#they’re so stupid i need to hit them with a hammer

[reader-from-nowhere]

The very specific flavor of dratchrod I enjoy, inspo from this post

They placed him in middle so he won’t be able to run away the moment they’re done

[lilithknoxville]

HES SO GOOFY

jeff why do you have a hammer and a pan???

[muffinsin]

Hey, back with more Dani love!

Could I request dani getting caught in a snowstorm, maybe she went out to retrieve something from duke or stayed out hunting later than she should have, and a villager s/o with g!p finds her huddling for warmth? They bring Dani back to their cabin to help her, warm her up and patch up any injuries. Dani wants to thank her savior a little more intimately, but at first the villager tries not to give into temptation due to fearing what the Lady of the castle would do to them for. Of course, Dani is relentless and won’t leave until she’s properly thanked her savior.

Absolutely! No one can resist this vixen for long ;)

Masterlist

Daniela shivers and ducks her head slightly at the first, loud crackle in the sky.

She shrieks at more, and gasps at distant lightning. The redhead swarms carefully, up a tree and into the sky. The castle-

She frowns unhappily; how has she gotten so far away? The castle towers shimmer in the distance, so far away. It will take her a good half an hour, if not 40 minutes to get there. It’s time she doesn’t have.

Daniela quickly lowers herself on the ground again at the next sound of thunder. She gasps when cold raindrops hit her hooded head.

She realises fast, she only has limited time left before the storm that is bound to show. Daniela mentally face palms herself; now she’s going to have to listen to Bela scolding her for going out when the blonde predicted the bad weather.

Another strike of loud thunder. Daniela gasps again. The rain is cold. She needs to find shelter, fast. Her body can’t stand the cold and the wetness will merely prevent her from swarming and thus make her vulnerable.

She tries her best not to freak out.

The cold temperature won’t kill her, she thinks. Surely it won’t be that cold. But it will hurt. She doesn’t want to need to brace herself for the pain.

She grips the flowers in her hands tighter, then lets go. It had been stupid to go out to gather them, she knows this now. But, they’re so beautiful. She so desperately wants to keep them! After all, there is nobody else getting her flowers.

She pouts at the thought, then shakes her head visible, as if to rid herself of the thought. No, she needs to concentrate. Flowers aren’t her priority now, staying alive and well is. And maybe getting out without a scolding from Bela.

Daniela sighs, dropping the flowers. “Goodbye, lovelies”, she whispers to them longingly, staring at the colourful petals.

Another raindrop lands on her nose, she squeaks in surprise.

It’s cold, and thick. She’s jumping at another on her shoulder, soaking through the fabric of her dress. She’s going to be shivering in no time!

Daniela looks around wide eyed, seeing nothing but trees and rocks. She runs for the direction castle. Something must come up to help!, she thinks, gasping as more and more heavy raindrops fall down on her.

You jump at the thud you hear outside your door. The sky is dark. You do quick work of turning off most of the lights in the small cabin.

Only a small candle remains. You grip the knife off the counter, pushing it in your pocket. Just to be safe, you lift the shotgun off the wall.

You silently pray it isn’t another lycan, but can’t help but feel on edge.

Just yesterday you heard a pack of them traveling nearby.

You breathe deeply, then pull the door open, keeping your shotgun aimed in front of you.

But, no hairy beast greets you. Instead, a woman falls into the room, having leaned against the heavy door. Her back is turned to you, but you can tell she is breathing. She wears strange clothing, all in black, and is drenched from the heavy rain outside that hammers against the cabin.

You angle the shotgun, using its tip to turn her head. She’s unconscious, and beautiful. The symbol on her forehead makes you freeze.

Dimitrescu.

Daniela gasps when she wakes. She instinctively wraps her arms around herself. She remembers feeling so, so cold.

But now she’s warm, comfortably so, even with her damp hair against her face and neck.

She scans the room she’s in; it’s small, with only a bed inside. A bed she is perched on. A blanket, rough and brown, is covering her. It’s made of wool, she notices. Dim light comes from the room next to hers. She hears humming; it sounds beautiful.

Upon standing up, she notices the mirror on the door. A bandage stretched across her forehead. Upon peeling it off, she smiles at the healed skin. Your concern warms her heart. She steps into the other room, eager to meet you.

Daniela eyes you. The moment she steps into the larger room, you notice her.

“You’re awake”

She smiles at your voice. It’s breathtaking.

“How do you feel?”, you ask, when she fails to answer. Daniela grins. “Never better, my saviour”, she draw out. You raise your eyebrow.

Daniela walks over to you happily, uncaring about your personal space as she lets herself fall down on your lap. You grip the edges of the chair you’re sitting on.

“Say, whom do I owe the pleasure? Who is my saviour?”, she asks. You try your best to keep eye contact. Why must her cleavage be right there!

You answer her, stating your name. She feels light on your lap. Her fingertip pushed against your shoulder, for a moment you wonder if she’s listened. Then she repeats your name.

Daniela hears your heartbeat quicken when she says your name. She giggles.

“You’ve saved me, my knight”, she coos. “I wonder, how can I repay you?”

You begin to squirm slightly under her. You were raised well, or at least have good manners. You shouldn’t have the dirty thoughts that entertain your mind.

You bite your lip, stifling a groan when she squirms, turning on your lap to face you a little more. She rubs up right against the bulge between your legs. You’ve saved her, you can’t possibly ask for such a thing in return.

And yet your hands ache to grip her, fingers tingling with the wish to pull her nipples.

Your mind supplies you with the image of merely half an hour ago, when you had dragged her inside. Her clothing, wet and cold, utterly soaked and clinging tightly to her like a second skin.

You had tried not to stare, but now you remember the look of her nipples hard through the soaked fabric.

You try not to think of this. Instead, you grip the chair tighter. “I couldn’t possibly ask of something in return”, you say at last.

You glance at the tattoo on her forehead. You don’t know overly much of the Dimitrescus, but you know enough to be well aware to stay away. Yet, you feel drawn in.

Daniela smiles sweetly, seductively. She portrays innocence and safety. You don’t yet know her appearance doesn’t quite match her in this moment.

She looks playful. Your eyes widen when she slips off your lap, instead sits on the floor in front of you. She leans her head on her arms, crossed on your thighs.

Daniela pouts playfully.

“But my saviour, there must be something I can do!” She pleads. You gasp when she slides her palm downwards and to your thigh. She is, of course aware of what she’s doing to you. As any good predator should.

The tip of her index and middle finger playfully walk across your thigh. You feel entirely too warm, suddenly.

Daniela gasps when you stand up, her hands brushing off you. “Really, I’m glad I helped. I expect no reward”, you say, and yet in your mind you’re already undressing the auburn haired woman.

You think of how adorable her breasts must look so adorable for you. You admit, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance down at them when you peeled her wet dress off her and put her in one of your warm shirts instead. They looked large, and seemed soft.

You walk towards the fireplace, stoking it. She turns back to you, still in place. Golden eyes linger on you as she drops the brown blanket from her shoulders.

“It’s so warm in here”, she complains softly. The shirt is too big on her, and you feel as though your eyes pop out your skull when she grips it and pulls it against her, showing off the hidden curves beneath it. It rises up slightly, exposing the pale skin of her stomach.

You’re feeling painfully hard.

Another glance at her tattoo reminds you of the danger.

Would it be your death sentence to give in to her obvious offer, no- wish? Would Lady Dimitrescu merely tear you to pieces for defiling one of hers? You aren’t sure, but you remember hearing of three daughters; huntresses.

You gulp when the woman rises, her body inching closer until she is pressed against you, her full chest against yours, her fingertips back at your thighs. She reaches up with them, toying with your belt.

“Let me repay the favour, my darling saviour”

You bite your lip. Your own nipples are hard.

“I don’t-“, your words die on your lips as she leans forwards, her soft lips brushing against your neck. A moment’s worth you wonder if you’re going to die. It’s dangerous to let a predator such as her this close to where she could end you.

One snap of your neck.

That snap doesn’t come, however.

Instead you feel soft lips dragging against your flesh, a cold tongue poking out and sliding across your neck. You moan, and you know the battle is over when you feel her smile against your neck.

“My brave saviour”, she coos, hands easily undoing the belt you’re in. Daniela pulls it open eagerly, her fingertips exploring more and sliding to the zipper of your pants.

“I feel the upmost sense of relief that you have kept me protected”, she whispers. Her voice is soft.

You gasp when the pants spring open and her hand slides inside of them, cupping your bulge through your underwear. “Let me make it up to you, my love”

The strange petname from a practical stranger should worry you. You can’t bring yourself to worry however; she’s ethereal.

Daniela squeezes and rubs alongside the bulge as her teeth drag against you, not quite sinking in. She’s warm now, being this close to you, and lifts the shirt over her head. You see the damp bra and panties clinging to her. You know, health wise, you should have removed them to avoid her catching a cold, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Now, you wonder if at last you will see her beneath the garment.

“Don’t be shy, this is your reward”, she breathes seductively, bringing your hands up and to her round, swell breasts. They’re cold from the bra. You must change this, no?

Daniela giggles when you all but tear the fabric covering her down, replacing it with your warm hands instead. She moans at your gropes and arches her back just slightly when you pull her nipples.

She’s stunning, and she has you under her spell.

Your knees buckle when curious hands push past your underwear. Your warm cock rests in her hand. She squeezes again, humming. “Such a big thing. I’ll be sure to treat it well”, she promises quietly.

Your hands all but dig into the wall behind you when she gets on her knees. Daniela smiles up at you, hands tugging down the garments on your lower half. She licks her lips at the hardened cock in front of her.

This is going to be so fun! It’s been ages since she’s had a real dick. She feels her body responding naturally to it, her cunt wet and nipples hard, tiny, sensitive clit aching.

You lean back upon feeling her fingers back on you, and moan at the feeling of her warm lips around your tip. It’s been ages.

Daniela coos at your reactions, humming as she slips you inside her mouth. You resist the urge to thrust your hips, but then remember: isn’t this supposed to be your reward?

You give your hips an experimental thrust, making the redhead on the floor jump in surprise. She gags around you at the sudden movement, her hands coming up to steady herself on your hips.

You feel her nails, dangerously sharp, resting against your waist.

Another thrust into her warm mouth. Daniela moans, her golden eyes looking up at you obediently and seductively.

Maybe the mighty Alcina Dimitrescu didn’t have to find out about this.

You move your hips, desperation clear in your movement as you use her warm mouth. Daniela moans and blushes below you, visibly pleased with herself.

Her warm tongue rubs against you even as you thrust, and her throat becomes so tight whenever you push up against the back of it and make her gag.

Your cock is soon covered in drool, and her hand opts for sliding down between her legs. You don’t stop her, only demand she slips the damp underwear off. You want to see her pleasuring herself.

“God yes…!”

She moans at your reaction to her, her legs spread to let you see. She’s so eager to repay the favour to her lovely saviour!

Daniela giggles as she grips your hip tighter, once again taking subtle control as she wraps her lips tighter around you. You feel her against you, warm and soft.

You almost whine. You really don’t want to cum in her mouth, not if you could pump your load someplace else…

A part of you is worried of taking advantage of the woman’s offer for repayment. Another part wants nothing but to bury yourself deep inside her soft looking cunt.

Your head it thrown back against the wall. She feels so good on you, lips around you, creating somewhat of a tight seal. Her tongue drags against you inside her mouth as she sucks, and her hands fondle your balls. You’re close from her antics.

Daniela grinds down on the fingers inside of her, soaked and curling within her. She’s entirely naked in front of you, save for the necklace sitting around her throat.

“Please”, you whisper. You’re so close, your moans and gasps fill the room.

Daniela knows this, of course. She feels you twitch in her mouth and doubles her efforts.

Alas, no matter how hard you try, you can’t hold back. Daniela gasps at the unexpected ejection in her mouth. She feels your cum drip down her throat, your cock buried at the back of it. It feels foreign, but she doesn’t mind.

You pant, even more turned on as she keeps you in her mouth until you’re done shooting ropes of cum down her throat.

Perhaps, this would mean her debt is paid off. She has repaid you in the sweetest way possible. But Daniela is greedy, and now she has a taste of paradise, she wants to keep it a while longer.

You gasp when she pulls you by your hands, gently tugging you to the ground to her. She swallows what’s left of your cum, allows the rest to drip down her chin.

Your cock is soaked from your own cum and her drool. It glistens in the light of the fireplace.

She easily rips up your shirt, hands on your chest immediately.

It baffles you that you don’t even know the beautiful woman’s name yet. The question, however, slips your mind easily when she pushes you down and straddles you, her wet, puffy cunt right above your cock.

She leans down, hands on your waist as her lips wrap around your nipple. Her back is arched beautifully and feels soft under your fingertips. Her skin, pale and soft, looks as if she’s shining in the glistening light of the fireplace. She looks god-like, her auburn hair long and soft.

“My knight in shining armour”, she coos seductively when she feels you harden slightly under her again. Her wet cunt rubs against you. “My perfect saviour”, she adds, her hard nipples brushing against yours.

She pushes you inside of her, moaning and grinding down momentarily. It feels so good to be full again.

“Good…”, she moans, hips lifting. She has her hands on your chest, smiling down at you as she rides you. Her breasts bounce softly at her elegant pace, her head is thrown back. Gentle moans fall from her lips.

“You’re beautiful”, you praise. Your hands eagerly slide up her thick, soft thighs, up her stomach and to cup her large breasts.

The village didn’t offer many women, much less ones interested in you; in a way, the small village was quite conservative. You preferred living outside of it, even if it decreased your sexual encounters drastically.

Having this, a beautiful woman, a Dimitrescu nonetheless, wrapped around your cock, rising you and moaning you, feels like plucking the forbidden fruit from the golden tree.

But you’re thirsty, and hungry, and the fruit is too tempting to deny.

Daniela giggles when you sit up and thrust into her, your lips clashing against hers. She moans your name against your lips, her hips twitching with the pleasure you’re giving her.

“So soft” you whisper to her, hands sliding up and down her body in an almost worshipping manner. Daniela blushes and squirms at this. She has her legs spread wide for you and throws her head back when your hand slides between them, thumb finding her clit easily.

She’s sensitive for you; it’s adorable.

She giggles happily at your worship and love, feeling herself falling already. Her sisters would call it foolish, delusional, wrong. But how is it not fate, she wonders? Clearly, you are meant for her.

She throws her head back, curled hair tickling her backside. You cup her head, eager to feel the soft curls. You don’t tug, but stroke her hair, unused to company. She tightens around you, and she feels you twitch in her in return.

Daniela whimpers at a thrust sharply inside of her. You realise you’ve found her G-Spot, and angle yourself for it again. Thrusting hard and helping her get off by rubbing and toying with her sweet clit. The woman on your lap is trembling slightly, moaning like a broken record.

You don’t fare much better. But you want her to cum first this time.

“Cum for me, sweet princess”, you whisper, and her head spins. She blushes wildly. “Cum for me, and consider your debt repaid”

Daniela moans, and easily obeys the simple command with your next thrusts into her.

[her-gracious-lady-herald-bits1]

Prompt: time your oc hurt someone

Setting: pre-dragon age origins

---

Her hands won’t stop bloody shaking.

She’s been trailing the shem guard-Sergeant for weeks now, learning his habits—when he drinks, where he pisses, how he stumbles home through the warehouse district thinking he owns every sodding shadow.

Tonight’s different. Tonight, Kallian’s got her mum’s daggers strapped to her hips, and her heart’s hammering so hard against her ribs it makes her want to laugh or vomit or both.

She’s about to kill her first shem. Proper kill him, like. Not just nick his purse or stick him enough to run away. The thought should frighten her more than it does.

(Three strikes, Kalli.) Her mum's words feel bitter on her tongue. (One to stagger, one to bleed, one to finish.) But Adaia never taught her how to murder. Self-defense, aye. How to cut a purse, sure. How to make shems think twice before grabbing at an elf girl—that was lesson one through bloody fifty. But this? This is something else entirely.

He comes stumbling round the corner, swaying like a tree about to topple, using the wall for balance. Marcus Thane. Guard-Sergeant. Not a demon, not even a monster. Just a sodding man. The kind of man who’d break an elf girl’s fingers in the markets for daring to lift a pouch. The kind of man who’d cut her mum down when she came charging to save her with blades drawn. Just another drunk shem staggering home too late, too stupid to think he’s walking into a right bloody reckoning.

Her fingers tighten around the daggers. Familiar as breathing, these blades. Been practicing with ’em since she was tall enough to reach the kitchen table. Now they’re gonna taste shem blood for the first time since—

(Since.)

"Oi! You sodding murderer!"

The words tear out of her before she means them to. Stupid. Should’ve just stuck him in the back and been done with it. But some part of her needs him to know. Needs him to understand exactly why he’s dying in this piss-stained alley.

He turns, nearly losing his footing. Recognition flickers in his drunken eyes. Then a furrowed brow. "The knife-ear kid..." he mutters, voice low. like he’s struggling to place her.

The words twist something deep in her gut. She steps forward. "Her name was Adaia.” Her voice wavers, too high, too tight. "Say it. Say her fucking name."

"Yeah, I know the name." He squints at her, swaying. "She pulled steel on us, girl. Damn near carved up Jonas before we had her down. She brought it on herself."

The rage hits so hard she can taste it, sharp and metallic like copper on her tongue. He doesn’t even remember properly.

(He bloody well will)

"She was protecting me," she spits. "You broke my fingers, you twat. She came for you because of me!"

He doesn’t even flinch. His hand brushes toward the sword at his belt. "That it? This about revenge, then?" He laughs, a low, mirthless sound, and steadies himself against the wall. "Think you’re the first to lose someone? Just trying to do my job, girl."

The blade is in her hand before he finishes the sentence.

The first cut slices across his sword arm. Not deep enough. Not nearly deep enough. He roars, swings wild, but she’s already dancing back. Another slash opens his thigh, and he stumbles, blood pooling black in the moonlight.

Could end it now. Should end it now. But the rage is screaming in her ears, louder than the night watch in the distance, louder than her mum’s voice whispering (quick and quiet, Kalli.)

"Fight proper, you little cunt!"* He charges like a drunk bull.

She sidesteps, hamstrings him. He collapses hard, sword clattering from his grip.

"Like you fought my mum proper?" Another cut. Another. She’s making patterns in his flesh now. "Like you gave her a bastard chance?"

"Please—"* His voice cracks, thick with panic. "I got kids—"

Her dagger stills for a moment.

