with all the memories of the time you two spent together working, or simply chatting like this. All the times you had a silent but deep understanding of each other. Could he be...?

"I never pegged you for someone with any dose of egoism of not letting someone go when they'd rather die." You responded.

"Not letting you die." He answered. His answer made you fluster, ever so slightly, and you reclined yourself in your chair, trying to hide your face in the bar's dark ambiance.

“Would you ever curse me for that?” You asked. "Curse me for dying to save somebody else?"

“No, I wouldn't.” He replied. "That's who you are, and that is something about you that I respect, even if I don't understand it."

You chuckled softly, trying not to get too emotional. The alcohol was not helping. “Well, I might just have to curse you, then.” you responded, smiling.

“To curse me for saving you, you'd have to be alive.” He bottomed his drink. "I can live with that.”

[jay-m3]

Hazbin Baby

Episode 1

Male reader insert! Warning* Cursing

Part 1 Next Episode 1 (Part 2) Previous Part 4 of Pilot Pilot Part 1 Charlie and Vaggie

“But Lilith thrived, empowering demonkind with her voice and songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power.” Charlie mutters out, lightly squeezing the book in her hands. She doesn’t need to read the words written down, already memorized from reading the book multiple times each year.

But this year was different. You sat in her lap, looking down at the book, fascinated by the art of it. Even though you were two, she knew you’re starting to be aware about the world around you. So here she sits, reading you ‘The Story of Hell’ to help you understand or well, more like planting a seed of your origin.

“Her dream passed down to their precious daughter, the Princess of Hell.”

And why those screams outside of the hotel’s walls are so loud. She needs to help them and hopefully…

“And once you’re older, those dreams will help you start your own.” Charlie smiles down at her son who looks up at her when she closes the book.

“Charlie?” The sound of Vaggie startle both you and Charlie, jerking in place as you both look over to the new presence.

“Aah! Oh, shit. Did you hear all that?” Charlie questions, sliding the book away so she can wrap her arms around her son.

“Uh, yeah. I was right there.” Vaggie points her thumb to the doorway as she makes her way towards you both.

“Sorry. I get pre-tty worked up after an extermination happens. The story helps…” Charlie mutters out, looking down at how Keekee jumps up the couch to rub her head on your side.

(M/n) giggles, putting his hand on Keekee to pet her.

“Don't worry. I enjoy your theatrics. Are you okay?” Veggie sits down next to you both. She quickly grabs your hand to pull it off from Keekee once she sees how your gentle touches become excitable harsh taps.

“I'm fine. Just... thinking, ya' know? Family stuff.” Charlie gently grabs both your hands once she sees you become fussy about not being able to reach Keekee who sprints away.

You pout as you follow Keekee around with your gaze. She’s so soft! Her fur so smooth and her tail always sways in a hypnotic way that you just want to grasp and pull. You rip your gaze from the black and white furred feline when your mamá picks you up.

“Alright, come on. Alastor says he has something to show us.” Vaggie gently smiles at Charlie before walking out the room.

As her son and girlfriend leave, a loud bell rings throughout the city. Charlie turns to the Bell Tower at Heaven Embassy. She looks on with sadness, knowing that it's another year before the Extermination comes again and another year of knowing that you won’t be able to meet your grandmother yet.

___

“-Wow! All this, and more at the Hazbin Hotel! Your last desperate attempt at salvation starts here!” Alastor turns off the television once the commercial that he produced was finished.

“So, what do you think?” Alastor leans on his staff, looking at the two females for feedback which that he doesn’t really care.

(M/n) turns away from the tv, seeing as it will be turned off for the day. The blocks around him keeping him entertained as he hears the grown ups talk. Plus building a tower is pretty hard work.

The unsteady structure swaying each time you add another colorful block with no care. As you raise another block a ring from a phone blares out, startling you. The light bump to the tower from your hand brings the tower falling down.

Before any loud clacking could be heard, a shadow tendril quickly devours them before vanishing, leaving a sizable balanced tower.

Smiling wide with a clap, you put the block in your hand on top.

“Hold that thought! I'll be right back.” You look up to see your mommy leave the area. You quickly get up, rushing to follow when Vaggie scoops you up .

“Mommy!” You yell out, trying to squirm out from your mamá’s hold.

“She’s on the phone sweetheart.” Vaggie mummbles out, giving you a squish ball to distract you.

“Hey, I have a question. If freaky face over there is so powerful, then why can't he just make people stay here?” Angel points at Alastor, continuing the conversation that they were on right before Charlie left.

“Oh, trust me,” Alastor smile widens into a mischievous creepy tilt, “-I can.”

The distortion of his voice startles you, taking a glance at him to see him creepily smiling with a fist in the air.

“Why do you think I'm here?” Husks’ voice takes your attention from the deer in red.

“You actually think I'd be cleaning bottles and listening to you fucks bitch and moan all the time if he wasn't forcing me?”

Vaggie sighs at Husks’ choice of words, completely giving up from sheltering your ears from the cursing that seems to have stitched on to everyone’s vocabulary.

“I like being forced.” Niffty pops up from behind the counter with a hand raised, resting down on it once she felt satisfied from letting everyone know.

Husk keeps himself from jumping in suprise, not noticing the little woman scurry behind the bar with him.

“Keep that to yourself, Niff.” Husk grumbles out, setting the glass cup that he was cleaning down.

“What? You don't love being here with me, Whiskers?” Angel purrs out, leaning over the couch to get a good view of the male.

“Call me Whiskers again and I'll jam that bottle down your throat.” Husk growls out, leaning over the table to get his point across.

Angel clearly didn’t care as he quickly jabs out, “Kinky. Come on, keep talking dirty.”

Getting bored of the adult conversation, you turn away to play with the squish ball. The texture of it soft to the touch, the colors that exploded inside the ball though is what kept your attention. Seeing it molt and expand when you press and stretch satisfies a feeling inside you.

It seems that your attention snaps back into reality as you felt your mamá get up from the couch that you two were sitting at. Seeing her walk away towards Charlie, you quickly get up to follow your parents that are now out of sight by the wall.

It seems no one notices their absence except for one particular demon who takes his chance on picking you up by the back of your shirt.

Yelping in surprise, you quickly look up to see Alastor, smiling down at you.

From the sudden thrill of being swept from your feet and from his smile that seems contagious to you, you can’t help but let out a laugh.

“So attached.” Alastor states before returning you back to the blocks on the floor.

Being placed down to those colorful wooden blocks, you sit down and raise a block to the red demon, figuring he wants to play since he brought you back to your activity.

Alastor tilts his head at your gestur. After thinking about it, he lets a small tentacle shadow appear in front of you, taking the block away to distract you when the sound of Charlies’ voice sings out the door.

Thankfully you didn’t pay attention to your mommy, happy that you are playing with someone.

[austinramsaygames]

Thinking about Actual Play series and how there are 4 parts that IMO determine if people will want to listen to it.

1. High Concept: this is what the show is about narratively. Setting, plot, characters, themes, all the stuff you'd find in written fiction.

2. Performance: how compelling are the actors involved in the show? Are there suitably funny voices? Do they all have good chemistry? Is there buy in to the High Concept? And so on.

3. Production Quality: Bad mics and poor volume balancing between players can easily take some listeners out of the story. Some of this can be fixed in post, but it's always better to start with the best raw audio you can. That's the baseline stuff but some shows also add music (whether as theme songs or for ambience) and sound effects.

4. The Rules: the most unique part of Actual Play as a format. What rule system are the performers using to inform their performances? The rules place limits on how well the High Concept functions. If you try to tell a story where all the characters are super heroes but you're using Delta Green, there's going to be some friction (which of course could be the basis of the High Concept but absolutely needs to be accounted for).

Different listeners will have different priorities for each of these, and even within them. Really liking one of these aspects within a show may allow a less enjoyable one to get a pass.

For example The Adventure Zone's Balance season is something I listened to every week. I do not give a single shit about D&D actual play and am pretty ambivalent on the High Concept but the audio quality is great and the performances are stellar.

Another example: Friends At The Table's Autumn In Hieron has frequently bad audio quality but the great High Concept of the two diverging parties and the setting, combined with the good performances makes it stand out. Also doesn't hurt that I was interested in Dungeon World.

I don't think I'm saying anything groundbreaking here, but it may be useful for those interested in actual play, fans AND creators, to consider when starting a new show.

More thoughts like this from me on my Patreon! Patrons get early access to my game design work and thoughts. Just $1 a month!

[warping-realities]

Building an Empire Part I

Okay, I know I said I didn't plan on writing anything new, but it seems that just by making the new images for Making

Amends the desire to try something new appeared. In reality, it's not that new because I'm not writing anything different from what I've written before and even the way the transformation occurs is derived from another story, albeit with some twists. And yes, as the title makes clear we are talking about a series, but I have no idea when the next part will be ready. Finally, this one is a little darker than my usual, so be warned. Hope you like it!

The Partner

Javier stared at the prison cell wall with hatred so deep in his eyes that it could burn a hole in the concrete in front of him. He had been very stupid to let himself get caught in something as stupid as tax evasion. The police had been looking for years for a reason to place him in that exact place without ever having come close to him engaging in any of the criminal activities that formed the basis of the small fortune acquired through his life of crime. At almost forty years of age he had acquired a reputation in the criminal underworld, several gangs and cartels hired his services with the guarantee of a quick and effective solution to any possible problem. An arrest would irreparably tarnish that reputation. And in his field, a man's reputation was his greatest asset, even more so when he had another reputation, that of an insatiable man-eater, who had only gotten away with his actions and the blatant homophobia in his midst due to his impeccable record. In fact, if a look could tear down a wall, Javier's cell would have been open to the outside world for a long time.

….

"Javier Ruiz, suspect in several cases of extortion, drug trafficking and possible involvement in homicides that have never been clarified. Raised by his maternal great-aunt Isabela Ruiz, his father was a member of a cartel killed in an exchange of gunfire with a rival gang before his birth and his heroin-addicted mother died with him in her arms at the age of 3 in the small apartment where they lived, where he would be found 4 days after the incident, dehydrated but still resisting.

Since he was a child, he was known for his enormous size, which earned him his nickname, Golias, Goliath, a name he adopted in the criminal underworld. We have had reports of his activities for more than two decades but without ever being able to link the nickname to the person. Until now.

Thanks to a rookie mistake we finally have him in custody, an opportunity. " Explained to the room a young dark haired cop.

"Indeed, he has precious information, but it seems no one in here is capable to get him to say anything." Police Lieutenant Patrick Walsh spoke in response, with a hard look at his subordinates.

"An opportunity we just missed. His bail was just paid, he's free." Interjected one of the police officers present, Sergeant Adams, a portly black man in his fifties.

"Shit, a completely wasted golden opportunity." Exclaimed the young dar haired and fresh out of the academy, Officer Anthony DiAngelo who was present there only because he was the lieutenant's wife's nephew.

"Maybe not. Sir, I have an idea." Said a strong blond man of about 35 years old with a rigid look and posture. And his idea made the lieutenant's eyes shine with excitement.

…

"Enjoying your freedom while you can Goliath?" asked the blonde detective in front of the police station when Javier was released.

"My name is Javier. And my taxes and bail have been paid, there's no need to bother me detective...?"

"Fischer. Michael Fischer. And I didn't want to bother you Golias, just warn you."

