#they will throw the lives of others away to ensure they can live to control the world with what influence they have

[rileyslibrary]

The Log Cabin: Hurt

Synopsis: You and Ghost are on your way towards your shared vacation in Scotland.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes:

This is the second part of the story. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.

Hurt/comfort.

Render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot.

No warnings. Lots of emotions towards the end, though.

———————————————————————

“You sure?” You ask as you approach a red light.

Ghost closes his eyes and leans back in his seat. He lets out a long and loud sigh behind his mask.

“This is the fifth time you’ve asked if I’m sure,” he protests. “Ask me again, and I will throw you out of the bloody car.”

He won’t do it. He used the exact same threat when you voiced your concerns the third time. You understand him, though; you’re not even on the highway yet, and you’ve been bugging him with your insecurities.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper and lower your head to the water bottle you’ve secured between your thighs.

He turns to look at you, then shifts his focus back to the road as the traffic light turns orange.

“I don’t do charity work when it comes to vacations,” he reassures you and changes gears. “I’m absolutely certain of my decision.”

You drive through the city streets, trying to reach the highway. You look out the car’s window; there are curious glances directed at you from the outside. People look alarmed, old ladies clutch their purses tighter, and fathers hold their children closer.

You can’t blame them; they’re looking at two masked figures in a car filled with tools and gear in the backseats.

“We look like we’re about to rob a bank, don’t you think?” You ask, concerned, as you observe a woman ushering her son into a store upon spotting you.

“Don’t take it off yet,” he warns you. “Wait till we get to the highway.”

He’s right. His face is unknown in the city, whereas yours is, and any identification could link him to you. That’s why he handed you a plain black balaclava before you left the base, ensuring your mutual anonymity. It’s a small city, after all.

“What if we get stopped by the police?” you ask. “Someone might have alerted them.”

He shakes his head. “Unlikely,” he replies. “The police is familiar with me and my car. Many soldiers keep their identities concealed due to the base. Civilians aren’t accustomed to it, that’s all.”

He stops at a zebra crossing and motions with his hand at the people waiting, giving them permission to cross the road.

“Look at them,” he whispers as he watches them successfully reaching the other side of the pavement. “So eager to display their faces, like they’ve never done anything sinister in their lives.”

You look at him from the corner of your eye, wondering if his words hide a twinge of guilt or envy—a yearning for freedom, just like those civilians crossing the street. They are free to walk as they please, while he is doomed to wear a cloth on his face until he’s away from anything human.

You tug at your mask. “It’s getting quite stuffy in here; mind if I...” you say and motion towards the car’s A/C controls.

He shrugs. That’s your “go ahead” sign.

You enter the highway, and he removes his mask. He reaches into the back pocket of his seat and tugs his balaclava there. He scratches his left cheek.

You follow his lead but tuck yours into your door’s side pocket. Now that your mouth is free from obstructions, you can drink water. You open the bottle and drive it into your mouth.

“Easy with the water,” Ghost advises. “We won’t find any stops for the next three hours.”

“Three hours?!” You ask.

He nods, his eyes still fixed on the road, indifferent to your shocked reaction. He reaches into the side pocket of his door and pulls a pair of sunglasses out. He secures them on his face.

“I have never seen you with sunglasses before.” You comment.

He smirks. He looks very handsome when he does that. Not conventionally attractive, though. He has a very rugged, almost weird, to point out beauty. Like those second-hand objects you find in an antique shop; they are bizarre to look at, but you can’t shift your eyes away from them. You want to study and analyse them as closely as possible.

You stare at his profile and notice him looking back at you. He still has that smirk on his face. You divert your attention back to the road.

“Sorry.” You murmur.

He looks ahead and his smile widens.

After some time, you reach your first stop; a service station with a convenience store, and fast food joint. Ghost asks if you want to grab a bite, and you shake your head. In response, he motions towards the side of the gas station.

“Loo’s over there. I’ll refuel the car.”

You hurry to the restroom; the last thing you want is to hinder his program. You better be as fast and efficient as possible.

When you return, Ghost is already in the driver’s seat. You settle into your seat beside him, apologising for your delay. He clicks his tongue.

“You went to the restroom; no need to fret.” He says as he hands you a few snacks he bought from the convenience store.

“For me?” you ask, surprised.

“For you,” he confirms and starts up the engine. “So you don’t start whining that you’re hungry when we are in the middle of nowhere.”

The rest of the trip is beautiful. The landscape shifts profoundly, from the mundane colours of the city to the towering trees that grow denser, with hues of green more vibrant than any photo could capture. The radio plays some mainstream pop music, which doesn’t suit the scenery but makes everything less awkward between you.

Occasionally, you spot a flock of sheep and comment. Ghost doesn’t respond but shifts his gaze from the road to where you’re pointing so he can give you his full attention. He smiles every time, and you wonder whether he’s genuinely happy or just trying to act friendly. Then again, when did Ghost ever try to act friendly? He’s enjoying it as well.

You must have reached the outskirts of civilisation now since the radio has started to make white noise. He switches it off.

Silence. Awkward silence.

“Sorry.” He says, which is very ironic since he was the one who lectured you a few hours ago to stop apologising for things you can’t control. “I don’t have any CDs.”

An arrogant chuckle escapes you. You didn’t mean to come across that way, but there’s no need for CDs; although the car isn’t new, it has built-in Bluetooth. You wonder if he knows it.

“Do you mind?” You ask, showing him your phone.

He looks at it, raising an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses. He must be thinking you’re asking for permission to call someone.

You connect your phone to the car’s Bluetooth and launch Spotify. Music starts playing again. His attention alternates between the radio and your phone.

“Why don’t you look at that!” He remarks. “I knew you could do that; I just never bothered to figure out how.”

“I’ll show you later.” You reply.

“Do you take requests?”

You nod and smile. “What’s your poison, Lieutenant?”

“Johnny Cash.” He replies. “Hurt.”

You nod again, search for the song and press play. You try to enjoy the scenery, focusing on the trees and farms passing by, but Simon’s choice of song wraps around you.

“I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that’s real.”

You turn to look at him. He holds the wheel with one hand, his other resting on the car’s window. He leans against it, his face propped on his hand.

“And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt.”

You want to comment on the song, but your throat feels tight like something’s choking you. You swallow hard.

“What have I become?

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end.”

Tears fill your eyes, threatening to escape. You don’t have sunglasses like Ghost does. It’s a matter of time until he notices.

“If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find a way.”

It’s sadness, melancholy—that's what you’re feeling. But is it for Ghost and his poor song choice? Or is it for you?

For your family, your friends, and the vacation you won’t get to enjoy with them? Who are you mourning exactly? He seems to be at peace with his choices. When will this bliss come to you?

Will it ever come to you?

“Hey,” he calls out, and you turn to look at him.

Too late; he already noticed.

“It’s okay,” he soothes you. “Let it out.”

As if you wanted his permission, you begin to cry uncontrollably. You gasp for air. Ghost presses a button on his door which forces your window to open slightly. The crisp air slaps your face, but you focus on the pain, just like the song says. Your nails bite into your palms as you squeeze your fists, and that water bottle falls from your legs onto the car’s floor.

Ghost reaches over, turning the volume higher as if he’s permitting you to cry as much as you want and scream as loud as you please. You turn your head to the side, looking through blurred vision at the colours of green blending together.

He clasps your fist in his hand. You refuse to relax it.

“It’s okay.” He repeats as you pass the blue sign marked with a white ‘X’ that welcomes you to Scotland. “It’s going to be okay.”

Your first unclenches and you open your hand.

———————————————————————

Part 3 (final) this way ->

[coolemmasulivan2]

Rewinding Us | 2

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: You and Mason built a love story over five years, but after an accident, your memories are wiped away, including any feelings for your constant bickering "rival". Can you remember your love story with Mason, or will you have to start all over?

Word count: 2736

You can read more chapters here.

I am thinking of you In my sleepless solitude tonight If it's wrong to love you Then my heart just won't let me be right

The villa was filled with the anxious feeling of saying goodbye. Tomorrow, everyone would go back to their own lives, leaving behind the sun and freedom of the past week.

You zipped and unzipped your suitcase, feeling that you were forgetting something. You couldn't remember what it was and that frustrated you. Your head was a confusing mess.

Things had been awkward with Mason since you brought up the kiss. Every glance, every brush of your arms, sent shivers down your spine. You tried to ignore it, pretend nothing had changed, but you would be lying. The accident hadn't just stolen your memories, it had changed something deep inside you.

"I hate you!"

"Do you really, Y/n?"

The flashback vanished, leaving you staring at your half-packed suitcase. A cold sweat ran through your skin. You knew the answer to that question. You hated him then, but now the feeling was different and it was terrifying. So, you ran.

The morning after the confrontation, a suffocating silence settled between you and Mason. You maintained your distance and were drawn to others, ensuring there was always a physical barrier between you and him.

Seeing your calculated distance hurt Mason. He wanted to tell you how much he missed the way you used to laugh with him, the way your eyes would light up when you spoke with him, your touch and your lips. But he had to give you time. More time.

"You're still packing?" Ben entered the bedroom and sat down on the bed next to the open luggage.

You were sat on the other side of the bed, folding slowly some of your clothes. "I'm getting there. What's the rush? I have all night." You smiled and he smiled back.

"Is everything okay?" His voice was gentle.

You looked up at him. "Yeah. Just tired from the beach, that's all!"

Ben's gaze held yours, amusement quickly replaced by a knowing sparkle. "You've been quiet!" He observed, his voice soft. "For these past two days." You kept folding clothes, slowly and carefully. Ben continued, his voice laced with a quiet persistence. "Does it have anything to do with… Mase?"

You paused, the question hanging heavy in the air. How could you explain the tangled mess of emotions stirring inside you?

You locked eyes with Ben, the lie a bitter flavour on your tongue. "No!" You forced out, the word barely a whisper.

Ben chuckled. "You forget I know you, Y/N. You've been ignoring him like a ghost." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Ignoring him more than usual, I mean. You haven't even started your usual arguing routine."

Frustration bubbled up, spilling over in a sigh. You slammed the suitcase shut. "It feels like everyone's lying to me." You blurted out, your voice thick with a tremor you couldn't control. "You included! Why can't anyone just tell me the truth?"

Ben raised an eyebrow, concern etched on his face. "What do you mean?"

"It's like you're all walking on eggshells." You said, throwing a frustrated hand in the air. "There's something you're not telling me. Everyone."

Ben's easy smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his features. "You're imagining things."

His words felt like a weak dam incapable of holding back the suspicion inside of you. "Imagining?" You scoffed. "Then tell me, Ben. What was my life like before the accident? Was I happy?"

"Happy? Yeah, of course you were. Living your life, having a job you liked, good friends…"

"And Mason? Did we still…hated each other?" You pressed on, your voice laced with a desperate need for answers. A hesitant pause followed your question.

Ben shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flitting away from yours. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "I mean… you started to become more friendly with each other, yes… is that a bad thing?" His answer was carefully chosen, without revealing the true nature of your relationship with Mason.

You narrowed your eyes. "Friendly?" You repeated the single word dripping with disbelief. "Ben, you're lying to me."

Ben stuttered, his carefully constructed facade crumbling. "I, uh... I think it's better if you ask Mason about that, don't you think?"

The suggestion felt like a betrayal. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you mumbled: "He's probably going to lie too." Asking Mason about your relationship meant facing the possibility of something more.

Ben reached for your hand. "Look…" He said, his voice softer now. "I can't even imagine how it feels to wake up without memory. But if you want answers, maybe you should ask them to the right people." His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary. Then, with a quick kiss on your forehead, he turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The next day, the drive to the airport was a blur of familiar views and friendly conversation. Charlotte, in the front seat, chatted excitedly about her plans, when they arrived back in London, while Ben and Mason talked quietly about an old football match.

The airport was loud with lots of people and long lines. As you checked in, you felt more and more worried. You just couldn't shake the feeling that you had left something behind.

Finally, when you got to the gate to wait for the plane, you remembered. "Wait!" You shouted. Your hand went straight to your neck. "I can't leave! I forgot my necklace."

"We can't go back, Y/n." Ben said kindly. "We'll miss our flight."

"But I have to!" Your voice was desperate. "It's a silver chain with a heart pendant. I can't leave without it!"

Surprise flickered across Mason's face. Mason knew about the necklace, he had given it to you on your first anniversary as a couple, but he hadn't realised that you had been wearing it all this time.

"Y/n, we really don't have time for this." Charlotte added.

"Then you guys go!" You snapped, the words tumbling out before youe could stop them. "I'll catch a later flight."

A tense silence descended upon the group. It confused him why the necklace meant so much to you, especially since you couldn't even recall that it was a gift from him.

"I'll go with her." Mason said. "We'll be quick, but if you need to leave, you can go!" You stared at him, your heart pounding. Why would he offer to go with you? Was it pity? "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

You were so anxious that you kept your mouth closed and followed him out of the airport.

The car ride back to the villa was tense. The music offered a thin shield against the awkward silence that installed between you and Mason. He stole glances your way, craving to hear your voice, to see your familiar eyes. Finally, unable to bear the quiet any longer, he spoke.

"Why is the necklace so important to you?" Mason asked, his voice soft.

"Because it's mine!" You replied, looking at him. "I don't know why exactly. I woke up with it, and I just take it off to shower. Must've left it on the sink by mistake." You mumbled the last part, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Maybe you could just buy a new one. It's easier." He suggested. When you sighed heavily, he realized he was pissing you off.

"I don't want another one, Mount." You snapped, his last name slipping out in irritation. "That is my necklace."

A small smile tugged at Mason's lips. The human brain was a fascinating thing, he thought, storing away memories even when you couldn't access them.

Back at the villa, you recovered the spare key from the hidden place and hurried inside, the urgency of the situation finally sinking in. You raced upstairs, Mason following at a slower pace. He knew the chances of making the flight were slim, so there was no point in rushing.

He found you in the bathroom, kneeling on the floor and frantically searching for the silver necklace. "Oh my god, it's not here!"

"Maybe it's in the bedroom." Mason offered. "Come on, I'll help you find it."

In the bedroom, you checked the nightstand, under the bed, and even tossed the pillows aside, but it was nowhere to be found. Just as despair began to set in, Mason spotted a glint of silver on the floor.

"Found it!"

The familiar sight made your eyes light up, a spark that sent a jolt through Mason. He hadn't realized how much he missed seeing that spark in your eyes. A shy smile graced your lips, and for a moment, Mason felt like he was falling in love with you all over again.

"Oh my god, thank you." You breathed out.

"Turn around." He said, his voice barely a whisper. You hesitated for a second but then found yourself turning, allowing him to clasp the necklace around your neck.

His movements were slow, his body brushing tantalizingly close. You could feel his warm breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. As his fingers brushed your skin, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you, and a memory slammed into your mind out of nowhere.

"What do you have behind your back?" You asked, your voice thick with joy.

It was your first anniversary together, and after dinner, you'd settled on the couch for a movie night. But Mason had excused himself for a few minutes, returning with a mischievous grin and his hand hidden behind his back.

He sat down beside you and brushed a kiss across your lips, his familiar cologne making you smile. "I have something for you." He announced.

He smirked as he opened a small black box, revealing a delicate silver necklace adorned with a perfectly formed heart, causing your heart to melt.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "Mason, it's beautiful!" You whispered, taking the delicate gift from his hand.

He leaned in, his eyes searching yours. "Just like you." He murmured, his voice husky with emotion. And then, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

The memory hit you so vividly that it took your breath away. You gasped, clutching the necklace to your chest and stepping back from Mason, your eyes wide with shock. He stood there with a confused expression on his face, his hands still hovering in the air where they'd just clasped the necklace around your neck.

"What?" He asked, concern lacing his voice.

You attempted to steady your breathing, but your mind was in turmoil.

This memory explained the strange possessiveness in his eyes when you first mentioned the necklace and the way his touch sent a familiar shiver down your spine. You didn't even know what to say. The memory left you in a sea of confusion.

"Y-You…" You stuttered, the word catching in your throat.

Mason was starting to get worried. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out hesitantly. "What is it, Y/n?"

"You were the one!" You blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips. "You gave me the necklace!"

Mason swallowed the lump in his throat and his heart was beating very fast. He wanted to say yes, that the necklace was a gift from him, a symbol of his love, but by the terrifying look in your eyes, he controlled himself.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said, his voice a low rumble.

You took a step back, confused and terrified by what the memory had brought surging to the surface. "I saw you!" You insisted, your voice shaking. "The necklace. It was a black box."