"So did she!" The words rip from her throat, raw and burning. *"She had me! She had—"

Her hands tremble. The blade wavers. And Marcus is sobbing now, crawling, bleeding.

(End it, Kalli. End it now.)

She tries to find his heart, like mum taught her, but her hands are slippery with his blood, and he won’t stop making those horrible sounds and—

"Shut up!" She can’t tell if she’s screaming at him or herself. "Just shut up shut up shut—"

It takes three tries to finally do it. Three more sickening thrusts, the blade sinking deep, his body convulsing, going limp. She stands over him, breathing hard, watching the thing that used to be a man, used to be a killer, used to be—

The night watch’s distant calls snap her back. She runs. She flees. Whatever you call it when your legs move but your mind stays behind in a piss-stained alley with the first person you’ve ever killed.

Spends hours scrubbing blood from under her nails, watching pink water stain the basin before tipping it out.

Victory tastes like bile and copper. Justice feels like hands that won’t stop shaking, no matter how hard she scrubs them clean.

Her mum’s voice echoes in her head: (Quick and quiet, Kalli.)

But she wasn’t quick enough. Wasn’t quiet enough. Wasn’t enough to save her mum, and now she’s not even enough to properly avenge her.

Just another knife-ear kid playing at justice in the dark, learning the hard way that some stains don’t wash off.

No matter how hard you scrub.

Her hands won’t stop bloody shaking.

---

[roetrolls]

Reined In

“Are you out of your mind? Are you stupid? What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“Benjin,” Veylin interjects softly, ineffectual plea glancing off you as Mallum stares you down.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” He shoots back, defensive. “I was doing you a favor!”

“A favor? What the fuck do you mean a favor!?”

“You were better off not knowing.”

“Better off?” You echo incredulously, heart hammering in your chest, The way it pounds against your ribs, you’re half convinced it wants to kick them out and go strangle the idiot itself.

“What good would it have done?”

“What- WHAT GOOD!? How about fucking safety, Mallum? How about not getting ambushed?”

“You wouldn’t–”

“I think we deserve a little fucking warning, Mallum!”

“You wouldn’t have been ambushed!” He shouts, fins flaring outward 

“Oh really? You know that? You can see the future now, Mal?”

“Fucking listen to me!”

“Oh, I’m listening! I’m all fucking ears! Go ahead, what vision did you have? Was it anything like his?” You cock your head at Zurven, tucked silently against Veylin’s hip at the edge of the room. 

You hate this. You hate acting like this, hate that they’re seeing you like this, but you can’t seem to quell the fury that roars inside your throat. The heat of it is enough to make your hands shake, and you clench them at your sides.

“I told Aderae–”

“Oh! Great! Aderae got to know before we did, I’m so glad! What a bond you two must have, sounds really beautiful.”

“Would you let me fucking finish!?” he snaps. “I told Aderae I saw them. You were safe.”

“Okay!? And what about you!?”

“What about me?”

“They have your fucking blood, Mallum! They have means to fucking track you, you don’t think we need to know that?”

“No! I don’t!”

“You don’t.”

“It didn’t concern you.”

“It’s fucking Harlan!”

“Yeah!?” Mallum throws his arms out in some semblance of a shrug, fixing you with a bewildered stare. “He’s not your problem, Ben! It’s not your job to save us from him!”

“He is my problem, Mallum! And I don’t expect you to fucking get it, but I thought you could at least use your fucking brain. This isn’t the kind of thing you keep from us. That’s not your choice to make.”

“Well maybe it should be!”

A dark cloud seems to descend over the room, over you, as the words leave his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” you ask, voice startlingly low in your own ears. 

The tension, thick and binding, constricts around your lungs. You flex an antsy fist in hopes of shaking it while Mallum watches you with expression unflinching, stone cold in his conviction that he has truly done nothing wrong. It sends another wave of anger crashing over you, searing and violent.

“You weren’t there,” you grit, uncomfortably aware of your own hands. You relax them just to clench your fists again, arms laden with an energy you don’t know how to dispel.

“That’s exactly why! None of you are going to be objective when–”

“This isn’t the fucking time to be objective! You put us in danger, Mallum, you put yourself in danger! Do you seriously not understand how fucked that is?”

“You were safe,” Mallum huffs again, his impatient indignation like a slap to your face. “I wasn’t worried.”

“Gosh, well in that case!” your sardonic tone is offset slightly by the volume of your voice. Try as you might, you can’t seem to lower it, locked into a shout that leaves your head pounding and your lungs pumping. “My bad, you guys, Mallum wasn’t worried! False alarm!”

“If you knew, you would never leave the hive again.”

“For good fucking reason!”

“I’m telling you, Benjin, it’s not a big deal!”

“YES IT IS!” you shriek, arms tensing as you are hit suddenly with the impulse to swing. A voice in the back of your head urges you to get your frustrations out, to strike the wall and allow the white-hot rage buzzing in your ears to pour through your arm into the world around you. You can almost feel it, like a phantom’s touch across your knuckles, aching, begging you to drive them into something with the full brunt of your emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat, anger all at once replaced with stark, overwhelming fear. That instinct isn’t yours. It shouldn’t be yours.

Chest heaving and head swirling, you take a small step back, eyes wide, then spin on your heel and storm from the room without a word.

[anamelessfool]

I made a crackfic inspired by these GIFs

One Shot (AO3 Link)

Papa Emeritus IV & Reader

Mature for strong language, references

Stupid silly fic, destiny, concerts, the incredible cornette hat

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime....You only get one shot. You hope your calculations are correct this time.

1,819 Words If you like this fic please reblog!

One Shot

This was your last chance. After three rituals, there was nothing left. Fourth time’s a charm, you told yourself, arriving at the line by the venue at promptly 1AM. You were going to make rail no matter what. You run into your friend, Avery, who has doggedly followed you ever since witnessing your first attempt a few weeks ago. Since then you had kept running into them in the line, and at this point you had become fast friends. Today they look grim as you arrive and settle yourself into the long wait.

“Last chance, huh?” Avery blows a bubble with their gum. They have the weary voice of some kind of soldier getting ready for one last push over the top. You both hear the rattle of a raccoon scuttling around in a trash can nearby. The things you do for a dream.

You nod back. “Then they’re off to South America.”

“You are fucking nuts,” Avery says. “I don’t understand you but goddammit I respect you.”

“It’s been real, Avery.” You fistbump and wiggle your fingers, laughing.

It’s only a fifteen hour wait. You had waited longer in the past. As the line gets longer, more colorful characters appear, more people mingle. You chat, swapped social, and sing like delirious hungover partygoers at New Year’s. Thinking about the hours ticking makes you break out into a nervous sweat, but visualizing your mission steels you. Every so often, Avery locks eyes with you and calms your nerves with a friendly shoulder pat. “It’s gonna happen this time.”

You feel like some kind of action hero. Staring into the challenge ahead. “It had better fucking happen.”

The sun gets high overhead, roasting the asphalt, and still you remain. The shadows lengthen, the air cools. Finally, finally the venue staff come over to the line. Finally they pull out their scanners and open the gate.

Now or Never.

Arriving at the venue, you refresh yourself, then make a furious, single-minded march towards the front and center of the rail. Nothing will stop you this time. Not even the call of nature. You’ve picked out the ideal spot. After your three attempts you’ve figured out the perfect location. You’ve mapped the trajectory, the angles needed.

It’s a good thing Papa likes keeping to a script.

“I’m feeling really good about this,” Avery says from next to you. “You’re going to make it this time. I know it.”

“You’re psyching me out right now,” You mutter. “I can’t think. I got to get into the zone.” At last the blast of the music hits, that singular Yeaaaaaahhhhh! that makes your heart nearly explode. The curtain falls, and the pyrotechnics flare.

Every time you see him, you can’t believe he’s real. Papa Emeritus IV, resplendent in his beautiful costumes, reaching out to the audience, his thrusting hips powered by his voice. There’s screaming all around you. You have a weird inner peace as you wait for the opportune moment, a calm mindfulness reserved for samurai waiting to draw their weapon. Soon. Soon.

“BELIAL! BEHEMOTH! BEELZEBUB!” Ten thousand throats are shredded with screams. Avery gives you a friendly noogie. It’s time.

At last Papa IV appears on stage, framed by blasts of flames. His flowing garments take your breath away. His fierce winged hat lends an air of noble severity to his presence. The vision of that hat had consumed you since you saw it in Metal Hammer Magazine.  It has haunted you for months, and the plan you are seconds from attempting bubbled up from the core of your being. You had never felt so sure of the concept of destiny ever before.

Papa starts swanning all over the stage, coming into range. It’s fucking time.

From your pocket you pull out your ammo. You have a single shot, but something about having a single chance for victory steels your focus even more than having two or three. You unroll a pair of frilly strawberry-print panties, clutching them into your hand. You let all the breath out of your lungs. You have the focus of a stalking cat, a striking rattlesnake.

You hook the panties on your thumb, stretch the elastic waistband, and release.

“Archangelooooooo!” Papa IV croons.

There’s a moment where you don’t even feel your heart beating anymore. You see the panties suspended in the air, so slow in front of you you could count all the strawberries. For a brief second you scream in your mind It’s not going to make it! They hit the far wing of the hat, nearly slide off, then settle, hole in one.

A perfect shot. The panties land. Perfectly. Right in the bowl of that glorious hat.

“BROOOOOOOOHMYFUCKINGODBROOOO!” Avery screams in your ear. You barely register their voice, your whole soul ascending with the feeling of victory. It’s done. You’ve done it. And it’s glorious. Tears start to well in the corners of your eyes as you watch Papa IV scuttle across the stage carrying your prize.

And then you felt the arms on your shoulders.

“Hey! Get the fuck offa them!” Avery yells, but it is too late. Three security guards drag you over the rail, kicking and screaming. Finally you stop resisting, a serene deathly calm settling on you. You’ve done your duty and now it is time to go to the ashes from which you came. Your unfinished business complete, it is time to walk towards the light.

Your consciousness witnesses when they pull your arms behind your back, forcing you forward, whisking you away. To where, you have no idea. Nor do you care. What is done is done. You think they are going to kick you completely out of the venue but no, one of the guards opens a service door to the side of the stage. The florescent lights blind you, and the silence buzzes with the ghosts of the screaming crowd in your ears. The concrete and cinderblock hallway seems to go on forever and you watch your feet plod forward, your head down. The guards’ grip on your arms and shoulders tighten.

“Wait here!’ One of them shouts, whipping open a door. There’s nothing but darkness within. And within the darkness you remain, the door slamming behind you.

***

The light rakes across your eyes, and you wince like a cave animal. You have no idea how long you have sat in that dark closet, but judging by the silence around you the concert has long been over. Your eyes water and adjust to the light, witnessing the silhouette of a guard standing in the doorway. “Come with me. He would like to see you.”

He? Your heart starts to pound. At last your adrenaline bottoms out and you start shaking, but it is too late to fully react to your actions. Two guards reach in and grab you once more, ripping you back into the hallway. “Keep your head down!” One hisses under his breath. Your hands start to sweat.

You hear the creak of another heavy door opening, and a guard pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. This place is more softly lit. As you start to bring your awareness back to your body familiar colors, shapes and textures swim before your eyes. In a far corner, items are hung on a clothing rack. A sequined blue jacket. A torn leather vest. The magnificent hat greets you from a makeup table, and you catch your pale face in the lit mirror. At the bottom of the mirror you notice the back of his head.

Papa Emeritus IV is sitting before you.

You see him. You blink. You close your eyes. But he doesn’t disappear. He is right in front of you. And you are standing in his dressing room.

Alone.

His skull-like visage overwhelms you. You have no idea what his expression is, but his cursed eye glares through you. He is sitting on a couch in the center of the room, his arm on the armrest. He had since loosened his tie and you see the smallest sliver of skin peek out from the unbuttoned top of his shirt. His body is broad, his shoulders slack from the constant exertion of performing for a crowd.

You open your mouth, but it is as if a puff of dust comes out. He sits before you impossibly, but just like in your dreams. You feel that any noise, any movement would sweep the vision away. He lets out a heavy sigh, his chest swelling. You ache in the deepest parts of your body. He slowly sweeps his legs apart and locks eyes with you again.

“Come here,” he says in his reedy voice. You do nothing. You say nothing. A deer in the headlights would look on you with concern.

He blinks, then pats his leg. “Come here,” he says again. “Sit here.” There’s a quavering quality to his voice. You’re not sure if he is embarrassed or furious. A muscle tenses in his jaw, but the melting paint on his face obscures the smallest details of his expression.

He idly rakes his hand through his deliciously graying hair, and your knees nearly buckle out from beneath you. He is reacting to you. So he must be real. You will your legs forward, planting yourself in front of him, looking down at him. His brow furrows, and his eyes surprisingly shift from side to side.

Is he…nervous?

Papa pats his knee once again. “Per favore, siediti,” he growls.

You lower your body onto his strong, supple leg. He holds your weight perfectly. You feel like you’re going to fall off backwards in a faint, so you unconciously hold onto the side of his waist. His body shifts under you.

“Well, then…” he begins. You’re not sure if he is smiling or frowning. His face is so close you can see how the makeup has drifted under the sheen of sweat.

You have enough willpower in your brain to utter a faint “Um…sorry.”

Papa utters a casual grunt. Through your hand you feel the noise vibrate his whole body. He leans forward and by consequence his chest presses into yours. The heat and dampness of his tired body envelops you, the musky smell of his sweat overwhelming your senses.  Your whole soul is aflame in this single moment in which he reaches to pull something out from beside the couch.

“Here,” he says. His breath caresses your face. You look down.

In his hands is a small stuffed bear, like the kind found at carnivals. He holds it out to you. You do nothing. He makes a little frustrated “Myeh” in his throat and places it in your hands. His own gloved hands wrap around yours, patting them. He releases the prize into your possession, leaning back, satisfied.

“Here,” he repeats. You see the smallest of smiles drift across his face. “Complimenti.”

My Master Fic List

Taglist: @riptide-kid @kabukiaku @historian-crown@monkberryghouldelight @in-cardi-c-we-thrust @iichorot

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Hold On - Chapter 15 - The Text

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Reader

Series Summary: When darkness closes in, hope can be found in the most unexpected places — if they’re brave enough to hold on.

Chapter Summary: After receiving a message he knows isn’t real, Beau clings to the reminders she left behind—silent promises that no matter how deep the fear runs, he isn’t giving up on her.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

Beau didn’t have the luxury of pride anymore.

Not when every hour felt like a countdown. Not when he could still feel her slipping further away.

This wasn’t about right and wrong. It wasn’t about the badge. It was about her.

He sat in his truck outside your apartment, the headlights off, the engine ticking as it cooled.

He stared up at your window — dark and empty — and tried to pretend you were still in there somewhere.

Reading a book. Humming under your breath. Alive.

But it was getting harder.

Harder to pretend. Harder to hope.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since anyone had seen your smile, heard your laugh, felt your warmth.

And the ugly truth was gnawing at him like an animal:

Why would Sharron keep you alive? Why risk it? It made no sense.

He pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked.

The ping of his phone made him jerk upright.

He blinked blearily, wiping his sleeve across his face.

Another message from Rogers telling him to "go home," probably. Another meaningless text he didn’t want to read.

But when he glanced at the screen, his blood ran cold.

[New Message — Y/N]

His hands shook violently as he unlocked it.

The text was short.Simple.

"I'm okay. I just needed to get away for a while. Please don't worry about me."

Beau stared at the screen until the letters blurred.

His heart exploded in his chest — wild, desperate hope for a split second.

Until reality sank in. You would never say that. Not like that. Not after everything.

And not to him.

Not without an explanation — you told him before you disappeared that you'd never leave.

He read the text again.

And again.

And again.

It was wrong.

The words were wrong. The tone was wrong.

He knew.

It wasn’t you. It was her. Sharron.

Beau clutched the phone so hard it cracked.

A broken, gasping sound escaped him — not quite a sob, not quite a growl.

Because now he knew.

Sharron wasn’t trying to reassure him. She was trying to shut him down.

Trying to make him doubt. Trying to make him stop searching.

Because she knew he was close.

Because she knew he was circling the truth.

Because she was desperate.

Sharron thought she could fake her voice. Thought she could erase her with a few typed lies. Thought he was stupid enough — desperate enough — to believe it.

Beau dropped the phone on the seat beside him and buried his face in his hands.

Tears stung his eyes, but he didn't wipe them away.

"I'm not that easy to break, sweetheart," he whispered, voice hoarse. "And you sure as hell didn’t run."

He stayed there, breathing hard, heart hammering in his chest.

It wasn't just about finding her anymore.

It was about bringing her home before it was too late.

Before Sharron took something from her that couldn’t ever be given back.

The next morning bled into the kind of day that didn’t feel real.

Grey sky. Cold coffee. And too much quiet.

Beau sat on the edge of his bed, the phone loose in his hand, the fake text still sitting there like a loaded gun.

He didn’t call her. He wasn’t that reckless.

But he wanted to. God, he wanted to. Just to hear her voice on that voicemail of hers. But he didn't.

Instead, he opened the old notes she used to send him —the dumb little things she slipped into his jacket pocket when she topped off his coffee at the diner.

The ones she thought he didn’t notice.

"Stay strong." "You’re doing better than you think." "You’re not as alone as you feel."

He read them like prayers, one after the other, letting the words hit where they needed to.

It didn’t fix anything.

But it reminded him why he was still fighting.

She didn’t leave. She didn’t run. She was still out there.

And until the day he knew different — he was going to act like she was waiting for him.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter  coming soon! Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[chaotic-orphan]

A Benignant Mischief (3)

Read part one here

Continued from this part here

*~*~*~*~*

“We have to stop at the stables first,” said Henrik. Cosimo nodded. “I don’t know if I will be able to take you directly to the King, either.”

So, he was the King to Henrik when they were in the palace, not Niko. Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat at his words, not fully registering them until they got closer to stables.

“Wait, where will I go if you can’t take me?” Cosimo asked, panic seizing his chest.

“The cells,” said Henrik, his tone measured and so unlike how he was on their journey here. Did Henrik really just plamás Cosimo into being docile while he brought Cosimo here? Why was he acting so strangely, so unlike Henrik?

You don’t really know Henrik, a nasty voice in the back of Cosimo’s head said. You saw the way the other soldiers deferred to him. Clearly, they’re scared of him.

“The cells, but—”

“Cosimo,” Henrik sighed. Oh no. He was already tired of Cosimo. He should have known not to trust a human. He was so stupid.