"Warn me, of what?"

"Unfortunately, it seems that the information that you spent the night at the police station has leaked . The rumor going around the city is that you handed over very important people to save your skin."

"Save me from what, a stupid accusation of tax evasion?"

"Ah, but they don't know that, do they?"

"Son of a bitch!"

"Goliath, this son of a bitch here is your best friend right now."

"I have no friends, let alone a pig like you. And if you think I'm going to fall for that stupid move and turn someone in, you're sorely mistaken."

"Well, I'm sure a lot of people have seen you talking to me in the last few minutes, friend." Detective Fischer concluded as he placed a card in Javier's pocket. While Javier, being in front of the police station, could not react the way he wanted and risk being arrested again.

"For when you realize the value of my friendship, Goliath."

…..

Javier was foaming at the mouth, with the money he had accumulated he knew he could live reasonably well in some forgotten third world country. Still, he needed to take Tia Isabel with him and that would be a big problem. How would he go out the country with an elderly illegal woman with the police and the city's biggest criminals on his tail?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You bastards." He shouted at the roof of the car as he headed to the comfortable apartment he had rented for the aunt who had raised him spend the last years of her life.

"Tia sabel, it's Javi, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you yesterday, I had an unforeseen event and we need to talk about... Tia? Tia?" Said Javier, touching the cold corpse of the woman who had created him and feeling a wave of pain, sadness and already the familiar hate and anger invade him."

"They're going to pay, they're going to pay...damn pigs." He said between tears, hugging his aunt's body. And so he continued for a long time. Until a strange buzzing sound caught his attention. Following the source of the sound he came across a shelf full of trinkets. The buzzing came from a small round golden box. He picked it up and felt it vibrate in his huge hand. Opening it he found a coin made of pure gold that when he picked it up dissolved in his hands, and just like that a whole new range of possibilities opened up to him and despite all the sadness of that moment he couldn't help but smile.

……

"Are you sure it's okay to you take care of Jamie, Will?"

"Yes, Mr. Fischer, you know I've been doing this for years."

"Still, I'd imagine you'd want to enjoy your last few days of spring break before returning to college."

"Ah, you know I've never had the most lively social life. And it's a pleasure to spend some time with him, it's like he's a little brother."

"Thank you very much Will, you know I see you as a nephew too. And I'm sorry again, but Lauren is on night shift at the hospital and this urgent appointment came up."

"Like I said, Mr. Fischer. No problem, it's a pleasure." Replied the twenty-year-old boy standing at the door of Detective Fischer's comfortable suburban home, with a smile on his face.

After giving his eight-year-old son a hug and apologizing for his absence, Michael got into his SUV and responded to the message from the unknown number but which belonged to a person he would probably know very well. He just couldn't imagine how much.

….

Michael Fischer was a tough man, with few smiles, shaped by the service to his country, he had served in Afghanistan and seen the horrors of war firsthand. Upon returning he enrolled in the police academy and at the age of 35 he was a detective in one of the busiest police stations in the large metropolis in which he lived. His reputation for being harsh had spread quickly among his colleagues and the criminal population, earning him admirers but also many enemies, even among his colleagues, as everyone knew that he could become ruthless in his endeavor for what he thought was fair.

For him there was no such thing as the spirit of the law, the law was the law and had to be followed, which did not prevent him from using its obscure margins, often bringing him closer to the behavior of the same subjects he sought with so much to penalize. Something that many of his detractors loved to use against him. Mainly old Sergeant Adams, a member of the union and activist for racial equality, who seemed to see some of the positions adopted by him as racist. Which wasn't true, because for him a criminal was a criminal, regardless of social class or color and they all deserved punishment and if Michael was the one to lead them to it, so much the better.

Anyone who knew Michael from work could never imagine that the rigid and tough guy was a loving father and husband, a helpful neighbor and an active member of the Lutheran church where he was loved by everyone and recognized for carrying out social works. The church was indeed a very important place for him, as it had been his home for years and was deeply related to why he acted so stoically.

Michael had been orphaned at a very young age and had known the reality of the streets, he himself had almost been one of the strays he hated so much if it hadn't been for the shelter of religion and maybe that was the reason he persecuted social misfits so much, the notion that he had almost been one of them. And if there was one thing he knew from the bottom of his heart, it was that he would do everything to make sure Jamie didn't have to go through the same thing.

It was this responsibility with his son, the result of his relationship with Lauren, the nurse who had taken care of him after the accident that ended his short military career, that he thought about while looking at the photo that served as the wallpaper on his cell phone, showing him and his son on a summer afternoon.

Michael sighed when he saw his son's face being covered by a message notification on his cell phone screen saying simply: Apartment 416. He knew it was imprudent of him to go alone and talk to Javier, but the criminal represented a great chance of incapacitate several of the city's gangs. An opportunity he couldn't pass up. Resigned, he got out of the car and entered the building, not knowing that the man who entered would be very different from the one who would leave.

….

The first thing Michael felt when entering the apartment was cold, the temperature inside was many degrees lower than expected, as if it were the height of winter. Adjusting his coat to his body, he observed the simple but comfortable living room with attentive eyes, but the room was completely empty. The second thing to hit his senses was the smell of flowers, so intense that it seemed as if he had entered a flower shop. Guided by that aroma, he arrived at one of the apartment's bedrooms and there he found Isabel Ruiz's corpse lying on a bed of flowers.

"Shit..." He exclaimed as he ran out of the room and grabbed his cell phone to call reinforcements, realizing what a mistake it was to go to that place alone. Javier Ruiz was a dangerous man and would certainly be distraught over the death of the only family figure he had ever known, even if he was a total psychopath as Michael was sure he actually was. Which only made things worse, only God knew what that kind of monster would do in that situation, although Michael was about to find out.

Upon returning to the previously empty room he found himself face to face with the man known as Goliath, and at that moment two things became clear to him. The first was that Javier's nickname was justified, sitting in an armchair that could barely contain all of his enormous muscles, he actually resembled the image of the biblical giant. And the second thing was that he had fucked everything up.

Staring at the gargantuan figure in front of him, Michael, without realizing it, let slip the thought that occupied his mind.

"Fuck!"

"Not yet." Was Javier's enigmatic response. As his serious face broke into a terrifying smile.

"Look, Javier, I'm sorry about your aunt, but I had nothing to do with..."

"Spare your words. There is nothing you can say that will change your destiny." Javier interrupted. While Michael faced him while realizing that there would in fact be no chance of dialogue. So Michael tried to take his pistol from his holster, only to realize that he was completely paralyzed. Which led him to be dominated by a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time: fear.

Noticing this, the giant stood up, with the maniacal smile back on his face.

"You're trapped in my net, detective. And because of your own choices. Isn't it curious? How do our choices seal our destinies? My parents' choices brought me to Tia Isabel. My choices led me to your police station and yours choices took her away from me, but they also gave me the opportunity to have everything I ever wanted, to take revenge on everyone who got in my way and finally occupy the place I deserve."

"What are you doing to me, you psychopath?"

"Shut up, I already said you don't need to talk, not yet." Javier replied, while a strip of golden metal closed Michael's mouth, making his eyes widen in surprise.

"Interesting, isn't it? Who would have thought that my poor aunt had in her hands the power to shape the universe at will and never used it. I wonder how many years this power was there on that shelf begging to be used while she resisted. If it weren't for the idiotic work from your team perhaps this power would never have reached me. So for that I am grateful to you... friend. No, no friend, I told you this before, we will never be friends, which doesn't stop us from being other things. " Javier whispered in Michael's ears, who in turn tried desperately to escape, only to realize that his feet were surrounded by the same metallic substance.

"Let's see what you have to offer, Detective." Javier added as the metallic substance liquefied and encompassed Michael's body.

"Interesting." Javier muttered as the substance solidified, forming what looked like a metal statue that vaguely resembled the naked image of the man inside it.

Earlier that day when Javier touched the coin, which was actually much more than that, a wave of information invaded his mind. That simple coin was in reality one of the most powerful artifacts known in the universe, a Reality Warper that transferred into the man's mind everything he needed to know. There were a few more models on our planet, one of the silver ones was even located in a city a few hundred miles away from where they were. But silver mattered little when you had gold. And Javier's gold would allow detective Michael Fischer to be reshaped in any way he wanted, from his personal history, through genetics to the deepest of thoughts. Know that gave Javier the greatest excitement of his life, which was manifested through the immense erection that almost burst his jeans and that would have been very visible to poor Michael if he hadn't been trapped inside his golden cocoon.

"Let's start." Javier said out loud as if Michael could hear him, while he placed his huge hand on the golden figure's chest, causing waves of energy to spread and its face to lose any defining features. At the same time, the figure's body increased in muscle, reacting to one of Goliath's great fetishes, men as big as himself, that he could subdue. and use.

While that transformation was taking place, Michael Fischer's mind and story opened up to Javier like a file that he could alter at will. He saw the orphanhood, the importance of the church, the desire to serve the country, the injury during his time serving abroad, the loving relationship with his wife and the concern for his son. But also the harsh and cruel treatment given to those he considered outcasts and the dubious selectivity with which he treated people of color, although he denied it even to himself. He also saw how the police officer prided himself on rectitude and incorruptibility and did not tolerate colleagues who did not act with the politeness, rectitude and severity that he expected from a police officer. Upon seeing all that, Javier smiled and started working.

He knew that what he was doing would not only alter the man trapped in the cocoon, but all of reality, including his own, and so he took care to create the reality that best benefited him. When he was satisfied with his work he secured another revenge, he will left the police officer consciousness last a few minutes after the work is completed and a completely different person takes that place.

Javier removed his hand from the figure's chest and watched the waves of energy spread through it, reconfiguring it into a very different form. After a few seconds he found himself in front of the image of an enormous man, of clearly Latin descent like his own, of approximately his age and size as large, if not larger.

The smile remained on his face as the golden coating dissolved and revealed the image of the man inside.

"Hello Detective Flores." Javier said, looking at the huge man still disoriented in front of him, but who quickly frowned and looked at him with irritation.

"Ruiz you son of..." Michael started to say only to hear his own deep voice and stop, as he didn't recognize it, just as he didn't recognize the weight of his own body or the hands at which he looked next.

"What did you do to me?"

"Don't worry Miguel, everything will make sense soon."

"Miguel? What?..." Michael began to say until he was invaded by a wave of memories that weren't his but were undoubtedly real.

He saw a Latino boy walking alone through the city streets, until he stopped in front of a church and sat down, only to be chased away by a blond pastor.

"This is no place for people like you!" Said the man.

A new memory, the boy, now around 13 years old, very tall but very thin, wandering down the street and being chased by older boys under the gaze of a police patrol who did nothing to help him.

The boy at 18 enlisting not because he had any patriotic desire within him, but because it was a way to get food and money.

The young man at 21 years old, very different from what he had been until then, now strong and muscular due to finally receiving an adequate diet and military training, not to mention the exorbitant use of anabolic steroids.

The same young man a few months later took advantage of an accident to injure himself and avoid being sent to a mission to the country. After having spent the last few years exchanging sexual favors with superiors to avoid more dangerous missions.

The young man being cared for by a young nurse for whom he pretended to be interested only to guarantee his livelihood. Then a visit of an acquaintance from his orphanage days who sold him the idea of ​​joining the police and acting as an informant in exchange for money.