Mason let out a nervous chuckle, the sound strained and unconvincing. "Y/n, I think you're confusing things."

"STOP LYING TO ME!" You yelled, a burst of frustration.

"YES, IT WAS ME!" He shouted in response, finally letting go. The frustration in his voice mirrored yours. He was tired. He was tired of pretending he didn't want to be by your side every single day. "I gave you the necklace. Happy now?"

You squeezed the necklace in your hand. You didn't know what to feel. Since you'd met Mason years ago, your interactions had been filled with annoyance and hatred. But now, those new feelings were scary. You were afraid. Afraid of feeling something more for the handsome footballer standing before you.

"Why?" You whispered, your voice barely audible. "Why did you give me the necklace?"

Mason ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. "If you remember the box was black, you also remember we kissed." His eyes locked on yours. "God, Y/n, it's not that difficult. We were together."

You shook your head in denial, the image of his lips meeting yours in the memory flashing before your eyes. "No!" You breathed.

"Yes!" He said, his voice firm.

"No. We hate each other. That's impossible." The words tumbled out, a desperate attempt to cling to the reality you remembered.

Ignoring the protest in your voice, Mason took a step forward, forcing you to back up until you felt the cool wall against your back. The gesture sent a jolt through you, a mix of fear and a strange, unfamiliar excitement. He slowly took another step, and another, until he was impossibly close, his chest brushing against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Do you hate me?" He asked, his voice a husky whisper. He was so close that you could count the small freckles peppered across his nose. "Do you hate me like you used to?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. His lips were a mere breath away, distracting you. "No-- yes, y-yes, I do!"

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The tension was unbearable. "I don't believe you." He said.

"I don't car--"

"I love you!" The words exploded from him. His eyes holding yours captive. The force of his words left you speechless. Your legs felt like jelly, threatening to buckle beneath you. "I have been loving you for a long time."

"Don't say that, Mason."

"I missed you calling me Mason." He murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips. The air crackled with unspoken desire. "Fuck," He breathed, his voice thick with frustration. "I miss you so damn much."

There was a tense silence between you. You and Mason stared at each other, searching each other's eyes for answers. A slow smile played on Mason's lips, a hint of worry mixed in. He leaned closer, slowly, like a magnet drawn to you. Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic drum against your ribs. Every part of you wanted to step back, to run away. But you couldn't move. Then, a second later, his lips met yours.

The kiss was passionate and gentle. Mason's hands cupped your face softly like he was afraid to break something. You wrapped your hand in his shirt, clinging to him as the kiss deepened. Without even thinking, you kissed him back, pouring all your jumbled emotions into the kiss.

It was a kiss that belonged to a different you. A you who maybe, loved Mason back. The realization slammed into you like a cold shower. You pulled away abruptly, gasping for air.

Mason's eyes searched your face. His hand brushed your cheek, a lingering touch that sent shivers down your spine. "Y/n…" He started, his voice hoarse., because of the kiss.

"I-I can't." You stuttered, the words slipping out in a rush. You stumbled away, needing distance. It was all too much.

"Wait!" Mason reached for you, but you were already running towards the exit. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision. You didn't dare look back, afraid of wanting to stay with him.

The fresh air hit you as you burst out of the villa, your lungs burning.

Focused on escaping from Mason, you hadn't noticed the car speeding down the street. It wasn't slowing down.

A screech of tyres tore through the pavement, followed by a loud honk. You heard a desperate shout - "Y/N!" - but it was too late. The world seemed to blur as the blinding headlights filled your vision.

[glisten-inthedark]

I was wondering why do you like Tom Cruise? It's hard for me considering he is with Scientology and I can't get past that. You don't have to answer but I'm open to new perspectives on this

This has been sitting on my ask box for a few days and I was struggling with how to answer properly.

The thing is that I don't particularly like injustice, and I genuinely feel he's one of the most misunderstood people I've come across.

He's incredibly hard working, for one. Do you know what takes to still do what he does at his age? He doesn't have to, he most definitely doesn't need to do his own stunts, he could've been retired and living on a island somewhere but he isn't. He works relentlessly because he loves what he does, he doesn't freaking need the money, he does because he cares about the industry, he does it because he loves it.

All you hear about him are lovely stories about someone that hasn't allowed fame to get over his head. He treats everyone with dignity, every single person on his crew. Hell, during covid when everyone was judging him for screaming when everyone was doing pretty much the same thing because people's lives were at stake, he made sure every. Single. Person got payed even though they weren't working. He and his crew made sure of that.

Not only that, but during the strikes he didn't talk about only how it would affect the industry, he talked about people whose lives depended on the industry. He talked about small business owners, about movie owners and how much money they'd loose.

If people took the time to actually listen his friends, his costars and everyone that has actually met him they'd see how he's a good person. He cares so much about everyone that works with him, he makes sure they're comfortable at every single take, ensures that they don't feel pressured into doing their own stunts, he isn't controlling because he's an ass, it's because he doesn't want anyone to get hurt on his watch.

Good people don't tell you they're good, they don't have to.

As for scientology, they day people actually take the time to figure out how the cult works, how he got in and why it's actually dangerous for him to get out, we can talk. I refuse to talk to people that call him a terrible person when they seem to be under the impression he founded the thing with Miscaviege.

I'm not saying he's perfect, no one is. All I saying is that he has shown were his beliefs lie when he gave back two perfectly good Golden Globes due to the allegations of the time, all I'm saying is that we'd never have known the production aka him, kept on paying the entire crew for months if Chris didn't mention.

There are numerous people that have met Tom that talked about how kind he is (I've known people that met him and that talked about he treats everyone with so much decency and kindness regardless of their wealth or status), everyone that knows him personally has only the best things to say about him

I already talked about the scientology situation, my feelings about that are very much clear. Just because people don't want to acknowledge the fact he's as much of a victim of it as anyone else doesn't mean I'm going to, doesn't mean I'm just going to throw my degree away and treat him like he's Miscaviege when I understand far too well how cults work and how they operate and if anyone has a problem with that, gi right ahead and block me for all I care.

I take actions over words any day, this isn't just about what people say about him, it's about what we saw him do for others. The fact he doesn't feel need to flaunt every good thing he's done (hence why he seemed hesitant to state he paid for his sister's education) tells me he doesn't care that people think he's evil incarnated, he only cares about what people that actually know him think of him and that's more than we can say about most celebrities that are constantly virtue signaling everyday.

When people show me who they are, I believe them.

[ackerifle]

What would yan!Levi do if he finds out that his wife has been taking birth control pills behind his back?

lover’s quarrel!

yan. househusband levi ackerman x breadwinner wife. reader

+ CW. — au: modern, attempted drowning, implied: non-con; implied past: forced marriage & relationship, stalking, breaking & entering; not proof-read.

levi is quiet; whether he is simply navigating day-to-day life and the woes that come with it, out running errands to continue the prosperous lifestyle the two of you have chosen to live together, cleaning and tidying up to his liking to maintain a well-kept and well-loved house, or driving an hour to your work and watching you work at the top of the forty floor building from his parked car to ensure you aren’t engaging in infidelity, levi is a quiet man. and because levi is a quiet man, he often carrie’s out the housework duties in complete and utter silence. but today, today he does not. humming softly, soothingly to an unknown melody, he happens to be rather content.

even if he was only preparing dinner for the two of you, the act itself was one levi would proceed to spend an unfathomable amount of time perfecting. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to do so, a doss act that demonstrated his devotion and respect to your precious time, levi always made dinner. but even so, today it was different, today it was special. an ode to commemorate your wedding anniversary, one levi certainly hasn’t cut any corners with, nor forgotten in the slightest. the thought alone makes him giddy with childish excitement and delirium, makes levi want to smile stupidly and lose track of time. what a silly notion, let it be known that he would be doing none of that, but one can dream.

perhaps if he could have remained in that quaint, fanciful state of mind, levi wouldn’t have made such a harrowing discovery. tilting towards the cabinets with one hand on the cupboard door and the other reaching blindly inside to search for a particular ingredient, levi could tell this was not what he was looking for. far from it, really, and he’s absolutely pissed.

a tiny clear bottle, no bigger than the span that measured the length of his forefinger, it was sealed haphazardly, and contained miniature tablets with rounded edges. with an incredulous look and an arrogant huff, levi raises the translucent container to the ceiling, inspecting it with a dark leer. there was no label to it, but he didn’t need one to know that you had gone behind his back and gotten your hands on birth control pills. you must have thought you were so smart too, removing them from the awful blister-pack covers and moving them to a more inconspicuous bottle; one you had so discreetly and so tactfully hid behind all the vitamins and supplements in the cupboard.

levi contemplates smashing the glassware onto the ground in that moment, oh how satisfying it would be to see the colorless capsules splay out on the floor. but he doesn’t, because levi is nothing if not restrained. and in spite of his overwhelming rage, the wrath he is definitely going to take out on and subject you to once you return home, he finds himself feeling more… disappointed. levi disregards it as an underlying feeling of distaste to the predictable anger one would feel in such a situation, but truthfully, he’s hurt. betrayed even, surely the two of you had built enough trust by now?

after marriage, you had stopped fighting him— for the most part; the locks on your windows and doors had become far too easy to unlock, tensile with time, it was like you were practically inviting him inside! not to mention how you would be so kind as to leave portions of your meal for him whence you had left for work, and not because you didn’t have the time in your schedule to clean your plates and throw away your leftovers. and of course, perhaps the sweetest gesture of all was when you expressed your vulnerability to him, in the dead of night when no one was awake, not even yourself. had you clearly not accepted him at that point?

your good behavior earned you the privilege of levi not doing mandatory searches through your belongings anymore (with and without your knowledge, depending on your marital status). he broke you down real good, to the extent anyone could take a fleeting glance at you two and ascertain you were the perfect couple. but lying was one thing (although you weren’t necessarily lying, seeing that you’d never brought the topic to light in the first place), but secrets were another; and levi would not have those.

and so, he had benevolently set the transparent bottle back in its rightful place. levi had even take the time to precariously pose the little thing behind all of the other plastic bottles. he ultimately decided that he would dispose and deal with the pills later, something needed to come first.

“honey, i’m home!” your tone fell flat of endearing as you blocked the entryway to your beloved abode. with one hand on the wall to support your weight, and the other clutching onto the slim heel of your work appropriate pumps, you pry the shoe from your foot, and it is beyond relieving to be off the heels. it doesn’t take long for levi to make an appearance, and he’s on you in an instant, “welcome home.”

he places both of his hands on your shoulders, leading you inside. but stands still as a statue once you’re barely inside, forcing you to press against his body and lean into him to avoid getting caught by the door that you now notice he closed a little too aggressively. but you hardly have time to dwell on it when he’s touching you. he’s always touching you, his hands drop from your shoulders to your midriff, discarding your blazer, while his fingertips test the buttons on your blouse.

instinctively, you grab his wrist, but there is no feeling of pressure or tight hold, your touch is featherlight in comparison to his, “levi, i can take off my own clothes myself.” you call his name sternly, but when you meet his gaze, all the toughness in your demand is lost. and he doesn’t let go immediately, as if he wants to say something, you can tell by the way his lips press into a frown, but levi never does say anything at all. you fret you may have pushed him a bit too far this time.

“please, i’ll get undressed and we can have dinner together.” you almost desperately plead, and you hope he doesn’t hear the groveling plea to your voice. but knowing levi, he certainly does, “no.” he refuses to elaborate further, at least for an eerie ten second silence. your hand is still on his wrist, which has made no effort to halt the mission that was undoing the buttons of your shirt. and when you give him a disquieted, empty stare, he coughs with a troublesome quirk to his brow.

“i’ve started drawing a bath. i figured you may want one.” levi seems all but annoyed to have to explain himself for his erratic and explicitly uncanny behavior. speechless, or rather, uncertain of what levi wants your response to be, you slowly nod your head.

shuffling out of his grasp and towards your shared bedroom, you swiftly shut the door behind you, barely catching a glimpse of levi through the sliver before it closed; and he continued to watch you like a hawk with that unsettling glare. you don’t know why, but it makes your heart beat faster. but not because you are flustered, or because levi has done anything in particular to provoke any bashfulness from you; but because you are disturbed. you pay no heed to locking the door, seeing that all you’re doing is shedding your work clothes and changing into a bathrobe. but it still feels like levi’s eyes are on you, even if you reason that he isn’t, which you are not one hundred percent confident in your own judgment; but the sound of the washroom’s door moving, followed by footsteps, tells you all you need to know.

reluctantly, once you have donned the new and more suitable homely attire, you approach the bathroom where you see levi’s silhouette. the lightning is dim, a pleasant contrast to the sterile white walls, and the atmosphere may have subdued your nerves had it not been for the fact levi was menacingly leaning on the sink with his arms folded over his chest. he presented himself in the way he would if he were going to reprimand you for something, and it scares you that you don’t know exactly what it is.

levi impatiently outstretched his hands to your waist, taking a hold of the tie belt and pulling you towards him with it alone. you inconspicuously free yourself from his clutches, backing up until you’re adjacent to the tub’s edge, and kneeling before it. he doesn’t comment about how you’ve been avoiding his company, opting to fixate your attention on the more dull matters, such as you are now, running a tentative hand through the water to test its temperature. and it’s strange, the entire ordeal; levi is not the type to draw you baths, and when he does, he does not leave them empty with just water, he has always been overattentive, and to see no fragrances or salts in the water is becoming increasingly more concerning. you tell yourself to focus on the sound of the water, as the tub continues to fill at a steady pace, you listen to the water flow to recollect yourself.

but you were right to be paranoid all along. and levi may believe he is always right about you, but with how long you’ve spent under his watch, you find that your gut feeling is always right when it comes to him.

levi is on you in an instant, using one hand to further lift you over the ledge of the tub, and his other to seize the nape of your neck and plunge your head below the surface of the water. your eyes sting from being fully open, and you inhale a dangerous amount of water from being caught so off guard. your hands find purchase on the edge of the tub, and you push with as much strength as you can muster to hoist yourself up. but it does little for you when levi’s standing right behind you, imprisoning your body between his legs as he looms over your kneeling figure to hold your head beneath the water. he’s saying something, you hear him speaking, droning on with a passive, and sinisterly dissociative pitch to his voice. and it’s something about birth control pills, because he shouts it loud and clear, even for your clogged ears and scattered brain.

but you want to live, more than anything. so you fervently struggle against the pressure around your neck, strenuously thrashing around before you have the time to lose consciousness. the taste of the water is a horrifying afterthought when you unintentionally drink up more in your endeavor to get your head above the water. fortunately or unfortunately for you, in your current circumstances you cannot see levi, but your animalistic fight to survive and the sheer determination to defy him, yet still falling short despite your great efforts has him smiling stupidly for the second time today. and cruelly, he counts. torturously, agonizingly, fifteen tediously drawn out seconds. and when he rings you out, panting and gasping as a disgusting concoction of your saliva and water drain from your esophagus.

you sharply turn around, hacking and coughing the entire way as your arms shakily support your weight before falling onto the damp bathroom rug. with your back colliding painfully against the hard edge of the tub, you slip further onto the ground, neck just barely propped up on the corner of the tub. you rub a consoling hand over your throat, and the throbbing ache won’t go away. every time you suck in a breath of cold air, it stings, and you can feel it all the way down to your trachea. vision impaired, you blink away the film of water that gathered in a glaze over your eyes, but your sight remains blurred.

levi peers down at you with a look of adoration and irritation, and you’re jolted awake, reimmersed back into reality when the sound of the bathroom door lock clicking shut resounds throughout the compact and confined room. you reach out a bleak hand, arms fatigued from your fruitless exertion. and although it is not your intention, levi catches your stray hand in his, stepping forward until he’s hovering over you, overshadowing you entirely, “no, stop it, levi—”

elegantly and effortlessly, he descends onto your figure. your thighs and hips cushion his fall, immobilizing you in place, even as you quick and squirm, it does little to aid you. levi pinches the fabric around the neckline of the robe, fingers trailing down to the tie belt and loosening it with ease, and with every movement you can feel the garment slipping from your body, “if you think a swallowing little water is the only consequence you'll face for betraying my trust, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

for the request :D

i need more eleven and steve with a sibling bond and hopper as steve's adoptive dad pls! steve deserves to have a loving family and steve hopper just hits different yk? plus i love steve and eleven being protective over each other ���

tysm !!