Henrik climbed off Ebony and then put his hands up for Cosimo. Cosimo twisted in the saddle and Henrik lifted him down. The creato sizzled Cosimo’s flesh but he didn’t dare make a complaint about it.

Henrik handed the horse off to another person and then put a strong hand on Cosimo’s back, guiding Cosimo along with Henrik as they walked a confusing path into the castle.

Cosimo couldn’t really focus on much as he was escorted through numerous halls and corners, was there a stair involved at some point? Cosimo couldn’t remember. He should pay attention, but the world seemed to pass by too fast, and too slow all at once. He was very aware of his breathing as they walked.

They finally stopped in front of two soldiers guarding a heavy dark wooden door. Henrik said: “I need to speak with the King.”

One of the soldier’s smiled when he saw Henrik and said, “sure. Go ahead.”

The other soldier had his dark eyes trained on Cosimo, who was still hidden behind the hood and cloak. The man with dark eyes glanced down at Cosimo’s bare feet that Cosimo tried to hide behind Henrik’s but failed.

“Wait,” said the dark eyed man. He reached out to the hood and Cosimo stepped back, half hiding behind Henrik. The soldier’s hand fell away. “Who is this, Henrik?”

Cosimo could feel Henrik hesitate, but he also knew Henrik couldn’t just not tell them who Cosimo was.

Henrik’s hand touched the hood then and Cosimo let his head hang, holding his breath as the material fell onto his shoulders. Immediately the soldiers were on guard, ready to defend the door.

“Are you crazy Henrik?” The easy-going soldier hissed.

“It can’t go in with you.”

“It will save a lot of time if—”

The easy-going soldier’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious! Have you been speaking to it?”

“He’s just a boy,” Henrik said through gritted teeth. The dark eyed soldier hadn’t taken his eyes off Cosimo once the entire conversation.

“In any event it is a child of the forest, Henrik. I will escort it to the cells to await trial.”

Cosimo’s heart hammered in his chest when the dark eyed soldier reached for him. He bared his teeth in response his only defence left to him.

“Cosimo,” Henrik said softly. He placed a hand on Cosimo’s shoulder and turned him gently to face Henrik. Cosimo instantly calmed; wide eyes fixed on Henrik’s kind ones. “I will come and collect you when it’s time for your trial, but I need you to go with Rochus.”

“I—” Cosimo began, searching Henrik’s face and seeing clear the warning on his features. If you try to escape the other soldiers will hurt you again, do you understand? Henrik was being as diplomatic as he could, but he already told Cosimo he might not be allowed to stay with him. “Okay,” he said, putting a brave face on.

“Good. Rochus do be gentle. He’s no trouble,” Henrik said to the dark eyed man who took Cosimo by the arm and pulled him closer. Cosimo’s limited resistance had his wrists hitting off the irons. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying out. He wouldn’t show weakness to the other soldiers. He refused.

Rochus let out a soft hmph of disapproval at Henrik’s orders but didn’t make any other comment against him. Being the King’s personal guard must come with a hefty title and high rank for all these soldiers to just follow his orders with little more than a scowl.

Rochus began to drag Cosimo away from Henrik and the nicer guard. Cosimo wanted to keep Henrik in sight for as long as possible, but he refused to appear vulnerable in front of Rochus. Or more vulnerable.

Rochus took him down a different staircase than Cosimo came up. Cosimo made sure to commit the turns and stairs and doors to memory so he would know where Henrik was. How long it would take to get to him, how long it would take for Henrik to save him from the cells.

“Did you struggle on the way here?” Rochus asked Cosimo. Cosimo frowned at him, and Rochus nodded to Cosimo’s nose. Cosimo went to touch it but then grit his teeth at the irons hitting his wrists.

“No,” said Cosimo. “This was an accident.”

“Someone broke your nose by accident?”

“No,” said Cosimo with a frown. “When I was trying to flee from the soldiers, I cut one. Then when Henrik caught me the soldier I cut stomped on my face.”

Rochus snorted. “Yeah. No trouble at all.”

Cosimo didn’t say anything in reply to that. The steps to the dungeons were wide and long, it took Cosimo with his long legs two steps to clear one.

“Heh, yeah. They’re a pain,” said Rochus at Cosimo’s confused huff. “They’re to prevent prisoners escaping with ease. They tire people out faster, but then again… you’re not people.”

Cosimo didn’t take the bait. He didn’t want to sink to Rochus’ level. Rochus stopped at a gate at the end of the infernal staircase and hit it twice. A soldier wearing a black version of the soldiers’ uniform stood and unlocked the gate.

“Another one?” The guard asked and Cosimo’s heart stopped.

Another one? Had they found the boy? Had they taken him and put him in irons too? Cosimo’s breath tried to get away from him, but he struggled to lock it in his chest. He couldn’t panic or they would know.

“Henrik found it.”

Cosimo searched the cells for the other prisoner. Please don’t be here, please don’t be here, Cosimo prayed as he was dragged to a cell at the back of the dungeon, the furthest from the door. Rochus smiled at Cosimo as the guard opened the door.

“Can’t be too careful,” Rochus said and guided Cosimo inside. Rochus stepped to the right as Cosimo was passing through the bars and Cosimo was forced to go right with him. His wrist hit off the bars to the cell and he let out a startled cry. He hurtled forward but Rochus stepped in closer pinning him to the iron.

Cosimo struggled against him but that just meant other parts of his exposed flesh hit off the bars as well.

“Hey! Get off of him!” Another voice demanded from somewhere in the dungeon, but Cosimo didn’t really care at that point. He shoulders his way passed Rochus through sheer desperation and Rochus let go of him.

Cosimo’s momentum caused him to fall on his shoulder to the stone floor, but he didn’t care as long as his skin wasn’t touching the iron anymore. Cosimo glared up at Rochus, deciding then and there that he despised the dark eyed man.

“Just wanted to show you what happens if you try to escape.”

“You could have just told me,” Cosimo snapped. Rochus smirked.

“I find actions speak louder than words. Though you are a stubborn one. I think you can keep the cuffs on until Henrik fetches you.”

Cosimo bared his teeth at Rochus in return. Rochus tilted his head to the side. “See? Vicious.”

Then he closed the cell door and locked it. Cosimo kept his glare trained on Rochus the entire way out of the dungeon, waited until he disappeared up the steps back to Henrik and the king. Cosimo then, and only then, got to his feet with an effort and walked over to the bed at the back of the cell.

It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t comfortable either, but Cosimo was too tired to care. He lay down on his side, facing the cell bars and waited for Henrik to come rescue him.

It was pathetic, he thought mutinously, waiting for a human to come rescue him from… the exact reason Cosimo was there to begin with!

What would the elders say of Cosimo back in court? What would they think? They’d call him a foolish child and tell him he should know better, because he should. Cosimo should know better than to trust humans.

“Hey,” a voice called from somewhere in the dungeon. Cosimo frowned. “Child of the forest.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” said Cosimo, voice dignified and oozing with the self hatred he was feeling.

“Hush, child, is that any way to speak to your elders?”

Cosimo blinked. Then he sat up on the cot, his eyes searching all the cells until they landed on two pale blue eyes diagonally across from Cosimo, the last cell on the wall before the dip of Cosimo’s cell. Cosimo’s eyes went to his ears and saw them end in a point.

“You’re an elf,” said Cosimo and heard the other elf scoff.

“Of course I’m an elf. We are the only guilty parties that fill these cells in this kingdom.”

Cosimo’s chest tightened at the implication of his words.

“Are you an assassin?” Cosimo asked with a breath.

The elf’s eyes narrowed at the accusation. “Should I ask if you are an assassin too, or shall I spare you the insult?”

Cosimo frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“From which court do you belong?” The elf asked. Cosimo swallowed.

“I don’t belong to any court,” he replied. The elf was silent for a moment, before his hums echoed around the cold stone walls.

“A renegade,” the elf said, knowing colouring his words. “You are young. Too young to be without a court to speak for you. Why abandon them?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters, but you do not wish to tell me,” the other elf said as he turned to face Cosimo full. “So be it. My name is Oreste.”

“My name is Cosimo.”

“May the sun shine on our greeting, Cosimo.”

“And may we always find shade, Oreste.”

“Marvellous, now that we have the niceties out of the way tell me why that soldier left you in irons.”

Cosimo shrugged, shifting on his bed to curl his legs up around him. He sat with them bent at the knees and crossed at the ankles, as if he was about to connect with the earth.

“Do you want me to tell you why?”

“I know why,” said Cosimo lightly, tiring of their conversation, resting his head back against the wall. “Their people hate our kind. He’s probably just scared.”

“Or he’s deliberately vile,” Oreste snarled. “You see how they talk of us. They call our people it, like we are vermin.”

“I don’t care why he did it,” said Cosimo. “I am tired. I want to sleep.”

“Look at you,” Oreste said to Cosimo, a smile on his handsome face. “Locked in iron cuffs and happy, and me free and angry. What an odd pair we make.”

“There is no we,” said Cosimo. “I don’t know you, Oreste. Your name doesn’t bring to mind any stories of great elves of the past, nor present.”

“Ah,” Oreste hummed, his voice taking on a hint of knowing that caused Cosimo pause. “Cosimo… it is an interesting name, you know. I only know of one court to use it, but you couldn’t possibly be one of those elves. They’re proper, proud, arrogant.”

Cosimo grit his teeth and said nothing, but he could feel Oreste’s probing pale eyes on him, watching for any reaction Cosimo made.

“They’re not the type to runaway from home.”

Cosimo turned his head, eyes narrowed at the Oreste. He was passed the age of maturity, which meant he could be anywhere between 40-200 years old. He had no creases of a wise elder, and his eyes were too bright and wiry to be old. Too reckless.

Cosimo’s attention went to the piercings on Oreste’s ears, adorned with rings of metal. Cosimo frowned once he recognised what the rings meant.

“You are an assassin,” he told Oreste. “Your piercings…They’re of an elf who goes against the laws of nature. And I bet if I were closer I could see a tattoo of the Astrayed on you.”

Oreste laughed. It was melodic and dark, and caused a chill to run down Cosimo’s spine.

“You definitely are of the Cosimo’s I know. What would your family say, Cosimo?” Oreste asked, all pretence of familiar bond lost now. Oreste’s words were stripped of all custom, now they were as cold as the irons locked around Cosimo’s wrists. Cosimo swallowed as he met the Oreste’s pale, piercing eyes. “Running away from home. Abandoning their ways… in favour of what? Have the humans endeared you?”

“You know nothing about me,” Cosimo growled, voice low.

“Isn’t that the point of this conversation to get to know one another? Hazard a guess, what would your father say?”

“I think he’d tell me not to talk to an Astrayed elf.”

Oreste clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Come, Cosimo. Is that any way to speak to your future people? If you want I can tell you where the Astrayed are right now. We can get your piercings done and—”

Cosimo sprung to his feet, his teeth bared. “I am not Astrayed. I am nothing like you!” He snarled. “In a twist of fate I ended up here, speaking with you.”

Oreste hummed, resting his head against the wall of his cell, fixing his eyes back to the door of the dungeon. “Do not speak so little of fate, Cosimo. It works with a power neither of us can never truly know. Who knows. Perhaps we were destined to meet today.”

“If that is the case I hope it smiles on my future more favourly to greet nicer souls down the road.”

Oreste hummed again, a smile in his voice as he said: “be careful with words, Cosimo. You never know just how tacitly they can turn on you.”

With that their conversation ended. Cosimo turned away from Oreste’s cell to the dungeon’s entrance, his heart thundering in his temples and his chest rising and falling with the frustration of Oreste’s warnings.

He settled on his cot after pacing for a while, and as the sun rose higher outside he willed for Henrik to walk through those doors and rescue him. He wished to be away from this damp, stone fortress and back in the elfbow with the boy and the fox. He wished… with a stabbing in his heart, to see his family again.

Maybe Oreste was right.

Maybe he shouldn’t have run, but he didn’t have a choice!

Did he?

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

The Orphanage roll call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @annablogsposts

[letstrywritingmaybe]

It’s What You and I Do

Thanks to the lovely and amazingly talented @vordark for the inspiration and the motivation for this short fic. I am obsessed with the art, so everyone needs to go look at it here! Now onto the fic (under the cut and also on ao3) <3

"You told me you loved me."

“Yes.”

"While you thought I was dying in your arms."

“Yes.”

"Well, I'm still alive. Care to repeat that?"

She enjoys seeing the pink dust his cheeks, his flustered expression as he takes in her words. Her tone is teasing and light hearted, which is just like her after experiencing a life or death situation.

She watches as his reddening features creep to the tips of his ears, his nervous fidgets as he tries to stammer out a coherent response. She graciously decides to end his misery, taking a step back as is in her nature when it comes to him.

“I’m kidding, I know you didn’t mean it that way.”

She gives him an out as always, deflecting behind lies, taking back her advances. She’s a scientist at heart, testing her experiments then observing as they react. This is no different. At least, that’s what she keeps trying to remind herself.

She’s long gone by the time his brain catches up to him, the opportunity to double down on his confession slips out of his reach. He draws out a heavy sigh, his hand resting over his beating heart as he wills it to calm down.

He doesn't have the excuse of adrenaline pumping forcing him to acknowledge his feelings. The sheer panic rising within at the possibility of losing her. His shaking form as he holds her close in his arms, the words slipping out so organically as if he meant to say them all along.

But he didn’t. It wasn’t intentional. He wasn’t even sure she heard him. Evidently, she did.

He clenches his fist, looking towards the direction she disappeared to. He knows now, it wasn’t a fluke. An accidental slip of the tongue.

He was on the verge of spilling out those same three words again, when he saw her mischievous smile. The amusement behind her lively eyes, no doubt enjoying his struggles to appear unaffected by her taunts.

His breath leaves his body when he feels her draw near, backing him into a corner to face the consequences of his admission. One that will forever change their dynamic, all he needs to do is speak those damn words aloud.

He doesn’t get the chance, she backs out as she always does when they’re caught in the flames. Squashing away the barely lit fuse before they’re set ablaze, leading them back to safety.

It’s what she does best. One step forward, two steps back. It’s the only way to keep the peace, protecting them both from getting too close.

He’s tired of this routine, enough is enough. Next time, he’s determined to tell her next time.

.

.

.

She wants to wipe the smirk off his face, she has half a mind to punch his stupid face. If she could manage to hit him without damaging him more, she would absolutely send an uppercut his way.

“You told me you loved me.”

His grin grows wider, he knows he’s got her now. So much so, the only thing she can do is keep her mouth shut. Even though she was midway through reprimanding him, for his reckless behavior.

Maybe he’ll pass out from the pain of his injuries if she just ignores him. He presses forward, which only further irritates her.

“While you thought I was dying in your arms.”

She knows he’s enjoying the way the tables have turned. She needs to come up with a quick remark, lest he gets it into his head that she actually means it.

“Well, I’m still alive. Care to repeat that?”

“You must've hit your head too K-Kudo-kun... C-cause I would never said such thing... "

The way her words trail off does not help her case, especially when she cannot muster the courage to meet his eyes. Her heart is hammering in her chest, she feels her cheek getting hot.

She chances a glance in his direction, she expects to see his arrogant stare, instead she sees his softened expression. His tender gaze breaking down her walls.

Her breath catches when he dares to close their distance, his hand reaching up to hold her chin keeping her eyes locked on his.

“I know what I heard back then, Shiho. I just want you to say it again..."

Her head spins trying in vain to come up with a witty reply. Her arsenal of comebacks are empty, she can only try and convince him it was all but a prank.

“I don’t…”

“I love you too, Shiho.”

The weight of his words, spoken with such conviction, has her at a complete loss. She cannot believe her ears, did he really just? No, it can’t be.

“I love you. I’m alive and I’m repeating it. I love you, Miyano Shiho.”

Her body trembles as she struggles to keep herself together. She never thought she would ever hear those words directed at her, especially from Kudo Shinichi.

The first time he said them, she thought it was a figment of her imagination. Of course her dying wish would be hoping he reciprocates her feelings.

She was hopped up on too many painkillers, when she woke up in the hospital bed with him by her side. It wasn’t until she was discharged with a bill of health, that she’s able to reflect on what she thought were her final moments.

She was so embarrassed with herself over her silly hallucinations, she thought she made the whole interaction up. Until she starts to notice Kudo acting differently around her.

Piecing together her memories, she comes to the conclusion that maybe he did accidentally confess. The realization sends her heart soaring, but only for a second. She quickly reasons it as a blunder, he probably meant it in a platonic way. There’s no need to hold him to it.

Still, she can’t help blushing when she thinks back to that moment. This will only cause her trouble, if she keeps deluding herself into believing he could actually feel the same way.

In a bid to crush her hopes, she decides to casually bring it up in front of him and see how he reacts. He gets flustered as expected, all she needs now is for him to admit it was a mistake.

She takes the easy way out, stopping him from breaking her heart, running away before he gets the chance to clarify his intentions. She’s a coward, but at least now she knows he doesn’t feel the same.

Except he does, and he’s standing in front of her telling her as such. She knows he’s waiting for a response, looking at her expectedly.

“I…”

They’re interrupted by a swarm of reporters who appeared out of nowhere, hounding them for answers, effectively ruining the moment. He lets out a frustrated groan, making her laugh.

He shoots her a glare, letting her know that she’s not off the hook yet. He intends on finishing this conversation when they’re alone again.

She smiles, giving him a nod as she works to keep the flashing cameras at bay.

Next time. Enough is enough. No more running away.

[butmakeitgayblog]

That fucking subway picture has me in all kinds of mbfw feels dude. We may not ask about them, but they’re always on our minds 😂

They're on my mind too bby. I refound this picture the other day was hit with a hammer of MBFW feelings because my god what friend sends this to their friend??

Lexa.

Lexa, that is who. Just sends it for zero reason. With the h caption, "miss you..."

I mean they're just... they're so stupid. And I love them.

All their vacations and adventures together and how they've grown so much just from being in each other's lives. How literally every single step of their life has been spent wrapped up in each other for almost a decade??

From friends, to lovers, to a deeper kind of connection that still leaves them both somehow feeling like it's not enough, even when it has to be.

To realizing that that feeling really is just the fact that they've always needed each other in every way.

I mean bruh I can go all the way through to the thick of their marriage here.

Clarke picking photography back up when they have kids cuz, just like when they first started dating, she can't stop wanting to capture every minute of Lexa. And npw that she's a fucking milf??? Her hot wife and their chubby bub who is her mini shadow????