The man looking at the son he had with the nurse with slightly interest. The intense sexual encounters with random men while he maintained the sham marriage because it guaranteed him a good image.

The man charging the same pastor who had kicked him off the church's sidewalk a monthly fee to ensure that criminals did not vandalize the property. Criminals he had hired himself.

The man being all smiles and jokes, to be seen as a man of warm and pleasant behavior, well-liked by those who didn't know what he was hiding and feared by those who saw what was beneath the facade that hid the selfishness and ambition within him. Climbing the career ladder in the police, demanding favors, blackmailing and cheating. Building an external image of a respectable family man while getting rich with bribes and providing information to his former acquaintance, with whom he had constant and animalistic sexual relations, with both constantly disputing who would dominate the other.

Michael initially observed those images with detachment because they were so foreign to the life he knew and the image he had of himself that there was no possibility of him associating himself with them.

However, he couldn't help but place himself little by little in the moonlight of that other man, in that other life, it was as if an immense force was pushing him in the direction of that life so foreign to him. Little by little he began to feel that boy's pain, loneliness and anger to the point where he was able to justify to himself some of the attitudes of the man he had become, no matter how alien and distant such attitudes were from his way of thinking.

"But were they really that distant?" He thought with the heat of burning anger in his chest, the bitterness of humiliation in his mouth, the joy of victory, of making others feel what it was like to be on the losing side and the pleasure, the immense pleasure in manipulating, conquering, dominating. ...

"No, no... what about Lauren?" A woman to be by his side, support him and meet his needs.

"No, he loved her!" Well, he loved what she had given him, and that was, in a way, a kind of love.

"No, no, no! And Jamie! Jamie!" When he thought of his son, Michael felt that expanding force slow its inexorable advance. But at that moment another thought took hold. It's obvious that he loved the boy, after all he was a continuation of himself and when the time came he would teach the kid everything he needed to do well in life and he would make sure that his son knew his rightful place, above all others. But until then he didn't have much to do for the kid, other than paying the minimum attention to him so that he felt happy until the moment he was ready. With the childhood he had himself, he knew how necessary this was. As well to maintain the appearance of a responsible family father. So if every now and then he had to take the kid to play ball or ride a bike in the park, it would be a small price to pay.

Even more so because those walks had been the perfect excuse for some of the most interesting encounters he had ever had. Last weekend for example, one of the boring afternoons he spent with the boy turned into a memorable day in which he fucked hard a twink in the park bathroom, while Jaime played ball with Will, the neighbors' unbearably annoying son.

It was after the memory of that pleasure start to vanish that a last memory came to his mind: the man kissing his business partner and occasional lover in a familiar living room. And the man's animalistic smile as he undressed in preparation for the usual contest of strength that would culminate in one of the two being brutally fucked by the other.

"Hello Goliath" Detective Miguel Flores said to his long-time partner in crime and in bed at the same time that Michael Fischer's last shred of consciousness disappeared within that corrupted mind.

.....

After the wild sex Miguel watched amazed the dancing golden metal ran through Javier's hand, unable to believe the other man's story. Neither of them seeming the least bit concerned about the fact that they had sex with a corpse in the next room.

"It's impossible for something like this to exist."

"Let me prove it to you then, I'm dying to expand the business, bring me one of your colleagues from the police station and I'll show you."

"It's very risky, Javier."

"You do not trust me."

"Of course not."

"Fine, then let's think of someone. As soon as you arrest some of the smaller members of the Maldonado and Deshaun gangs there will be a drop in the distribution of some places and so I will need people to take over. Let's start small. It would have to be someone whose change doesn't generate too many unforeseen ripples and who has access to potential consumers. A professor? No, perhaps a college student..."

Upon hearing that a wicked smile appeared on Miguel's face, only to be mirrored by the other man when he heard what the detective had to say.

[dxscxndxnts]

My Thoughts on Descendants Canon

I was thinking about it and wanted to share. I’ve noticed everyone from screenwriters to this fandom over the years has brought a LOT to the canon (including me) and this last movie…kinda doesn’t fit that canon.

We’ve always perceived these characters to be continuations of the OG Disney Movies. Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, Beauty and the Beast, etc all happened as they did in their animated movies and the next thing was Descendants. It’s likely Descendants Canon doesn’t even consider sequels (Little Mermaid 2, Cinderella 2 and 3, etc)

Now, lots of us (myself included) do nitpick some other Disney canons for fanfiction or theory purposes. For example, I roll with The Little Mermaid: The Musical Canon that Triton and Ursula and Poseidon’s kids. Someone can correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure that’s never mentioned in the OG cartoon movie. Another example I’ve seen is folks accepting Maleficent (2014) as canon, which led to a lot of King Stephen is Mal’s father theories. Also, Greek Mythology? We all love discussing the complexities of D3 Hades being…D3 Hades.

Then there’s the books, by my guess written retroactively to the movies. I love them, I love the depth De La Cruz gives to this world. Unfortunately, I’m not sure book canon is heavily considered when writing the script (tho shoutout D4 for making Castlecoming a thing).

All of this to say: the Descendants Cinematic Universe (yes, this is DCU now) was originally thought to be based on JUST The original animated films.

Except now all those characters are in High School together? What?

I’ve said this once already, but it reminds me of The School for Good and Evil. All the Heroes and Villains went to school together and then after graduation went off to be in a fairytale. I think the DCU could be interpreted as something similar. Hear me out:

First thing: Let’s assume for a minute DCU is separate from the original movies it’s based on. The blue-haired Ella and the blonde cartoon Cinderella are different characters. A little trickier: Teen Maleficent and Maleficent (D1) are the same person, but not the same as Sleeping Beauty (1959) Maleficent.

Second thing: Take exact copies of all those Original Animated characters and put them together in the same place at the same time. Now they all go to high school together. This part is the SGE-like part, but the difference is there isn’t such a strict distinction of heroes and villains. Merlin teaches everyone. Their fairytales are their choice.

Which brings me to the third: ALL OF THE PLOTS STILL HAPPEN, and in their world it’s just common place and also translated differently. Ella still has an Evil Stepmother, a dance to go to, and a prince to see, but it doesn’t look like the cartoon at all.

Other examples:

Hades is indeed a teenager, and just casually a King of the Underworld and a God. That’s just how this place works.

Jaladdin. JALADDIN. If they’re together, their story already panned out, but maybe in a way that’s more DCU-like. Maybe Princess Jasmine needed to have a date to a certain royal event (instead of picking a suitor). Maybe good ol Vizier Jafar sent a skater punk in detention to a pawnshop for the lamp. Yes, Genie was a Genie, but maybe also a thriftstore owner who helped Aladdin get the girl with some thrifty style and a dusty magic carpet. I’m spitballing here.

My point is: all the fairytale stories will still take place, and all the characters are the same BUT separate from Original Animated Disney Canon. Aladdin already happened. Cinderella is currently happening. Alice in Wonderland is SO FAR in the future. Peter Pan may happen soon. Captain Hook already lost his hand, so he already blames Pan for that. (Can yall imagine its his twerp cousin or something, lol)

(I can’t explain Morgie. Morgana La Fey is from Once and Future King (King Authur’s story). She was not in Disney’s The Sword in the Stone, which is only 1/4 of OFK. The main villain in Disney’s movie was Madam Mim.)

This explanation also makes it a little easier to digest the fact that Beast was able to unite the kingdoms and banish the villains. If DCU was straight outta Disney canon, he would have to unite 1920s Louisiana (Princess and the Frog) with Aladdin’s Agrabah (just not real).

So yeah, that’s how I’m somehow wrapping my brain around all this. What do y’all think?

[mirrormazeworld]

Twst Analysis and Findings Why Crowley isn't Malleus's Dad, Unpopular Chapter 5 Diasomnia Twst Theory

While 99.9% of people seem to be convinced that Crowley is Levan, I'm that 0.01% who is still not convinced yet because there are some things that I found really odd if Crowley is Malleus's dad. So odd that this post itself has become a long post.

If you search for something and want to read where Crowley isn't Levan/Malleus's dad, then this theory and analysis is for you because here I'll explain some points for your considerations before jumping to conclusions, though I'm not sure if anyone will care about what I write and hear this small opinion at this point.

1. Heavily implied "another dragon from another country"

In Diasomnia chapter 4, it's said from Lilia's dialogue that "Draconia clan are the descendants of the dragons". All this time we might think that "Draconia are the only dragon in Twisted Wonderland" but in chapter 5 it's revealed that Draconia aren't the only dragon in Twisted Wonderland because there are other dragon clans from faraway country.

Malleus's dad, Levan's title is 竜眼公 in Japanese and it can be translated literally as "Dragon Eye Lord" or "Longan Lord". (More about his title, you can see it in my previous post)

If we see it the way like how longan fruit is named, (龍眼) either 龍眼 or 竜眼 still have the same meaning, but the only difference is 龍眼 is from Cantonese while 竜眼 is from Japanese.

But the main points in common are : They are both "Dragon Eye" and "Eastern Countries"

Which means there's a high possibility that Levan is a dragon from the longan clan/eastern dragon clan.

What's more interesting is that Lilia seems to be very fond of this "Long/Eastern Dragon" that he wants to spend the rest of his life there in their homeland. Out of all the countries he can and had ever visited, why did he choose "Red Dragon Country" in particular?

In first Halloween event Diasomnia also went with the theme of Long and it's revealed that it was Malleus's idea himself with Lilia providing more information about the Eastern Dragon Country culture and the Longs. And then there's that one dialogue said by Lilia himself in the Halloween Event :

"In fact, one such Long became a family's guardian spirit"

It is somehow similar to Levan who has been like a guardian to Meleanor and his draconia family, as her husband, her Left General alongside Lilia (Right General), and her most trusted person (Meleanor's Eyes and Limbs)

If it's not a subtle information but also kind of important that it's heavily implied many times just like Malleus who froze the time in Endless Halloween then I don't know what it is.....

2. Discarded Character Concept (?)

In twst exhibition there's an initial concept art of Crowley where he seems to have a similar theme and is somehow grouped with Diasomnia. It's because he had the same color as that of Diasomnia, even you can see the thorns on his leg and arm which as we know, is the symbol of Diasomnia/related to Draconia family (Sleeping Beauty Squad)

However, if we compare Crowley's old design and his original, usual one, in the design of the Crowley that we know now, twst seems to actually change every Diasomnia/Sleeping Beauty concept out of him and replace it all, from "thorns" to "mirrors" and "golden keys", and leave only the "corvid" part of him.

The question is, Why did Yana and twst team go into such trouble to change him all the way?

In Diasomnia Chapter 4 it's revealed that "Briar Kingdom has two castles : Black Scale Castle (Briar Valley's Main/Capital Castle) and Wild Rose Castle (Meleanor's Castle)

Diasomnia chapter is heavily tied with Wild Rose Castle rather than Black Scale Castle and places the main casts of Diasomnia chapter in Wild Rose Castle rather than Black Scale Castle and wrote Meleanor as Princess rather than a Queen. I know Diasomnia chapter was written with Sleeping Beauty as its story frame, and Meleanor is supposed to take the role of Maleficent in that story, but the question is why they created two castles and used Wild Rose Castle as the main background of the story rather than just create and use one castle, and give the title "Princess" to Meleanor and not a "Queen" since Maleficia, Malleus's grandma is the Queen? In the original and older version of sleeping beauty by Brothers Grimm, "Maleficent" is depicted as a Queen who is jealous of Talia (Sleeping Beauty) and not a Princess. It's as if they want to separate what is "exclusively Diasomnia chapter" from Briar Valley/Briar Kingdom itself.