UGH I LOVE IT!!!! This is from Hopper's point of view, hope that is okay. It just felt like it needed to be? This was so good to explore. I definitely want to explore Steve and El being overprotective siblings more in the future, even if it's just in the background. I hope you love this! - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------

Hopper was at the door. Again.

This was the third party he busted at the Harrington residence in as many weeks.

Steve just didn’t seem to get the picture that he was watching over him.

See, Jim Hopper was far from an idiot.

He knew that Steve was left alone a lot since the too-young age of 11.

He knew that Steve was popular at school.

He knew that rich, popular kids with empty houses usually threw parties.

And it was kind of like Steve wanted him to break these up at this point.

He wasn’t changing the time, the location, the invitees, anything.

All it took was Hopper driving by the first time, and he was in on it all.

Steve was expected to throw these parties, Hopper was expected to break them up. So it goes.

And if that’s what Steve needed from him to keep up his appearances as a “cool kid”, then he could do that.

“Steve.”

“Chief! You wanna come in?”

Steve was slurring his words, his eyes unable to focus on anything.

He was drunk.

He hadn’t been the last two times Hopper broke up the parties. In fact, he’d been in complete control and sober.

Something was wrong.

Steve throwing a party he shouldn’t be was one thing. Steve being wasted at said party was another entirely.

“Uh no. I’d like everyone to leave though.”

“I can’t! This is my house,” Steve giggled.

God, he didn’t get paid enough for this.

“Alright. I’m gonna get everyone out of here. You go shut off the music and drink some water.”

“But then I have to think about stuff.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

He was well aware of how neglected Steve was for most of his life. His parents threw money at nannies that barely did their job, and then threw money at Steve like that was the equivalent of love.

The only person who showed him love was Nancy.

“Where’s Nancy?”

“Oh she broke up with me. Said I was bullshit and we were bullshit and then she left with Jonathan because he’s not bullshit.”

That was. A lot to unpack. He didn’t have time though.

“Steve. I need you to focus okay? I need you to shut the music off so I can tell everyone to go. Then you need to go to your kitchen and drink at least a full glass of water. Make sense?”

“Sure thing, Chief!”

He stumbled away, possibly in the wrong direction, but Hopper didn’t really care so long as he got this shut down.

As he walked through the living room and dining area, he told kids they had five minutes to be gone or he was calling their parents.

They scattered quickly; They knew he wasn’t messing around.

He did the same with the kids on the stairs, the kids in the hall, and the kids in the kitchen.

Finally, the music shut off and more kids came running downstairs. When they spotted Hopper, they kept scampering right out the front door.

He figured the rest were probably in bedrooms or hiding in the backyard, and he needed to check on Steve again first.

Steve was standing at the back door, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

“Steve?”

“Just need a minute.”

“Okay, kid.”

Hopper took the chance to open the back door and yell to everyone that if they weren’t off the property in two minutes, he was arresting them all for trespassing.

It wouldn’t hold up, not with how many of these kids had parents with money for good lawyers, but it scared them.

He walked around the house, checking each room to ensure it was empty.

By the time he got back to Steve, he was passed out on the couch.

Hopper made sure he was on his side, blanket covering him, and a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.

As he did the bare minimum to make sure Steve stayed alive, he had to wonder when the last time someone actually took care of Steve was.

————-

Steve started coming around to pick up and drop off El.

He was the designated soccer mom apparently, always bringing the kids where they needed to go: the arcade, the mall, the movies, the park.

He seemed to do it every day, no complaints.

El loved Steve.

She came home with a skip in her step, a smile on her face.

If he asked her how everyone was, her first response was always “Steve’s great.”

He’d be worried about it being a crush if she wasn’t stupidly in love with Mike. He’d almost prefer Steve.

But El just latched onto Steve in a different way. Like he was a protective older brother who made stupid jokes to make her laugh, but also argued with her over the radio.

Hopper was still worried about Steve. He graduated, but he was starting a summer job soon. A job that would leave him unavailable most days.

Hopper wasn’t a fan of this, and if he were rich, he probably would have offered Steve money to just be the kids’ chauffeur all day every day.

Within a week of his new job, El was barely leaving the house.

Hopper offered to drive her places before his shifts and she refused.

She didn’t even want to visit Steve at work.

Hopper didn’t mind paying him a visit, though.

“Hey, Hop. Everything okay?” Steve greeted.

“Just fine. You?”

“Any day in this uniform is another day I lose dignity, so.”

Hopper hid a smile.

The kid was funny, even if he didn’t mean to be.

“Got a favor to ask. El’s been pretty bummed about you starting this job and not spending much time with her and the others. Think you could take them somewhere your next day off? I could give you gas money.”

“Oh! Yeah. I don’t need gas money, though. The fair’s in town in two weeks, so I figured I’d take them all.”

“Great! Uh,” he cleared his throat, worried he seemed too excited. “I’ll tell El.”

“Awesome.”

But if Hopper knew what the fair had in store for all of them, he would have made them all stay home. He would’ve stayed home.

—————

After Vecna, Hopper had a lot of clean up to do.

He knew he left a mess, but he had no idea how much that mess exploded while he was gone.

El would barely leave his side. She sometimes sat at Max’s bedside in the hospital, but only if Steve sat with her. Then, she was right back home sticking close to his side.

He was grateful for Steve, truly.

He would show up every other day at the same time, give El a long hug, tease her about something stupid that made her crack a smile, and then bribe her to leave so Hopper could have some time to himself.

You’d think spending so long away would make him want to always be surrounded by the ones he loved, but not quite.

When Steve brought her back, she seemed lighter. Not relaxed, but like she’d been able to experience being a teenager. Just regular things.

Steve told him he brought her to get ice cream sometimes, sometimes they’d just drive around singing to songs on the radio, sometimes they’d walk around the quarry trail and try to find butterflies and birds.

He didn’t care what they did.

He knew she was safe with Steve.

—————-

When Eddie Munson’s name was cleared, they all had a party at Steve’s house.

A party that happened during daylight hours and was mostly children and their parents.

Quite a turn of events for Steve Harrington.

But most importantly, he let El help plan the whole thing.

She needed a distraction since Max was still not awake, and the only person who knew what would help was Steve.

They planned board games, and food, and they cleaned the pool together in case anyone wanted to swim.

“Steve. You are being very silly,” El said with a frown as Steve put a party hat on his own head.

“It’s a party! We’re supposed to be silly,” Steve replied, leaning over to place a party hat on her head.

Hopper watched fondly as El smiled.

“Purple is my favorite color.”

“I know. That’s why I picked it.”

Steve was a good kid. He was a good adopted brother to El.

And Hopper could admit now that he was beyond just seeing Steve as a kid he watched out for the best he could.

Steve was more like a son to him than he probably was to his actual parents, more like a brother to El than even Will or Jonathan were.

He watched as Steve pulled El into a hug and started swaying back and forth, dancing.

El was laughing. Steve was laughing. Light and carefree were words seldom used to describe either of them, but when they were together, Steve and El were like the children they never really got to be.

“Steve, can I talk to you?”

Hopper wasn’t really big on emotions. He felt them, just like everyone did, but he didn’t talk about them.

But Steve needed to hear this, he needed to know that someone loved him and believed he was good.

El smiled and went outside to see if Robin and Nancy needed any help with anything there.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just…” Hopper pulled Steve into a hug.

It was awkward, maybe a little forced at first, but the moment Steve sank into it, Hopper pulled him in tighter.

“I love you, kid. You know that, right? I’ve been takin’ care of you, watchin’ out for you the best I can for years. You don’t have to be the strong one all the time, okay?”

Steve let out a sob against his chest and Hopper felt the telltale burn in his throat that he was not far behind.

“You and El are my kids, you got that? I’m always gonna protect you both. El and I love ya so much.”

“Love you both,” Steve gasped out.

Hopper didn’t let go. He knew Steve needed this. He kind of needed it too.

But El walked in, frown on her face.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

Steve sniffled and tried to wipe his tears away without her noticing that he was crying, which just wasn’t going to work. She was too perceptive.

“I’m fine, El.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No! I’m really fine.”

El glanced at Hopper, his eyes red, but his face trying to remain strong and passive, like Steve had just started crying on him, not that he’d been the one to initiate the hug.

She looked back at Steve, who was starting to pull away from Hopper’s arms.

She quickly ran to them, Hopper’s arms pulling away to wrap around her now as she wrapped her own arms around Steve.

“Steve is our family, too?”

“Yeah, kid. He is.”

“Like my brother?”

“If you want me to be,” Steve said as he turned slightly in their arms.

“Of course. I love you like family.”

“I love you too, El.”

Hopper cleared his throat and pulled away.

“Alright, alright. Party’s starting soon. Guest of honor should be here any minute unless he got himself into trouble.”

“Do not be mean about Eddie. He is a very nice person to me and to Steve.”

Steve was blushing, looking down at the floor.

Uh oh.

Hopper knew that look.

“We’ll talk about that later, Harrington.”

“Yes, sir.”

El giggled and ran out the back door, dragging Steve with her.

Hopper sighed.

What did he get himself into?

[colourstreakgryffin]

If it's okay can I please ask for a platonic yandere Adam and Eve with you komori

Reader that still has PTSD from being used as a blood bag

And still has the heeled bit marks

To give you a description on her she's super sweet kind-hearted careful and shy

If you are uncomfortable with this you don't have to take this request

To be honest! I would never imagine I’d see my beloved father and mother become Yandere but you know what! I wanna check this out and see what I can do so let’s try it out!

Yandere! Adam and Eve- Broken Little Heart

The parents of humanity had always loved their children. Every single one, their attachment to mankind went to all the souls but yet. Neither of the couple could have predicted finding one child of their own to be so wonderful, their lives would change for good

You… a innocent little girl rescued by Adam after he and his dear wife, Eve found out you were being treated as a blood bag by a bunch of older men. Adam may love his children but his protective nature over actual children beat that as he beat down the men with Eve running to your rescue to pick you up

The parents of humanity grew attached to you very quick, out of their natures to simply love children but their love for you wasn’t very normal. It started relatively innocent but then it got it corrupted over their obsession to keep you as their child

Adam grew obsessively protective and talkative with you. You cannot touch anything without Adam taking it from you and examining it to make sure it’s safe for you whilst he holds you to his chest. He is rather controlling but he always proclaims it’s for your safety and nothing more as he holds you in his lap

Eve is clingy and possessive. She constantly follows you around, much like Adam and she always tries to hug you, hold you and cuddle you to her bare chest. She needs affection from her beloved little daughter; just focus on her, not whatever you’re playing with

Their presences are suffocating as they’ll never let you have a breath of your own. One or both are around 24/7 and it seems to you, they view you as a precious little infant that needs constant parenting, due to your past trauma

Both parents love how sweet-hearted, shy and careful you are. You’re the embodiment of purity and innocence, and that must be protected at all causes, their want to protect you drove both of them to become so unhinged and possessive over you, they can’t interact with others without snapping

Adam and Eve are nowhere near as obsessive and crazed over their actual biological sons then they are to you. They do love their sons with all their hearts but for you, you require so much care and attention that looking after you draws away all of their time from the two boys that actually share their blood and DNA

They both understand how emotionally fragile you are. You’re cheerful and optimistic, with a naive and indecisive streak, this behaviour further drives Adam and Eve to take charge of you and ensure nothing can hurt you. Ensure you grow love for them back, no matter what

Eve loves comparing your light blonde hair to Adam’s. You can come off as their biological child very easily and honestly… you don’t really mind as on your end, you don’t recognise their blaring Yandere-like traits, you only notice their intense parental love for you… finally, a true family

The more you respond positively to their parenting, the more their Yandere traits grow and when anybody tries to intervene, it’s get messy. Adam throws hands with literally anybody who hurts you in the most brutal manner whilst Eve picks you up and yells at the person at the top of her lungs

How dare anybody hurt your precious little feelings? Anybody who does shall pay a huge price

The parents will never ever force their ideals of living onto you. You don’t want to be naked because it’s cold and uncomfortable? That’s completely fine to them, as long as it makes you happy. That’s all they care about, that you’re happy with them

And you truly are happy with them. They may be corrupted and with black poisonous souls now but they are both such caring, loving parents that rejecting them would be a silly idea. They have flaws but Adam and Eve are the best parental figures you’ve ever had

Both Adam and Eve will never let your PSTD damage you anymore. They’ll do everything they can to ensure it never affects you again, Adam continues to play with you in a soft manner as Eve brushes her fingers through your hair to further comfort you

All in specific strategies to help you get over your trauma for good and not care so much about those bite and needle scars on your skin anymore

“My little one, are you okay? Oh. A child scared you with stories about vampires? Do not worry now, your father is here to protect you from all of the scary bad things. Okay? May we hug so I can prove to you I’ll always be here”

“My baby daughter! What happened? Did you scrap your knee? Oh no! Don’t worry, mother will make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore! Here, let me pick you up, Mother will heal you and make all the pain go away forever!”

[desmon1995]

Luther's Echo of Chaos: How Incel Fantasies Fueled the Alt-Right Machine

Luther, in The Warriors (1979), was never meant to be anything big. He’s a pipsqueak villain—the kind of guy who creates chaos for the fun of it, then hides when the real action happens. His "that's it?" motivation feels almost disappointing, like finding out the monster is just some loud kid throwing a tantrum. He’s a symptom of the world around him, a reflection of how gang culture exploits and then spits out the very people it pulls in, but ultimately, Luther is more noise than threat. It’s not until 2024 that his character takes on a new, darker meaning.

In this reimagining, Luther isn’t just a chaotic brat. He’s a mirror to something deeply unsettling in our present-day society. He’s become the embodiment of the modern-day white incel and alt-right figurehead. A character who was once irritatingly one-dimensional now speaks directly to the dark undercurrents that have woven their way through the cultural landscape, especially after the 2024 election. In a world where certain voices get louder, Luther is louder than ever—and maybe even scarier.

In the original, Luther kills Cyrus just because he can. In 2024, he does it for a deeper reason. This time, it’s because Cyrus is a Black woman, a powerful Don whose unity-focused movement is chipping away at the very power structure Luther depends on. Her existence threatens him, but not just because she’s strong—because her power undermines the twisted worldview he clings to. Luther’s world depends on certain people being at the top, and in his mind, there’s no room at the top for a Black woman with that kind of influence. He’s willing to destroy her to keep his worldview intact, and he’ll scapegoat anyone to cover his tracks, starting with another Black woman he points to as a “convenient” enemy.

Luther is the ultimate 2020s grifter, not so different from today’s alt-right influencers. He’s manipulative, charismatic to those who follow him, and devoid of empathy. He leans into dog whistles and open racism, mocking the African American Vernacular English that Cyrus uses and reducing her to “girl,” a colonialist insult meant to deny her authority. His gang, the Rogues, doesn’t just follow him out of fear—they respect his audacity. They look up to him the way followers of today’s grifters look up to people who “say it like it is,” often without realizing the hate they’re consuming.

In a way, Luther’s story is timeless. White supremacy has always thrived on fear and the ability to dehumanize those who threaten its hold. It weaponizes trauma and division, and Luther—true to form—gets a kick out of watching other people destroy each other. His destruction of Cyrus’s vision keeps her community fractured and ensures people like him can stay on top.

But here’s the thing: even though Luther stands in the way of progress, he’s not invincible. Sure, he benefits from society’s structures that tell him he’s entitled to power and control. But he’s ultimately hollow. The moment someone confronts him—someone he can’t manipulate or scare into silence—he falls apart. Luther, like so many grifters, only has a facade of power. His strength lies in others’ fear and in the illusion of control. Strip that away, and he’s just another scared man clinging to relevance.

The scary part is that Luther's simplicity is what makes him so believable. Today’s culture often demands complex villains with tragic backstories, thanks to our obsession with “realism” in media. But let’s be real—people do horrible things all the time, often for no reason deeper than greed, fear, or pure, unchecked spite. Sometimes the simplest villains—the ones who hurt others because they can, not because they’re misunderstood—are the truest reflection of the world we live in.

Luther’s lack of complexity isn’t a flaw. It’s his most horrifying feature. And in a world where “freedom” often seems to mean “freedom to harm,” he’s the edgelord fantasy of a culture that wants power without consequence. But the thing about edgelords? They’re not immortal. Despite everything, progress keeps moving forward, bit by bit. And for Luther, that’s the one truth he can never destroy.