I think about these hoes too much 😩

[deadcactuswalking]

Super Mario 3D Land: Pacifist Run

So, I really like Super Mario 3D Land. Nintendo’s 2011 effort to create a 3D platformer on the 3DS resulted in a breezy, pleasant game with the aesthetic of a messy toy box. It’s incredibly easy to pick up and for someone who barely plays video games, it’s comforting to have, I’ve 100%’d it twice, which is twice more than I think any other game I’ve played. I’m… not very good at video games. But you know what game I am good at? Super Mario 3D Land. What I never considered, however, is if I could beat the game completely harmlessly. You can’t, it’s not possible, the main point of the Mario game is that Mario jump on the turtle and win, but let’s see just how much you can avoid.

content warning: language, gore, constant talk about murder and/or manslaughter in reference to cartoon animals (I believe this is what the ESRB considers "cartoon mischief")

Ground Rules

Let’s make this clear. There is an obvious and evident villain of the game, Bowser, and he is a criminal. By all means, it is just and moral to defeat Bowser, who has a large civilian military that encroaches onto Mushroom Kingdom territory and several forts that contain prisoners held without reason – Toads – not to mention he kidnapped the Princess. It’s difficult to call one man versus an entire bestiary a ‘war’, but if police were to catch Bowser, I believe murder is reasonable force considering his strength, stature, weapons being built into his shell, and his impressive amount of people going to bat for him: he’s like an organized crime boss, so if Toadsworth was an officer back in the day, you’d best believe there would be a shoot-out. ACAB includes Toadsworth, by the way.

Speaking of organized crime, I think Boom Boom and Pom Pom would also legally be considered as members of the criminal gang in the way that other enemies cannot. Generally, despite being referred to as ‘enemies’, the characters across the game are more obstacles that hurt the player, but not always intentionally or even reasonably. Like, why should that stupid idiot mushroom bumping into you actually substantially harm you? It’s of completely unreasonable force to stomp on it until it dies. Even those who go out of their way to harm Mario can kind of be explained away. Hammer Bros and Rocky Wrenches use construction gear as weaponry, and assuming they are aware of the ability of Mario and Luigi to jump abnormally high and murder them via one jump, whilst a hammer or wrench will take two to three hits to kill the player, this is reasonable force. Piranha Plants and Chain Chomps bite you, but they’re stray animals. You don’t kill a stray dog for no reason other than it could potentially harm you, and Piranha Plants are, well, plants, with teeth. We don’t kill those, we research those. We will look at more specific exceptions as they appear.

Thirdly, I cannot use power-ups, really. If I gain a Fire or Boomerang Flower, which would be silly because it would be dangerous for me to use them, I can’t actually shoot any enemies, only blocks and coins – which aren’t off-limits because I don’t believe Bowser turned Toads into them, and even if he did, that’s their L, not mine. Get good. I can’t use the Super Star because it would essentially be like running around enflamed onto the streets, and I can’t use the Tanuki Suit. Because of woke. I can however use a Super Mushroom and grab 1Ups (not that I need them, I have like 300 lives) because eating mushrooms may be gross but not really unethical. I’m also not taking warp zones because that feels like cheating. This isn’t a full walkthrough though, I’ll only acknowledge the edge cases and times where I will have to commit an unlawful killing. In Super Mario 3D Land, of course. This is not my diary of real-life murders. I’d put that on WordPress. Let’s-a-go!

World 1

The first two levels, as you’d expect, go largely without issue. I’m playing on a 100% file just to make it easier and less time-consuming, and speaking of the player’s experience, we face the first enemy that you could consider malicious, however it’s clearly not to Mario… or Luigi, I’m playing as Luigi because it’s funnier, and will be describing the player’s character as Luigi from here on. Regardless, we have several Inky Piranha Plants in the level of World 1-2, and they spit ink at the screen which slightly obscures your view of the game. YOUR view, not Luigi. You could definitely say that spitting ink at a camera within the vicinity of spiked balls is dangerous, but for the cameraman, not necessarily the guy in front who is scared for his life on a bridge near spikes, and couldn’t care less about a bit of cave painting.

In World 1-3, most of the level is fine but we come across a tragedy: the forced end-of-level kill, or for the Irish, FEK. I debated whether there was a way to avoid this but it seems not: when you touch the flagpole to finish the level, the five Biddybuds in front of it – they’re little ladybugs – vanish and die simultaneously. I decided that using the Fire Flower to kill them would be even harsher and less ethical as it would be a more painful death and their friends and family would have to watch the moment before it happens to them too. So I’d rather they die peacefully walking around a flag than know those who love them are no longer around to mourn them. That was morbid, but we will swiftly move onto the ethics of castle levels.

Unlike other levels of the game, taking place in grasslands, deserts, caves, mountains, forests or… unclear liminal spaces in the sky wherein blocks and platforms inexplicably reside. These are public spaces, home to much wildlife as well as what can be assumed as permanent, sentient residents such as Toads or even Coin Coffers, which due to their understanding of money’s value, seem to have more human-esque emotional intelligence compared to the more animalistic Goombas or Koopas. However, Bowser’s castles are either forts or homes, and regardless of how you categorise them, those who reside in them are morally grey. For the purposes of this, whilst I obviously don’t agree with the “just following orders” doctrine, I do agree that those who reside in a household do not always reflect those who own the property. Even then, Fire Bars, Lava Bubbles and Thwomps are mostly indestructible scenery and potentially not even sentient. Dry Bones are already dead – you don’t go to a history museum and jump on the skeletons.

Now each castle before World 8 ends with a Tail Bowser, and just like the Fake Bowsers from the original NES games, these are other enemies in disguise, and not really Bowser. We know from Mario’s previous ventures that he is capable of defeating Bowser, but if we stick to the idea that this is one timeline for this one game, Luigi’s use of the switch here to defeat a replica of Bowser, which counts as an unlawful killing, proves that he could potentially defeat the real Bowser, and therefore grants damn near all of the enemies in the castle some level of immunity. By all means, this is either a military incursion or downright home invasion by Luigi – Draglets can breathe fire and Hammer Bros can throw their titular weapons because it is reasonable force to defend a property from a guy who can and will kill your boss. Or at least a version of him. You could even argue that from this point on, any enemy has full reason to kill Luigi because of his unjust actions in murdering a cosplaying Goomba. I’m not here to prove the innocence of any given enemy though, and you can easily avoid all of these enemies anyway, I’m here to discuss how Luigi could sidestep committing unlawful killings, so let’s go to World 2 to see what it has in store.

World 2

World 2-1 introduces Fire Piranha Plants which can shoot fireballs into other enemies – Luigi is not responsible for the cruelty of the animal kingdom. He is responsible for jumping on the flagpole and killing three innocent Piranha Plants in that level and three Paragoombas in the next. World 2-3 introduces the Propeller Hat, a suitable alternative for cannons, which I will discourage use of on the grounds of limiting carbon emissions, but if necessary, they aren’t going to directly lead to deaths, so it’s okay. Also, cutscenes force you to use them before entering an airship level, so they are actually unavoidable.

What will lead to deaths is World 2-4, as there are ‘Baddie Boxes’ – seriously, that’s what they’re called – that spawn Goombas infinitely, and will do so even if there is not a platform under them. Infinitely spawning enemies are likely inauthentic and artificial, created by Bowser – whose head is on these boxes – to harm Mario or Luigi. Killing a Goomba from a Baddie Box or, more accurately, letting one fall into the abyss, is not unlawful, as firstly, it produces a scientific abomination in the form of constantly reproduced Goombas, not an actually contributive member to that area’s biodiversity, and secondly, Luigi didn’t plant the box there, and new Goombas will continue to be reproduced regardless as if they are disposable, whilst if you kill a naturally spawning Goomba at the start of, say, 2-1 and go back, it’s still gone.

That same logic applies to the machinery in airships. I would say that Bowser is likely the manufacturer of these airships, or at least his private military or artillery company is, because his head’s on it. Real egomaniac, this guy. It’s like if Pablo Escobar sold action figures of himself. Boom Boom and Pom Pom are stationed in these airships but I would say they are intelligent and malicious enough to count as compliant to a much further degree. You fight them in a designated chamber with no beds or decoration, and in later airships, they’re coated in spikes or flames. They don’t live here. They hide here to kill you when you get there, and their airships are decked out with flamethrowers, Bullet Bills and Bob-Ombs, which I personally do not think are living. Motion-sensor bombs are motion-sensor bombs regardless of if they have legs or not, and Bullet Bills are just large bullets either shot aimlessly into the abyss or acting as a homing missile. This is artillery with googly eyes, not life. However, Rocky Wrenches are construction workers and whilst they are constructing a military vehicle, it’s very unlikely for them to be throwing wrenches as anything but a precaution. They can’t even see with those fly-ass shades on. As long as they’re throwing wrenches, you can’t kill them. That is an important distinction.

World 3

The cannon seems mandatory in World 3-1 but you can use the eco-friendly Propeller Hat to skip this and climb over the pyramid without killing anything. I think it’s okay to stand on Thwomps but try and avoid the smaller Thwomp creatures, the Wallops. Leave the kids out of it, man. There are also snake-like block creatures called Blokkabloks in this level; I didn’t even notice them on my run-through but I say they’re fair game. They’re man-made objects consisting of blocks, spikes and coins: you don’t have to kill them, but if you wish to, I believe the run still counts as pacifist. In fact, this entire world can be completed without any unlawful killing. You can swim with the fish in 3-2 and run with the bees in 3-4 with relative ease and whilst the tightrope-walking with Fuzzies in 3-4 and the mad rush to avoid killing Biddybuds across white chocolate and cookies, which I’m going to assume was farmed and produced as ethically as possible, are made a tad more difficult, it’s absolutely possible. Not even the airship gives you much trouble. This is immediately reversed in the next world.

World 4

World 4-1 is genuinely a bit difficult when tasked with avoiding killing any enemies, as there are Biddybuds bunched around everywhere, Piranha Plants on levers, etc. It’s a forest bundling with biodiversity, but just make sure to toe carefully. It’s all for nought at the end because there’s a classic FAK with five Para-Biddybuds (they’re the ladybugs from earlier, but with wings). I should note that if the enemies are out of frame when you touch the flagpole, it won’t kill them on screen and you should be fine, but this is rarely actually a relevant tip: they’re either completely unavoidable or you can’t manipulate the camera that way.

World 4-4 is our first Ghost House level, and considering it’s a Ghost… House, I can assume that either it’s a House with Ghosts in it or a House owned by Ghosts. Ghosts can’t sign mortgages because they are intangible, meaning that it’s likely just abandoned and the first option is correct, so Luigi is not committing a home invasion necessarily, he may just be trespassing. All the enemies in this level are already dead but also none of them are unavoidable or easily killable by normal means, so let’s just put a pin in that confusing logic. Other than 4-1, this world goes without a hitch in the pacifist run. A Boomerang Bro is in 4-5, I think it’s fair to see he simply wants to play catch, so you can’t kill him. You can kill the Rocky Wrench in the airship though, specifically the one that throws a Bob-Omb at you. He’s not unavoidable, but still, fuck that guy, he throws bombs. Kill him. It’s in your right to.

World 5

World 5-1 is a Goddamn bloodbath. The first half of the level takes place in a desert with stray Goombas, Boomerang Bros, Pokeys and Sandmaarghs all clearly just hanging out in the wild. However, you enter a door to a dungeon which consist of a rising underground platform – clearly not naturally occurring and similarly unnatural appearances from spiked balls. It could be very possible to avoid those spikes as well as not letting them hit the enemies that appear on the platform like the Boomerang Bros and Sandmaarghs, however the gauntlet is a relatively small platform that gets incredibly full, and the spikes hurt Luigi too, so he would be putting himself in harm’s way to direct the creatures outside of the spike ball’s paths, especially considering some of them are giant spike balls and all of the enemies here are not in a natural habitat but a gauntlet likely planted by Bowser. If anything, Bowser is liable for these deaths, of which there are four: in my run, one Boomerang Bro and three Sandmaarghs perished. I’m sure that could be shortened to two or even one Sandmaargh, but I feel like it is unavoidable to not see at least one enemy perish, and to top that off, we contribute to carbon emissions with the ending cannon. 5-2 is also a dungeon, but this one seems more like a cave or temple, meaning that it’s either at least somewhat natural or a private place of worship, so I don’t blame Bowser for any deaths there, I think it falls squarely on murderous Luigi. The Legend of Zelda tribute level goes smoothly without any killings anyway, but 5-4 does not.

5-4 has you in increasingly tight positions with Morty Moles taking up all available space and Monty Moles coming out of the ground from nowhere. Neither pose a real threat playing through the game normally but are incredibly tedious in a pacifist run considering the limited movement space. I’m sure if you get the rhythms of the Morty Moles completely correct, you can avoid any harm, but the average player is likely to step on the heads of three Morty Moles when jumping across the section populated by that mole posse. Thankfully, these take two hits to kill, so you can safely flatten them and it only counts as grievous bodily harm. Yippee! Additionally, if you really want to ensure no-one gets hurt but yourself, there’s the option to run through the moles and damage-boost to the other side, which isn’t to your benefit and doesn’t change how many enemies are killed but does mean you don’t stomp on anything. I personally think either method is valid for a pacifist run.

As for 5-5, there are Para-Biddybuds near the Flagpole but for once they can be taken out of frame and led to safety if you land on the ground and miss the top of the flagpole. The castle level is also a standard ordeal, as you’re forced to kill one Tail Bowser, which happens to be a Magikoopa this time around, but all other enemies are very avoidable.

World 6

World 6, much like World 3, is completely doable in a pacifist run, but there are some oddities and novelties I’d like to point out. World 6-2 is yet another dungeon of unclear ownership but given its pyramid theme and considerable similarities to 3-1, I can only assume this is preserved for historical reasons and not because anyone other than Blokkabloks and Pokeys reside there. Again, you can probably kill Blokkabloks here, but they’re avoidable enough. 6-3 is yet another Ghost House with several theme park-esque attractions and a library, but given the presence of (again, avoidable) ghost enemies, I doubt these are still running as functioning businesses and even if they were, they’re clearly not successful if all their customers are dead. 6-4 introduces Prongos, whose spiked helmets seem like genuinely unreasonable force, and they do attempt to lunge at Luigi, but when they fail to hit, they land hopelessly in the ground with their ass out, so I say they’re off limits too. Not even the airship level has anything unavoidable, though once again, feel free to kill the bastards who throw bombs, that seems reasonable to me. Also, if you weren’t convinced on Boom Boom and Pom Pom being malicious yet, this airship has Pom Pom throw boomerangs at you in a chamber engulfed in flames. She’s not playing around.

World 7

Fun fact: you can beat World 7-1 in four seconds by just jumping over the pool of water you’re supposed to travel through. It’s easier with the Tanooki Leaf, but as regular-degular Luigi, you can wall-jump off a cliff face and beat the level without even touching the water. This is actually useful in the pacifist run, as it means you don’t need to kill a Piranha Plant that blocks a pipe to the exit from the underwater area, and instead just need to walk far along enough that the Piranha Plant on another pipe near the flagpole is not on camera.

World 7 is probably my favourite world in the game, with some of the most unique level concepts and environments, genuinely tricky and precise platforming, and naturally, given its peculiar, gimmicky levels, most of which use some manmade obstacle course aesthetic, including 7-3’s mixing of it with an organic nighttime setting, this leads to some unique levels for this challenge. Apart from the skip I just mentioned which is some bizarre level of forgetting to playtest, there’s another dungeon of unclear ownership or origin, a tightrope walk that has some close moments with Biddybuds but is otherwise safe, and 7-4, a literal clock.

Probably my favourite level in the game due to its gorgeous and unique texturing as well as a fascinating three-act level structure that has some genuinely risky jumps, it also has a peculiar challenge for the pacifist run as it forces you to get hit by yet another Morty Mole. I tried to see if there was a way I could avoid the Morty Mole in the limited space you have, but the second one you’re forced to encounter involves you either jumping on him twice or damage-boosting through him due to the small container you’re both trapped within. Either way, the Morty Mole can live and there is a flagpole soon after so don’t worry about dying. This clock is also covered in Bob-Ombs which prove their need to be excluded from the run by the fact that some of the Bob-Ombs in this level can fly but still end up falling into pits and sitting there on platforms just allowing themselves to self-destruct. They’re either clearly manmade non-sentient machinery or just utterly stupid: literally or figuratively brainless.

7-5, another one of my favourite levels with its wooden platforms being sawn apart by razors, puts us in a unique dilemma because once again, we are indirectly the cause of deaths by allowing Goombas to remain on platforms we know are going to be sawn and fall into the abyss by the unavoidable sawblades which we can’t manipulate. However, it’s also out of sight, out of mind: when we jump on a flagpole, and the enemies are out of frame, they are still unloaded, and presumably die, we just can’t see them. The player acts as the cameraman as well as the person steering Mario or Luigi, so if the death is not caught on CCTV, there’s little evidence. In the same way that there’s no evidence that we killed the Biddybuds in World 5, as long as I’m fast enough, the player didn’t catch the Goombas falling to their deaths on camera, so as long the airship is no challenge, I’m counting this as an entire world win for the pacifist run… yeah, the airship’s bullshit too.

So firstly, there are Magikoopas all over the place, and I fully think they’re lawful to kill. Not only do they pretty much only ever appear in Ghost Houses, airships and castle levels across the series, but they’re clearly more in kahoots with Bowser and crew due to not just their prominence in these levels, but how Kamek, the leader of the Magikoopas, is one of Bowser’s most loyal minions who even raised him as a child and is incredibly close to Bowser’s own offspring. With that said, my logic is to largely ignore the wider canon and associate them more so with what they do in the level, and sadly, Magikoopas use pretty reasonable force, being magic, which does not exist in real life so has no real comparison, in stark contrast to the Rocky Wrench at the end of the level who once again throws bombs. The morally grey Magikoopas are avoidable, barely, but this guy isn’t, and whilst I’d usually consider him a lawful killing, he blocks the pipe to the boss battle, and is even accompanied by a wrench-throwing mole. Maybe, just maybe, they tag-team Luigi to prevent him from being tag-teamed by Boom Boom and Pom Pom in the boss chamber. Is this bomb thrown out of kindness? Is it reasonable force considering the Rocky Wrench is down in one hit? If we don’t stomp on him and instead throw his bomb back at him, is it fairer? Does the airship setting and increased amount of organised enemy layout constitute a battle of war? There were just too many questions. So I asked a Polish guy, and he said it was lawful. Fuck you, Rocky Wrench.