This is honestly only my personal opinion, but based on these facts, the only logical, possible explanation I can think of is because they want to give this Diablo/Diaval's role to this Lord Longan so that Crowley can play a more bigger role rather than just a diplomat/messenger, and thus, discarded the old Crowley concept and made it invalid.

Thinking the old design as the valid source of information means that you want to tell people that "Epel with skirt and Idia as the little brother are canon" but are they now? Do twst used that concept in the end? Does Epel wear skirt in game and Idia is Ortho's little brother? Of course not, and you already saw it yourself that Yana already discarded that idea completely.

3. A seemingly Disastrous Chronology if Levan is Crowley

With the given information from in game, I want you to think with logic here :

Lilia is 700 years old. NRC gave him a letter of acceptance 500 years ago, but then he ripped it, and then Levan taped it back and stored it in royal archives. Silver said they are in Lilia's dream from 400 years ago and as we know this is when the war between faes and Silver Owl occurred, and at that time it's said that Levan was missing.

Now what I find odd is : if Levan is Crowley, then who sent the NRC acceptance letter to Lilia? We all know the Headmaster is in charge of student admission just like how he permitted Yuu and Grim to become NRC students, sending letters to people acknowledged by dark mirror, persuading Kalim's family, letting Ortho enroll even though he is an android and so on. And if Crowley is Levan, he wouldn't be able to do his job as Headmaster in Land of Dawning because he would need to be present in Briar Valley by Lilia's side to tape back the letter Lilia had torn to shreds.

Keep in mind that there are no official exact years and number from twst itself how long Crowley had been headmaster of NRC yet but from Diasomnia chapter it's clear that NRC already existed back then far before the war between humans and fae.

This one is just my personal opinion, but I'm more convinced that Crowley was the one who cast complex, ancient spell on Grim and therefore, know something about the extremely rare overblot incident that seems to always happen in NRC (and so we heard his voice summoning Yuu and said "we are all running out of time" in the prologue") and so he is tied more heavily to book 8 (Ramshackle/NRC) after Diasomnia if it does exist in the future than book Diasomnia.

Both The Watcher from Island of Woe (Idia's family) and the primeval spell that casted on Grim which seems to be similar to Shroud family's curse were from when the nature of overblot was not known yet and was considered as natural disaster, dated back to the "Age of Gods" which is approximately 1000 years ago.

But then you might think "Oh maybe Crowley had lived that long and pretended to be Levan to play his role." This is impossible because Lilia, Meleanor and Levan are childhood friends and well, Lilia said it himself that they were still children, besides Lilia is 700 years old and not 1000 years old.

Therefore I don't think Crowley is Malleus's Dad, Levan. But if someone said "Crowley was Maleficia's (Malleus's grandma) subordinate, then I can believe them because that way it will be possible for him to exist since the Age of Gods.

And perhaps this is also the reason why Yana and twst teams purposely wrote Diasomnia story with two castles and used Wild Rose Castle as the main background scene in the story rather than just created and used one castle, because they do wanted to separate it and created a place exclusively to tell Diasomnia story so it wont disturb the other plot of the other story and create a plot hole as a whole.

And so that's all the many reasons why I don't think Crowley is Malleus's Dad. Unless someone can answer the questions that had been swirling around my head because of how absurd Crowley is Malleus's Dad theory is which I had been marked with red color in this post and explained it logically or the official told it themselves then I won't be convinced.

[thezombieprostitute]

Dream Come True - Part 3

Summary: The “Garbage Men” are the guys in the mob who get the dirt on others and clean up after the higher ups. They have many different ways of gathering intel by running legitimate businesses. One such business is Jefferson/Jensen’s cyber cafe where you regularly go to work. You’ve actually become good friends with Jefferson’s daughter and Jensen’s niece. You even volunteered as their after-school tutor. One day, there’s a robbery attempt where you get hurt protecting the girls. This is how you are introduced to Curtis Everett, the guy in charge of the “Garbage Men”.

Warnings: Violence mentioned and referenced, not written. Insecure reader. Bullying with an emphasis on fat shaming. Please let me know if I miss any!

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

Ransom was not having a good day. Truth be told, he hadn't had a good day since Steve punched his stomach over a week ago. The writer's block had hit harder than usual. Many applicants for the Assistant position were garbage, completely upsetting his idea that you just needed to google the right answers.

He was starting to realize that Fatso, as he had taken to calling her in his head, was able to help him through his writing blocks because she had the context of the other questions, some rough draft information, and she'd include ways to use her research into the story. Maybe he just needed to actually hire someone from the "competent" file and try from there?

Problem was, time was an issue. His writer's block had kicked in hard and his publisher was getting more impatient about updates. He spent so much time just staring at his computer.

He was startled out of his contemplation by a phone call. If it was his publisher he'd just ignore it but the Caller ID showed "Steve Rogers".

Ransom answered, "Rogers! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where the hell are you Drysdale?" Steve was quiet growling into the phone. Indicating he was around others.

"What do you mean?"

"The damned Stark party? Raising funds for Rhodes's campaign?!" Ransom could swear he heard Steve's teeth grinding. "You're supposed to be here chatting with Mrs. Devereaux. Buttering her up to at least not donate to Wilford?!"

"Shit," Ransom jumped up and ran towards his closet. "Tell her I'll be there in 20 minutes. If she needs an excuse, I was writing up a storm. I'll make it up to her by naming a character after her or something."

"Just. Get. Here." Steve hung up.

Yeah, Ransom was not having a good day.

Your life was returning to some sense of normalcy. The crutches were a pain but, thankfully, you didn't have a lot of places to go. You wanted to get back to working as quickly as you could, if only to feel like you were actually earning some of the money you'd been given.

But you'd kept your promise to be safe, and allow yourself to heal. You did your best to keep within the movement restrictions you were given. Part of you was still waiting for that hospital bill. Yes, Curtis, Dr. Beck, even Jake and Jefferson all said it was taken care of but part of you still waited for that dreaded notice of nonpayment.

Thankfully the cybercafe wasn't too far and you were able to convince the J's (as they told you to call them) that it was the perfect distance for your needed exercise and movement and you'd sit at the cafe long enough to rest for the return trip. You were happy to get back to tutoring the girls in the afternoons. Your mornings were spent applying for other jobs.

One morning your applications were interrupted by Jake.

"Hey, Y/N, this is Hal," Jake gestured to the handsome, shirt-haired man, wearing a too small shirt, next to him. "He's here to work with you towards getting his GED.”

"Oh, yes," you perk up. "Curtis mentioned another possible student." You reach out your hand and Hal, grinning even wider, shakes it.

"It's mighty kind of you to agree to this," he began. "I've been meaning to fill in that gap on my resume for some time.”

"Well I'm happy to help you with that. Please, have a seat so we can get started?”

Hal pulls out the nearest chair and turns it so that he sits on it backwards, his muscly arms resting on the back of the chair.

"So, is this a time that works for you," you ask. "I've got a pretty open schedule so your time preferences are get priority.”

"Well," he hesitates, "my schedule is pretty all-over-the-place. Is there any chance we could take it a week at a time?”

"Sure," you affirm. "As long as you give me notice so I'm not sitting here doing nothing.”

"Yes, ma'am," Hal nods. "I'm not in the habit of leaving pretty girls wanting." He gives a wink but you drop your eyes and sigh.

"Hal," you scold. "I'm going to guess you're the type to hit on anything that breathes?”

Clearly taken aback by your tone Hal straightens in his seat. "No," he denies. "Maybe. I swear I was just trying to compliment you.”

You pause your comeback and take a deep breath instead. "I suppose there is a difference," you concede. “Just please be careful with both of those around me. I am not a "pretty girl" and I do not appreciate being addressed as such.”

Hal's eyebrows furrow in confusion so you continue, "let's just keep the compliments related to our work? Please? I'd always prefer being smart or nice to being pretty." You give him a small smile and he visibly relaxes.

"Sure thing, Teach," he says. "So, where should we start?”

Curtis was cleaning up the interrogation room after Barnes and Fowler's latest “message” to Rumlow’s crew. They had already taken the body to drop it off on Rumlow's front door, Curtis would make sure all evidence was removed from the room. It was ugly work but maybe, just maybe, Rumlow would stop trying to push his drugs and thugs in their territory.

He was finishing up when he got a text from Jefferson saying Hal’s first session went well. He normally doesn't need these kinds of updates from the legitimate side of things but he found himself rather invested in your progress. You were unusual. A puzzle he wanted to figure out.

Or so he kept telling himself to explain why he was thinking about you so much. You’d shown yourself to be sweet and patient with others but he remembers the fire with which you spoke to him. He almost felt like a moth drawn to your light but he had to keep himself in check. For now it was enough to know you were doing well and helping his family.

At least until he got the follow up text from Jefferson saying, “Ran is looking for Teach. Ok to share info?”

Curtis felt his jaw tighten. The pompous ass had fired someone for taking a bullet. He didn't want him anywhere near you. He was sure you wouldn't want to see Ransom, either. Jake had told him you'd blocked your former boss’s number and his emails would go straight to spam. He texted back a simple “no.” Let the asshole suffer.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

@dontbescaredtosingalong

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@texmexdarling

@veltana

@winter-soldier-101

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[tehcherrya]

I watched Umbrella Academy Season 4-- Let me talk about the finale. (And my writer's interpretation of how it should have ended)

As much as I love a 'doomed by the narrative martyr-dom' tragedy, that is not how you go about it.

I love stories with bittersweet "not everyone will make it out perfectly fine" endings. TMA. The Sandman. The Haunting of Bly Manor. Arcane. LotR. Not everything has a happy ending, and often it can be fairly satisfying in its own way. But for someone who likes tragedies, I am sorely disappointed in The Umbrella Academy.

Not in a 'oh I wished they lived happily ever after' sense-- no. No, it makes sense that the ending is sort of bittersweet because that's how the narrative was built to be. It was never going to be their perfect ending. Every season is just another apocalypse, another world-end scenario. In fact I appreciate the way they go out of their way to say it's just a vicious cycle every time they try to go back to being the same, there is no escaping the fates their destinies clearly have written for them, even if everything was quote unquote "normal". They were left without their powers. With a timeline where they are essentially human. And still-- the end of the world happened. Obviously something needs to be done, but it can't be all the way it was.

Here, is, personally, how I would have written the ending. Keeping the same tone, same aspects. But differently formatted.

Five goes through the same motions of realizing that he and his family are the one causing the apocalypses. Over and over and over. Not necessarily their existence itself breaking the timeline, but it's their existence as these marigold-fueled beings. Marigold was never supposed to go out into the world, let alone unto living beings. Timelines collide, and nothing ends well, as the universe can't handle its own essence being fused within living and breathing beings. It never has. So, it needs to be neutralized, so everything can fuse into one perfect timeline.

Five then goes back to the others. As a sort of veteran to the ideas of apocalypses, gives them their solution. And it's something that everyone doesn't expect. Do nothing. Let the apocalypse happen. Every time they've tried to stop it, it's only split the timeline into more apocalypses. So they need to let it neutralize itself.