I think nothing encapsulates Luther more than his villain song "Going Down"

Luther unironically describes himself as a "Shooting Star"

Think about what a shooting star really is: a bright flash, blinding for a moment, but fleeting. And that’s the irony here—Luther’s convinced he’s this powerful, almost mythic warning to others. He believes his trajectory is like some epic, fiery descent. But as he sings about it, you realize he’s just a flash in the pan, a self-proclaimed symbol who’s ultimately bound to fade.

The brilliance here is that Luther doesn't even see it. He thinks he's part of this eternal constellation, when really, he's just passing by, burning up, destined to disappear. It’s like the lyrics give him this false grandeur, this sense that he’s important and tragic and somehow eternal. But the whole metaphor undercuts him: he’s just a momentary blaze that’ll flicker out long before anyone can even remember he was there.

[kaybreezy3000]

Bad Things (Five Hargreeves/Reader)

~Psychopathy is a neuropsychiatric disorder marked by deficient emotional responses, lack of empathy, the inability to distinguish between right and wrong, poor behavioral controls, and behaviors that contradict social norms which then commonly result in persistent antisocial deviance and criminal behavior.

Enter, Five Hargreeves, everyone's favorite little psycho.

(Chapter Three Post)

---If you need to go back to read the summary and the first two chapters first, hit the link below. Chapter 4 through seven will be added soon...

Link to Chapters 1-2

Warnings and tags: Mental disintegration, psychological trauma, effects of isolation, masturbation, non-consensual voyeurism, explicit sexual content, bondage, POV altering, touch starved, obsessive behavior, inanimate object love, and many other sexually deviant themes all mixed with a lovely twist that you will hopefully enjoy...

---In this chapter, we start the POV switches, and they will be made clearer by large page breaks in-between.

Chapter Three: Creep

Running through his options, Five makes the quick determination that after what he just did, he can’t stay here. He needs to get the girl back inside her apartment, then he will get Dolores and together they will run.

Thanks to his fake ID, nobody knows who he really is, but as soon as the girl can, she’s going to call the police and have them search the apartments across from hers. His family will figure out what he’s been doing, and Five can already hear them going on and on about how disgusting he is.

Everyone already thinks he is a psycho, and this further proves it. His siblings may not throw him under the bus because doing so would obviously tie him to them, but it’s still possible that someone could figure out that the once famous missing boy Number Five Hargreeves is not dead like the world thought and he is not at all the person he was before he disappeared.

The possibility of the whole world knowing about the monster he has become is only adding to the heartbreak that the people he has cared about and fought for his entire life will hate him more than they already do. All this has Five questioning everything. 

They were all he lived for, and he lost them, and now this.

“You really screwed yourself this time you sick asshole,” Five angrily curses as he starts hauling the unconscious girl across the parking lot towards her building.

As if all that isn’t bad enough, Five realizes that he just ensured himself a lifetime of running from the law. This means no more trying to pretend to be a part of something he’s not, but it also means that he will have no other option but to resort to other, much less legal means of surviving.

He failed at life again and there’s a big part of him that just wants to throw in the towel and let them lock him away. But the same part of him that wouldn’t give up for the last sixty years is still there in the back of his mind screaming at him to keep fighting.

Committed to his plan, Five is about to start crossing the short distance to the girl’s building when a man in a janitorial uniform comes out the back door. Being taken off guard by his sudden appearance, Five inelegantly drops to his knees behind a parked car with the girl folding down with him on the dirty cement.

As the man crosses the lot, Five does his best to calm his heavy breaths to a more manageable level. He hasn’t had the chance to let his racing heart slow down since his extremely drunk sprint down the stairs.

Not being his usual stealthy, in control self and not being able to easily blink himself out of this situation is enough to make Five’s mounting panic much worse. The fact that he just heard the door electronically lock after the guy closed it isn’t helping either. It didn’t even occur to him that her building might need an entrance code.

“God, damnit!” he quietly hisses.

He could slip in behind someone, but that’s not likely at this hour, and not with the girl passed out in his arms. Hitting random buttons in the hopes that someone will buzz him in will get the police called or it will wake the whole building, so that’s a big fat no.

As the other man pulls out of the lot, Five makes a split-second decision based on his most recent plan being blown all to hell. He does not want to leave the girl outside lying on the ground, especially in this neighborhood. He’ll have to leave her in his apartment. He’s screwed one way or the other. It really doesn’t matter where he puts her as long as it is safe. He’ll grab only what he has to, and he’ll be gone before she fully comes to.

Five pushes his back against the car, using it to help balance him as he gets them both upright again. Then swooping the girl up in his arms, the alcohol gets the best of him and Five accidentally stumbles backwards into the car before moving forward towards his own building.

“I am never drinking again,” he declares, weaving with each step he takes. Five is trying so hard to push past how dizzy he feels, but drunk is drunk and it’s getting worse.

After the girl blew him off tonight, Five had the grand plan of passing out in a super sloshed stupor. The whiskey he tried to drown his sorrows in is catching up with him by this point and he’s realizing that finishing the whole bottle was just one more bad decision to add to the many others he’s made tonight.

When Five opens the lower-level door to his complex, he can see that no one is in the shabby hallway that leads to the elevator, and it seems like his shitty luck is changing because the thing is working, and it’s already on the ground floor. 

There’s no way he would have made it up the stairs at this point. Heavy feet scuffing along across the worn tiles, Five moves inside, throwing his elbow against the button for the seventh floor.

As soon as the doors close, he woozily drops his weight back on the wall, and sets the girl down, keeping one arm around the girl’s waist to hold her upright and the other angled across her chest to keep her from tipping forward.

Five can hardly grasp how quickly he just fucked everything up. A few minutes ago, he was in the throes of personal passion, about to blow his load all over his costly dress pants, and the next he sealed the deal that he was completely ruining his already ruined life.

Five is being consumed by his deeply depressing thoughts about himself as the old elevator doors close and it groans to life. The girl’s flowery smelling hair is rubbing up against the side of his cheek, and he can feel the heat of her body pressing back against him in a very tormenting way considering his self-self-absorbed cock brain hasn’t caught up to speed yet that he is not sitting there in his kitchen with his hand on his dick about to destroy his own lap with jizz.

His partial erection from that sad whack fest is wedged right between this girl’s warm cheeks, and it’s just like he was imagining positioning himself on her Monday night. 

Now that Five has the girl’s body pressed up next to his while he’s holding her in what many would think looks like it’s a very loving embrace, the truth that he has actually been violating her by watching her and getting his rocks off is impossible to ignore. 

You can’t imagine something if it’s right in front of you physically touching you. The entire fantasy he’s been creating in his head just completely disintegrated.

Now things just got very real and it’s not in a good way.

“I am so sorry I am doing this to you,” he hotly breathes, his forehead falling even more against the girl’s shoulder as he forces down the growing sickness in his stomach.

With extreme sadness, Five thinks about the trauma he just inflicted on this girl. Five knows trauma and his own experiences with it is what resulted in him being unable to put himself out there to have anything worthwhile in his life. 

He had wanted nothing more than to know what it was like to passionately hold someone he cared about and who also cared about him, but the horror of how it’s happening right now is unbelievable. It seems like this must be happening to someone else. 

Five is so tormented by all this, and intoxicated, that he doesn’t realize he hasn’t been holding any pressure on the girls’ neck since he carried her inside. Her knuckles make unexpected contact, hitting the bridge of his nose. Five eyes instantaneously pinch shut to the intense sensation of shooting pain that makes everything in his face burn and his eyes flood with tears.

The girl’s furious screech reverberates inside the elevator. “Get off me!”

Taking Five’s momentary inability to function, her other arm wiggles free from the arm he has around her waist. She pulls away, maneuvering her fist back and down at the same time, nailing him right between the legs.

“Ff-ah-ckkk!” 

Five’s sudden high pitch yelp comes out just as loud as the girl’s cry, but unlike her, his verbal alarm ends in a very hushed groan followed by a whisper of a wheeze as he frantically fights not to double over and also maintain his hold on the back of her sweater.

Five gags down his vomit that is threatening to make this even worse, and while he is immersed in the sensations of pure agony, she comes at him again. 

Somehow, Five manages to move his head back just in time, narrowly avoiding another jab to the face. Her hand hits his upper sternum instead and just as fast, her fingers find their way around his silk tie, yanking his head forward with it.

Five instinctively retaliates by violently twisting his arm around her neck.

“St-ooo-ppp,” he splutters as they choke each other.

“Let go!” she piercingly shrieks before she’s completely deprived of the air to do so.

Dropping her weight as her fingers dig at Five’s arm doesn’t have the desired effect of getting him to let go, so she digs her heels into the floor plowing backwards instead. 

Her reverse attack makes Five’s dress shoes slip out from under him on the grimy floor. The impact of Five’s head as it swings back into the metal wall makes a cracking sound that leaves the wall vibrating.

Totally in shock and seeing the brilliant scattering of stars filling his vision, Five’s free arm swings out, searching for the railing behind him, but he misses. He starts to lose consciousness. All at once, his full body weight is hanging on the girl’s neck as darkness begins swallowing up his remaining vision.

The girl lets out a helpless sounding whimper as they start to fall. 

Beyond faint and feeling equally helpless, Five inadvertently squeezes his arm tighter, using the girl to pull himself upright again. To his relief, her fingers suddenly release the sleeve of his dress shirt and her arms flop down limply at her sides.

DING!

At the same time the doors rumble open, the girl’s legs give out and Five almost drops her.

Unable to think let alone function like he normally would, Five hoists her back up then unsteadily stumbles out of the elevator with the girl’s feet dragging between his legs.

Light-headedly glancing both ways, he is beyond grateful that no one is out there looking to see what all yelling was about. 

Beaten and bloodied, Five makes it inside his own door a few seconds later and his first move is getting them both over to the bed because he still feels like he may fall flat on his face.

Five hastily drops the girl down next to Dolores, then he moves towards his kitchen, swaying as he navigates the short distance. 

After getting the shit beat out of him, he is quickly processing the fact that he needs to adjust his original plan to drop her and go. He is going to need to shake at least some of his drunken and concussed brain fog before he can walk even remotely straight. If he doesn’t, he may pass out in the street or his own hallway with his face smacked down in a pile of his own puke.

The idea of the cops finding him like that, with the addition of Dolores lying next to him, is enough to push along Five’s new approach to make this all still work out in both their favor. The most important thing he figures right now is that he needs to keep this girl quiet for a little while before he is functioning enough to leave.

Five throws open the utility cabinet, his unfocused eyes landing on the hook with the wound-up nylon rope hanging on it. The apartment’s previous other weirdo occupant had left many things behind, but unlike the loads of old stuffed animals, this was one thing that Five didn’t throw away being it had many practical uses. In this case, tying someone up.

“They are right, you are a psycho,” Five mutters to himself as he digs around finding nothing else useful.

Next, opening the first drawer next to the refrigerator, he grabs his switchblade and his revolver. It had been Five’s norm to always carry both these weapons, but he stopped when he figured out that there were no field operatives from The Commission coming after him in this new world because there was no more Commission.

Klaus was right, he thinks. He was better when he had an evil taskmaster to keep him in line.

Staggering a little as he turns around, he sets the gun on the kitchen table and tucks the knife into the waistband of his pants. Next, making it back over to the bed with what he figures will be enough to keep the girl safely detained till he is more composed, Five is surprised to see that she isn’t waking up yet.

He says her name.

Nothing.

Five throws the rope on the bed, then picks up her wrist, checking her pulse. He doesn’t feel one, so his trembling fingers move to her neck, pressing against her throat instead. The girl doesn’t react to him touching her, and Five still can’t feel anything.

“Oh, no, no, NO, NO !” He says the girl’s name a few more times, and again he gets nothing. “Dolores, I didn’t mean to- Shit, shit, fucking SHIT!"

Feeling like he’s losing what’s left of his mind, Five doesn’t know what to say, and even though Dolores is right there, she doesn’t respond to his terrified ramblings.

Even though his mind is spinning out of control, Five’s years of training kick in. He jumps on the bed, rolling the girl on her side. Then he lifts her chin, putting her in the recovery position that you are supposed to do for someone when trying to revive them after being fully choked out. The maneuver makes the girl’s mouth fall open and Five checks to make sure that her airway is not blocked, or that her own tongue didn’t slip back in her throat.

Everything is normal. She should be able to breathe, but for some reason she is not, and she is not waking up.

Kneeling over her, one hand on her back, Five starts rubbing. “Come on, breathe! You’re strong, you just showed me how strong you are. Breathe damn it!”

He knows very well how this works, and giving her CPR will do nothing because this is not happening to her because of cardiac arrest.

Lifting her legs so that more blood moves to her brain is not that effective at helping to revive someone in this condition, and it’s sure as hell not going to work if she’s already gone. Five could stand her on her head and no amount of blood running to her brain will bring her back if she is dead.

“Come on! NO! You can’t die!” he angrily pleads, even as both his hands keep at it, one now methodically trying to massage life into her cold legs.

Counting the minutes in his head, Five can’t really say how long he would have been squeezing tight enough to fully deprive her of oxygen. He knows that all it takes is a matter of a minute like that and someone can face permanent brain damage or death. 

They were in the parking lot for only a minute or so after she swung the bat at him. He knows he let up on her throat enough during that time because she woke up a little when they were crouched behind that car. She was moving in his lap, and he heard soft moaning sounds coming out of her. Then as soon as the car pulled out of the lot, he carried her in, not choking her at all.

In the elevator, he fucked-up big time and he let her wake up completely. Five is sure that she was never completely out more than twice and for no more than about thirty seconds at a time. 

Right?

From where Five has himself positioned next to the girl, one of his knees is pressing against Dolores’s hip and with glistening eyes he looks from the girl to her. 

“I didn’t mean to do this,” he insists.

Again, Dolores says nothing to calm Five or reassure him like she normally would. His watery eyes plead with her, but he gets nothing.

“Oh my God, thank you,” Five cries, with his head swinging back to the girl. His hand on her back slowly begins to rise and fall as she comes back to life. “That’s it. Keep breathing, it’s going to be okay.”

The girl slowly begins to move her legs and Five puts his hands under her side, sliding her small body up closer to the headboard. She makes a small sound of complaint at being handled, but he still needs to restrain her hands, or she’ll be trying to fight him again the second she’s aware of what is happening.

Mechanically, Five flips open his long switchblade so he can quickly cut the correct lengths of rope with it. Then just as fast, he makes tight loops around both of her wrists. Seeing that he’s at least not totally fucking that up that lesson he learned over and over as a child, and that her arms are snuggly secured above her head to his headboard, he risks looking over at Dolores again.

“I think she’s okay. I know how this looks, but you know that I didn’t mean to do this. I was never going to go near her. It was only supposed to be just me waahh-"

Five can’t finish that one, and that is because saying that it was only supposed to be him watching the girl doesn’t make it okay. None of this is okay. His eyelids lower and he rubs the area between his eyes.

“Please talk to me, sweetheart. I don’t know what to do. I think something is very, very wrong with me. I need you,” he pleads, winching in pain as the trickle of blood from his nose continues to drip down over his upper lip.

Five gets nothing back, and right now, he needs his trusted voice of reason more than ever. In his head, he can only imagine that Dolores is not acknowledging him because she is questioning why he is tying this poor girl up like this if he supposedly didn’t mean to do this. 

To him, she is probably thinking that he is going to hurt her even more than he already has and that makes Five spiral even worse.

“Please don’t hate me. The only reason she’s tied up is because I need to stay here long enough to make sure she’s going to make it, and I can’t leave like this. I need time to clean up,” he tries to explain. “I will get us out of here. We can start over,” he promises. 

His blurring eyes dart from Dolores to the girl, then back again.

With tears starting to run down his face, Five gasps out a devastated sob, “Dolores, I need help. Please, talk to me!” Again, she doesn’t react, and his reddened eyes fearfully widen. “Dolores!” The quiver in his voice matches the quiver in his bloodied hands.

Nothing.

Five just drug in the near lifeless body of the very real girl from across the alley, placing her in the bed next to his beloved. Now, having them both laying there opposite each other, all he can see in the mannequin’s normally devoted expression of limitless acceptance is the actual lifeless object she is. 

Just like in the elevator with the girl right there with him, now Five is finding that he can’t pretend anymore.

Dolores’s face stares out blankly, the matte finished paint of her sky-blue eyes will not meet his. 

In Five’s entire time with her, this has never happened.

As Five moves himself down the girl’s legs, snaking the nylon around her ankles, he does so with the shock of knowing that Dolores finally left him.

Now he really has nothing to live for.