World 8

Finally, we are onto the last moments of our semi-peaceful adventure. We stand at the last frontier, and the levels do get tougher. There are some trickier jumps, enemies and obstacles are much more plentiful and in some cases, quite bound together in clusters. Just because the levels are more difficult in an average vanilla playthrough, however, does not necessarily constitute an increased difficulty in this challenge, and World 8 surprisingly enough goes by without much of a hitch outside of some now standard ethical questions like Rocky Wrenches which are completely avoidable in 8-3, the castle-dwelling Magikoopas and some spiked balls which you’ll have to be careful and fast to ensure they don’t hit unsuspecting Spinies in 8-1. There’s also a completely pointless cannon in that level as you can both jump to it with the Tanooki Leaf or just use a nearby pipe to get to the flagpole.

Like most worlds, there are some questionable potential home invasions in both the castle levels, the ghost house and 8-5, which is an unclear fortress obstacle course consisting mostly of voids of nothingness, but I question the need to debate the morality of Luigi actually entering these levels when you can easily avoid every enemy contained wherein. Also, there are massive fuck-off Banzai Bills in 8-5 so I can’t imagine this place existing for any other reason than to kill me. Notably, both castle levels – in this world, called ‘Bowser’ levels to differentiate them from more generic castle-themed levels – have the actual crime boss Bowser as the closer, meaning that neither level features an unlawful killing of some random disguised as the villain. Speaking of the villain, albeit tedious, due to that auto-scrolling bone-coaster section at the start and a lengthy Bowser fight I actually had to retry a few times because he kept killing his own Goombas, the final level is absolutely possible, albeit with some offscreen Goombas falling to their deaths in the later sections. He’s obviously liable for those though, considering they’re his employees and he’s destroying the workplace. Just saying. Not Luigi’s fault. Luigi did nothing wrong. Except for the innocents he murdered. Also my control stick started acting up due to how much I played so that’s another death added to your toll, you green-hatted murderer.

Death Tally

If you add morally grey and edge cases, arguably lawful killings, and murders for which there is no clear photographic evidence, the case looks a lot worse for our green fella. However, there are eight clear-cut cases wherein Luigi has been forced to kill to save the Princess, and considering the sheer amount of enemies in the game, that’s not too bad, with most of those being flagpole or switch deaths. If you’re wondering what the other two are, despite the preventable case of 5-1, I’m counting it as I don’t see deaths as avoidable, and I’m also counting the Rocky Wrench in 7-Airship since regardless of the weaponry at its disposal, I fail to see how the Rocky Wrenches are either objectively morally in the wrong nor intelligent and/or capable enough to fully know the gravity of their actions. I think that whilst they can be explained away, they are still not as black and white as say, Bowser or Boom Boom, and hence deserve to be in the objective final kill counter.

Of course, I’d love to see this in action by more technically-talented fans and players. I’m pretty good at the game casually, but I’m no speedrunner who knows all the glitches and tricks, I’m not a modder who knows the ins and outs of enemy behaviour, and I’m not even close to technical enough to try and do a tool-assisted run wherein I can do some frame-precise movements to dodge a Morty Mole or manipulate RNG to ensure the Sandmaarghs are spared. Additionally, I’m not even trying to tackle the special worlds. I have attempted to apply real-word logic to this silly game, and that’s not remotely possible in the bonus worlds which contain repeated, modified editions of prior levels, cosmic clones of Mario and Dry Bowser. It would be way too confusing. But if you got this far anyway, thanks for reading this dry ramble through the first eight worlds of a game I love and cherish, trying to harm as few of its obstacles as possible. I know I review music here, but this was a fun little challenge too.

Credits

I played this on my old 3DS hardware, not an emulator, and I do not possess a capture card because I’m broke so the images provided are from the Super Mario Wiki, not my playthrough. I also cross-referenced my knowledge of the game with their info because they cite their sources very clearly and I consider it one of the most professional fan encyclopedias: it is useful, impressive, organised, usable, constantly improving itself and most importantly, it’s not the SpongeBob one. The images used in this article, including the assets in my logo, are courtesy of Nintendo, but were uploaded by these strong Mario Wiki soldiers: Immewnity, Shokora, 3D Player 2010, 2257, Wildgoosespeeder, L151, PikaSamus, Bro Hammer, The Forgotten Beast, YamiHoshi.nl and user simply called “Mario” so perhaps even the man himself. The picture of the four-second time on 7-1 is from KingBoo97’s tied 2021 world record of the level, available on YouTube.

[alargehunkofdebris]

A Random Dialogue Between An Angel and a Demon

They were forced to work together, that day. After time, they both found themselves falling, unwillingly, unintentionally, back into the indentations they’d left in each other. Their last interaction has gone unmentioned, though it’s like an axe hangs above them. They’re talking and laughing as they used to, but it makes the angel feel heavy. He isn’t making this easy. He’s making it very obvious what the angel is leaving behind. And the angel can’t keep doing this to himself, or him. This is not the smart move. The angel needs to stop this. He just finds it so difficult.

They both drive back in the demon's car. Their conversation is light and amused, despite the axe.

“I suppose you’d never let me drive again.”

“Yes, I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“You know me by now. You know that eventually I’d give you anything you wanted.”

Tonal shift. A tiny amount of hope. “Anything?”

Pause. “Almost anything.”

“Ah, of course.” Longer pause. A coming to senses. Returning to Earth. “If that’s true, then…what I’d like is for you to not make this harder than it needs to be.”

Pause. “Me? I make things harder?”

“Of course you do. Being here. Being yourself.”

“Oh, what, you want me to not exist?”

Silence.

“You’re killing me. This is killing me, you realize.”

“You not existing is the last thing I want. The very last thing. But I need you to understand, I can’t have you the way you are.”

Beat. “Fine. Glad we cleared that up. Wasn’t convinced that’s how you felt, though I was pretty sure—”

“No. You need to understand that I’d want to. Have you, the way you are. But I can’t.”

Pause. “They can.”

“No, they can’t.”

“They are.”

“For now. But they won’t be. They’re on vacation, nothing more.”

Pause.

“Don’t make me the bad guy for doing what we both know is the only thing that’ll help.”

“You think you have power in Heaven?”

“Yes.”

“Then change this. Change it so we can be together.”

“I don’t have that power. Not yet.”

“You’ll never have that power. Because you don’t have any now. They’re lying to you, and again, you’re being miraculously stupid in thinking they aren’t.”

“Then help me! You’re refusing to do the one thing that’ll solve everything!”

“No, I’m refusing to buy into yet another lie.” Gestures. “They’re afraid of us together, as we are. So they do this. They either pull me back under their thumb, stop me from being a bad influence, or they drive a wedge between us. Either would work, and it’s working, isn’t it? They’re clever. So clever. And I can’t believe you’ve still not seen it yet.”

“I don’t know what their motives are. But I have faith I can change things. Over time.”

“Like you changed me?”

“Yes, well—”

“You never changed me, I’m the same as I’ve always been. From the beginning. You don’t get that, but they do. They’re willing to restore me, but only so they can regain some control, nothing more.”

“Please. For once, can you please consider the idea that there’s hope? That they aren’t doing something nefarious?”

“When have I been proven wrong? Tell me a single time I’ve been wrong.”

“I can’t give you a time you’ve been right, either, because for all I know, all our interferences have done nothing but muss up the ineffable plan. We see it as right from our perspective, but from Her perspective—”

“So you get hit a thousand times with a hammer and you still can’t decide whether it’s a bad thing, because even if it hurts, you’re not sure whether it's doing something good, in some impossible to understand way?”

“That’s a false analogy—”

“I don’t think it is. If it’s false, and you believe that we messed something up, then tell me – would you go back and let Job’s children die?”

Silence.

“You wouldn’t. Because you’re willing to bet you were right about that one.”

“I could still be wrong.”

“But you wouldn’t bet on it. That time, you bet that She was wrong. So why…why aren’t you betting on this.”

“Because I still think there’s a way to have everything we both want, without their being a war.”

“Do you? Let me get this straight; you think that you will be given the power to change Heaven. You, who have been fraternizing with the enemy for six thousand years, an enemy who was cast down for asking a simple question—one question that pointed out a logistical flaw. Aside from Gabriel, there has been no major leadership shift from the time they ordered you into Hellfire. And you think you will be given the power to uproot a system that’s been in place for time immemorial?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. But if there is even a shred of hope, then I have to try. Because if things go as you say…then everything is lost.”

“No. Not everything.”

“It will be lost eventually. Nothing lasts forever…not if things go the way you so firmly believe.” Pause. “That’s what you’re refusing to see. You believe they will always have the power to overpower me, and anyone who goes against them. You think they don’t want us together because we pose a threat – so what would stop them from destroying us?”

“We would stop them. Together.”

“You think we have the power? The two of us? You think just us two have the power to stop Heaven and Hell from destroying us if they truly wanted to? And it wouldn’t even have to be us—it would just take one. Just one, to destroy the other. And I know which one they’d choose, so please. This is what I meant, by making things difficult.”

[grumpygreenwitch]

Machina Ex Machina 8.5-9

As always, if you enjoy the writing, please like and reblog. There's no algorithms here; my publicity is you. And if you'd like to buy me a Ko-fi, I certainly won't complain.

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8.5

“Two years. Two years it took us to assemble the laser from grandpa’s blueprints. Two years sourcing materials that people aren’t supposed to have in their basement. And he takes a fucking hammer to it. To two years of work!”

“I mean, to be fair, Moll -”

“To be fair, what? What, Bobby? What, you wanna be like him? Sitting back and watching like it’s a fish tank? Never touching, never interacting, never actually being there?”

“No, but -”

“No. That’s not what I signed up for. That’s not what I want. I want to be there, Bobby. I want to breathe there. To walk there. I want to touch it. I may be dying out here, but I’ll be alive in there.”

“Yeah, I know, but those were other people’s babies, Moll. You and Kane, you’re not the only ones watching, you’re not the only ones with a stake in this.”

“So what? They’re programs, Bobby. We’ll figure out how to reboot the Input/Output server and they can just upload them again.”

“They won’t be the same. They won’t have years worth of evolution on them, Moll. That’s what you burned up, that’s why everyone’s so mad.”

“Oh, whatever! You sound like Kane, talking like they’re people instead of code.”

“Isn’t that the point? That they’re supposed to be like people? And, and, and even if you don’t want to believe that, you still took money from everyone who wanted to put a program in the Grid -”

“Yeah, lasers aren’t cheap, Bobby!”

“I know, I’m not arguing, I’m just saying you -”

“Well, if you’re not arguing shut up, I don’t need you to turn into Kane 2.0. I need you to help me put in a hardline between my rig and I/O.”

“I/O isn’t responding to anything.”

“I know, Bobby. I’m aware that I/O’s dark. I don’t need it to do anything except be there, which it is.”

“… Why?”

“Oh, my god, you are seriously turning into Kane.”

“I just… You haven’t… Molly, you’ve been doing some really hinky things with the servers.”

“And I can fix them if you help me put a hardline between my station and I/O. I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid, Bobby. I know the servers are fucked up. I can’t fix them if I can’t get into them. Look, there’s nothing left in I/O, is there? There’s nothing I could hurt, right? I want to see if the Grid baseline is still there, if we can jump-start it back, even if it’s from ground zero. That’s all.”

“You’re sure?”

“I promise. No more burning up precious programs for little Molly-the-Pyromaniac.”

“… Alright.”

NINE

“You didn’t give her a time limit,” GAM told Adas reproachfully. “This is your fault.”

Adas covered her faceplate in embarrassment, and called out for the nth time, “Vidi!”

“You said for the duration of the trip!” The Halcyonite was scrambling over a pile of debris, nimble as a gridbug on the prowl. “We’re not back at the lightrunner yet, so the trip’s not over!”

“Yes, because she won’t let us get back,” GAM noted mildly, arms crossed.

“Oh, like you knew this is what she meant when she said she was going to go scavenging,” Adas snapped at him.

They watched Vidi yank several broken lumps of architecture aside, her hair going every which way. Occasionally she stopped with a victorious little yell, to pull something out of the ruins and focus all her eyes on it.

But once scanned, whatever it was that had caught her attention was cast aside and the courier moved on, her disk whirring and her dreadlocks flailing like fronds caught in one of the Sea of Simulation’s deadly magnetic currents. As far as the other two programs could tell, she had yet to hit a point where she had to physically take her findings with her.

“Vidi, it’s been nearly a full millicycle!” Adas protested. “Please! I have to get back to Halcyon!”

“But I just got started!”

“I’m leaving,” GAM declared impatiently, and whirled around.

“GAM!” Adas protested, but she was talking to the Sentry’s back already.

GAM’s plan was very simple; he was going to walk away, and Ilo’s last roaming CitySec programs would show up, and with absolutely any luck at all Adas would not make excuses for the scavenger. She’d be detained, removed to containment, and he’d be able to pick her up from there, toss her in the lightrunner and get back home, where he was needed.

He heard running footsteps behind him. Even better! Apparently Adas wouldn’t be there to make excuses to CitySec. The GO4 caught up to him. “We can’t just leave her, who knows what trouble she’ll get into!”

“We’re not leaving her,” he admitted. “We’re just going to keep on walking and make her think we are.”

“Oh. For… for how long?”

“Until Ilo CitySec shows up.”

“Oh!” Adas suddenly understood his reasoning. “Ugh, I’m sorry, GAM. I didn’t think this through when I made her the offer. I just wanted her to come, it seemed so convenient at the time.”

“It was. At the time.”

“Hey!” From the distance, Vidi cried out indignantly. “Are you just gonna leave me here?”

GAM waved at her without turning around, and kept on walking.

“You are such a pain, WallSec,” Vidi muttered, kneeling on a pile of debris. Her disk and memory itched with the sheer number of blueprints she’d saved up, parts and pieces and partial systems, things that were likely so commonplace in Ilo that no program native to the city would’ve given them a thought. But Ilo was the technological hub of the Grid. Its programs took Halcyon’s innovations, the art of the Island and Ark, the research done in Flow and Pevir, and put them all together, giving them real-life applications.

“Fine,” she growled at nothing in particular. “One more and we’ll go, I guess.”

She slid off the pile of rubble and quested around for a target, brushing dust off herself. Her dreadlocks were pointed in every direction, excitedly targeting everything and anything that looked to be whole, or at least in not so many pieces that she couldn’t make a guess at putting them back together.

So she got about seven warnings when something unfolded itself out from behind a shattered, low wall.

The courier whirled around, every eye focused on the unexpected movement. “Hey,” she called out cautiously.

The motion resolved itself into a program – sort of. Vidi took a step back, and then another. It was dark in Ilo, even more so without structures or active data-lines or power conduits. But even in the gloom that seemed to have gathered among the rubble, she could tell something wasn’t right. “Hey, you.”

The program was dark, first of all. No program was truly ever dark, not even Strays. They had at least one energy indicator somewhere on their person. But this program was completely dark, without even the gleam of a disk at its back.

It staggered forward, toward Vidi, and she gave ground readily. “Hey, Adas?” The GO4 would know what this was, what sort of Ilosian it could be, however weird. Except Adas was nowhere in sight, her eyes told her. The thing staggered and stumbled forward, stretching out a hand towards Vidi.

And then it stretched out two, three more, spindly and impossible limbs made of wire and refuse and broken matter.

“GAM!” Vidi shrieked, turned and ran – and nearly crashed into another one of the things. She screamed and threw herself back as it tried to grab for her, and scuttled sideways to avoid it. In her own light, she could see the thing was not a program at all; it was modeled after one, certainly, but its body was lopsided, awkward, made of whatever mass what at hand rather than voxels and energy and circuitry.

The two monstrosities converged on her, and Vidi found herself cornered against the remains of a massive support pillar. From behind it shuffled out another of the beings, making odd staticky sounds. It grabbed for her.

A disk slammed into the chest of the newest creature and blew it back, disintegrating it into a monstrous soup of voxels and primal matter. Vidi threw herself over the broken pillar and down the other side as the disk spiraled back to Adas’ hand.

GAM slammed into the creature with multiple arms and drove it into the pillar so hard it turned into pulp. He whirled around, grabbed the last counterfeit program and threw it as hard as he could into the nearest pile of rubble, where it bounced several times before it stopped moving. It moaned, a low and broken electronic sound.

“Vidi!” Adas ran to the pillar, and the courier practically threw herself in her arms. “Vidi, are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” the courier wheezed, and then clutched Adas’ arms hard and dragged her back. “Oh, gridbugs.”

Adas turned. From the rubble, half-formed shapes were bubbling up. The Ilosian counted three, then five, and then decided that she didn’t want to keep on counting. “Ilo CommCon, can you hear me?” She opened every channel she had, even though most weren’t active at the moment. “Ilo City, can anyone hear me?” Only static answered her. She let Vidi pull her back, away from the things as they freed themselves from the ground, the walls, the debris everywhere. “GAM!”

The Sentry had expected to put down two attackers; he was currently engaged with four that had come out of nowhere, and he could tell there were more detaching themselves from the broken bits and pieces of Ilo. He didn’t know what they where, but two swipes against his armor that were not reconstituting themselves told him they were neither friendly nor safe to handle. “Get to the runner!”

“I’m not sure we can!” Adas called back. “Oh!” She tightened her grip on her disk. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought she’d be using it as a weapon. Even if the barest possibility had occurred to her, it should have surely happened under controlled circumstances, in a match or somesuch.

One of the creatures click-click-clicked half-words at her, and lunged clumsily forward. She threw the disk without thinking, and took both it and the two shambling forms behind it, all three melting in that sickening mixture of voxels and primal matter. The disk came back to her hand. “Oh, I’m going to be sick.”

“Vidi, find a route!” GAM shouted.

His voice and the sharp command seemed to break the courier free from her fear-induced freeze, and she yanked Adas to one side. “What about you?!”

“Yes,” another voice, broken and echoing, asked from the dark. “Wh-what about you, sec-sec-securit-t-t-t-ty?”

[foxcantswim]

Who Are You? || F!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Y/N is in love with Wanda... But Wanda is in love with Spider Noir. The thing is, Y/N and Spider Noir are the same person - But Wanda doesn't know that. Y/N has a secret identity to uphold.

F!Spider!Avenger!Reader x Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch (Everyone lives AU - Set after DS:MoM)

Chapter 2

Words: 3.1k Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Wanda needing a hug(she needs a hug in every fic tbh), Mention of blood, Very mild language

The day you met the Avengers, your life changed forever.

