#those fucking pillars were the worst thing i have ever had to do and they STILL look flat lmao

[talxe]

This is my contribution to Patrapyrrha (is that what we're calling it?) .

Anyway it looks more scuffed than usual bc I wanted to push myself and doing everything without a reference

[i520u]

11:11 𓂅𓏲•₊˚

NINE. 21:37

Sungchan is what you would call a fair-weathered friend. You can’t for the life of you remember when was the last time he was ever there for you when you were at your worst, in the context of as your friend. Then again, you can’t fully blame him either. He has university, you met him through Kamden—your neighbour. You never exactly sought out for him when you were at your worst. Why would you? You have Minjeong and Yizhuo. On top of that, your brother, Hanbin has been a great pillar throughout your whole life.

But yes, Sungchan had never been there on days where you could hardly get out of bed. Hardly eat, shower, and open your phone. Days where you force your body to sleep even when it’s not tired, even when it has rested for too long. 

You wondered why you were recalling these memories as you watched Sungchan climb up the remaining steps on the staircase, your favourite takeout in his hands, a genuine smile on his face. You currently weren’t at your worst in that moment, so why was your brain reminding you of all those times?

Rather than feeling sombre by the sudden waves of memories, you were glad that he was here now. Even if you weren’t exactly at your lowest, you still felt pretty shitty. You’ve always been slightly more self-aware about yourself than you let it out to be. You’ve always been a little more sensitive than most people, even if you do a good job at pretending you’re not because your self-awareness tells you that you’re annoying if you show others that you were hurt by something as minor as a slight change of demeanour from them towards you.

“Elevator’s under maintenance again?” Was the first thing he said once he reached your side, pointing towards the lift, where the indicator read ‘OUT OF ORDER’ in capital red letters. You turned to look at where he was pointing, and nodded absentmindedly. You weren’t sure why you felt a surge of calmness with Sungchan standing right in front of you. Because, hey, it’s Jung fucking Sungchan. You weren’t sure how he had managed to tune down all those loud, bad memories that were playing in your head just seconds ago. You were confused by it.

“Sorry for making you take the stairs to the sixth floor.” You scratched the back of your head awkwardly, “not a problem. I’ve been through worse.” Sungchan’s tone was lighthearted as he gently ruffled your hair, not enough to make a mess out of it, but enough to make you smile a little.

He walked past you, placing the takeout he bought on the countertop while you closed the door and let it lock by itself. “I bought you a little something, because I feel like I was responsible for triggering your insecurity.” Sungchan frowned, at himself in particular. “Sorry, Y/N.” He added as he motioned for you to sit by him at the countertop.

As you made your way towards him, you also absentmindedly shook your head at his words, “I was the nosy one. Plus, I was just being overly dramatic over the phone.” You reassured him, climbing onto the tall chairs by the countertop. “Yeah but, considering how long we’ve known each other, I should’ve been a little more careful with what I say.” Sungchan countered, he took a bite from the french fry he had in between his fingers.

You let out a sigh as you unwrapped your own food, staring at it blankly. “You shouldn’t, though.” You murmured, your voice so quiet that people would’ve thought that you were just mumbling to yourself. Sungchan surprisingly heard you, though. “Why’s that?” He asked, sliding the drink he bought for you towards you. You shrugged, taking your eyes off of the food and back to him. “I should know these things. So that I wouldn’t bother them any more than I have. The last thing I’d want is to mistakenly interpret just how comfortable people are with me.” Your voice was calm, but your mind was a little bit of a mess.

It wasn’t directed towards Gyuvin, it’s directed to the fact that something like this had happened to you too many times. You knew you shouldn’t fully judge Gyuvin’s entire personality just from the two screenshots that Sungchan sent. Plus, he probably said that before the whole incident happened to him—before he had the chance to get to know you better. What was bothering you was something more internal. It was the possibility of Gyuvin still feeling that way even after getting to know you.

You let out a soft groan as you thought of that outcome. “Do you think I’m loud?” You asked without meeting his eyes, almost like you were embarrassed to admit that you were aware of this—you’ve always been aware, you just never let people know that you acknowledge it. Sungchan’s eyes slowly glanced at you from his own food, his chewing becoming slightly slow as if the gears in his head were slowly moving as he constructed a proper sentence to your question.

“Loud?” Was the only thing he ended up saying—or rather, asking. You nodded, still adamant on not meeting his eyes. Sungchan exhaled slowly from his nose, “are you embarrassed to ask that?” He asked, almost like he could see right through you. It was weird, really. Sungchan was the last person you’d ever consider emotionally intelligent. Yet, there he was, reading through your body language.