Feeling totally out of it, liquid dribbles from your slack mouth. You feel the softest tickle as the hair that’s stuck to your cheek pulls away.

“Wha thhh-ah," you start to mumble, but you are so groggy that at first you can’t even complete a thought let alone string two measly words together.

It feels like you are in bed, but you don’t remember going to bed.

In your jumbled thoughts, you recall going on a blind date with a guy from a stupid dating website. That obviously turned out to be a very bad decision. You should have known this guy was bad news when he showed up early and he somehow snuck inside your building instead waiting down in the parking lot. 

At the end of the night, the douche monger insisted on walking you to your door, and then he really upped his creep factor when he jumped on you.

You remember feeling extremely unhinged and completely repulsed by what he did. As such, you figured that it was a excellent idea to educate the prick on what would happen if he ever tried that date rape shit on anyone again.

As this all comes back to you, your eyes start to flutter open, but the room is dim, and your vision is badly distorted. 

More liquid slips inside your parted lips.

“Please, wake up,” the softest male voice worriedly whispers.

Hearing that, you immediately try to move, but like the voice, everything feels wrong. It feels like your arms and legs aren’t working right.

You feel a warm hand on your back slowly moving back and forth.

That’s when you remember that strange man in the parking lot.

“No,” you croak out, as you remember the unmistakable shape of his firm manhood pressing up against your ass as he cut off your air supply with the constriction of his arm around your already bruised throat.

It feels like something is still wrapped around your neck but whatever it is, it’s not painful and tight, it’s cold.

This doesn’t make sense.

Your mouth quickly shuts, your eyes flying open, as you try to sit up. Adding to your horror, you find that you can’t. Your arms flex and pull but they won’t give in to your request. Your chest and bottom rise off the bed only to immediately get pulled back down.

As your vision clears, you realize that someone is sitting next to you. 

Dark hair dangles over pale green colored eyes. 

The expression on his face is empty, not at all the way it was when you first laid eyes on it. Then, this lunatic appeared harmless. He even looked greatly concerned for your well-being. His eyes were conveying such open sorrow that it threw you off enough to let him approach.

He was acting like he knew you. He called you by name.

You open your mouth to scream but he quickly covers the sound with a thick fold of fabric that a second ago must have been around the cold pack that is now on his lap. His eyes narrow as his hand firmly presses the towel against your face.

As air wheezes through your partially blocked nose, he says, “Don’t. Do. That. Again.”

Every word out of his mouth is filled with warning.

Even if you weren’t already completely scared stiff, just the look in his eyes has the sound of your own blood thrumming in your ears and your heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of your chest.  

This can’t be the same voice you just heard speaking so compassionately.

Looking for help, your eyes try to take in the room behind him, but you don’t see anyone else.

Angling your chin backwards, you see someone illuminated by the small bedside lamp, but your own eyes grow even wider when you realize that the woman lying there next to you is not alive.

It’s an old, full body mannequin like you would normally see at a dump or in a second-hand clothing store.

You try to scream again but he pushes his hand down harder, completely muffling it.

“I said, DON’T!” he growls as you yank at the ropes binding your wrists. They won’t budge and that’s because you are tied to a very heavy-looking wooden headboard. 

Trying to move your legs again, you realize that each ankle is tied much like your hands, then fastened by extended lines of rope to opposite bed posts at the foot of the bed.

It dawns on you that this is his bed.

This perverted asshole saw what your douchebag date did to you. He has been watching you for who knows how long, and now he has abducted you. Your legs are spread wide, and your skirt is pushed up so high from your floundering that you know he can see right under it from where he’s sitting.

You can’t believe this is happening, but it is.

Again, you remember feeling this fucker pressing himself on you. He was hard.

This guy was turned on by squeezing the life out of you, and he has a plastic woman in his bed!

Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!

This is so bad.

As you mentally lose your shit, his eyes never leave yours. One of his thighs is pressing against your side and he’s still holding the bottle he must have been feeding you with, but from the way he is sitting at the edge of the bed, you can’t tell if he is still aroused.

You want to scream at him to let you go but you can do nothing. You are entirely at his mercy.

The only reasons you can come up with for why he is doing this aren’t good, but you force yourself not to go there. You have to focus.

Since he’s not actually touching, touching you yet, you try to concentrate on the rest of your surroundings, looking for some way out of this.

There is an old looking electric stove in a small kitchen area across the room, with an equally old looking refrigerator next to it. A small beat-up looking table sits under one of the only two windows and it has an empty liquor bottle on it and something black that looks like a revolver of some kind.

Great.

You remember smelling the strong scent of booze on his breath in the elevator. He is clearly shit faced. Your eyes flit back to his. He hasn’t moved at all.

Oh my God, you are going to die.

Looking out again, you see that in front of the bed, there’s a very battered looking recliner. Other than the basics, there is nothing someone would have that would give signs that they lived there. There are no pictures on the walls. No TV, no shelves full of personal belongings. Next to the recliner, on the floor, you can just make out that there is a stack of books, but that is it.

You see what must be the door to get out, and one that is narrower and has slatted vents in it, meaning it’s a closet. Behind you, when you tilted your head back to look at what was holding you from moving your arms, you saw what appeared to be a tiny bathroom.

At first glance, you see nothing that can help you. It’s just some psycho guy’s shitty shoe box sized apartment.

His indifferent reaction as you look around his home is jarring. The flawlessly smooth skin on his face gives the impression of youthful innocence, but what he’s doing proves he is far from it.

You’re betting this fancy dressing Ted Bundy has got piles of bodies under his bed and body parts galore in his freezer. Now you see it; he’s totally the type!

SHIT!

His expensive looking three-piece suit didn’t make sense in this neighborhood. Now splatters of blood stain the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He clearly used the cuffs to wipe his nose based on the numerous red smears. 

You wish so badly that you’d hit him hard enough to break his whole stupid face.

You risk looking at more of him, and you see that he is missing the tie he had on before, and you can only assume that is because the first chance you had, you latched on to it and tried to strangle him with it.

He is clearly not taking any chances of that happening again.

Uselessly trying to wriggle away from him, your arms pull down on the ropes and the heels of your bare feet slide across his rumpled bedding.

He took off your shoes!

Your stomach sickens with the realization that he has already been touching you when you were unconscious. 

Again, you notice how high your skirt is, but he isn’t looking there, his cold eyes remain fixed on yours.

You can’t help it when you scream under his hand, but that only makes him even more scary looking. His features contort ominously.

“This is not what I wanted. I-” He suddenly pauses, a line forms between his eyes as they run over your face, down your body and back up again. “You never should have lifted that bat.”

You try to tell him that you don’t care what he wants or that he didn’t want his head bashed in, but your words are totally stifled by the persistent pressure of his hand.

“You kept fighting me. I had no choice but to do what I did,” he scolds, like this is your fault rather than his.

He reaches over to the bedside table, setting the bottle of water down, then he picks up another length of rope off of it. The moment he removes his hand from your mouth, he forces your lips apart, jabbing the cloth inside. His other hand is already behind your head, pushing it forward as he works the rope between your lips.

As he ties the ends at the nape of your neck you realize it’s to keep the gag in. Your mouth is so full of fabric that not even the roaring animalist growls coming out of you are even remotely loud enough to get anyone’s attention.

Your teeth bare down on the nylon fibers as you glare at him in blind hatred.

Eyes darting away from yours, he slowly starts to sit up, but he abruptly stops when you let out a pathetic mewing sound. Those green eyes of his give the faintest hint of something as he watches the burning hot tears rolling back into your hairline.

His hand comes up brushing his dark chocolate colored hair out of his eyes before tucking it behind his ears. His eyes close so sluggishly it is like it pains him to take in the very deep breaths he is all of a sudden taking. 

The heavy fringe of his lashes sweeps his cheeks covering the dark hued skin under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but the faint bruising that is starting to form is also from when you hit him, and it only seems to be showing at all because of how fair his skin is.

First, sexual assault and now you are finishing your fabulous Friday night off being this crazy prick’s new and improved sex doll. 

Is this really going to be your final fate? Live a subpar existence scratching to get by, working meaningless jobs to pay the rent, then die because some crazy asshole across the alley from you decided to remove you from the world for his own sick satisfaction?

You would laugh at your ridiculously bad luck if you weren’t crying and if you could actually laugh.

He’s going to kill you. There’s no other way out of this.

“Just let me go,” you beg him. It comes out of you, but with hardly any sound though saying it makes his eyes dart back to yours anyway.

His face is one of those that you’ve seen that can express the most heart wrenching emotion if he lets it. Right now, it seems it’s more of failing to hide it than intentionally showing that he’s not as cold as he is pretending to be. 

His prominent jaw line seems even more dramatic as you notice him clenching his teeth. It makes the dimple on his cheek stand out even more. He looks so sad, and that reaction is baffling because a moment before he looked like he felt nothing and didn’t even have the tiniest amount of remorse or humanity in him.

You swear you see his hand closest to you trembling.

That has to mean something.

You try to plead with him again, but hearing it, he steels his expression to nothingness again, he stands, preparing to walk away from you.

Christ! Even crazy vagrants on the street don’t have the gift to emotionally turn off and on as quickly as this guy can, and that’s no matter how long gone their minds are.

If you could just get through to him somehow, then maybe you’d have a chance, but how can you do that if he is mentally all over the place.

As he moves, you can see his entire body more clearly. He has straight shoulders, but he is hunching them forward in an odd way that doesn’t match his young age. His chin is angled down to the floor like he simply can’t stand looking at anything else.

His trim waist is defined even more by his tailored vest. He’s one of those guys who has that V-shaped torso that comes from having zero body fat. He’s all lean muscle and bone. Add the fitted black dress pants enhancing the slim look of him and you’d think he’s nobody to worry about, but you know already that he is not weak. Under this misleading appearance is hiding the very dangerous man that just took you.

Your eyes follow his every move as he travels over to the other side of the bed. Again, you swear you see the look of pure agony in his face as he lifts the mannequin and sets her down a few feet away over by the window on what has to be a stand because the thing is standing there dressed all pretty like she belongs in a 90's department store not this freak job’s apartment.

He goes ghostly still with one of his hands resting on the form of its narrow waist.

You hear him softly talking to it and it’s almost exactly the way you heard him speaking when you were coming to.

“Dolores, please… I love you,” he pleads. He is looking at the dummy like he is expecting it to answer him.

When you look to the window beyond him over there having this extremely bizarre moment with his plastic girlfriend, you see the flowers dangling from your own flower box blowing in the wind.

He was right across from you the whole time.

You look over again at the single chair pulled up at the small table next to the window. You can just imagine him sitting there in the dark, finishing off that bottle, watching you.

Being an opportunistic perv that gets turned on by peeping on others is one thing, but this guy was getting off by watching you get attacked and he was clearly also turned on by attacking you.

He’s a sexual sadist and while he rapes you, he is going to do his best to make you suffer even more!

Animalistic sounds of pure desperation erupt from your chest, and they get even louder when he abruptly turns away from his one-sided conversation with the mannequin and comes back towards the bed.

You see his expression change to something fierce and dangerous. His entire body seems to thrum like a bowstring drawn taut. You can almost feel the carefully restrained violence about to explode all over you.

His gaze is so intense that your whole body shudders and his voice comes out so achingly low that he sounds like a different person. “If you have already done the worst things a human could do, would it matter if you sealed it that the devil owns you?”

You do not like where this is going. You shake your head side to side, denying him. You refuse to draw the parallels he is trying to make in justifying what he’s going to do.

“I lost everything. There is no point in fighting anymore,” he whispers.

Even though you don’t want to give them to him, tears trickle down your cheeks again. Seeing them, the faintest trace of a sound comes from somewhere deep inside his chest.

There is something. Something inside all that coldness. He looks sad. You are the one tied to his bed, and he looks sad…

What?

After another minute of him seeming to consider something, he begins to hungrily study you, or at least it appears that way to you in that slow, languid way his eyes roamed over your body. When they hover over your chest, your breath hitches, and you think you hear his hitch too.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” you frantically cry, adding every curse word you know and even adding some new ones specially invented just for him. It comes out garbled, but you are sure he is getting the gist.

He reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand, his eyes roll back in his head, and he almost falls down as he proceeds to pound it. 

After stumbling and then tossing the empty bottle on the floor, he moves across the bed, crawling on hands and knees towards you. The mattress sags beneath his weight as he bends down on top of you.

His weight hovers over you, and your fingers curl into fists. Your arms pulled down but to no avail. 

Reactively, when his hand comes towards your face, you pull back as much as you can. He stops for a second, dark brows furrowing like he doesn’t understand your reaction. 

“Sweetheart, no, please. You know I'd never hurt you,” he slurs, then his long fingers gently run across your skin to wipe your tears away. 

You shudder. 

He still has that look. You know it even though you don’t know him. It’s the look of misery.

He brushes your tangled hair back and the frown on his face deepens. Those pale cheeks of his suddenly flush with…

Arousal? Shame? Murderous rage? You have no idea until you look between your bodies, and you see that his crotch region is definitely tenting in a way it wasn't a few minutes ago. 

Very slowly, he traces the bruises your date left on your neck with a finger. The sensation makes you shiver in fear, and you see him shiver too. You are sure he’s about to lower himself on you but then he rolls off, staggers to the bathroom, and then slams the door behind him.

Entering his bathroom, Five’s body falls forward over the small counter. He clings to the edge holding himself steady, while hoping he will be able to think clearer now that he is away from the girl.

Five is completely overwhelmed with unimaginable levels of sorrow and gross intoxication, but the worst of it is the very demanding reaction his body is having over seeing the girl laying under him on his bed. As bad of shape as he is in, Five can’t even link together any coherent thoughts other than that when he looked at the girl, he was seeing Dolores.

“Dolores, no,” he breathlessly cries in pure unfiltered agony over the gut-wrenching loss he feels.

Wanting to stop the pain and unable to operate on anything but pure brainless need, rather than hurt the girl because he has completely lost his mind, Five desperately begins to hurt himself.

He lowers his head even more, panting out panicked gasps for air as one of his trembling hands starts to rub the front of his pants.

“Please. Fuck. Help me,” he moans, meaning much more than the words can convey as his other hand fumbles to get his zipper down. 

Once he has himself free, Five is quick to start jerking himself with an intensity and cruelty that only makes his head spin even more than it already is. 

“Nahhhh-nnnn-” His instant moans of pleasure are followed by the top of his head accidentally banging up against the oval mirror hanging above the sink.  

Pumping his hips, Five rams the hand he is using to grope his tight balls, jamming it abusively right up against the edge of the counter. His angry touches feel so damn good despite the punishment that the combination only makes him moan even louder.

His knees bang over and over against the cabinet as he finds every way possible to inflict pain on himself while also giving in to that heady desire trying to consume him.

Five winces as his knuckles begin to split after making contact too many times with the hard surface, but he doesn’t stop doing it. He wants this sweet torture to drown out the rest of his unbearable suffering. 

Hair falling in his eyes and his skin feeling like it’s on fire, Five’s other hand continues taking care of the rest of his shaft. His fingers are circled around the end of the hard length, and they are moving up and down so fast that when he peers down at himself, all he sees is a violent blur.

“Yessssssss!”

Mouth hanging open, Five’s come begins to spurt out of him. The near iridescence of his release is somewhere between a milky white and a purely clear watery fluid, allowing it to blend in almost seamlessly into the fake chalky colored marble of his chipped counter. With a dazed expression, Five’s body twitches repeatedly as he watches it drip down into the bowl of his sink. 

As the waves of ecstasy all too quickly abandon him, Five’s bloodshot eyes turn up to the monster in the mirror. 

All at once, his fist slams into the face staring back at him. The glass shatters, raining down sharp blades of Five’s reflection, scattering his hatred at his feet and all over the counter.

As if what just happened when he was suspending his body over you isn't appalling enough, the sounds coming from the bathroom are making you really lose your mind. You yank at your constraints hard enough to make your quickly abrading skin begin to bleed.

It's very clear what he is doing in there; you don't need to see him to know that he took your advice and is actively fucking himself. The only good thing about this is that he is not trying to fuck you and he is in there and you are out here.

When the sound of glass breaking and things hitting the floor abruptly comes after a another one of his guttural groans, you are pulling so hard on the headboard to break free that it's banging against the wall behind it.

Not more than a minute later, the bathroom door swings open and he's back at the side of the bed looking down at you with those empty eyes. 

“I need you to be quiet a little longer." His words don't sound mad or even scary even though he just busted you trying to break free. He sounds very meek but that makes sense considering what he did in there.