You were swinging across the city minding your own business. There had been no threats in the past few weeks so you enjoyed your freedom as you swung through the air. You hadn't expected anything to go wrong today... That was when your spider sense tingled, but you were too late to react as a blast of red flooded your vision - You were still working on controlling and understanding your powers so you didn’t really know how to react to your spider sense. You braced for impact as you smacked into the side of a building and tumbled down to the ground, you crashed down in between a bunch of trash cans in a dirty alleyway.

Groaning, you allowed your vision to readjust. You were about to stand but a familiar hammer was held down on your stomach, preventing you from standing.

"State your business here!" a loud voice spoke, making your head ring. You finally noticed who was hovering above you.

"I-I-" you started, unsure of how to react to an Avenger hovering above you.

"Jane!" another voice exclaimed as footsteps approached, "Let them up, they're just a kid."

"What have I told you about calling me that?" Jane sighed, "You were the one who made the order to take them out of the sky in the first place. You can fly and yet you get others to do your dirty business," she reluctantly lifted her hammer. That was when the other person leaned down to offer you a hand, you gladly took it - letting out a groan of pain once you were on your feet.

"Well, Mighty Thor... I didn't expect Wanda to hit her so hard," he replied before turning towards you, "Sorry about that. I'm-"

"The new Captain America: Sam Wilson," you breathed out, waving his hand away, "Yeah, I know who you guys are."

He let out a chuckle, "Of course you do."

You finally felt a surge of annoyance, "Why did you shoot me down?"

"It was a bit unnecessary..." someone else muttered as they appeared from around a nearby corner.

"You agreed to it!" Thor scoffed.

Your breath caught in your throat, your annoyance surprisingly disappeared. You finally knew who had actually took you out of the sky... The one and only Scarlet Witch. Wanda. You were glad that your mask was hiding your blush. You had had a stupid 'celebrity crush' on her for a while now... And now you were actually here in the flesh with her. You noticed her darkened fingers. You had briefly heard about what she had been through recently but nothing concrete.

"Sam insisted," she tried to reason. She then came over to you, "Sorry for hitting you a bit too hard. I-I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Water under the bridge," you nodded, "Already forgotten. Nothing my rapid healing can't handle."

Thor and Sam looked at you in confusion.

"O-Oh?" Wanda smiled, "I'm still sorry, but... Sam thought you were a threat. Well, assuming you aren't a threat?"

"Not a threat, promise," you reassured them.

"Good," Sam stepped forward, "We've already got our own Spiderman. I'm surprised we haven't seen you around before."

"I've had these powers for a long time now, I've only recently found the courage to learn how to use them. I only deal with petty thefts here and there, nothing too extreme," you explained, "I don't think I could handle anything like you guys do."

Thor finally smiled, understanding that you were indeed not a threat, "I'm sure that's not true. Maybe we could help you?"

Your heart was beating at an incredible rate. Were the Avengers really offering you a position?

Sam folded his arms, "It's up to youuu... What was your name again?"

Gulping, you hummed, "Erm... My name is..." you paused as your thought. You hadn't really thought about a name before. Your spider suit was pretty similar to Spider-Man's but it was pure black with purple accents, "Spider Noir."

"Spider Noir?" Thor questioned, "That's pretty similar to Black Widow."

"Well, that's my name," you stood by your choice.

"I meant your real name," Sam sighed.

Shaking your head, "No can do. Secret identities and all that." You had learnt that it would probably be a lot safer in the long run if you remained anonymous.

"I like it," Wanda assured, "Mysterious."

"Th-Thanks," your wide smile was hidden by your mask.

That was the day your life as an Avenger began. Sam had offered you to swing by the rebuilt Avengers compound whenever you were free. He was happy to get Spiderman, who you soon learned was Peter Parker, to help you. You were surprised that everyone in the Avengers knew Spiderman's identity, but that wasn't enough to convince you to reveal your own.

By a stroke of luck, you managed to nab yourself a job at the Avengers compound amongst some other applicants. You applied using your real name, not your alias. You wanted the Avengers to get to know the real you without revealing that you were Spider Noir. You definitely didn't want Wanda to get to know you, that was definitely not the reason why you applied- no not at all...

"So for your first order of business, Y/N," Tony said as he headed towards your desk, papers in his hands, "Sam and Steve want you to keep an eye on the security cameras we've installed around the city. Once there's a threat, all you have to do is press this button," he pointed a finger down at a button on your keyboard, "And one of us will come over and check out the footage ourselves. Steve will decide who goes."

"A bit of a big job for me for my first day, don't you think?" you replied, nervously.

He smirked, "Well if you don't think you can handle it..."

"No no no," you quickly said, "I can handle it, I'm just... Nervous, I guess?"

"Understandable," Tony nodded, "Wanda and Clint will be around if you need anything," he turned to leave but quickly raised a finger, "Oh! And don't be alarmed if you hear any explosions. I heard the Guardians would be back later on today and everyone knows how those guys can get."

You hadn't met the Guardians as Spider Noir yet, you were a little excited to say the least.

You were grateful that you had an office to yourself, the rebuilt Avengers compound was much larger than the previous build so they had more rooms to fill. The view out of your window was wonderful, you could see a big fountain and a huge area covered in nothing but sand - you assumed that it was some sort of training area.

The day was going smoothly, nothing appeared on any of the screens apart from a couple shop thefts which were quickly handled by local police.

"How's it going?" A voice caused you jump.

"Oh! Miss Maximoff!" you cleared your throat, hoping that she wouldn't recognise your voice, "It's erm. Going well! Y-Yeah! No crimes to report."

She stood in the open doorway, "Please. Call me Wanda. Tony told me to check on you and how you were handling things."

"Haven't needed to press that button, yet," you replied, motioning towards the keyboard, "Police have taken everything into their own hands today."

"That's good. It's nice to have a break now and then."

You tried your best to keep your eyes off of Wanda, your brain turned to mush around her. You had worked as an Avenger for a couple months as Spider Noir now, her and Peter Parker had quickly become close with you - both were happy to help you grow and master your powers. Peter accepted because he was excited to have another spider-related hero on the team. Wanda accepted because she felt awful for knocking you out of the sky a little too harshly. You weren't complaining.

The day was quickly coming to an end, still no threats had presented themselves. Well, apart from the threat of the Guardians as they had crashed their ship into a nearby lake. You were sort of glad that nothing actually bad had happened on your first day.

Or so you thought...

You flicked to another camera and your eyes widened. There was a huge fire engulfing a tall hotel building, fire-fighters were trying their best to extinguish the flames. It was obviously not going too well. You looked over at your other monitor and flicked it on before searching the for recent news.

And there it was. The fire had already been posted onto numerous news websites, showing that the fire was only getting bigger and there were still civilians trapped inside.

Now this was a threat. You quickly hit the button.

In no time, Clint headed into the room, "I saw the news," he said, leaning in to look at the security camera footage, "Steve is gonna send out-"

"I'm going to make a call to Noir. It could be a good chance for some training for her," Steve said, appearing in the doorway. He put a finger to his earpiece, "Wanda, Tony, you're up. I'll send you the details."

You gulped hard once Steve headed down the hall.

"Your shift's almost up, kid," Clint said, "Just need you to have one last quick look and sign these papers to say you've checked each camera one last time. Just hand the paper off to me or Bruce."

"Y-Yes, I will."

He smiled before exiting the room.

"Shit," you muttered, quickly turning back towards the screen. You flicked through the cameras, checking off each box on the papers as you looked at each one, "Come on, come on," you said, trying to finish up as fast as possible.

Once you were done, you ran over to the door and slammed it shut - you then looked out of the window to make sure nobody was around. You tapped a button on your metallic wristband which was concealed under your sleeve, your suit soon materialised over you. Pushing the window open, you hopped out - making sure to grab the papers before leaving. You swung off one of the outside walls before throwing the papers expertly through a window, they landed on Bruce's desk. You were thankful that he wasn't currently in the room.

Now it was time to head towards the threat.

An alert popped up in your mask, announcing that Steve was trying to contact you.

"Already on the way!" you announced upon answering him.

"You saw the news then, I take it," he replied, "Be careful out there, Noir. Wanda and Tony are almost there. I'll send in Thor and Jane if you guys need any more backup. Just get the civilians out and let the authorities take care of the fire."

"Got it, boss," you said before he hung up.

Landing on a building close to the fire was the best way to get a look at what you were dealing with. The sound of thrusters caught your attention.

"What are we lookin' at here?" Tony landed next to you. Wanda soon landed on your other side.

"Unknown amount of civilians still inside," you said with urgency.

"I'll take the higher floors," Wanda decided, “So much for that break...” she sighed before leaping off the building and flying towards the top of the hotel. You couldn't help but stare as she ascended.

Tony tapped a button on his wrist, "I'll see if I can put out some of the fire to help you guys. I'll scan each floor for lifeforms on the way. Good luck, kid," he nodded towards you before boosting off.

Taking a deep and shaky breath, you sprung into action. You prayed that you would be able to rely on your spider sense today.

A window near the middle of hotel was surprisingly not engulfed by flames, you took the chance and dived into one of the hotel rooms. You wasted no time in bursting into the hallway before running down the length of it, kicking down every door in the process to make sure you didn't miss anyone.

"Spiderman?!" a young girl tapped you on the back of your leg. You immediately saw the tears in her eyes.

You quickly picked the child up, sprinting back down the hall, "Call me: Noir," you said. A loud explosion caused you to flinch. Now was the time to get off of this floor. You tried your best not to let the scared child distract you, her scared sobs growing louder in the process.

"I've detected a couple lifeforms near you Wanda," you heard Tony say over comms.

"Already working on it," she replied.

You couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of Wanda’s voice in your ear. 

You regained your composure before heading towards the end of the hall and flung the window open, "Hold on tight, okay?" you said to the girl, not giving her time to respond as you immediately dove out of the window. She let out a shriek as you swung down towards the ground, on the opposite side of the street.

"Thank you! Thank you!" a woman exclaimed, tears streaming down her face as she ran over. Who you assumed to be her husband ran over with her. She grabbed the child and held her close, "W-We got separated in the crowd. I thought-" she said, her breathing ragged.

"It's okay," you said, "We're doing everything we can to get everyone-" you paused, eyes widening.

Spider sense.

A loud explosion occurred at the top of the hotel, causing you to turn and look up. A huge portion of the building was now crumbling down to the ground, "Get back!" you exclaimed, running over to a group of people. You held your hands out and quickly shot a web towards them, you pulled them away from the falling debris just in time.

"Thank you, Spiderman!" a man shouted.

"Call me: Noir!" you exclaimed before looking back up.

"Noir! Wanda's gone silent!" Tony said, "There's a couple lifeforms near the lower levels, I'll take care of them."

"Wanda..." you whispered before quickly flinging your arms upwards. You launched yourself up towards the huge opening in the side of the building. Dark smoke covered the floor, you were glad that your mask ventilated it well, "Wanda!" you called, stepping through flames - trying your best to ignore the heat.

Panic started to flood throughout you. Wanda was definitely on this floor somewhere.

"Wanda!" you called again. You managed to dodge a part of the ceiling falling down along the way.

That was when you noticed a blinding red light appear down the hall. Wanda let out a burst of magic to try and get your attention.

"N-Noir," she said, her voice clearly weak.

She had been completely crushed by the ceiling above her, blood was dripping from her head. You knew that Wanda was strong and one of the most powerful magic users to ever exist, but that didn't stop her from getting hurt.

"I'm here, I'm here!" you said, trying to not let the panic get to you. You headed over towards her, flinging off as much of the debris as you could with your webs, "We've gotta get out of here. Fast."

You put your hands under her arms to help her up, she immediately stumbled into you once she was on her feet.

Wanda started to breath heavily, her eyes started to flutter closed, "Noir..."

"I've got you," you whispered, putting an arm around her waist pulling her close, "Just hold on. Try not to breathe in too much of the smoke."

You made it back towards the opening in the wall as fast as you possibly could, you were putting your full trust in your spider sense at this point as your made your way through the burning building.

"Status on Wanda?" Tony asked.

"She's alive," you replied just before you jumped off the ledge, holding onto Wanda tightly.

"All civilians have been evacuated. I'll help the authorities put the rest of the fire out."

You swung back to the building you had first landed on upon arriving, Wanda immediately crumbled to her knees upon landing, "Hey, hey! Are you okay?" you knelt down in front of her, your hands coming up to her cheeks as your eyes inspected her for any wounds.

"J-Just a bit shaken up," she said before groaning in pain, "I hurt my leg pretty bad, but it'll heal. I have a banging headache too..." From the way Wanda was acting, you assumed that her head wound wasn't too extreme. You would still make sure she got it checked out.

Without thinking, you stroked her cheek with your thumb, "I'm so sorry I didn't get to you quicker."

"It's okay. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you. Thank you, Noir," she smiled.

The pair of you had been staring into at each other for a questionable amount of time, "D-Don't mention it, Wanda," you dropped your hands before standing up to look back towards the hotel. You cleared your throat, "Tony seems to be clearing up the fire pretty well." You were once again grateful that your mask was hiding your reddened cheeks.

"That's good," Wanda said, a little disappointment laced her words as she watched you move further away from her.

You looked over your shoulder towards Wanda, "You need help getting back to the compound?"

Shaking her head, "N-No, it's okay. I just need to take a moment."

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

"It's fine," she nodded, "You've done more than enough, really," she continued to reassure you.

"If you're sure..."

"Head down there and make sure everyone's okay. They're the priority."

You're a priority to me...

"Okay," you muttered, "Just take it easy. Please." You jumped off the building and headed down towards the ground.

You failed to notice Wanda's soft smile as she watched you leave.

Thanks for reading!

I've just been so obsessed with Wanda/Elizabeth Olsen recently! I’m a mess....

Chapter 2

[musings-of-a-rose]

The Deal

Pairing: Joel Miller x Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 6500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Look, I just had a thought and this happened. Don’t come at me. Huge thanks to @vanemando15 for reading this over and telling me I wasn’t insane for it. 

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Joel Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

--------

7 years ago, the world went to hell. Infection spread overnight and everyone I knew was turned, some trying to attack me, throwing up as I escaped.

Do they know what they’re doing? God I hope not. 

I’d been on the go pretty much ever since, only managing to find security for about a year in a secluded cabin before raiders found me. I took out 2 of their men and stabbed their leader in the shoulder before escaping, leaving them to battle the clickers that had been following their group, unbeknownst to them. 

It’s several months after that day. I’ve managed to recoup some of my things, grateful I had stashed a few emergency bags in case I had to leave without being able to gather anything up. I’ve not settled anywhere long. I know they’re out there looking for me - if they survived the clickers. They were a resourceful lot so I can’t be sure who won in that fight.

I’m careful. Quiet. Never going near bigger settlements and definitely staying away from the QZ. They attract too much attention and honestly, I’m not interested in being in a military camp.

There’s no secure houses around here, so I climb a tree, hauling my pack up the trunk as I climb, finally settling higher up in the branches. I reach in my pack and pull out some rope, tying my body to the tree so I don’t fall out when I inevitably fall into a restless sleep.

The click of a gun wakes me from sleep with a start. I look around, consciousness returning to me quickly when I hear a voice from below, a drawl to it.

“Toss down your pack.”

I look down and see 2 men. I can’t make out their faces in the dim light, but I don’t need to see them to know they’d shoot me out of this tree. I must not have hidden myself in the leaves as well as I thought. 

“Don’t be stupid, darlin’. Toss it down,” the second man says opposite the first man, a slightly higher voice with the same drawl. They’re either from the same region or maybe brothers.

The hammer pulling back on the first man’s gun has me scrambling. I put my hands up as well as I can.

“Ok, ok. I’m tossing it down.”

I can’t do anything up in this tree, but maybe I’d have a chance on the ground. Somehow I doubt it, but if I stay here, I’ll die for sure.

I untie the backpack and toss it down to the first man who catches it with one hand, placing it on the ground, eyes never leaving me. 

“Now it’s your turn. Untie yourself and come down. And don’t be stupid.”

I nod, untying myself and dropping the rope down to the man before I climb down. The second my feet hit the ground he’s on me, shoving me face first into the trunk of the tree, a strong, large hand pressed in between my shoulder blades. His other hand roams my body, checking for weapons. He grabs my shirt and spins me around, shoving my back against the tree as his arm comes up to push on my chest, pinning me there. 

“You the girl them raiders lookin’ for?” The second man says as he comes into my vision. 

“Who?”

The man who has me pinned pushes my body up the tree, scraping my back as my feet kick out, unable to find the ground anymore. 

“Answer him.”

My hands grope at his arm, a futile attempt to get him to put me down. 

“Maybe? Please, put me down!”

The man studies me for a moment before letting go, my knees giving out and I slam into the ground, breathing shaikly for a moment. These are not men to fuck with. Before I can think of my next move, the second man squats next to me, yanking my arms behind my back and tying them off. 

“Don’t think about runnin’, darlin’.”

The first man’s flashlight is on us to give him some light to see by. I look up at him as he’s tying my wrists together and hate myself a little because this man is hot as hell, the space between my thighs fluttering at a thought I haven’t entertained in years. He’s got dark hair, curls that have started to fall on his forehead, freckles splattered across olive toned skin, and eyes that are as dark as mud on a rainy day. Eyes you could get lost in. Once he finishes, he stands up, dusting his hands off as he moves to grab my pack, starting to rifle through it. The first man grips my arm, roughly helping me to stand back up.

“Are you the girl?” the first man grunts out and I turn my head to look at him, squinting up at the flashlight. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking-”

SMASH!

My head flies back as the first man’s fist makes contact, my head just barely missing the tree behind me. I’m seeing stars, head pounding and my jaw feels like it was nearly dislocated. I swallow back my cry of pain, not wanting to show any weakness.

“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, sweetheart. Now…are you the girl?”

I look at him, throwing all of my strength and fight behind my eyes. “Fuck. You.”

I’m met with his fist again, this time he lets my body hit the floor, staring at me as I spit out blood on the forest floor. 

“Joel.” The second man speaks to the first and I’m finally given a name to my assailant. 

“She hasn’t answered-”

“I know but you don’t have to punch her, damn.”

The second man turns on a flashlight of his own, squatting down in front of me. His fingers firmly but gently grip my chin and I wince as he turns my face to him. He shines the light on me, studying the bruises. 

“You ok?”

“Does it matter?”

He lowers the light and my eyes take a second to adjust back to the darkness. When they do, I can see a glint of sadness and regret in his eyes. 