But everyone is in disarray by this result, "Five, how can we just do nothing? We'll all die!"

And Five simply states that no. They might not. In fact there is a very likely change they won't. But they won't be the same. And everyone is silent as Five explains the situation. The Marigold, their father, the existence of the academy. It's all put them in these horrible timelines. Each one showing no resolve. If they neutralize the Marigold, they will restore the original timeline.

They won't die. More than likely their souls will still exist within this whole, original timeline. But those versions of themselves won't remember anything of each other. Living vastly different lives in different parts of the world, they might live their whole lives without ever meeting. They won't remember the times they've shared, their powers, their father, none of it. They will spend their whole lives not even knowing the words "The Umbrella Academy". They won't even remember there was ever any other timelines in the first place, nor that they were the ones who saved them. They would be no more special than any other ordinary people living their lives. No more apocalypses. No more despair.

And as the scene comes to a close and they all say their possible last goodbyes, and we have the sequence of all of the other timelines disappearing-- We are then met with our original timeline. We see all of the different endings for every character, living out their lives as they would have been if they hadn't ever been born with their powers. Each happy in their own individual way but the important part is that none of them have stories together. They are all living different stories, and have no memory of anything else. Obviously with "I Think We're Alone Now" playing over this montage.

And after our montage song ends with everyone else, there is one more person we haven't seen from-- bear with me on this last shot because it's a little cheesy, but in classic Umbrella Academy fashion. Our final shot is of a grown man in a suit, and it's not exactly said who it is, it's not a face we've seen before. Perhaps in a diner, as a call back to the famous seen from Season 1. The waitress with the name tag "Dolores" asks this man what he's to order. And with the snarky yet cool demeanor this man has always had he says 'I'll have the No. 5'.

And it is Five. Finally not trapped in the body he was. Finally no longer a slave to the apocalypses he's had to deal with ever since he was a boy. He gets to grow up. He gets to live. Once this man exits the diner, he takes his briefcase with him. Opens his umbrella to shield himself from the rain. Smiles. And walks away.

SCENE!

Am I a writer or am I a writer? Bittersweet, yet not horribly executed. Thank you for staying. I'd like to thank Umbrella Academy fans for taking your time to read this. I would also like to thank my regular followers who are wondering what the hell an Umbrella Academy even is. And if that is you, I promise you we will get back to our regularly scheduled program soon! But thanks everyone for sticking around this writers rant of a post!

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the Comics: Writing a legend, building a history.

Today we aren't reviewing an issue of Moon Knight. Today we are going to talk about something important.

So who wrote Moon Knight?

"Easy!", you might say. "Doug Moench!"

Sure. But you'd be surprised to find that it's not as much as you'd think.

Doug Moench wrote issues 1-15, 17-26, 28-33.

He returns in 1998 for a 4 issue mini seires Vol 3 "Resurrection Wars" which revives Marc Spector, who had been killed off in the previous volume.

He continues in 1999 with Vol 4, another 4 issue mini series "High Strangers/Strangeness" which won an award for favorite limited series.

He also wrote werewolf by Night, which gave us the first iteration of Moon Knight. An instantly popular character that made appearances in other comics like "The Hulk" before he was given his own comic.

He had time to work on the designs with Bill Sienkiewicz. They built up the weapons, the costume, the cab, and the copter.

He also built up the side characters of Gena, Gena's two boys, Crawley, Frenchie, Detective Flint, and Marlene.

He set the ground rules:

Moon Knight system is Jewish.

Marc, Jake, and Steven are a part of a system and are not one man pretending to be someone else

Jake is the one that is friendly and loves being with the people.

Steven is posh, collected, and takes care of things.

Marc is the one with experience, has the skills needed to get things done, and holds all the pain.

They are former Mercenaries who did terrible things and have deep guilt.

Khonshu resurrected them to act as Moon Knight

They strive to protect any who would come to them for help that perhaps might not get it elsewhere

I would even argue that he was building up to the fact that Moon Knight himself was his own form of alter but it has since been glossed over and replaced with the idea that Marc is most often the one under the mask.

Pretty simple rules to follow to make it a Moon Knight comics, but you'd be surprised what some writers have done with it.

These comics were written long before DID was acknowledged and the different forms of PTSD and Dissociation were defined.

And yet, here we stand with a traumazied man from Chicago slowly working through a freshly cognizant system and trying to figure out how three (four) people can work together towards not just a life, but life as a superhero who wants to help people.

Further more, an odd thing happened in this.

We had a comic that often focused more on mental health than on super powers, heroics, or villains.

More often than not, we watched Marc, Jake, and Steven struggle with themselves and one another. We watched stories unfold from the villain's point of view, often just being ordinary people pushed too far by a system that failed them.

More so, we watched Moon Knight sympathise with these villains.

How often he let them walk away or he let them kill their abusers, wondering if he was doing wrong himself.

How can he help when sometimes the help he offers is not what is needed?

We even watched him fail. We saw him lose his temper and cause damage. We saw him curl into a ball and break. We saw him get lost in his own nightmares and dissociative fuges.

Moench stepped forward and often handled current events with raw emotion. We saw his characters cry over the loss of public iconic figures. We watched people struggling as they returned from war. We saw child abuse and poverty. We watched economic struggles with classism and we watched people struggle to deal with grief.

We even watched them deal with antisemitism over and over again. How many times were the victims of his stories Jewish and trying to survive in America? What about the story that took place with the mass shooting in the Synagoug? We heard stories of Generational trauma as elders struggled with survival after the Holocaust.

Moon Knight was a unique comic unlike any other I've ever come across. For it's time and for it's topics at the time. What's more, this comic continued.

It was no 'special of the week' comic and spanned multiple years as they grew.

What do we know about Moench? Who did he write this comic for?

The Moon Knight in the Were Wolf by Night certainly didn't have all this depth. He was just a man dressed in silver, fighting a monster and ultimately choosing the side of the monster.

Moench himself was from Chicago. He knew what it was like to live in the city and see the fall of factories and hard times on the streets. We know he witnessed the times of Vietnam veterans being forgotten and abused. He witnessed a lot of changes happening in the world and the places he was writing about.

He wrote about what spoke to him and what he saw around him.

And in his stories, there often were no clear heroes, winners, or villains.

But there was one issue that he chose to add into this comic that was already filled with so many things that other comics avoided.

Moon Knight wasn't written as Jewish in that one shot cameo. He wasn't written with DID either, but I'll get to that.

There are interviews of Doug admitting that "I didn't say, 'I'm going to sit down and create a Jewish character.'"

In fact, he picked a name and later found out it was a Jewish name. This made him do research. Not just into Judaism, but into the areas that Marc Spector fought in and where his family came from.

Do you have any idea how many writers of that time and our current time simply slap the label of "Jewish" on a character and refuse to actually look into what makes them Jewish?

I can't say how much he researched and how much he got wrong or right, but I do know that when he did choose to dive into topics that touched on certain issues, he handled them with a grace that is often overlooked.

The writer that came after Moench? Alan Zelenetz, a former Jewish day school principal from Brooklyn.

Zelenetz had been acting as an editor for a bit before he took a look at Moench's early start.

And it was in Issue 37 and 38 where we get the real backstory of Marc Spector. A man running from his Rabbi father.

Marc now became the son of an Orthodox Rabbi who had been forced to flee Czechoslovakia after the Nazi invasion.

Here, we get the story of Marc running to the Marines. Running to the mercenaries, and running from home. Perhaps even, running from G-d.

Zelenetz wanted to lean into the Jewish past and Jewish story. He explored themes of using a holy book to create a villain while playing with Jewish myths. He also explored Antisemitism without toning it down or hiding it under comic bookish villainy. He portrayed Moon Knight facing white supremacist vandalizing a Jewish Cemetery. He showed Moon Knight saving the Torah from a Synagogue fire. He also showed a strained relationship and the question of Moon Knight finding his own relationship in what he does with his father's views.

Alan Zelenetz edited/wrote shorts for issues 18, 21–22, 27, 32, Then wrote the whole story for issues 36–38.

Zelenetz voiced that he was looking to add some Jewish representation into his workforce and perhaps into the comic industry at the time. Considering his background, perhaps he was the only one at the time that had the proper knowledge to play with things the way that he did in the story of Elias Spector's death and Marc Spector's pain.

He did not stick around with Moon Knight for long after. Though, he admits that he wanted to play with the fact that Khonshu was an Egyptian god and Marc was from such a Jewish background. I am sad we didn't get to see that story.

After that, Moon Knight's original 1980s run was finished. The question of what to do with Moon Knight, where to take him, and who would take up the mantle of writing him now lay in the hands of Marvel.

Many failed after this. They failed to keep the heart of what Moon Knight stood for and who Moon Knight was. His Jewishness was forgotten and his mental health became a joke.

Not to say all of them failed. There are a few shining stars that gleamed in the darkness and I like to think that it was these moments that kept Moon Knight going all these years.

Moench didn't set out to write a story about mental health, and yet his approach is the most real I've seen. Hardly a shining picture of perfect representation, there is still something there in watching the character almost seem to push back against the unintended desire to push him into a corner.

No matter how often Jake and Steven and Moon Knight were seen as Marc pretending to be someone else, there was always ALWAYS that correction. Always that push back.

Call it the writer's curse of characters misbehaving and taking on a life of their own, but perhaps there was something more there. Perhaps he felt the weight of time and cry of the suppressed and overlooked.

So many of his stories danced the line of "I can't say it because it will get edited out by the big wigs at Marvel, but if you would just look... Just look over here for just a moment..."

And years upon years later, a writer did see the whispers there and said "I see the story of pain. I see the cry of mental health." Lemire told the story that Moench couldn't and from that, we are still pushing forward with McKay.

And more, perhaps we will see the Jewish story that hides in all that also get a spotlight again.

In the era of big battles, cross-over events, explosions, and super villains cackling about domination... I still look back at Stained Glass Scarlet, The Druid, the Music Box, And Colloquy.

As I finish the original 1980s run, I brace myself to dive into what comes next.

I think I'm trying to find where and how the original run ventured so far into the dark and insulting territory it did and the journey back into a revival that now means so much to so many.

In a way, perhaps it mirrors a journey into our own mental health. How easy it is to become lost in what everyone around you tells you that you are and how you are supposed to be until your own doubt sets in to drown you. Perhaps it is the journey of Moon Knight's character emerging from this to find a path to healing that is what kept us here so long.

[el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle]

Besides my obvious annoyance with the new season because of the horrible character understanding from the writers and their ADMITTED goal to change Gaitán's ending, there are other aggravating issues with it:

1. The pacing:

This new novela knows it's in a rush, but we can tell, too. The first episode seems to attack the viewer with so many different new facts and characters and issues. It straight up starts with: Roberto's funeral, Armando and Betty separated and having been so for years now, Armando's presidency in the gutter again, lots of economic issues within the company again, Mila gone for years and her distance with Betty, a new guy that Marcela is suspiciously protective of and planning together to get revenge, Daniel being dead for going to jail from illegal business practices, etc. And all of this in the span of 1 episode. It just hits you with so much that it doesn't even give you the chance to get to know the characters. We haven't seen most of them in over twenty years, and some of them never, so we basically don't know them anymore! It's going so direclty and straight to the point that it feels more like a badly written fanfiction.