You can't help your eyes from moving right from his to his fly, and sure enough, Mr. Psycho's Mr. Happy seems to be momentarily tamed.

Just when you are thinking you might be safe, he shifts himself over on the mattress where the mannequin was.

Just the act of laying down looks like it hurts him. His moist looking eyes open and shut like he can hardly hold them open as he lets out a very pained moan that makes him sound like a child that needs his mommy very badly.

You can see his hand is freshly bleeding but not bad. He doesn't even seem to notice.

“I am going to let you go. I just need to clear my head for a few minutes, and I am cutting you loose and leaving. This will all be over soon,” he hushes when the bed moves from you trying to wriggle away from him.

As he settles into the blankets and his eyes droop closed, his black vest pulls up as he stretches out and you immediately notice that he has some kind of knife tucked under his waistband. 

After a minute or two of laying like that, eyes closed still, he rolls over and his arm flops down over your chest, his hand landing way to close to your neck again. You try to shake him off, but you have nowhere to go, and he remains as is. 

This guy can say what he wants about letting you go, but him lying next to you, hand on your throat, with this fuck mannequin watching him resting up enough so that he can brutally rape you doesn’t have you feeling any less terrified. 

The only reason you are not screaming anymore is because you don’t want to set him off now that he is this close.

Less than a minute later of you laying there thinking this is it, his chin slides down the arm he has folded under his head, and as it happens, the choppy looking fringe of his hair falls over his face.

Holy shit… You cannot believe it, but he just passed out. 

His heavy breathing immediately starts to relax.

Whether he was lying or not when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you and that he was also going to let you go, you have no idea, but it doesn’t matter. Seeing your chance, your arms begin pulling again. You twist and torque your wrists, working the ropes.

The sound of loud vibration startles you and you go stark still, your eyes darting to the kitchen table as your heartrate flies through the roof. 

You can’t be sure, because it’s so dark, but you think there is a cell phone lying there next to the gun. Just as you start to wriggle your wrists again, the phone vibrates again and at the same time, he lets out an annoyed sounding grumble. “Leave me alone, Klaus.”

Klaus?

The third time the phone buzzes, his upper leg moves over, locking down over one of yours.

You close your eyes, willing your mind to take you anywhere but here.

Stupid phone and fuck you Klaus person whoever you are.

“Don’t wake up the psycho, I am about to shiv his ass! ” your mind yells at the offending electronic device.

Not long later, the hand at your throat begins to move away, but as it retreats, your crazy cuddle buddy snuggles his body even closer to yours. This new intrusion on your personal space seems to make him happy enough at first, but then all of a sudden, he must decide that he is not warm enough. He reaches back and flips the bed spread over you both and in doing so, the cuff on his right arm pulls up and something catches your eye.

He has a tattoo on the underside of his wrist. It’s the silhouette of a black umbrella with a circle around it.

What the hell?

You’ve seen that symbol before. You were a little too young when the superhero kids that belonged to the infamous money mogul Sir Reginal Hargreeves were all the rage, but you have heard of them. They all supposedly disbanded when they came of age, and from what you remember hearing, one or two may have even died before that.

They all were born with different unimaginable powers and were often seen in public as children stepping in here or there during major emergencies to show off their extraordinary skills. 

You’ve seen old posters with them, but none of their faces are coming back to you except the girl named Allison, and that is because she has been in the news over the years for different movies that she has been in. 

They were all exactly the same age, and this guy looks like he could be ten years younger than her.

He can’t be one of them…

Can he?

Whether he’s one of them or not, just like with your date tonight, as soon as you get free, you are going to show this sorry sack that he may think he knows you and you are just going to lay here and let him treat you like his little play thing, but he got it all wrong. 

He picked the wrong girl to fuck with.

If this loser was one of the Umbrella Academy kids, you haven’t seen any signs of his powers, which might be because you recall hearing that they all lost them at some point. If he is one of them, it appears he lost even more than that, and he is in luck because you are about to help him lose even more.

The rope painfully digs into your skin. You are so close. A few more twists and the ligaments holding your thumb together will slide, letting your bones pop out of place. Then you can grab his knife and it’s go time fucker.

Someone is getting a knife through the dick and it’s one hundred percent Mr. Umbrella Academy Tattoo!

The phone lets out another long buzzing sound then stops. He doesn’t say anything this time, but the disturbance must have disturbed him again because you feel his hand slowly start surveying your upper leg, his fingers gently tracing a line northward.

You begin to struggle. Your nasally whines of protest have him swiftly changing course, instead clamping that same hand at your waist. He pulls you closer as he presses his face against your neck.

“I am sorry, Dolores…” he whispers.

He is so close. Everything suddenly feels very hot.

His lips part then they start feather lightly, sweep along the coating of moisture he’s creating on your skin. When the heat of his pelvis moves tight against your hip, you are shocked that he isn’t hard again over violating you. 

This guy doesn’t make any sense. You thought that was part of the whole thing he was into, but when he popped a woody from touching your face and neck, as soon as he noticed it was happening, he took off like he was scared shitless.

Maybe right now he is just not recovered enough from his last weirdo whack session or...

Is it possible that he really doesn't want to hurt you. Maybe he wasn’t planning on it when he reached out like he did in the parking lot? 

Maybe you had it all wrong in thinking that he was enjoying watching you nearly getting raped. He had clearly been doing something by way of enjoying himself prior to sprinting out into the parking lot, but…

All of a sudden, it dawns on you that he actually looked very upset by what he saw happen. He sounded very upset by it. It was like he was so distressed by it that he ran down there planning to do something about it. 

He looked like he wasn’t expecting you to be there. He actually seemed very confused by it.

Was he coming after your date?

At the moment, you didn’t see all that, but now…

Well…

What the fuck?

He is obviously very messed up, but maybe not in messed-up in the ‘I’m going to violently rape you and murder you’ kind of way.

He did abduct you, but he just said he was going to let you go. He said that he was going to leave.

For some bizarre reason, he seems to be very in love with his mannequin and you are almost certain that right now he thinks you are her. He is so delusional; he probably can’t even tell the difference.

Again, your feet dig down into his mattress as he nuzzles your neck and makes one of those super soft whimpering noises.

This does not feel like he’s trying to hurt you. It feels like he is trying to do something else entirely.

Something is not adding up other than he is most certainly off his rocker.

He said that he has done the worst things a human can do, and you have no idea what he meant by that, but when he could have raped you while you were out or even now, he didn’t. Besides tying you up, the things he was doing before taking off to take care of his boner problem were all in an effort to help you. 

Add all this up and what he said about letting the devil own him, may not have been implying what you originally thought. The more you think about it, it seems like he could have been talking about killing himself, not giving in to raping and killing you.

You can’t see his entire face, but you can tell that his eyes are still pinched shut and it’s in such a way that looks so miserable.

You have no idea what is going on with the guy but it’s clear that something is very wrong with him, and it’s not just that he is mega wasted.

As your mind is putting all this together, he lets out a throaty sound that almost sounds like a sob before he begins placing soft kisses along your bruised neck while vibrating his next words across your skin. “Please don’t leave me.”  

His hand at the narrowest part of your waist slips under you, tenderly massaging circles against your lower back. His warm fingers very subtly dig in as if he’s trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it when a similar sounding whine comes out of you as your heels dig in across the bedding again. 

He is all over you and not in the hurtful kind of way. 

This is not what you’d expect from a sexual sadist who gets their jollies off torturing people.

As he kisses just below your ear in that very sensitive space that makes your toes curl, he does so like he has done this maneuver about a million times, and he lets out the most contented sounding sigh when your body involuntarily shudders from it. This has got you starting to think that you may have read this crazy perv all wrong.

He’s a perv but maybe not the type you thought.

What he’s doing is so unbelievably tender and loving that it has you trembling from head to toe and incidentally not just from fear.

“Dolores, please forgive me.”

Again, he’s not talking to you, that much is very clear.

After saying that, he stops with the kisses, his body motionless as he clings to you like his life depends on it.

After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of his steady breathing, you know that he is fully out again. 

To the feel of his chest rising and falling against your side, you start to work your wrists free again.

-------------------------

Thanks for reading.

(Chapter four, coming soon...)

If you are hungry for more, faster than I post it here, find this and my other Five stories at the first link below or visit my Blog to see all my Tumblr posts:

Master List Post to my Five Centric Stories and Art

KayBreezy | Archive of Our Own

kaybreezy-on-a03 on Tumblr

[lilibrownlabonita]

Hello!

Can i request for a namor x fem avenger reader where she can control elements and after the events of the endgame she came to live near the beach for peace and quiet

A little child from namors kingdome got curious and stole the equipment to breath air to greet her

She saw him and she played with him and they became friends

Namor notices that some equipement is missing so him,attuma and namora come and see amd the child is without the equipment because y/n is keeping him safe with her powers

And namor just becomes obsessed

And the people of takatoa

And smut ensures?

sorry for taking so long to write, my week was complicated and I had no motivation to write, I hope you like it, I tried to make good content 💕.

*=link +18

When your powers emerged, you were sent to an institution, where there were more people with you, mutants, no matter how many tears you shed, your parents left you there and never came back. It was thanks to Natasha Romanoff, that you found your place, she found you during a mission, you had saved her life by burning a man who was after her, Natasha took you in, saw potential in you, so she took you to be trained, so that one day you would be an avenger. As an avenger, your duty was to protect the earth and the people, that was your purpose, to be a hero and save lives, that was why you fought against Thanos, and when it was all over, many of your friends died.

In search of peace and tranquility, you left for the beach, where the water was abundant and the winds were aggressive at night, far away from all the pain caused by Thanos, the water washed your body of bad memories and brought you shells as gifts. After a few months living in this small house, your routine began to take shape, first the day started with a good breakfast, then you cleaned the house and went to the beach, swam and sometimes cleaned up the garbage left by some people, in the afternoon you were free to read or do anything artistic you wanted, and at night you ate a home cooked meal and slept. On rainy days your powers became a little too strong, the water hitting hard against the rocks sharpened your senses, and all you wanted was to get outside and be free to use your powers.

That's how you met him, on a stormy night, a blue boy, standing near the edge of the sea, at first you thought he might have been lost or drowned, but when he started walking towards you, saying some things in an unknown language, you realized that he was not from the surface, this boy was from the water.

Even without fully understanding what he was saying, you managed to communicate, showed the boy your house and dried his wet skin, the moment you handed him a mug of hot chocolate, you realized that he couldn't drink because he needed the device on his face to breathe. Fearful, you used your power to create a circumference of water around the boy's neck, allowing him not to need to wear the braces covering his mouth and to be able to drink the hot chocolate, he was almost the sponge bob in Sandy's house.

That wasn't the last time you saw the boy, every other day he would come back at night to play in the water, drink hot chocolate, or watch movies on TV. Then suddenly the child disappeared, a week went by and he didn't come, you waited every night for him at the water's edge, but there was no sign of the boy.

Until one dawn, noises of footsteps were coming from outside the house, running outside you saw the blue boy, hugged him and smiled when he returned the hug. The sun was setting, but still you two played in the sand, running around, and throwing water at each other.

Unbeknownst to you, from afar, three figures were watching you, watching you play with the boy, and using your powers so that he could be without the equipment. During the boy's disappearance, K'uk'ulkan, was interrogating him, asking about the missing equipment, and what the boy had used the equipment for, so when the child told him about you and how the two of them played at night in the water, Namora and Attuma along with K'uk'ulkan went to the surface and watched their powers flow from you to playing with the boy.

Slowly, the three approached, and when you noticed their presence, you quickly moved into attack position, afraid that they would hurt you or the kid.

"Who are you?"

"I am K'uk'ulkan, King of Talokan, my enemies call me Namor, but I don't think it is suitable for you."

"What do you mean?."

"I know you are not an enemy, you present no risk, I have observed you for a few days, I am curious about your powers, and so are my people."

Since that day K'uk'ulkan and you began to meet, he told about how he found out the boy was going to the surface, the child's parents noticed him missing at night, and curiously at the same time, that equipment also disappeared.

In every encounter, more and more, the King of Talokan fell in love with you, he felt a fascination for your power, and watched whenever possible you use your power to amuse the boy. The child's parents wanted to know who was the person who caught their child's attention, so K'uk'ulkan, Namora and Attuma, took the little family to meet you, they were curious about the person who could control the four elements.

Soon the news spread through Talokan, most saw you as a possible ally, but others like Attuma and Namora, believed you could be the Queen at K'uk'ulkan's side.

Of course the King knew about this gossip, the years were passing and he still didn't have a Queen at his side, but with you, he saw a possibility, who would be better than a powerful woman like you? He knew that he was destined to be with the woman who captivated one of his small children, and who instead of attacking, took the boy into her home and cared for him as if he were her son too, K'uk'ulkan knew that you were his Queen.

The people of Talokan accepted the King's choice, not because they were afraid of him, but because they knew you would be a good Queen for them, and even the most distrustful like Namora, began to love the future Queen, you would give security and protect them as you did the people on the surface, that was your purpose now, it was your destiny to be Queen of Talokan.

"Marry me, be my Queen, y/n, with your strength and mine, one day we can burn the world, you have enchanted me since the first time I saw you, like a mermaid."

K'uk'ulkan believed he would have the strength to control himself until the wedding, but he was wrong, lust was stronger, the moment you agreed to marry, he pressed his lips to yours, his strong calloused hands gripped your body. In the blink of an eye, his big hand was on your pussy, touching your clit until you came.

"My love, cum for me, I want you to wet my hand before I put my cock in you."

When he was satisfied, he kissed your mouth, it was a hot and wet kiss, he laid you on the bed with your back to him, in your ear he whispered in a groggy, panting voice.

"Forgive me for being so impatient, I can't control myself anymore, the only thing I can think about is your body and how I want to fuck you."

The room was being filled with the smell of sex, as he teased your pussy, rubbing his cock against you, his hands grabbed your breasts and squeezed them hard enough to leave marks.

"Beg."

"Please."

*Quickly K'uk'ulkan lifted one of your legs, positioned his cock in your pussy and thrust deeply, his breathing was ragged as his thrusts got faster and faster.

"Allow me to cum inside you, love, a good husband should always cum inside his wife, to give her children, say you want it, I will give every drop to your pussy."

The words spoken in your ear made your pussy tighten around his cock, K'uk'ulkan wanted to get you pregnant, the idea of being a mother never crossed your mind, but now, with his cock so deep, reaching that place that made you see stars, yes, you wanted to be a mother.

"Please, K'uk'ulkan, my husband, cum in me."

[takeachillpillshawty]

I realized I haven't posted this but here it is.

[Ignihyde Dorm]

Magnus Orpheus

Grade\Class: Junior \ Class E (No. 1)

Birthday: February 14 (Aquarius)

Age: 19

Height: 185cm

Dominate hand: left

Homeland: Shaft lands

Club: Film research club

Best subject: Flight

Hobbies: foraging

Pet peeves: loud parties

Favorite food: Pomegranate seeds

Least Favorite food: any alcoholic beverages

Talent: Lock picking

Magnus is a young man that carries himself with a stoic manner, despite being the Vice Housewarden of Ignihyde he strives to help his dorm mates live a healthy life outside of technology even if it means dragging the Housewarden by the hair for a meeting.

Background: Magnus was always a hard working man, though he has a bad habit of putting others first before him, whether it be out of love or pity. Due to his parents 'spending habits' Magnus went into the work force at the young age of 16, helping pay the bills and also fund his parents lifestyle. Parties upon parties leaving the house a mess in the morning for him to clean, but the love Magnus have for his parents was stronger than his hatred of their 'bad habits'.

Unfortunately his parents would go in dept with the S.T.Y.X. for unknown reasons, the panic and fear in there eyes was enough to twist Magnus' heart. He decided to take on their dept resulting in him working for S.T.Y.X. specifically as the upcoming director's assistant, Idia Shroud. Magnus didn't get along with Idia at first, but slowly he accepted that this was his life now. He attended NRC along with him to ensure his safety.

Relationships with other Characters:

Riddle- Magnus sees himself in Riddle, how he used to bend backward for his parents happiness and not his own. He tries to encourage Riddle to enjoy what's left of his life here in NRC and make happy memories to look back on.

Kalim- Despite wanting his dorm mates to be more social, Magnus is a hypocrite when it comes to taking his own advice. Just because he looks extroverted doesn't mean he is, unfortunately he can't say no to Kalim, especially with those big ole eyes. Whenever he's at one of his parties he tend to be away from the crowd and near a food bar or anywhere devoid of people. Parties like this reminds him of the same ones his parents used to throw but less violent and noisy. All in all, he prefers not to socialize.