“It does, actually. ‘M sorry about my brother. He has a…he doesn’t like it when people don’t answer him when he asks.”

“I bet he’s real fun at parties.”

The second man laughs and again I hate myself for loving the way it sounds, light and like sunshine, but also like he was unfamiliar with the action. 

“Oh yeah. Big hit.”

“Tommy.” The first man, Joel, speaks to the second man, Tommy, in a warning tone.

“What? You can’t just punch answers from everyone, Joel.” He turns back to me, eyes meeting my defiant ones. 

“Are you the girl?”

“It really doesn’t matter. You’re selling me off either way.”

Tommy looks a little sad. “No. We can let you go if you aren’t her.”

I scoff, looking between them. “Yeah, ok.”

Tommy studies me for a few more moments before turning to look at Joel, who moves forward to push me, standing, against the tree. He takes my rope out and starts to tie me to the tree.

“Maybe you just stay here and figure out who you are.”

I spit in his face and he slaps me, my neck spinning quickly to the side, pain radiating up my cheek.

“Think about your next move, sweetheart.”

Joel and Tommy walk a few feet away, setting up a camp for the night after checking the perimeter. They take the food from my bag, splitting it between them and I lament the loss of the Butterfinger bar I had found a few months back. 

What do I do? Either way, I’m fucked. If they sell me as a slave, it won’t be pretty for me. I’ve heard of what they do and seen it myself when I had to pass by a camp. If they sell me to the raider I stabbed? That might actually be worse. I’ve never known a raider to be merciful.

Which is hilarious considering most of them used to be the wealthiest people in the country.

I drift off into a light sleep, my brain searching for a way out and finding none. 

—----

The next morning, I’m woken by rough hands undoing the binds that tied me to the trree. My eyes blink open and I see Joel and fuck this guy is gorgeous too. Angrier looking than Tommy, but a strong nose, patchy facial hair, and soft brown hair. His eyes are very similar to Tommy’s but very different. Something had happened to Joel. Something that broke him and made him this man in front of me. 

Also, there’s no way they aren’t brothers. 

Rope removed from the tree, he ties it to my binds, making a sort of leash. He ties the other side to his own wrist, binding himself to me. He answers my questioning look with a grunt. 

“Don’t think about runnin…Have you figured out who you are yet?”

“It doesn’t matter. You just want to know if you can get more money.”

His eyes find mine and I glare back at him, trying to meet his angry energy with my own. 

“Hard to believe you’re worth what he’s askin’.”

I chuckle. “Can he lift his arm over his head?”

Joel pauses, head tilting as he studies me. “No.”

“That was me.”

He looks surprised. Well, as surprised as he can look. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I have a lot in me. Untie me and find out.”

Joel chuckles then and I need to stop because I fucking adore this sound, despite it’s dark undertone. 

“Not today, sweetheart. I don’t mess with cargo.”

“You hit me 3 times yesterday.”

Joel looks at me, his eyes shifting to my cheeks where he had hit me before meeting my gaze. “Par for the course.”

I hate him. But more than that I hate myself for the tingling I felt last night coming back and settling between my thighs the longer he looks at me. 

We walk for a week, Joel still questioning me every chance he could, chuckling at me as I trip when he yanks the rope binding us. Tommy gives me a reprieve, more gentle than his brother. But I know he could overpower me in a second with his broad shoulders and part of me is tempted to have him try.

On the third day, Joel comes to me after they’ve eaten, bringing me the leftover scraps. He’s tied me to the tree again, the bark leaving scrapes and cuts in my skin. He shoves food in my mouth, reminding me not to bite him. I don’t, but I do tuck that idea in the back of my head in case I see an opening. 

“We’ll be at their camp in about couple weeks. I don’t envy you when you get there.”

They had been debating up until now, Tommy saying they should bring me elsewhere, that I don’t deserve what the raiders will do to me when they give me over. Joel seems to ponder this, telling Tommy they couldn’t just let me go as I seem pretty resourceful and would most likely come back to kill them.

I mean, the thought had crossed my mind when they first caught me. But now? I’m not so sure. It’s not Stockholm Syndrome, but more that I can see the weariness around their eyes, shoulders slumping a little more when they talk about payment or any other nasty business, as if it’s wearing on them. Tommy more so than Joel. 

I can’t go to the raiders. I won’t survive that. 

One night, I’m tied to the tree as usual, Joel and Tommy huddled around a small fire, debating my fate like it was hockey scores. Joel was attempting to fix his boot, Tommy trying to make something edible out of their meager stash. It’s clear they weren’t prepared to feed me for this much time, but they have no choice.

“We could take her to Charles?”

Joel shakes his head. “He’ll only pay half of what the raiders will.”

“Yeah but her life would be better.”

“Charles is a slaver, Tommy.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves, Joel. We’re takin’ people and selling them for profit.” Tommy spits out his words, like he could barely bring himself to say it for all the disgust he has for himself.

Joel pauses in his repairs and looks up at Tommy. “Survival. We’re tryin’ to survive, Tommy. Ain’t no profit in that.”

“We get supplies and they get a life of slavery. How is that not profit, Joel?”

“Hey - let’s not forget the time you fucked up and got a gash so bad that it needed stitches, which got infected so we had to trade people for medication.”

Tommy was quiet. “You should’ve let me-”

“I’m not lettin’ you die, Tommy.”

Mustering up my courage, I speak loud enough for them to hear me but not loud enough that I’m yelling.

“I-I can help.”

They both stop what they’re doing and turn to look at me, Joel muttering “Here we go,” under his breath. 

“Look, sweetheart. No amount of beggin’ or vowing to do somethin’ for us is going to make us let you go.”

“I’m not asking to be let go.”

That got their attention.

They exchange a look before turning back to me. “What's that now?” Joel asks.

“I..I know you can’t let me go. I wouldn’t let me go either. But I can’t go to the Raiders, Joel.”

Joel shrugs, but Tommy’s expression changes, his eyes not quite meeting mine out of guilt. 

“Listen…I can help you. Cook, repair things, build shelters, whatever-”

“We’re capable of that, sweetheart.”

“I’m not doubting that. I’ve seen you guys work. But…look, I know how to stretch a meal, how to forage, hunt. I can make functional items. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I’ve learned a lot.”

Joel chuckles, glancing back at Tommy, who appears to be considering my offer.

“Again, sweetheart. We can-”

“I have medical knowledge.”

Joel fell silent, staring me down as Tommy sits up a little straighter. 

“You? Have medical knowledge?”

I nod. “Before all of this, I was halfway through my residency.”

They’re both quiet. A little too quiet.

“I know that we don’t trust each other, so you could continue to tie me up or whatever you needed to do to feel comfortable. But I can…I’m offering to…take care of you. Both of you.”

Joel stares at me for a minute before getting up and nodding at Tommy, who gets up and follows him. They go out of earshot of me, presumably to discuss whether to accept my offer or reject it. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s the latter.

It takes them a while before they come back, Joel striding up to me and glaring down into my face.

“You have one week to prove your worth.”

I can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes me. “Th-thank you. I know I can help-”

Joel waves a hand at me. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t be stupid. And do as we say.”

“Yes. I promise I will.”

He grunts, going back to sit down and resume working on his boot. Tommy comes up and gives me a small smile, untying me from the tree but keeping a firm grip on my wrist binds. 

“Can you come help with dinner?”

I nod, but Joel lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just tell her, Tommy. You don’t have to ask her permission.”

“You do it your way and I’ll do it mine.”

I follow Tommy over to the fire and he sits me down, tying the rope around my binds to himself, just as we do when walking. I get to work, making a meal out of the bare supplies they have, getting Tommy to open up a bit, the both of us laughing and joking by the end of it, earning ourselves a glare from Joel.

It goes like this for a few days, Joel being the gruff, hard one as usual, and Tommy opening up more and more. The more I talk to him the more I see what I think is the pre-infection Tommy, like a ray of sunshine, lighting up the world with that smile and sweet talking Texan accent of his. I can see the tension starting to leave him, just a little, as he starts to trust me.

Joel on the other hand, doesn’t trust me for shit. 

I meant what I said. I wouldn’t run. I made a deal and I intend to keep it. I have to admit, it was nice having people around, someone to talk to. And I do like having something to do. It had been years since I had taken care of someone besides myself and I loved the change of pace, only being used to surviving alone all this time. 

One day, Joel comes back from gathering wood to see me and Tommy building the fire pit, no binds on my wrists and no rope connecting me to anything. He lost his shit at that, calling Tommy a “fucking dumbass” for not tying me up. But as Joel ties the ropes to my wrists, I notice that he leaves them a little looser than normal, obviously noticing that I didn’t bolt earlier. And I could have - Tommy would’ve let me go. Maybe. 

Another day later and Joel finally lets me work on his boot, the sole of it being the problem. It takes me a few hours, but I manage to fix it, handing it back to Joel who had been watching me the entire time, as if I would sabotage his boot. He tried it on and walked around, kicking out his foot and stomping it to test the strength of my fix. When it holds, he hums. 

“Not bad.”

He’s still tense as shit, but at least I earned a little trust. If only he could learn to let go of some of that anger. I’m not sure what happened to him, and I’d never dare to ask, but I do know that you need to release that sort of pent up tension or it’ll fuck with your head.

The next day, I see my chance. Tommy was off hunting, leaving Joel and me at our little camp. Before he left, Tommy and I had been cooking breakfast, as was our usual. But he forgot to put on my binds when he left, something Joel happened to overlook. He turns to put a tool away, broad shoulders pulling at the fabric of his shirt, and I take a deep breath. I have to give it my all. 

I quietly stand up, seeing that he hadn’t turned back to me or noticed I’d stood up. So I bolt, running full out throught the woods, not caring to look back as I hear him swear, heavy boots pounding after me. Bramble and small branches scratch at my face and catch on my clothes, slowing me slightly, but I dodge in and out of them as best I can, turning to make a curve once I’d gotten a little bit away from camp. My chest is on fire. I’m not used to running like this. Not anymore, anyway. Now, where is he?

Large fingers grab at my arm and I go down, twisting mid air and landing on my back, air whooshing out of my lungs. Before I can take a proper breath he’s on me, his entire body weight pressing against mine as he grabs my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head, pressing them into the dirt as he straddles me.

“Think you could outrun me?”

“Fuck you.” I spit in his face. Joel’s eyes are fire for a moment before his lips are on mine, pushing my wrists further into the dirt. I try to buck my hips up into his, but the movement is small and accomplishes nothing except applying pressure where I need it. 

His kiss is rough, patchy beard scraping at my skin as he pushes his tongue in my willing mouth. His grip loosens at my wrists and I quickly slide them down and out from under him. He breaks the kiss to stare down at me, both of our chests heaving for a moment. 

The final restraint in Joel pops the second my hand reaches for his belt buckle. He fumbles at the button on my pants, frustrated it wasn’t moving fast enough. I was not faring much better at his, both of our hands almost blocking the other. I finally push his hands away from me, reaching down to undo my own pants instead. Joel takes my lead and does the same, belt buckle dangling as he moves off my body. In one fast movement he flips me, pulling my hips up and shoving his hand between my shoulder blades, pushing me down into the dirt. I hear him shoving his pants down so I do the same before moving my arms back out in front of me, trying to avoid literally eating dirt. 

I hear Joel spit in his hand and a second later, he touches me, making tight circles around my entrance. I moan, unable to stop myself under his touch and the grip he has on my hip tightens. He presses the tip of himself against me and in one fast thrust, bottoms out inside of me. I cry out, pain and pleasure mixing together as he sets a rough pace, fucking me into the ground, his hips slamming against my ass. Fuck he feels good. Larger than anything I’ve had, the edges of me burning slightly from the lack of preparation and his size. That warmth I’ve been steadily carrying between my thighs since I first met them blazes, roaring to life as Joel angles his thrusts to hit at that spot inside me, wanting me to come as well. It’s his touch that does me in though, rough, callused fingers rubbing surprisingly soft circles into my clit, working me through it as I cry out into the dirt. He’s not far behind, a few more thrusts of his hips and he moans, a series of delicious little high pitched whines as his hips lose their momentum, a final sigh when he’s done. 

We stay attached for several moments, breathing before he pulls out, hissing when he does. I pull up my pants and roll onto my back, chest heaving from the most intense orgasm I’ve had in years. I feel his fingers on my pants, straightening them out and zipping them up, closing the button. He does up his own pants, tucking himself inside. It’s silent for several moments, Joel seemingly at a loss for words. He stands, turning to me and extending his hand to help me up. I take it, standing up and brushing the dirt off myself. 

“I’m sorry.”

I look up into his deep brown eyes and I see that he’s genuine, a little worry in his gaze, like he stepped over a line he had made for himself. 

“It’s ok-”

He shakes his head. “You can just go. We won’t follow you.”

“No, really. It’s o-”

His eyes are large, pleading, self doubt flowing into them. “No. It isn’t. I don’t do this… I mean I’ve never forced-”

I gently place my hands on his cheeks. “You didn’t force me.”

His brow furrows together. “But I..I did. You were on the ground, I pinned you down and I just…I lost myself. I’ve never done that. I’m not the kind of man who-”

“And you still aren’t, Joel.”

“But I pushed your face in the dirt while I-”

“Do you not remember it was me who reached for your pants first?”

His mouth paused mid word, he’s silent, his brain replaying the events that had just happened. Tension fell from his face and I could tell he was remembering. 

“You spit at me and I kissed you and you reached for my belt…”

I nod, smiling at him, his face still cradled in my hands. “I did. If anything, I should apologize to you-”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” His eyes are dark again, finding himself, all trace of the previous worry melting away. 

I drop my hands from his face. “Like I said Joel, I’m here to help in any way that I can.” 

He blushes ever so slightly. “I never…we would never ask that of you.”

“I know. You aren’t those kind of men. But I bet you feel a little better now?”

He studies me for a moment. “Yes. But that’s not-”

“Good. Problem solved.” I turn, walking back towards the camp, limping slightly. Joel hesitates a moment before following me. 

“Hey, wait.” He quickens his pace to catch up to me. “I thought you were running away from us?”

I smirk, giving him a wink. “A deal’s a deal, Joel. I told you I’d take care of you both and I did. I am. So now, I’m continuing the deal by heading back to camp.”

“So…you wanted me to chase you?”

“I figured the only way to get you to loosen up a bit was to get your adrenaline going.”

“I could’ve shot you.”

I shrug. “Yeah. You could’ve. Except, you didn’t. It didn’t even cross your mind, did it?”

He’s silent as we enter our camp area, Tommy already dressing a deer he’d managed to kill. He nods a hello at us, turning back to the deer. I stop, turning to Joel as he walks up beside me. I put my wrists together and hold them up, silently waiting for him to bind me. 

To my surprise, he doesn’t. He looks down at my wrists, red from the constant rubbing, and walks to his pack, pulling out a small container of salve and handing it to me. 

“Put that on before you bleed.”

“Thanks.”

After applying the salve, I hand it back to Joel, who had begun sharpening his knives. He nods to me, taking the tiny jar and resumes his task, eyes on the blade so he doesn’t cut himself. I walk over to Tommy, smiling at him when I reach him. 

“Hey. Need help?”

He doesn’t look at me, which is not like him. “Nope.”

“You sure? I could start drying the ski-”

“I said I’m good.”

I watch him for a moment longer, noticing the anger in his movements as he skins the deer. 

“OK, well…let me know if you need me.”

“I won’t.”

Not sure what’s pissed him off, I sit back down by the fire, taking stock of the food supplies. 

“We’re in need of a food run,” I say to Joel, who grunts his acknowledgement. 

“I’ll go out tomorrow.”

I settle back, pulling out an old flannel from my bag and my patch kit, sewing up any holes that I find. 

Tommy finishes the deer by evening and I move to help him, stretching quickly before walking over. But when I reach for the deer meat, he pulls it away from me.

“I got it.”

“I- I’m not saying you don’t. But I wanna hel-”

“Go see if Joel wants you.”

He stomps off to go prepare the meat, some for cooking and some for making jerky out of, leaving me standing there, my mouth agape. Suddenly, it hits me.

He saw us. 

And he’s….jealous? Of what? It’s not like Joel and I are an item. I ask Joel if I can go forage and he nods, handing me my knife back that he’d taken from me when we met, newly sharpened. 

Tommy is short with us the rest of the night, refusing to even look at me. Finally, I give up trying, stomping off to try and get some sleep. 

I wake a bit later to hear them talking. 

"We don't do that, Joel. We promised each other that was the line we wouldn't cross."

"Do what? She started it-"

"Yeah by 'running away'. That's funny because she's still fuckin' here, Joel."

"I thought she was runnin'. What's it to you anyway?"

"I come back with a deer expecting help but instead I see you fuckin' the cargo-"

"She's not cargo anymore. We made a deal."

"Fine. You were fuckin' the help then? It don't matter, Joel. We said we wouldn't get involved with anyone we caught-"

Joel's chuckle cuts off the last part of Tommy's sentence. "Involved? What are we, 12?"

"Can't get more serious than fuckin'."

"Look, I apologized to her and offered to let her go but she came back."

Tommy scoffs. "Yeah ok."

"It's the truth. Tommy, you know I'm not like that. She offered to help and -"

"Just shut up, Joel."

"Why does this… oh shit. You like her?"

Tommy doesn't reply. "Tommy, you know you can't get attached out here."

"Yeah I know. She just…she's nice and-"

"Look. We made a deal. And it's up to her to decide how to hold it."

—----

The next morning, Joel leaves early to forage for food, not straying more than a couple miles from our campsite. 

Tommy still isn't talking to me, which makes the morning creep along. Normally, we'd be chatting up a storm, joking and laughing, which is something I hadn't done in years. 

By lunch I couldn't take it anymore. 

He's sitting on his sleeping bag, setting aside the plate of food he'd been eating. His knees are bent up, arms leaning on them as he stares at the fire. I walk over, hesitating for a moment before I sit next to him, fully expecting him to tell me off or move. 

He does neither.

I tentatively reach out, gently placing my hand on his opposite cheek. He makes no move to stop me, and I stroke my thumb across his cheek before applying light pressure to turn his head to look at me. His eyes drag up my face and finally settle on mine, a mixture of emotions raging behind them. 