2. Lack of builup for tension

Jesus, there is very, very little tension here for the big things that matter. [SPOILER] In one episode we find out that Ecomoda is in bad shape, and just a few ones later, Armando is turning himself in. We don't see him slowly driving himself insane with his moral dilemma, we don't see him desperately trying everything to fix it, we don't even see him turning himself in! Just one episode ends with him saying he was turning himself in, and the next one starts with Armando's mugshot. That's it. No tension at all

3. Bad editing

One of the things that I loved about the old novela were their transitions. The first episodes were amazing with this: while Betty was looking at the magazine of the collection launch and giving her opinions and commentary, we were seeing the pictures of it and then we're taken to the moment the picture was taken. While Gutierrez, Armando and Roberto are talking about Betty and why Gutierrez discarded her, Roberto asks "why would a candidate so well prepared and qualified only want to be a secretary?" And then we see Betty going "because I'm tired of looking for a job!"

Those kind of transitions were incredible, I loved them so much. Now in this new series it just cuts abruptly to something totally different.

4. Inappropriate setting

They really, really tried to make everything seem so modern, and in their effort, they ended up making it so plastic and fake. The office doesn't look like an office at all, but rather a gallery or the lobby of an exotic hotel. The desks almost seem out of place. Sure, it's a fashion business, but it's just so fake looking. Most offices, even modern ones, still look like offices. This one just doesn't feel like it, and that really takes me out of the story.

Finally, and just as a little pet peeve that, objectively, idek if it should count but I'll include nonetheless because I'll forget to make a separete post about it: the robot and the hacking. It's just so cringy and cheap. Are robots like that even in the market fr? AI robots that follow you around and are in the shape of a sewing mannequin? And the whole hacking thing... ugh. As I said it's a personal pet peeve but I always find it cringy when they make these super high-tech knowing characters that can hack on everything and we see on the screen the codes and all of that. I found both of these elements so tacky and unnecessary lmao why not just hide cameras?? Nooo, let's make Daniel wannabe a finance and hacking genius lmao ((this part isn't part of the list I just wanted to vent because my hubby and I died of cringe watching one episode last night where Mila's AI Moving Robot Sewing Mannequin told her someone was hacking into the cameras and Ignacio is cyber-fighting to hide and we see a split screen of him and another of what he's seeing through the cameras and eventually he just closes the lid lmao)) ((anyway little rant over sorry))

[silverofthunder]

☆ confessions ☆

Papa Emeritus IV x GN Reader

summary: As soon as you closed your eyes, finally letting sleep take over you, you heard the words that you, deep down, had been dying to hear.

content: 2.6k words, mystery (kind of), drama, fantasy, romance, friendship, mild hurt/comfort, injury mention

♡♡ part 1 ♡♡ part 2 ♡♡ part 3 ♡♡ part 4 ♡♡ part 5 ♡♡ part 6 ♡♡ part 7 ♡♡ part 8 ♡♡ part 9 ♡♡ part 10 ♡♡

Sorry, this is published so late but life got busy. I haven't forgotten this story, I promise! This part has been written about a month ago, this has just been in my fic file and waited for the moment to be published. So, here this is, hope you enjoy (and hope there are still some who even read this story). :)

You were lying against Copia, naked as the day you were born, on the luxurious bed, slowly drawing patterns on his chest. Your skin was still sweaty as you basked in the afterglow, in the silence that had a shadowy edge now. There was so many questions, words to say but now idea how to ask or say them. All you could do now was to try to enjoy this moment – Copia was there, beside you, gaze directed at the ceiling.

He was worried, though he tried to hide it. But you could know it from the way he was holding you tighter, how he hadn’t refused to feed off from you when your bodies had been locked into the throes of passion just some moments ago. He had taken as much as you were able to give – hence you felt now a bit lightheaded but it was nothing a little food and drink couldn’t fix.

Everything had felt different as the upcoming fight was looming upon you. You had taken your time to feel each other’s bodies, wanting to memorize every single little details on your skins. You didn’t want to forget any of this – not that you ever would if something bad were to happen. It had been close, that those certain words had passed from your lips. But you had sealed Copia’s lips just in time, swallowed those words down before they were released into the delicate air.

You both knew how you felt. Those words needed another moment to see the light. You didn’t want it to happen like this, when there was some uncertainty around you. You didn’t want this to be ’let’s say it before it’s too late’ moment because it wasn’t going to be one.

Copia’s lips connected with your forehead and you hummed quietly.

”So sorry you have to go through this,” he mumbled, and you shifted so that you could tilt your head to look at him. He looked sad, the sight making your heart sink in your chest. You moved to place a light kiss right on the corner of his mouth.

”It’s alright,” you whispered against his skin. ”We never know when the past comes to haunt us.”

”Still I should have told you about it more,” Copia said, and you shook your head, this time claiming his lips in a kiss.

”Hush now,” you said, offering a small smile to him and moving your hand to gently tap his lips. The look in Copia’s eyes softened as he cupped your face, sliding his thumb across your cheek. You leaned into the touch, your eyes fluttering as you breathed slowly in and out.

”You know that I will be stuck with you forever?” It was meant to lighten the mood a little and by the way Copia’s lips turned into a grin told you it had worked.

”Still forever?” He smirked, obviously teasing you and you smacked his chest with your hand.

”I haven’t changed my mind,” you stated. ”To be honest, I want to turn soon.”

Copia’s face fell serious, the hint of worry reaching his eyes as he studied your face. You poked him in the nose.

”Don’t mope. I know you’re waiting for that moment, too.”

A smile passed Copia’s lips, white fangs flashing as his hand slid to the side of your neck where the bite marks were.

”Then you’ll be all mine,” he spoke, the sound of his voice sweet like a purr, making you shiver.

You smirked. ”I’ve always been yours.”

Copia let out a sound that was a mix of a hum and a growl and then pulled you into a kiss. Then he flipped you around fast, pinning you against the mattress, his lips moving to your neck. He inhaled deep before you felt something wet on your skin – his tongue running over the bite marks and you gasped. You could sense Copia wanted to sink his fangs again into you, drink your blood, but he knew he couldn’t do it, yet.

”I love your scent,” Copia purred close to your ear, pressing a light kiss righ under the earlobe and your hands squeezed his sides hard as you chuckled.

”Seems like it’s like a drug to you.”

”Better than any drug,” Copia said, his voice having now a darker edge. ”I could never get enough of this.” Another swipe of tongue and a gentle nip right after made you groan.

Then a thought came into your head.

”Will it change after I’ve turned? My scent?”

”Sí, a little,” Copia spoke against your sensitive skin. ”But it’s still going to be you.”

”And you still can drink it, then?”

”Yes, as well as you mine.”

That thought was thrilling, the image in your head so vivid. The red liquid on your lips, the imaginary taste hitting your tongue before you would swallow it down.

”But I have to drink it so that I can turn? How will it taste?”

You could feel Copia smiling, hear it in his voice.

”You’ll find it out soon.”

The brothers had gone to deal with Sister Imperator and you and Olivia were left at the mansion to wait. It had been several hours and the longer you had to wait, the harder it got. Olivia wasn’t dealing with the wait any better as she was sitting on the couch, biting her nails while you were pacing back and forth near her. The sound of the clock seemed to ring in your ears and you barely could think anything sensible. A part of you wanted to scream and another part just hoped this all was just a bad dream.

You squeezed your hands into fists, trying to focus on your breathing to calm yourself. It didn’t help much but was better than nothing. Olivia ran her hands through her hair before grabbing the nearest couch pillow and hugging it tight.

”Is this always like this?” she asked, making you jump a bit and stop in your tracks. Your gaze met hers and you shook your head.

”No, this is the first time something like this happens,” you answered and Olivia let out a long sigh.

”This is crazy,” she stated, eyes wide. ”I’m scared and worried and… I don’t even know. This all has been a lot, you know.”

You nodded, understanding how overwhelmed she must have felt. She was dragged into all this so quickly she had had no time to let this all sunk in properly.

”But you’re still here,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile. ”That tells something.”

”Yeah, it tells that I’m crazy,” she said, a hint of a smile rising to her lips. ”But he…” she trailed off, lowering her gaze and you could have sworn that there was pink coloring her cheeks. Your smile widened.

”So, how are things between you and Terzo?” You couldn’t help but tease her a bit. She hadn’t shared much about what was going on but considering the situation, you weren’t surprised why. Olivia looked back at you, the blush now evident on her cheeks.

”I really like him,” she admitted. ”And I think he likes me. As weird as this might sound, I actually feel safe around him.”

Something in your chest moved. Happiness. Joy.

”I know exactly what you mean,” you said, smiling and Olivia’s eyes lit up. She was happy that someone understood how she felt.

”Stupid vampires and their charm,” she huffed good-naturedly and you chuckled.

”They certainly are charming and know how to win people on their side.” You walked to the couch and finally sat down beside Olivia. ”But behind all that vampire glamour there is so much more.”

Olivia’s eyes settled on you again and she gave a small nod, though now her smile faded.

”Has something bad happened to you while you’ve been with Copia?”

You weren’t certain what Olivia thought as a bad thing but you had a few little stories to share that weren’t so nice.

”Yes, a few times. Some months ago when I had finished my evening shift I decided to take a shortcut to home,” you started, the memories of the evening returning to your mind. ”It wasn’t a good idea. Some vampire got to me and if Terzo hadn’t come in time, something bad might have happened.”

”Terzo saved you?”

”Yeah, he probably had been somewhere near and caught my scent. Then he took me to Hunter’s Moon as I was so tired and it was closer than my home.”

Olivia looked impressed and you guessed what you just told raised Terzo’s points in her eyes. For a moment she looked like she wanted to say or ask something more related to that matter but decided then otherwise.

”And what is the other not-so-nice thing?”

You sighed, lowering your gaze and started to pick on the hem of your shirt.

”Copia bit me,” you said quietly. ”He lost control for a moment.”

”He what?!” Olivia’s voice was higher now, the shock evident in it.

”Copia bit me,” you repeated, now moving your gaze back up to Olivia. ”It was bound to happen anyway, and we have settled it out. It’s been months since it happened.”

”And you still trust him?”

”Yes, I do. He regretted it instantly. So much that he didn’t see me for a while and he was starving himself,” you said, pausing for a short moment before you told Olivia the rest. A vast range of emotions went through her eyes as she listened to you.

”Oh fuck,” she commented soon. ”And I thought I was the crazy one.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and soon Olivia joined in, then – completely out of blue – smacking you with the pillow. It only made you laugh harder and try to grab the pillow to yourself but of course you failed. In the end Olivia threw it to the nearest armchair, grinning at you and you just grabbed her instead, pulling her into a hug.

”Enough about me,” you said. ”Now tell me more about you and Terzo. Have you kissed already or have you – oi!” your question got interrupted as Olivia’s pinched your side.

”Who’s nosy now?” she shot back as she tried to wiggle out of your hold. You loosened your arms around her so that she was able to make eye-contact. The deep red on her cheeks and the grin she had told you enough and you smirked.

”Oh, shut up,” Olivia said, letting her head fall on your shoulder.

You laughed. ”I didn’t say anything.”

”But I know what you were thinking,” she stated, poking your side.

”So, you’re really in it now?” you asked and Olivia mumbled something you couldn’t fully hear. Gently you placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her further.