Vil- Magnus usually goes to Vil whenever it came to make up.

Idia- He doesn't hate Idia despite his initial attitude towards him, but wished he met him under different circumstances.

Trivia:

° Magnus' unique magic is 'Phantom Phenomena' inspired by Meg's soul traveling down the underworld. Magnus has the ability to turn into a ghost like apparition, able to phase through walls and disappear. This first manifested as an out of body experience when he was a child but managed to fully control it during his second year at NRC.

° Magnus' birthday is on Valentine's day.

° Magnus' last name 'Orpheus' is taken from Orpheus, the man who traveled the underworld to save his beloved from death only to loose her again. This can also describe what Meg went through.

° Due to his unique magic Magnus is almost always cold, no matter how hot the weather is, and the cool temperature in Ignihyde is not helpful. Luckily he received a scarf and gloves as birthday gifts from Riddle.

° it's hinted that Magnus' parents are heavy gamblers.

° Magnus was accepted at RSA, his dream school... but had to decline as he was already registered along with Idia to NRC.

° When asked what would he do if the dept to S.T.Y.X. lifted from him, Magnus stated "I'd cut my parents out of my life and Start a new one."

[soapskies]

Could I request yandere btas riddler and scarecrow, where they're helping each other to keep the reader all for themselves.

I love your writing so much I just want to eat it

YANDERE BTAS SCARECROW + RIDDLER

MALE READER. ROMANTIC HCS. CW FOR YANDERES TEAMING UP (GONE WRONG)

— sorry if these are a little short!

Spookiest man alive with smartest man alive, what could go wrong? (A lot actually)

Though you knew Scarecrow longer, Riddler would fall for you first, and harder.

They both admire your drive and your determination to accomplish your goals, but for Scarecrow it’s more about the fears that come with such a person…

Perhaps you’re afraid of failing, or proving yourself incompetent? It makes him find you all the more fascinating…

At first they had a bit of a rivalry. Scarecrow wasn’t willing to share, and Riddler wasn’t fond of the spooky fellow all that much. Riddler was especially concerned that Scarecrow would harm you for the sake of his experiments.

They respected each other, but taking their darling away from them? Neither of them are willing to give you up.

Edward is a lot better at hiding his disturbing tendencies, at least from your view, than Scarecrow is. He tries to romance you in the usual way, arranging things so you spend a lot of time with him and delivering (not so secret admirer) gifts to your doorstep.

Sure, Edward’s eliminated a lot of people in his way, but you don’t have to know that! He’s lucid enough to realize playing the long game will be more successful for him

While Edward plays savior, promising to protect you from Jonathan, Scarecrow takes advantage of your fears. He tries to convince you that Riddler is only acting polite for personal gain, that he would have no problem throwing you in one of his traps if you proved incompetent…

What if dear old Eddie pitied you, hmm? Only kept you around to make him feel better about himself? There hasn’t been anyone that Riddler considered an intellectual equal before, besides the Batman, after all. Scarecrow is just telling you how it is.

They may try to kill each other indirectly, but neither succeed. They were both expecting it.

Riddler is more open to working with others, and he sees Scarecrow as a grand opportunity to force you into his clutches.

It’d be a lot easier to control you if you were caught between two rogues.

When they meet, they come to an agreement: Scarecrow will be able to continue his experiments as long as they don’t put you in serious danger, driving you towards the Riddler, while Riddler will handle the technical stuff to ensure you’ll never be able to escape them.

Your relationship with them would be like running between two abusive exes.

Scarecrow’s manipulative, putting ideas into your head about your inadequacy and terrifying you into staying, always some underlying threat laced into his words when he shows you what he’s been working on or asks you to do something for him

While Riddler is very overprotective, constantly has you under surveillance, and caters to your every need, which can feel infantilizing and suffocating.

Even more so when you slowly find this all out, as his layers are pulled back the longer you live with him… it makes you think back to what Scarecrow had told you.

At this point, you’re probably too far gone to be dragged out of it. Edward’s taken care to remove you from any semblance of your old life.

Every time one of them hurts you, you run to the other for comfort, and it’s a never ending cycle.

And Riddler has to admit, it’s fun when you’re under the influence of a bit of fear toxin, and you’re desperate enough to be held and reassured, doing nothing to fight their hands all over you…

[cowgurrrl]

So This Is Love

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: this came to me in a fever dream

Summary: A Beach Day [1.5k]

Warnings: time jump kinda (Sam is 17 and the girls are 13), me giving Dina and Jesse last names (Caradonna and Pierce) because Neil Druckman couldn’t, Lucy is Tommy and Maria’s daughter 🥸, family life, fluff

If there's one thing you've realized about your family, it's that they love nothing more than a beach day. Sam will almost immediately ask when you're going to the beach when temperatures get past the eighties. His follow-up question is always, "And can Penelope's family come with us?" Because it can never just be a Miller beach day, it has to be a Miller-Hernandez-Garcia-Long-Caradonna-Pierce beach day. As the kids have gotten older and your lives more hectic, it's nice to have a chance to get away every once in a while. Sarah, Ethan, and Isaac will drive in from Sacramento, and Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and JJ will meet you guys there since they don't live far from you, Joel, and the kids. Joel and Ryan inevitably become pack mules because they refuse to let you or Carolina carry anything, and you've both learned not to argue with them. 

That's what today has consisted of. You, Sarah, Carolina, and Maria sit in the sand as you watch your husbands unload beach chairs, towels, coolers, sand castle molds, and more. It took Sam all of ten seconds to break into Fun Uncle Mode and start a game of football with Isaac and JJ, Penelope, and Lucy joining the boys. Elizabeth, Victoria, Sophia, and Violet sit in a circle with supplies to make bracelets and whatever books they're reading at their feet, gossiping just out of earshot of their uncool parents. Ellie, Dina, and Jesse have given up on arguing with Joel about helping to unpack and have settled on wading through the water, splashing each other when they're not looking. They make a sweet little family. Unconventional, sure, but loving and amazing, nevertheless.

Once the Hernandez-Miller-Long boys unload all their stuff, they join the football game Sam started, in which nobody keeps score because they're all laughing too hard. It's fun to watch Joel and Tommy play on separate teams, the sibling rivalry coming out just enough to entertain you and Maria. You would think Joel would slow down or get tired faster than he used to, but something about the summer sunshine makes him twenty-five years old again. He goes from playing football and playfully tackling Isaac to teaching JJ how to surf, holding his hands as they stand on the board together, to bounding over to Ellie in the waves, picking her up, and throwing her in the water. "Mom!" She complains when she breaches the surface with a big smile. She laughs when you throw up your hands to let her know you can't control him. 

All the moms end up running around with sunscreen, water, and snacks to make sure nobody gets neglected, no matter who they actually belong to. You once joked with Carolina that, at this point, you basically have a commune of parents who take care of all the kids. Jesse will send birthday cards and money to the twins on their birthday. When Elizabeth got too drunk at a college party, she called you instead of her parents. Not because she didn't trust them but because she knew you'd pick up the phone even though it was two in the morning. And when Sarah gave birth to Isaac, you, Lucia, Maria, Carolina, Ellie, and Dina descended upon her home to take care of the laundry and dishes, prepare food, and ensure Sarah and Ethan slept. It's like having a huge family without the drama or strained relationships. 

After Joel has all but run himself ragged and the sun is casting purple and golden rays across the sky, he pulls you onto his lap, and you sit with him as you watch your kids. Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and JJ sit nearby, munching on sandwiches and listening to JJ's latest science fair project about space. Sarah and Ethan build sand castles with Isaac, and Ryan, Carolina, and Victoria nap together in a too-small beach chair. The only ones still up and being rowdy are Sam, Penny, and the twins. Sam is trying to teach Penny how to throw a baseball, and the twins are surfing along the coastline. The sound of the waves and the heat from Joel's body makes you sleepy as you rest against his chest, his hand drawing patterns into your thigh. 

"D'you have fun today?" He asks quietly as he kisses your temple. 

"I always have fun at the beach with you."

"Cheesy," he shakes his head, and you slap his chest. "You can't even get mad at me 'cause you know that was cheesy."

"You married me for my cheesiness."

"No, I married you for the money. Obviously." He says, and you laugh. Penelope and Sam's laughter overlaps yours, and you both turn to see them leaning against each other with big smiles. Sam's eyes twinkle familiarly in the sunset as he looks at Penny again, holding up his baseball.

"Be serious about this! When I go pro, you're gonna be the one to throw out the first pitch!" He urges, and she rolls her eyes.

"If you go pro, you'll have much bigger things to worry about than me throwing out the first pitch." She teases, and he raises his eyebrows, hiding the baseball behind his back and stepping into her. You'd have to be fucking blind not to see the way they flirt with each other. 

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" 

"Like controlling your roid rage."

"I'll have you know I've never done steroids in my life!"

"You're still young, Miller. I give it three years."

"You think that little of me?" He asks and collapses to the sand dramatically when she nods. You laugh, and Joel adjusts so your ear is by his mouth.

"They remind me of us." He whispers, and you furrow your brows as you face him. He smiles sleepily and reaches out to push your hair out of your face.

"How so?" 

"Other than the fact she just called him 'Miller,'" he says, and you smile. "'M not sure. He just... seems lighter around her. And they're always together. They have their own little language and dynamic. Not to mention, anyone with eyes in a twenty-mile radius can see how hopelessly in love he is with that girl."

"I thought you married me for my money."

"I mean, that was a plus, but I married you 'cause I couldn't imagine spendin' another moment without you as my partner and 'cause I wanted to be with you every day," he says as he kisses your jaw. "'Cause I was and still am hopelessly in love with you." You take a deep breath as you wrap your arm around his shoulders and lean back to look at him in all his sunburnt nose, heavy, happy-eyed glory. 

He's aged in the years since you've been together. His hair is a little more gray than brown, and the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes have deepened through late-night feeds, early-morning school drop-offs, tours, movies, albums, everything. You've aged too. You're not the same twenty-something you were when you met Joel, but you love this version of yourself. You love this version of your marriage and family and can't wait to see what joy the next version will bring you. You lean down and kiss him. He tastes like sea salt and beer and him. His beard scratches your face, but his hands on your skin are soft and heavy. You remember an old song from the original Cinderella film. She hums it after meeting her Prince Charming and goes home utterly in love with him. You swear, if this moment were a shot from a movie, that song would play over this moment.

"Cheesy." You mumble against his lips.

"Oh, that was cheesy?" He asks, and you hum. In one movement, he secures you in his arms and stands. You squeal and hold onto him for dear life as he starts walking through the sand. "I'll show you cheesy." 

"Joel!" You yell as he walks into the cold water and dunks the both of you under within two seconds. You don't see or hear it happen through the salt water in your eyes and your laughter, but your family rushes into the water after you—all of them. Ryan picks up Carolina, Ethan picks up Sarah, Jesse, and Dina work together to grab Ellie, and Sam picks up Penny, and they all run into the water. The kids follow suit, and before you realize it, all your favorite people are in the water with you, laughing and smiling as they cling to each other amidst the waves. Sophia jumps on Joel's back, and he goes underwater with all three of you as the sun sets overhead and the moon slowly appears over the cliffs. You're shaking from the cold and clinging to Joel, but you can't stop smiling. There's no place you'd rather be than here, freezing in the water with your family as the sun sets on another perfect Miller-Hernandez-Garcia-Long-Caradonna-Pierce beach day.

[q-ueen-potato]

A story for my reincarnation au.

@alexoreality I told you I was going to do it.

----

There was no music.

 As he walked through the cobblestone streets of the city, Nika was surprised by the lack of people on the streets in the middle of the sun festival.

 "The party yesterday was realy wild shishishi" the god remembers imagining that the people were still sleeping.  Jumping onto a roof he laughs balancing on the tiles as the sun rises over the horizon

"Hi other me, I think we're too soon"

From where he was, he could see something in the center of the city, on his altar.  A large amount of food lays on a golden plate, smiling Nika stretches his arms throwing himself to the altar

"They won't mind if I start earlier" so Nika takes the big piece of meat from the plate, holds it out towards the sun before taking a big bite.

Something moved in his mouth. Nika spits out the piece he bit off at the same time as he looks down at the meat in his hand where he could see verms ,worms and bugs in the food.  Horrified he throws the meat away before checking the rest of the offering, the fruits were rotten, there were bugs everywhere. Candles extinguished.

Looking around Nika began to notice that things were strange.  There were broken windows, clothes and shoes on the streets…there was blood on the stone floor of the city.

How did he not feel it?

 In anger, the sun god hits the golden plate causing it to fall, revealing the painting on the altar.  Some of the sun's rays had been erased making the symbol look like a dragon's claw.

"What…"

 "Enjoyed my little offering Nika?"

 Turning towards the sound Nika saw the taller woman, on her head a long crown adorned her hair.  The empty orbs staring at him.

"What did you do?"  Nika says taking a few steps forward only to fall to his knees as the chains caught his wrist, the smell of the sea coming strong "Kairoseki?"

"Ah yes. Your grandfather's creation to subjugate the rowdy gods, Lord Mar didn't even realize why I wanted it for" Im walks slowly towards Nika who is kneeling on the last step, at the goddess's feet shadows circled removing some of the stones

"What have you done with my devotees?"  Nika asks again angrily, the straw hat (an offering from the same city for about 200 years) hanging around his neck

 "You shouldn't worry about them right now…you're the one in danger here"

"See Sun Lord" Im keep saying while holding Nika's face with one hand, her fingertips leaving dark marks on the fair skin "I have a goal and you are the only thing in my way"

"Do you think that taking me out of the game will make you win? My father and grandfather will not let you get away with this Im. You will spend eternity in the World Beyond" the young god says changing his position minimally ensuring more movement for his arms

"Without the freedom to assert your voice, even justice and truth can be controlled"

 Nika feels his heart ache with what the goddess suggested, she intended to eliminate three gods at once.  Rewriting the distribution of power in Divine Land.

The god looks up to the sky feeling tears form at the sight of what his world would become, then he searches the sky for a cloud to answer his call

"FATHER" screams Nika to the clouds, they weren't loaded to bring rain but they would be enough to carry the message to the lord of the storm

"It's no use calling your father Nika, he can't hear you. How do you think my acolytes entered your city without you noticing?"  Im explains as Nika notices the thin, almost invisible veil of darkness covering the city "How did their soldiers slaughter and chain your devotees within the city you are  patron?"

Nika look at the humans who accompanied Im, as soon as he recognized them the betrayal hit him like a punch in the face.  There were Queen Donquixote Domenica, King Nefertari Dune and many others who celebrated together at the beginning of this same week.

"PAPA, HELP MY PEOPLE" Nika pleads for the lives of his followers as a small rain cloud approaches

 "It looks like it's going to rain" the goddess pulls something out of her tunic, an irregular dagger made of the same material as the chains "It's a shame he doesn't see what's going to happen"

Tilting his head slightly to the right, Im signaled her acolytes to light the candles.  Black flames danced in golden candles whose flames were usually white.

 Nika's eyes widen with tears as he realizes what Im was doing. This was not an execution, this was a sacrifice.

Slowly, Im ran the tip of the blade across the empty orb of her eyes muttering words that couldn't be understood.  In a quick cut she opens a wound in Nika's chest.

"May the light offer itself to the void"

 And then Im thrusts his hand into the open cut, holding the god's heart with his hand.

 Nika didn't scream.

 Stopping crying, a loud laugh came out of the freedom god's body.  The pure sound echoing throughout the square.  Displeased with the reaction, Im hold the heart tighter.

 In the blink of an eye, Nika brings her hand to Im's chest. Glowing fingers gripped the skin exposed by the cleavage, just above the goddess's heart.

Nika throws his head back laughing out loud, the rope holding his hat comes loose and the hat disappears just like the sun that was covered by clouds.

 "I'm going to kick your ass back into the empty" says Nika between laughs

"I want to see you try" and with a quick movement, Im removes his hand from Nika's chest and she falls motionless backwards.  The right hand of the god closed into a fist.

 As soon as Nika's head hits the ground, rain begins to fall.

Im looks at the cloud with her head up, she extends her arm towards the cloud showing her arm bathed in golden blood and the orb of light and fire shining through her fingers.

Taking one last look at the dead god, Im turns away from the city.  Nefertari Dune pauses for a moment, his eyes going to the god he had spoken with just a few days before. Closing his eyes, the king bows briefly before resuming his path.