I brush my thumb across his bottom lip before leaning in, gently pressing my lips to his. He doesn't respond so I pull back, looking down at the ground.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I must have misread-"

His large hand wraps around the back of my head and gently pulls me to him, his lips on mine, tongue gently prodding to be let in. The second I part my lips he slides his tongue inside, a slight moan at the back of his throat. My fingers twist in his jacket, my other hand trying to grip his broad shoulder as I toss my leg over his lap, straddling him. I can feel him hard underneath me, begging for release. 

Tommy wraps his arm around me and lays me down on my back, my legs coming up to wrap around him, our lips never having left the others. His hips grind into me and I moan, the pressure of him exactly where I need it. Suddenly, he pulls back, his dark, lust blown eyes looking into mine.

“Is this ok?” 

I nod. “Yes. Whatever you want, Tommy. I’m yours.”

He smiles and it reaches his eyes before he kisses me again. I feel his hand fumble at my pants for a moment before sliding down under my panties. He slides his finger down the middle of me, hips lips now kissing a path to a spot on my neck where he starts to suck. His finger slowly moves to circle my clit, sliding back down to circle my entrance.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

Unable to form words, I merely whimper as he pushes a finger inside me, curling it to find that spot inside of me. When he does, my hips twitch and I can feel him smile on my neck. He pulls out, pushing in another finger to tap at that spot, the fire that had been growing steadily between my thighs now roaring to life. It’s when he adds his thumb, applying slight pressure to my clit that I come undone, whimpering as I grip his arm, unable to do anything but moan. When I come down, he pulls his hand from me, watching my face with a slight smile. His eyes land on mine and I nod slightly, a barely audible “please” under my breath as I palm him over his jeans. He grunts, grinding into my hand a couple of times before he pushes himself to his knees, his hands reaching for his belt. 

“Take off your pants and get in the sleeping bag.” It’s not a command, I’m fully able to turn him down, but there’s no way in hell that’s happening. 

I scramble to do as he says, hearing a slight chuckle from Tommy as I shimmy down into the sleeping bag. He follows, slotting himself between my thighs as he zips the bag back up. 

He kisses me again, swallowing my moans as he runs his dick through my increasingly wet folds. He pulls back, eyes on my face as he slowly pushes inside of me. I know my mouth is hanging open as he pulls back out, small thrusting movements to allow me time to adjust to him, which just drives me more mad. Finally, he bottoms out, adding an extra thrust when he does and I cry out, nails digging into his arms. He does this several more times, watching my face contort in pleasure as he fucks me slow and deep, taking his time splitting me open. I know I’m close and he can tell to, leaning down to my ear to speak into it.

“Say my name.”

A second later my orgasm arrives and I cry out his name, other expletives and random words falling from my lips as well, his hips still thrusting into me, extending my release. Once I start to come down, he thrusts harder somehow a few more times before his head hits my chest, grunting and whining as he spurts into me. My hands come up to his head, gently tugging at his curls and he whimpers, his hips sputtering one last time before laying still. We stay like that for a while, still joined, his head on my chest and my fingers tangled in his hair.

“You know you didn’t have to let me,” Tommy speaks into my chest.

“I know.”

“You could’ve told me to fuck off.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s ok if you only want to fuck Joel.”

“I-what?”

He still hasn’t looked at me. “I saw you guys the other day. At first I thought he’d crossed a line, but-”

“No, he didn’t. It was me.”

Tommy nods before pushing himself up, sliding out from between my legs. He tucks himself in his pants before handing me a rag to clean up with. Once dressed, we go back to sitting near the fire, chatting and joking like we had been a few days before. 

Joel comes back a few hours later, dropping down a couple cans of Chef Boyardee before glancing between Tommy and I with a knowing look. I thank him and start to make a meal for the three of us, passing out freshly cooked venison and a side of Beefaroni. We eat for a few minutes in silence, the sounds of the forest and the crackling fire all that we could hear. 

“So,” Joel clears his throat. “What, uh, what now?”

Tommy and I look at him. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Joel glances at Tommy and back to me. “I think…I think we need to set some clear lines so no one gets hurt.”

I glance at Tommy, surprised to see him blushing slightly, like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. But then they both look at me expectantly. I swallow the large bite I had eaten, taking a sip of water before speaking.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Becasue you’re the one who started…this.” Joel gestures between us all. 

“Well,” I say, wiping my hands on my pants. “I made you guys a deal to take care of you in any way that I can, in exchange for not selling me to the raiders. This was a trial period so…”

“We’re not sellin’ you to anyone,” Tommy assures me, glancing at Joel who nods his agreement. 

“I’ve already released you from your deal, sweetheart. You just insisted on coming back. Tommy agrees with me.”

Tommy nods. “It’s up to you, darlin’.”

I think for a few moments. “To be honest, I was just surviving before I met you. I hadn’t spoken to anyone outside of trade deals in years, wandering around on my own. I got really good at a lot of things, survival things. But what I never counted on needing was, well, other people. Even when I was tied to the tree, I hadn’t been that happy in years. And it’s because of you guys.” Joel and Tommy glanced at each other before looking at the ground and back at me. Joel opens his mouth, most likely to apologize, but I put my hand up to silence him.

“So, if it’s ok with you both, I’d…I’d like to stay. I know you’ve done shit you aren’t proud of. We all have. But isn’t it time to do something different? Maybe find some secluded cabin somewhere and just live? I’d love to be a part of that.”

“That sounds great, sweetheart, really. But it’s hard to comeby supplies for that-”

“I think it’s doable,” Tommy interjects. “I know of some places more west that were already operational without electricity, not well known to the public. Did some construction projects there. One of those living history places? We could head that way.”

Joel pauses to think. “That sounds good to me.”

I smile. “If you’ll have me, I’m in.”

Tommy’s smile is widest yet. “It’s settled then. You’ll be comin’ with us.”

I nod. “Just one thing I think we need to clear up.”

Both of their eyes are on me and I feel like I could drown happily in their gaze. 

“No jealousy. If either of you need me, I am ready and willing-”

“The same goes for you, darlin’.” Joel nods his agreement. “Women have needs too and we’re more than happy to help.”

—----

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[obeymeluv]

Isnt devildom liquor weaker than human world liquor? Mc had beat Asmo in a drinking contest. How do you think it they'd act, completely hammered in the human world. I think harder liquor means stupider drunks.

Spoiler alert to the in-game MC’s “heritage” reveal. You know, the descendent/reincarnation thing. If you know, you know.

Below: Thoughts on Devildom liquor + the specific incident Nonnie is talking about with Asmo in game + THE ACTUAL ANSWER TO THE ASK. My bad, haha.

My thoughts on Devildom liquor at that point in the game:

The MC is not as affected because they are human/angel. Maybe the angel part fortifies MC and makes it harder for them to get drunk?

Maybe the HUMAN side of MC is what makes it harder for them to get drunk on Devildom liquor? Like...everything in the Devildom is made primarily for demons so maybe there are ingredients in there that specifically affect those with demon blood. Maybe humans don’t have the biology to be inebriated by those ingredients?

I am a little fuzzy on that point in the game but did Asmo pre-game? Like, a lot? Did we ever find out? I could see him being so emotionally distraught that his lovely MC is leaving that he just wants to be sloshed. Maybe he assumed MC beat him in a drinking contest because he forgot how much he already drank?

Maybe Solomon gave MC a heads up that Asmo was down for drinking and gave them a pre-game potion of their own to ward off the affects.

End hypothesis: Maybe Devildom liquor IS strong (for demons) but that potency just can’t translate in human bodies so the bros (Lucifer especially) don’t want MC drinking it because they’re not sure what it will do. They just ASSUME it will do to MC what it does to them.

Other thoughts: Because demons sprinkled little secrets to the humans over the course of history, gave them trinkets and magic and things, I’d like to think they gave humans the idea or process of alcohol-making but are TOTALLY not prepared for the end result. All the flavors, types, etc. 

As far as I understand it (at the point I’m at in the game), travel between the Devildom and human world was widely discouraged until Diavolo could make a program that united the three realms and improved the overall image. So basically everyone has been separated for thousands of years.

What if demons are equally bad at holding human world liquor? I could just see a drunk Asmo being like, “What is this? Sangria? This isn’t what I told them to call it.” as he’s trying to drink and (speed) walk away from Beel, who wants the fruit out of the pitcher.

I could just see them all getting TOTALLY wasted on human world stuff just because they thought “Ahh, we taught them this 5,000 years ago! Of COURSE we can handle it! We invented it!” (spoiler alert: they cannot). Like, I’d like to think their biology works against them here. They heal quicker and probably get over stomach aches and things quicker, so they probably metabolize alcohol quicker to restore bodily equilibrium so they probably get flash-drunk off of just about anything with a decent alcohol content. 

HOW THEY WOULD ACT (AKA: the real question)

The facts: 

They’re all going to be like drunk kittens, big bassy purrs and wanting to cuddle you or scent you. 

They’ll basically curl up in a pile together; you occasionally have to move body parts (so no one suffocates). 

Do a head count every now and then, give them some crackers/carbs when needed, and put water all around them like a summoning circle because when one of them wakes up, all of them will and they’ll act like big babies

Put a bucket near Lucifer and Asmo, they’re sympathy pukers.

Levi and Belphie need total sensory deprivation when they wake up. You may only breach the darkness to bring them things to settle their stomach and anything to kill the headache

Just give Beel bread and anything like Gatorade/Pedialite. He’ll help you with the others after three loaves or so.

Asmo will be especially pitiful and demand you take care of the others first. Once they’re decently able to take care of themselves he’s near teary-eyed, demanding tummy rubs and tell him he’s still pretty even though he feels awful. Please get him a sheet mask.

Mammon’s not functional enough to help with anything major but he’s standing the next day so he rubs that in everyone’s face. He’s the one shuffling around with a half-eaten sandwich, looking for any comfort item (heating pack, cold wrap for his head). He will demon screech at you if you touch any of the lights in the house.

As Mammon comes to, he demands dim lights and acts like a grumpy mom. He’s making porridge and they better shut up and eat it. Says it’s for him but there’s a suspicious amount of bowls nearby.

Satan just swears he’ll never drink again (like always). Dutifully waits for porridge. Spends most of his time letting cold water run over his head. Can’t spend too much time hunched over because he gets nauseous. Baby him a little. Find a way to let his head float in a bit of water where he can lay down and he’s as quiet as a mouse. 

Who can drink the most? (Best to worst - my opinions only)

1) Beel (body mass helps), 2) Mammon (party king), 3) Asmodeus (huuuge history with mixed drinks. Boy is READY), 4) Lucifer, 5) Satan (neck and neck with Lucifer - casual drinker only. Even wine is rare for him), 6) Leviathan, 7) Belphie (usually sleeping instead of drinking). 

Lucifer:

We’ve seen little gags about how ‘Lucifer got drunk and unplugged the router’ so this guy’s either going to be super cuddly, a hot mess, or both

You know the people who fluff their hair, comb it back, undo a tie or some buttons and just get comfy as they drink? That’s Lucifer.

He’ll smile a bit more, laugh a bit more, and there will be some color to his cheeks

He’s not sloppy, just cozy. 

Drunk Lucifer is not overly loud but he is honest. He won’t throw himself into groups or pester all the brothers, but he’s up for some accidentally-heartwarming one-on-one

When he’s drunk he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and let you play with his hair

Will not win any drinking games. Is actually a lightweight compared to his brothers (see best > worst drinker, above).

Mammon:

GO BIG OR GO HOME! MAMMON’S HERE TO PLAY FOR BIG MONEY! (AKA: bragging rights that he can handle more than his brothers)

He and Asmo are quick to get the drinks flowing because they want to try shots of everything. 

He and Asmo are pretty good at matching brothers to drinks and tasting subtle notes, things like that

Show Mammon beer pong once and it’s done. He’s betting the brothers he can whoop them and is somehow able to pull off ping pong ball math to get Lucifer shit-faced real quick (might do it even faster if Belphie or Satan slip him some money)

The type to be like “Bet you I can hit that cup right there--third row, second from the left.” and can do it flawlessly. You have to give him head pats or $5, that’s the rules.

He’ll be one of the bros you have to chase around and make put his clothes back on. Boy will try to strip and strut

Will definitely hoard his favorite bottle (picked it on smell) and spend a majority of the time trying to drink it and avoid the bros. (”YOU CAN’T MAKE ME SHARE IF YOU CAN’T CATCH ME!”)

Leviathan

Not the best drinker. Not a frequent drinker at all.

His envy makes him drink because as he starts to go on a tangent about how ‘it’s not fair! Everyone’s having a good time!’ when he realizes it’s as easy as picking up a drink. Like...he can join in too.

Levi won’t grab himself an alcoholic drink because he’s a nervous over-thinker. Asmo or Mammon will just hand him a cup like the resident Liquor Fairy and he trusts their judgement

The first one to let his demon form out just because the liquor is a little warm in his belly and he feels like he’s flying? Also comfortable?

The excited drunk who goes on animated, slurred rants

The loud laugher

He’s honestly so adorably animated that anyone who knew him would be surprised? He seems far from a shut in

Trade off: he can’t hold his liquor well

Boy probably trips on his own tail or thinks something snagged his ankle to bring him down when, in fact, he just fell down

Sways when he sits

When he’s done, he just wants a nice comfy lap to lay in and maybe play with his hair. 

Like Lucifer, liquor will make him confess all his feelings. 

Watch out for the tail. It will be all over you when he starts to lose the ability to wrap it around himself.

Satan:

It’s a toss-up as to whether he gets drunk before Lucifer or vice versa. I’d like to think his tolerance is slightly higher since he might run in the same circles as Asmo, but he is a part of Lucifer so I’m sure it balances out

He’s a drink snob and this is what hurts him the most. He goes to fancy tastings and random things he’s invited to, but this is a drop in the bucket

He’s never gone hardcore before because he’s afraid he’ll be prone to anger

He’s not. He’s actually a lot like Levi. He just wants to smile and laugh and have fun.

The one who knows a lot of random/interesting stuff and has unexpectedly awesome party tricks

He and Asmo act as instigators and somehow con everyone else into getting drunk. It’s mostly because he wants blackmail material, but he enjoys the mind games

He’s the one you’re going to have to carry BUT he’s super chill when he’s having a good time. You want him to wear a lampshade? Okay, but only if you call him Enlightened One (get it?)

Makes bad jokes. Lucifer definitely laughs

The one that randomly dances with someone at the party. But it’s a fancy dance or slow dance, not something crazy

Will try to prove he’s not as drunk as he is by reading or reciting something and just breaks down into snorts and giggles

Cat Mode: Activated. He wants to be all over you. Hug him and play with his hair, please.

Asmo:

Asmo isn’t really different from his usual self.

He’s a little social butterfly, making his rounds and checking on people

He’s the silent, sneaky drunk. No one notices he’s drunk until his face starts getting red and his eyes get glassy

The quiet cuddler. Just progressively gets closer to you until he’s resting his head on your shoulder, hugging you from the side and asking you to give him his drink.

Would be the happiest person on the planet if you literally just held his drink up to his lips and let him drink it when he wanted to. You just love him so much?! You’re so thoughtful?! He wants to cry

Guilty party #2 for ‘chase him around and make him put his clothes back on’

Next in line for ‘Liquor makes me tell the truth and my darkest secrets’.

Will try any activity at the party and will dance at least once with everybody

If he gets in a fight, that’s because someone doesn’t respect what he put on the party playlist. He knows good music, okay?!

Has a personal goal to steal one drink from everyone, drink it before they realize, and hand them back the empty cup as he slips away. Something about it just amuses him.

Wants to leave lipstick/lip gloss kisses on people. Thinks they’re the cutest accessory!

The one who loses something at the party and makes everyone look for it the next day

The one who’s passed out in a random spot and no one has the heart to move them but everyone checks on them to make sure they’re safe. When everyone’s turned in for the night, he is safely moved like the precious baby he is.

Beel:

The one who takes the longest to get drunk. You don’t know if it’s because of his build or how much he ate to offset the alcohol

Unofficial baby sitter of the group. Pays special attention to everyone but Belphie, Asmo, and Levi in particular.

Not super loud. Just vibes and enjoys time with his family.

He’ll participate in the party activities because he does have that competitive streak but he’s not as invested in it as Mammon. If he wins at least once he’s proved his point and is on to something else

Surprsingly, #3 to ‘you might have to chase him and make him put his clothes on’. Drunk Beel is convinced he’ll get over the alcohol faster with less clothes because of temperature regulation and something that doesn’t really make sense because he’s slurring

Will drink more if Belphie is nearby or if he can hold onto Belphie. Taking care of Belphie and knowing he’s okay (in a tactile way) makes him a little more carefree. 

Doesn’t really confess like the other bros but he’s the one no one can really hear talking because his purr takes over everything. His purrs are so loud and deep! Big boy is truly happy

Drunk Beel is affectionate as ever and this is where you learn that demons can express affection by licking people. Most of the bros end up with a Simba-style mohawk. It’s just one lick but Beel’s got a long tongue and it fucks with hair real good.

Will jump in for a song or two if karaoke is a thing at the party. A really good singer but wouldn’t do it unless he had a decent amount of alcohol in him.

He’s the type to trip over stuff trying to help clean up. If he falls down he says he’s just ‘taking a break’ and will ‘help in a minute’. Might not get up again.

Once Beel lays down, Belphie, Satan, and Levi drunk crawl/stumble/slither over to him for warmth. This is how the cuddle pile starts.

When he lays down, if you get anywhere near him, he’s begging you to lay down with him. Wants to whisper little compliments and lovely things. A big sap. Handsy but will definitely know when to lay off and will listen if you get uncomfortable. 

Belphie:

Honestly, doesn’t really drink. He’s more interested in the nap.

His biggest motivation is to get the others drunk so everyone’s quiet and he can sleep. Definitely wants Lucifer blackmail.

He’ll have a few things but he prefers a lot of something mild versus a mix or a few shots of something super potent

Will try the funnel drink challenge.

The third enticer. He wants to work everyone up (Lucifer especially) and get the booze going.

Borrows off of Beel’s body mass and ability to handle alcohol here and there, but it all catches up with him eventually

The type to have really diluted drinks because he’s already sleepy by nature and doesn’t want to faceplant with a shot glass.

Will slow dance with Asmo. When Asmo starts to struggle with his weight as Belphie gets cozy and sleepy, Beel steps in and you just see the twins purring and warbling to each other as Beel just scoops him up and lets him sit on his hip like a toddler.

Another one who wants to slither into your lap and take all your attention.

The type to do random shit like boop your nose and giggle about it.

The one who doesn’t want anyone else to touch you. If he’s laying on you then the others need to leave you alone. It’s not hard to understand!