”I think I am,” she admitted with a small, soft smile. ”Though I’m still scared of so many things.”

”This situation definitely isn’t making things easier,” you said, lightly squeezing Olivia’s shoulder. ”But I’m happy you are having an open mind and willing to give Terzo a chance.”

”Yeah, he really seems to be different than those previous assholes I’ve been with.”

You hummed in agreement. ”So it’s possible that he might be your knight in a shining armor?”

Olivia made a face at that, giving you a light shove. Smiling you just pulled her again into a hug and this time Olivia let out a long, content sigh, resting her head against your chest.

”Possibly,” she spoke quietly. ”But I don’t want to go ahead of things yet. In time we’ll see what happens.”

That was understandable. Not wanting to think too far. Especially now. Relationships weren’t that simple, not even though they might have felt like it.

”I’m rooting for you and Terzo, and I really hope it works out between you.”

You could hear the smile when Olivia replied. ”I know.”

It was nearly a dawn when the brothers finally returned to the mantion. You and Olivia had stirred awake from your slumber on the couch and rushed straight to them. They all looked tired but unharmed, at least mostly. Blood stains marred their clothes and skin and there were some tears on their clothes, as well.

You craddled Copia’s face, releaf washing over you as you leaned in to kiss him, tasting someone elses blood on his lips. They must have gotten a little snack before coming back.

”Is it over now?” you asked after and Copia nodded and then you heard a grunt from behind him. You peeked past Copia to see Secondo trying to shake off his shirt, pain visible on his face. Primo helped to tuck the sleeve off and when the shirt finally fell off from Secondo, your eyes landed on the big wound on his shoulder. It looked nasty, red mixing with something black and you were quick to run to take a closer look at it.

You lifted your hand, reaching towards the wound but there was a hiss and a hand grabbing your wrist. You met Secondo’s hard gaze as he pushed your hand away.

”I’ll live,” he said and you furrowed your brows.

”What happened?” You weren’t sure if asking more questions was now a right thing to do but you wanted to know. With sigh, Secondo let go of your wrist, his gaze softening.

”Got stabbed,” he replied flatly. ”There was some poison on the blade. It will heal but more slower.”

You nodded, eyes flickering to the wound, a small smile passing your lips. ”If you say so, grumpy old man.”

That caused tired chuckles to echo in the room and even Secondo flashed something that resembled a smile to you. With one last glance at him, you returned to Copia who slid his other arm instantly protectively around you, pulling you flush against him.

”He’s going to be fine,” Copia said, placing a kiss on your temple.

Your gaze went to Olivia and Terzo who seemed now to be on their own bubble, faces close to one another. Olivia was clealy crying and Terzo was wiping the tears away while whispering some soft words, presumably in Italian. Then you took a look at Primo who was still standing beside Secondo, eyeing his brother with worry and relief.

”Are you alright?” Copia asked, setting his hand under your chin and making you look at him. You offered him a smile, however a bit tired one.

”Yes, now that you’re all here.”

You were glad that they all had come back, just as they had promised. But you couldn’t push the vast exhaustion aside – it felt like it had settled deep into your bones and you were sure that you could sleep for a week straight. A big yawn stretched your mouth soon, and you tried to hide it with your hand but of course it didn’t go unnoticed by Copia.

”We should get some rest,” he spoke against your temple and you mumbled an agreement. ”Though I need a shower first.”

You wanted to reply to that with something sensible but your eyes were now heavy and you had to fight to keep them open and if Copia wasn’t holding you, you might have fell to the floor and slept right there. However, luxurious bed would be a million times better than the cold hardwood floor. Your mind barely registered the words Copia was speaking and then you were picked up and carried to your and Copia’s room.

By the time your back hit the bed, you were already half-asleep. You felt Copia caressing your face, placing a light kiss on your lips, and your heart fluttered happily as you tried to open your eyes. You succeeded to keep them open long enough to see the loving look in Copia’s eyes. And as soon as you closed your eyes, finally letting sleep take over you, you heard the words that you, deep down, had been dying to hear.

”I love you.”

taglist: @nijiru

[psycheetamore]

Cleansing of the soul - part 1

Summary: our lord Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen has managed to entice his Fremen pet, but this has not gone unnoticed by his brother, who - after having lost Arrakis to Feyd - wants revenge. How better to get revenge, than to snag the favourite pet of his baby brother, esp. if Feyd is not watching.

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, threat of smut, predator/prey, anticipation of (sexual) violence, fighting, Rabban trying to steal from Feyd, disfunctional family - the author regrets nothing

Part 5 of my 6 of my contribution to the predator/prey thrope for Kinktober of @lady-phasma - nr 1-4 are chapters of 1 story (1-3 Feyd/OC hunt related, nr 4 is the reward for our lord), and nr 5-6 is me sharing my favourite chapter that I have written to date with the hunt between Glossu Rabban/OC. The 6 bits will be posted through daily posts.

Word count: 3.7k

Based on chapter 11 of Choosing to Follow Destiny - this is my favourite chapter my darlings

She was so engulfed in this mission that she did not hear the door to the library softly opening and closing. It was only once the steps were just a few rows away that she noticed someone had come in.

She quickly pushed the book back in the cupboard and took another book in her hands. She knew Feyd-Rautha would be collecting her soon for their daily ‘fight and fuck’ session, and she did not want him to see what she had learned. The information she had was still too premature.

She was just on time to clean her traces.

Looking up, she saw a bold man. Not her bold man though. It was Rabban. The last time she had seen him, had been in Arrakis. It surprised her to see him here. She had heard whispers of him being on this planet, and she had always wanted to feel prepared to encounter him – a moment she knew was inevitable to come. However, it still took her by surprise. She had expected to see him at an event, or a meeting, or perhaps during a diner or in the hallways. But not in a place of knowledge, filled with books. He looked different from what she recalled, having seen him from the distance while he went on his rampage. He looked less mighty, older, perhaps a bit more human. As if recent past events had already left their scars on him.

She knew who he was. Probably he did not recognise her, did not know who she was or why she was here. Surely it would just be a coincidence seeing him here. Most likely, he was just seeking certain information from the library. Still, desperately wanting to get out of this situation, she went to walk past him, holding the book in front of her.

He did not say anything to her, as she reduced the distance between them step by step. She could not see whether he was looking at her, but it did not appear he had moved; either towards her or to let her pass.

As she was gearing up to leave this part of the library and circumvent him, her heart started pounding in her throat. As long as she would maintain her cool, she would surely be able to get out of there. By now, considering how he just stood still and did not communicate with her, she did not believe he would be assaulting her, although she needed to be prepared for it to happen. She should prevent acting too cool, as this could induce his anger. But also avoid acting too submissive, as this could trigger his hunting instinct. She needed to walk away with the certainty his soldiers and guards surrounded themselves with, allowing them to not draw any attention upon themselves. Neutral, she considered. Yes, a neutral approach would allow her to get out here surely.

Surely.

As she got within his reach to pass him, her heart started to beat heavier. It would be just a few steps before she would be beyond him.

Just a few steps. She kept on repeating this to herself.

Yet, he suddenly grabbed her arms and pushed her against a bookcase. She finally looked up in his eyes and saw pure rage. She had miscalculated what he would do. He knew. He somehow knew.

Rabban growled: “I am here to see the new pet Feyd brought from Arrakis. I heard you would be here.”

Before she could help herself, she said: “pet?”

He laughed: “you don't know, girl? You are only here to sooth the depraved urges of my brother.”

He thought of her as nothing more than a toy. This was not about her. This was about his brother. He did not know who she was, what she used to be, only what she was here on this planet.

She looked at him with wide open eyes, as he continued: “once he is done with you and found another toy, he will sell you to one of the pleasure houses. That is where you belong you, you Fremen rat. And what happens there is even too perverse for him.”

She gasped. Being referred to as a pet was one thing. It did not come at a surprise the Harkonnen brothers would use derogatory terms to refer to categorise others. Probably they would not address each other which much more respect. However, that the na-Baron would treat his accompanies like that, so atrocious: that was unacceptable. She could deal with a lot, but had expected him to have more honour than that.

Rabban must has seen her contempt and surprise reflected on her face as he started laughing. He bellowed as he explained: “that is what he always does. His pets are made to feel special, but don't think you are anything special little bird.” As that was not insult enough, he turned the metaphorical blade pressed in her flesh: “people here in Giedi Prime like the leftovers of their lords. They will stand in line for you, as they did with your predecessors. So don't worry. As long as you survive that, you still have value for your whore house, and will be kept alive.”

He took a second to bath in the fear her face showed: “although… some people pay extra to be the last person a whore sees while being fucked to death.”

“Fuck. You.” She responded and she tried to walk away. The first words she had uttered since coming to the library this morning. Her voice was still cold, so it came out her in a broken manner, suggesting that she felt powerless.

In no shape or form was Rabban intimidated by her or what she said. If anything, it fuelled his resolve. He liked going up against less powerful opponents, victims. Rabban wouldn't let her go: “I am happy that you offer. That is the reason I came to find you. You see, Feyd has taken something from me. And now I want to take something from him” as he moved closer to her.

While slowly glancing over her body he said: “I saw you on the training grounds. Multiple times. I saw what he did to you, how you squealed at his touch. He has broken you in well. You are his favourite entertainment.” He chuckled: “his favourite of the day. But, once another person plays with his toy, he loses all interest. And I now want to take away his favourite toy.”

His face and hold seemed to soften as he added: “don’t worry for him. He will find another slave to play with.” Glancing over her body he said: “I see why he is attracted to you. You know what, I will cut you a deal. As long as you pleasure me, obey me, submit to me, I may consider holding on to you for a while. Doesn’t that sound appealing? You will learn to love my touches.”

He was trying to intimidate her, and not doing a bad job at it. He was considerably larger than his brother; taller and heavier. With no-one here and a difficult escape she needed to fend for herself.

One of his arms moved up to grab her shoulder and push her down, as he grunted: “I am curious what makes you his favourite pet of the day. Get on your knees.”

Her heart started to race. Whatever chance there was left to make a peaceful getaway: it had evaporated. She would have given a lot to get out of this situation without a struggle in this place, but she also knew that this moment was inevitable. She would run into him, whether it was now or in the future, as nobody seemed to be taking care of him. He would find his way back to this planet, one way or another, for however long or short. He would always be seeing his brother as the root of all his misery, not to forget about how he felt about the Fremen leader that had delivered an important blow to get him ousted. Wit was not one of the traits mentioned by people when describing him, but even he would find out who she was at a certain moment. She needed to be prepared to face her destiny. She would be the one resolving the problems Harkonnen leadership had caused.

As his other arm moved to open his trousers in order to humiliate her in the sanctity of this womb of knowledge, she used the moment to swiftly move her arm alongside the inner part of his arm that was resting on her shoulder, in order to push it out of the way. She took the book she was still holding in both hands, shoved it into the bottom of his chin and wacked the side of his face with it. Closed quarter battle was something she was trained for in the rock formations of Arrakis, allowing her to throw a painful punch without much room. He took a step back, giving her just enough room to grab her daggers from under her jacket and get in a fighting position.

He looked at her: “so it is true.” His eyes had widened a bit as he touched his face. He did not bother to put his trousers back in order. He was clearly taken aback, and processing what had just happened.