 At the altar, bathed in blood and showered in mourning.  Nika was dead.

—

Zinabi climbs the stairs slowly, each step echoing in hus head as a reminder of his failure.  The rain fell hard, the wind roaring and tearing the roofs off the houses.

 Suddenly the wind dies as the god kneels on the gold-stained stone.

"No" he looks at the motionless younger god, his eyes still open and a smile on his face.

 Zinabi pulls Nika close, laying his son's head and shoulders on his knees, fingers through the white hair that once floated like clouds and now looked like ordinary hair.

He runs his hands over Nika's face, squeezing the skin as if he can't believe his eyes.  His skin didn't stretch.

Looking further down he would have vomited if he wasn't a god, there was a hole big enough for a hand to fit in.

 The golden candles on Nika's altar were corrupted by black flames that had already been extinguished by the rain.  Rage roared in the ears of the god of truth, his son was sacrificed to Im, the goddess of the Void.

"I'm sorry, it's cold" taking off her hooded cloak, Zinabi wraps his cold body (Nika was never cold) in the cloak and holds it in his lap.  He had noticed the mark left on his wrists by the handcuffs and could only hold his son closer to his body as tears streamed down his face.

Then he started to sing.

 he never stop singing until they had reached the shore of the island, and there standing in the sand was Mar.  The god looked with pain at his son and grandson who approached the water

 "The sun has gone out, its glow chained to the sky"

Mar didn't needed his son to know that, he could already feel justice becoming distorted with the absence of freedom.

 The elder god holds out his arms for hisbgrandson to be placed in them.  Arranging Nika in his arms, Mar notices his fist still tightly clenched.

"What does he have in his hand?"  Mar asks, attracting the curiosity of Zinabi who affectionately takes his son's right hand and begins to open the fingers carefully.

 Surprised, Zinabi couldn't resist laughing at the sight of a dark purple and irregular seed.  It was as big as a ping pong ball and completely misshapen.

"Nika my sweet boy" Zinabi admires the seed while laughing through his tears "you didn't go down without a fight"

 "He freed Im… freed her from her divinity"

Mar laughs out loud before placing a kiss on her grandson's white hair.  Nika's eyes had already been closed, but hisbsmile remained intact, the pride of his actions permanently stamped on his face.

 "She might still be immortal….but she's human" Zinabi holds the seed in his hand thinking about what to do with what his son got.

There is silence for a few moments, the momentary joy fading as Mar bent down to place Nika's body in the water.

 "I'm still not ready to let him go to the World Beyond" Mar watches as the waters cover Nika's body like an embrace as it pulls him down to the depths "We can only hope that the waters will bring him back one day"

"The bottom of the sea is a lonely place, Nika doesn't like to be alone"

 "He won't wait long, soon thousands of men and women will be sailing these waters. Singing, adventuring…being free"

 "That's right"

The god of the seas looks at his son before extending his hand asking for the seed.  Watching the seed against the light, Mar knew Im had done the same, turned Nika's heart into a seed, into a fruit.

 Closing his eyes he throws the seed against the sea causing a wave towards the open sea.

"Under the sky, on the earth, facing the sea. who eat the fruits of the devil will never be welcomed by the sea. My arms will pull them down to the depths where the sun does not belong"

 Father and son look at each other feeling the wheels of the universe change, they needed to win the war until Nika returned.

 Once again, they failed him.

[jtl07]

okay here's an idea from another conversation with @daskum (lol sorry i keep pinging you but i need to give credit where credit's due!) where we were talking about crosstraining and trying out different martial arts. so like, the only time i've seen this kinda done is in college where there was like an intramural/club fair and what if there's a section/space just for martial arts ish stuff?

[edit: putting this under the cut because this again got long; cw: passing mention of harassment/assault]

Ava of course is one of the attendees and she's awe-struck by everything. there's also a little stage - maybe this is idk in a gym? outside? let's be in a gym kind of space because shade is important lol - where each club does a little demo at like every half hour or something and Ava's been asking question to one of the folks coordinating - Camila, who's there with a couple friends, standing nearby. and during a demo, there's idk a throw or pin - ah maybe a flying triangle - and Ava's like "that's hot" which makes one of Camila's friends bristles.

before Cam can say anything, the friend, with the most proper of accents and steel in her voice, "if you want to ogle people, there are different venues for that" and walks away, leaving Ava confused.

and Mary - one of Cam's other friends - speaks up: "she's right you know," and has this look on her face that's like, if you're gonna keep that up, you better leave now.

but that's not what Ava meant! which she says, very emphatically, and explains also how she couldn't move before and it's just fucking cool how they can do shit like that.

"look i get it," Mary says grudgingly, "but you gotta understand: some people fight because they couldn't before, because they've survived things that they shouldn't have had to go through."

"like being ogled," Ava says, realizing.

Mary breathes. "and sometimes worse," she says, and it's matter-of-fact and Ava looks around and it changes her view a bit. yeah these are badass people, and yeah they're sexy af but there's also more to it than that. there's pain they've lived through, fought through, fighting through now and it's just - it makes Ava feel a whole lot.

Mary seems to notice this and she takes Ava over to her club stall/table or whatever, which is boxing and has her meet a couple of the members, even learn how to do the proper stance, throw a jab, etc.

at one point, the aikido club takes up the stage and the bristly one - Beatrice, Mary supplies - is leading the demo. in a word, Ava is mesmerized: the energy, the flow, the utter calm as attacker after attacker is felled, Beatrice at the center, unruffled, unburdened, completely in control but in a way that ensures that everyone is safe.

Ava tries as many clubs as she can - she eventually makes her way to the aikido stall and follows along to the technique as best she can, earnest and joyful and grateful to have the chance to learn. at the end of the session, she approaches Beatrice who, to Ava's relief, turns to face her without any malice, just carefully neutral.

and Ava does her best to apologize, that when she said that, she was talking more about the fluidity and strength rather than the uh, the positioning and Beatrice gives her own apology, acknowledges that it wasn't meant for her to hear and it's not fair to judge someone else's thoughts. "it was quite impressive," Beatrice says and Ava grins.

"not as impressive as your demo. i mean, talk about incredible." Ava has to force herself to stop talking though she does catch how Beatrice ducks her head a bit, shy.

"i'm glad it was entertaining," is all Beatrice says. she glances around and nods towards the different stalls. "did you find any of the clubs worth signing up for?"

Ava nods emphatically, rattles off the ones that she's signed up for then notices Bea's face. "you think that's too much" and Bea's like, no, no, she crosstrains as well, which makes Ava gape. "i bet you can do all the demos, huh"

and Mary comes up from behind them and says with a grin, "she did one year when a bunch of us got sick."

and of course Ava's like, "Beatrice is a badass!" which makes Mary glare at her, and is like, well what about us, hm? and Ava says something cheeky like oh you're badass number 2, which sets Mary off after her, the two of them running through the space like children as Beatrice sighs and Cam cheers them on.

[anti-dazai-blog]

32-33- Thousands of lives risked on a gamble (and other complaints)

Welcome back to the Anti-Dazai Series!!

School starts late August this year, meaning this will be the final entry I’ll post before my classes start. But rest assured that no matter how long the gap between entries becomes, the Anti-Dazai Series is NOT dead or abandoned! So long as I never explicitly say that I’ve gotten bored of this, I will continue posting here–

Now onto what you’re here for—

—-------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 32 has no Dazai content, since its focus is Poe and Ranpo. Meaning we’re moving right on to chapter 33–

Dazai and Ranpo have a strategist meeting to decide the agency’s next move. Dazai went into this meeting with ulterior motives: to present the idea of Atsushi infiltrating the Guild’s Moby Dick alone, as to have him team up with Akutagawa once they’ve both already boarded. With that in mind, the way Dazai and Ranpo’s conversation plays out is rather interesting. Rather than going back and forth putting multiple ideas on the table, Dazai throws in a few specific combinations of agency members to send in, knowing they’re a bad match for this mission. Ranpo knows this too, and points out why each of these combos wouldn’t work. Once those purposely wrong solutions are shot down, Dazai suggests sending Atsushi in. Since this would technically work, Ranpo approves of this suggestion and allows the agency to go forward with it.

Dazai’s tactics here are classic but effective. He suggests subtly bad ideas, knowing that Ranpo will see through the flaws in each one, and then hands him a plan that wouldn’t automatically fail, knowing it would have to be approved. It also casts the illusion that all other options were analyzed, even though only a few specific combinations of agency members were considered. In a way, it’s also a standard “make them think it was their own idea so they’ll agree”. Dazai prompts Ranpo into giving the solution he’s aiming for, so he could move his “create a rivalry-partnership” plan forward.

After Dazai’s done ensuring Atsushi will have a Very Bad Time aboard the Moby Dick, he goes to visit Ango to negotiate Kyoka’s release. Ango, as you may recall, is currently recovering from a car crash. That Dazai caused. He’s stuck in a hospital bed in a full body cast. So Dazai’s greeting of “You look lovely! ;)” just seems like rubbing salt in the wound. But let’s be real, this kind of cruel mockery is exactly what can be expected of him. 

Note that Dazai not only caused the accident to begin with, but also removed the airbags on Ango’s side of the car, to ensure he gets as injured as possible. 

I’ll give him credit for negotiating for Kyoka’s release– Kyoka doesn’t seem to have any part in his grand Atsushi-related plans, so for once he’s doing something good for someone else without it being a part of his grand schemes. However, negotiating for anything in exchange for medical attention for the grievous bodily harm you intentionally caused someone is Very Messed Up, to say the least.

And now it’s time for the long-awaited mission. 

Dazai, as per his previously stated plan, sends Atsushi into the Mody Dick alone. Atsushi is reasonably stressed about this, and being the world’s most encouraging mentor, Dazai explains that it makes sense for him to be the one chosen for this, since “[Atsushi’s] the guy who runs away the fastest.” I’m sure Atsushi found courage in that reminder.

Once he boards the Mody Dick, he discovers that the mission was misrepresented to him (in more ways than one, but we’ll get to that). Or to put it more simply– he was intentionally lied to to get him to agree to do this in the first place. He discovers that the Moby Dick is set on a course to crash in Yokohama, and the only way to stop it is to retrieve the control terminal guarded by Francis. Dazai and Ranpo were both aware that this was the Guild’s plan based on their previous conversation during the strategy meeting (“mountain?” “no, sea”). This could have easily been relayed to Atsushi to allow him an opportunity to mentally prepare himself or plan ahead. Yet they allowed this to be suddenly sprung upon him by Melville, causing more unnecessary panic in an already tense situation.

But let’s draw our attention back to the problem itself: the Moby Dick, a giant airship, is about a come crashing down upon a densely populated city. If only we knew of an ability user who could prevent this from happening– Perhaps someone who could… simply decide whether or not any object should fall in the first place? If only we knew someone like that! Unfortunately our easy solution to this problem is in the Port Mafia, and as per Dazai’s conversation with Mori in this chapter, we know that per Dazai’s request, the Mafia is not to interfere with the agency’s current mission to stop the Moby Dick from killing everyone. 

Let me reiterate: Dazai made sure to make a prior agreement with the mafia that they won’t interfere in stopping the Moby Dick from crashing–something  that could potentially kill thousands of innocent people, that a single specific mafia member could easily solve in a matter of seconds– all for the sake of putting Atsushi and Akutagawa in a situation where they would have to work together, thus forming his rivalry-partnership that he’s so invested in. THOUSANDS of people’s lives were risked for a gamble that had no guarantee of paying off. 

Atsushi is, of course, unaware of all of that. And Akutagawa thinks he’s acting on his own free will when he disobeys his boss’s orders and boards the Moby Dick. And now that Akutagawa’s here– yet another factor that Dazai orchestrated in advance, Atsushi has yet another one of Dazai’s pawns here with him to add to his ever-growing stress. 

And that’s that for this week’s entry of the Anti-Dazai Series!! Join me next week when I talk about how Akutagawa is just a traumatized child who desperately needs a great therapist and a hug. And so does Atsushi. So does everyone who has to deal with Dazai. Actually while we’re at it can we get Dazai a therapist too? He probably needs one just as much as everyone else.

[meraki24601]

Scented Candle

Whumptober day 29. Prompt: Scented Candle.

-----------*-***-*-----------

Whumpee wasn’t sure they’d ever enjoy large crowds again. They used to live for them. The bumping of shoulders as you cross the street in a big city, or being surrounded by people screaming their idol’s name at a big concert. But that was a long time ago. 

Today was Whumpee’s birthday. They had been doing good. Therapy and the support of Caretaker helped them reach the point where they could leave the apartment again. For some reason, to celebrate their progress and their birthday, Whumpee had decided to throw a small party. 

Five of Whumpee’s friends were invited to their and Caretaker’s apartment. Whumpee hadn’t wanted any gifts, but everyone brought one anyway, including Caretaker. Voice soft and hands shaking, Whumpee opened the gifts as everyone stared. Each person present was someone Whumpee trusted to keep them safe and to understand if things went south. Still, they couldn’t help but feel the pressure to respond well to the gifts and ensure no one would be upset or think Whumpee was ungrateful.

It had been going well enough. Whumpee had made it through three of the six presents with only one incident where they almost dropped the surprisingly heavy gift (Caretaker had gotten Whumpee a weighted blanket). The fourth was where things went wrong. 

One of Whumpee’s friends had started a candle-making business. Of course, their gift was a brand new candle hand-made with Whumpee’s favorite colors. It was beautiful with the wooden wick Whumpee loved. Whumpee was ready to gush over their friend’s handiwork, but then they smelled it.

The scent was very clean. Carefully crafted so it wasn’t overwhelming, with just a hint of lavender beneath. It smelled like Whumper’s laundry detergent.

Time seemed to slow as the scent flooded the room. Whumpee could feel Whumper’s hands wrap around their throat like back when they had accidentally shrunken one of Whumper’s shirts. They could taste blood as Whumper shoved a towel still warm from the dryer in their mouth to keep them from screaming for help. 

“Well?” Whumpee’s friend asked. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I’ve got plenty more where that came from. I promise I won’t be offended. That’s a new scent I’ve been working on, so it might need a bit more work.”

“No! No, I. I love it. It’s, it’s beautiful.” Whumpee’s chest clenched as they stuttered. They couldn’t let anyone see how badly they were panicking. It was stupid for them to fight to hold back tears because they smelled a candle. It was stupid. It was weak. It was dangerous. Whumpee couldn’t lose control. For months, Whumpee had been hiding away from their friends. If they backed out now, everyone would be mad at them.

The rest of the party was a blur. Whumpee couldn’t remember what had been hidden in the last two packages. It felt like eyes were everywhere, watching, waiting for them to mess up and show how pitiful Whumpee was. They could remember flinching away when Caretaker put a hand on their back to guide them back to the living room after dinner. The sound of conversation around them. The whole time, the candle sat on the coffee table next to the other gifts.

Before Whumpee knew it, they were standing in the doorway waving goodbye to the last of their guests. “Drive safe!” Caretaker called after them. “Let us know when you get home, okay?” As the front door closed, Whumpee couldn’t hold back a shudder.

Caretaker was moving. “It’s alright, Whumpee. Can you sit on the couch for me? You’re safe. It’s just us now.”

Whumpee’s legs walked them over to the couch, but they couldn’t sit. The lid was covering the candle, and yet they could still smell it. 

With several bags in hand, Caretaker entered the living room. “It was the candle, right? Whumpee, can you nod if it was the candle that triggered you? Something about the smell?”

“It smells like Whumper.” Whumpee’s throat burns as the name drops from their lips and writhes around their feet, threatening to trip them should they try to move. “It smells like their laundry.”

“Alright. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll put it away. We can decide what to do with it once you feel better.” Caretaker picked up the candle with a bag, then double bagged it, then triple bagged it. 

With each layer separating them, Whumpee could feel the fog lifting from their mind and the weight on their chest ease up. The feeling wasn’t gone, but the panic eased enough for their muscles to loosen and Whumpee fell onto the couch. “Thank you. Thank you.” They reached out in a daze for the weighted blanket Caretaker had gifted them, and Caretaker draped the heavy fabric over their lap before Whumpee could think of standing to reach it. 

“Just relax, Whumpee. You’re safe. You did so well today. I’m proud of you.” Caretaker said as they sat on the couch a reasonable distance from Whumpee. At least, they did until Whumpee leaned closer. Permission to touch granted, Caretaker scooped Whumpee into their arms.