“What… is true? Beast” she spat at him. She still did not know what to expect. Although she had always experienced him as very predictable in his strategies, the difficulty with people like him is that their actions can be very hard to predict. They don’t always think and act rational. This by themselves makes them more challenging adversaries.

“That you are a Fremen fighter. He really has outdone himself now. So, what do you do? Does he need to fight you before he can fuck you? Is that how he gets you to serve him? I can do that. Come here!” he growled with force. Through his bombastic chest he managed to create a deep impressive sound. Probably another trait carried by his genes.

She stared at him in distain: “is that all you got?” She was truly flabbergasted. She had anticipated he would have found it out by now, connected the dots. But still, it did not click. He disappointed her, even still. It triggered her anger: “I shouldn’t be surprised. You are a failure who is too scared for the battle ground. Running around, shouting and no action.” She gasped quickly and continued, as every second that she spat at him would hopefully bring him more out of balance, allowing her room to manoeuvre: “the only thing you do is slaughtering the people you should protect. I should have accepted the offer you cried from the city walls of Arrakeen and take you out of your misery a long time ago. That would have been better for everyone involved.”

Rabban was thinking, his voice increasing and his eyes nearly popping from his head as he spilled his thoughts: “no. It cannot be. You are the Fremen leader rat that attacked me? You are in my own home? He brought that piece of vermin into my own home? I heard the rumours and could not believe he actually did that.” He grabbed his head as he continued to shout: “captured by him, is what was said.” His head started to move violently around: “no, no, no. No, that is not true. You are part of the plot! You are the whore who helped him take Arrakis from me! You have planned this, together with him. And now he is fucking you to taunt me!”

“Just my luck that I find his little bitch here, all by herself, unprotected. I will fuck you to death at this very spot and dump your body in his bed” he screamed as his rage started coming up. He launched himself at her.

The moment she knew would come, now or in the future: it had come. She was smaller yet quicker and managed to dodge him just on time. He was like the buffalo, she had read about in ancient scriptures: once it finds its anger, it will place its head down and advance, not being able to be stopped by anything but lethal force. As she could not provide lethal force, not yet, the only thing she could do was dart away. The bookcase stopped his attack and also prevented him from falling, as she sliced the flesh of his arm. She had drawn blood, causing him to get madder and madder.

Her arms were quite short, so she needed to be careful. She was looking for a way to get past him. Escape would not be possible, as this isle only had one exit. An exit he was blocking with his humongous body. The bookshelves reached to the ceiling, so she could not escape through there to find a better location to fight him. She needed to get him enraged even more, so that he would let his guard down and she could attack him.

She decided to hit him where it hurt most. “All you Harkonnen warlords are pests. But you, you are a parody of your name. Of your brother. You are not half the man he is, and you know that. Everybody knows that.”

She saw his pale head getting red of anger. Veins in his neck starting to become increasingly visible. What she threw at him was causing him pain. She decided to throw more oil onto the fire: “and yes, he fucks me after we fight. And we fight after we fuck. We fuck while we fight. We fight while we fuck, if you care to know. I could speak for hours about the pleasure he brings me. I would never let you though. You do not compare to him. I cannot imagine any woman to ever be willing to be near you, unless forced under punishment of death. That must be horrible, having your younger brother being pursued by all these women while you just chase them away.”

“Silence bitch. I will silence you by choking you on my cock!” he screamed. His eyes were shooting in all directions towards her. As if to find a weak point he could attack. She knew he could not find anything, nothing he could not have already seen in any case. Nothing new.

She continued to taunt him, now using a melodious tone, almost like she was singing: “you were defeated by a woman. By me. I pushed you on your knees and exiled you from Arrakis. A failure is what you are. And it did not even take me that much effort, because you were too stupid to get your shit together. All the money, power and resources in the universe, and the only thing you could kill were babies. Here, do you want one of my daggers? Because that may even the odds for you a bit.” As if she was cuddling an angry toddler having a tantrum.

This was too much for him. He stopped thinking and started to throw punches at her, driving her to the wall behind her. A few landed. He had power, which started to take a toll on her. It was difficult for her to stab him, as he easily blocked her. But every time he did that, she managed to make a cut, however small or big.

He needed to get her drop the weapons, so he tried getting a hold of her hands. With a bit of effort and struggle he managed to get hold of one. She was taken by surprise. She did not expect him to take such a risk, and especially not to succeed. He now believed he would have the upper hand and get her to submit to him.

And this would have changed the balance a bit, if he would know what he was doing, and she would not be trained. But that was not the case, as her reflex was to twist her hand and slashed his wrist with the weapon she held in that hand in the process. He would have known about this, if he would have truly observed her fights with his brother. Quickly withdrawing her hand and slashing his chest before retreating and reaching in to cut again. It was all not much as she couldn't get too nearby him. It was not enough to kill him. But, it was enough to drain him.

Perhaps he knew his time was running out, perhaps he stopped thinking entirely and acted on instinct alone, as he bombarded himself in her reach to grab her throat. He was not trained to fight like this, while she would not be going down easily. Again, he was successful in his attempt, now getting hold of her neck. This allowed him to try to push her to the floor to get her to relinquish the weapons. Getting out of this position would prove more difficult.

But she could not relinquish her weapons, as it was a major element in allowing her to balance the odds between them. It would never be an option. Losing was never an option, not against him. She had too much to revenge to not win, and too much to lose if he would win. She felt quick flowing lava filling her veins allowing her to tap into new energy. Everything he had threatened her with, was recalled. Taunting her to be sold off inferior to cattle. This triggered her memories to the most important reason she fled the orphanage when she was young. She remembered how her friends, her family, her people: all slaughtered by his hands, by his incompetence. The suffering he had caused. The pain. The fear she had lived in to encounter him here on this planet.

She would not be having this. She would win. She needed to win. She would be victorious. He was too pathetic to allow her to lose against him.

She let herself fall to the ground, causing disbalance in him. He either needed to let her go or fall with her. With the motion in place, he needed to decide instantly. He did the former, causing him to release her as expected, exposing his legs without any protection.

He did not see coming what she was planning to do. Ever step he took showed how ill prepared he was. It was an insult to this house he belonged to. It was an insult to his brother, however much she may detest him at times.

She made a deep cut in one of his legs, pushed herself away and leaped up while looking at him. She needed to catch her breath, but also knew he would be using any opportunity of inaction on her side to come for her. So, she decided she needed continued to cut, to stab, plenishing her stamina with quick superficial breaths.

A last push to resolve this discussion. Her heart was beating so hard. Sweat was dripping down her back. Ever single fibre in her body was tense. Her senses were at their peak. She had never been in such a physically draining situation. Her hands tied to her weapons. The weapons tied to her body. They were one. Her hands had become blades.

Her barrage was enough to get him to take steps back. Where she was tapping into new energy, energy started to drain from him. He was losing the one thing that would give him the upper hand: his strength.

He stumbled.

This was her moment. The moment she had been waiting for. The moment that could turn the tables for ever. He had made the grave mistake of allowing her room. Room she would not use to escape, but to end all if this. She used it to leap behind him and climb his back.

He did not know what was happening. It was all too foreign to him. She had done something similar before with his brother, while he had abducted her, who knew that he needed to get up and crash his back into a wall. That was the best way to get her to relinquish her position. But he did not know what to do. He was not trained for this, he could not think clearly, he was a giant ready to fall.

While she was mounted to his back, holding on to him with her legs and by grabbing his coat, she started to stab him. The knifes held by her hands slithered into the fairly soft tissue that formed his fat covered muscle. In and out did her blade go, with every stroke racking up more blood to escape his body. It would have become more difficult to hold her daggers, if they had not been so excellently designed by the order of his brother.

He knew he needed to start to protect his head and his neck, as he would otherwise lose more important parts of his body, so he threw the only thing he had to sacrifice into the battle: his arms and his hands. It did help to protect his vital parts, but it came at a cost. Soon, his hands, arms and shoulders were covered in cuts.

Meanwhile, she felt her arms getting tired, but the knives were so well polished that the main thing that drained her was lifting her arms and not so much the pushing or slashing motion. Apart from that: she was on a rampage with nearly unlimited energy.

Everything became red before her eyes, in her head. She had lost herself. She too stopped thinking and followed what she was dictated to do by her gut.

He needed to die here and now.

She stabbed and stabbed and stabbed. She sliced, she cut, she chopped.

This would now end.

She was controlled by basic brutal instinct.

This could go on for ages. She lost track of time. It felt like it went on for ages.

+++

Other parts listed on my pinned post

[imoncloud7]

part 4;

prev. | m.list | next

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊

written portion at the end!!

"god fuckin' damnit." yn sighed as she put her phone down. she was currently in her last lecture of the day, contemplating how she got into this mess. and how all of her friends suddenly knew oikawa tooru. and how he found her twitter and followed it.

yn had met matsukawa issei in their last term during their first year of school, and while they were not too close, they did have one thing in common. they loved to go out. their drunk escapades slowly began to include mattsun's not-boyfriend-but-boyfriend makki, and they all slowly began to get a bit closer.

being that all of their friends were intertwined, it would be a matter of time before they all figured out what was going on between oikawa and yn. their hookups have surprisingly pre-dated all of yn's friendships in college, which have been difficult to come by. being from another country and also an introvert were really big roadblocks.

oikawa never seemed to care about that though. the first night they met, during their first term in their first year, he had approached her at some sort of welcome party an older student was throwing. yn had quickly figured out that he was a chronic flirter, but had enough alcohol in her system to go home with him. which ended up happening every weekend of the first year, and now second year as well. it was nice for yn to have physical contact, as that was hard to come by now having broken up with her ex and being that she had close to no friends in japan. it was a distraction, something that satisfied her needs with no feelings.

these days however, now that he knows more than just her first name and how to please her, it's too complicated. and wildly uncomfortable.

flashback: 1st term, 1st year

"smoking's not a good look on such a pretty face like yours" yn heard behind her on the balcony. the inside was stuffy and the music felt like it was eating her eardrums alive, so she had made her way outside for some peace and quiet. only for it to be disturbed.

"oh yeah? and who are you to have an opinion on that?" the girl looked over her shoulder to see who was behind her. she was met with a pair of chocolate brown eyes and windswept hair to match.

oikawa thinks his heart may have stopped when she turned to look at him. he had seen her inside and thought she was pretty, sure, but out here was a different story. the moonlight caused her e/c eyes to glow, and her hair seemed so much softer out here. his eyes widened a bit and he choked on his words a bit before responding.

"im oikawa. oikawa tooru. and sorry, truthfully i couldn't think of another way to approach you." he walked up towards the edge of the balcony, taking his place to her right. she took a long drag before offering it towards him wordlessly.

"no thanks, i'm an athlete i can't really do that stuff."

"but you're at a party, clearly intoxicated. i wonder what your coach would think of that." she shot back.

"touche. you never told me your name." he chuckled in his response.

"yn."

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊

notes:

the "smokings not a good look on you" line was actually used on me

i was at a club in singapore and an old man (maybe like 50-60 yrs old) literally started talking to me while i had a cig in my hand like go away u creep im 20

he texted me on whatsapp later abt that like mind ur business

idk why i gave him my number tbh i just wanted to see if hed buy me drinks

anyways i love matsukawa issei (whats new)

little flashback moment to when their whole affair started!!

either the next chapter or the next two chapters shi may go down