You didn’t feel like dragging the conversation by beating around the bush any longer, so you just nodded. “Why? Is it a bad thing to be loud?” He asked, like he was actually confused with why you would feel embarrassed about your own personality. “You’re not overwhelmingly loud, not in the sense that it’s obnoxious. You’re just talkative. It’s not a bad thing to be chatty.” Sungchan added before you could even answer his first question.

You weren’t sure what to say to that. He was giving you words of comfort, but at the same time he wasn’t denying that you’re loud. You also kinda knew him enough to have doubts in your head on whether he’s actually nice or not. You can’t help but be sceptical about Sungchan, because while you do know that he’s been a great friend to Kamden, and even to yourself—you’ve known him longer as a boyfriend rather than a friend. And god knows how bad of a boyfriend he was.

‘Maybe it’s different,’ a small voice in your head would tell you, and you cave in each time. Maybe it is different. Bad boyfriends don't equate to bad friends, after all. So you decided to trust his words. Not him, but his words. He was offering them out of kindness and respect for how you were feeling at the moment, and you should accept them.

“Right, chatty.” You nodded finally, after much pondering, “Yizhuo said the same thing too.” You added, finally taking a bite on the food that he bought that was only turning colder the longer you played with it. Sungchan nodded, almost relieved to see you reacting positively to what he had said. “She’s right.” Sungchan reassured again, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his hand giving it a light squeeze. 

You took notice that that was the first time he ever initiated any physical contact that day, and you wondered if your previous break up–one where you swore that you and him will never get back together ever again–had taken a toll on both you and him. Because for once, Sungchan seemed a little more reserved and less touchy compared to all the other times that you both had broken up with each other. 

You don’t take it negatively, though. Maybe this was for the best. You and Sungchan, just friends. You don’t have to beg for his attention because he’s not entitled to give it to you all the time, and he doesn’t have to keep complaining about you being too touchy with some other guy.

“But she’s also pretty.” You added, and the momentary relief that Sungchan had was gone as fast as it came. “Minjeong and Yizhuo are also loud, but they’re pretty. People often notice their looks first before their personality. Then there’s me, everyone calls me loud first, before the ‘hey, you’re kinda pretty.’” You find yourself rambling. Sungchan wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he knew he shouldn’t leave your rambles unanswered. “You’re pretty too.” He said.

While the compliment felt nice, it didn’t go unnoticed to you that he still didn’t deny that you were loud—and possibly annoying.

“Do you think we were toxic towards each other? As a couple?” You asked, yet another random but heavy question thrown onto Sungchan. Despite being taken aback, he didn’t flinch at your question. “Maybe.” He answered softly, his arm still around you, “but, I had fun. You were fun.” He smiled, the hand on your shoulder went up to ruffle your hair gently again. “You’re really feeling gloomy, huh?” Sungchan chuckled softly, “let me take care of you until your brother comes home. I don’t think we should leave that mind of yours all by itself. Don’t want you self-sabotaging, right?”

You chuckled at his words, you wondered how he knew all of this about you, because you swore that he never cared enough to know your habits. Your patterns when you feel insecure. To be honest, you didn’t even feel that shitty anymore about Gyuvin. It’s just that your brain was just… purposely making you feel sad with all your past regrets. It was just one of those days—that you’ll undoubtedly get over the moment you wake up in the morning the next day.

Though, a thought came to mind just when you were starting to feel comfortable around his presence. Sungchan is a fair-weathered friend.

masterlist | previous | next

SYNOPSIS -͟͟͞☆ gyuvin tells himself that he’ll be okay, and losing friends is a part of growing up. he firmly believes that having to move schools in a different city was the universe telling him to try again. he then meets you, and he hates you. he knows he should be thankful that you saved his life, but every time he sees you, he gets annoyed.

NOTE -͟͟͞☆ thank you to my bff vivi again for helping me improvise this chapter 😜 also i feel like the story is going a little slowly so i’m gonna do something about it soon…

🏷️ ; @lluvjjun @p-romise9 @daydreamer5006 @gvuyin @jayujus @meoszn @lovefooi @mins-fins @qunwooks @gyuvinfan @annoyingbitch83 @ilovegyuvin @igotkpoops @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @purerehua @xinxinyy @rickysgfundercover @loverb0yz @keita-luv @nonamenonamenon @sunoosluvr @flor206-blog1 @j4dorebooks @rksbae @alwayswook @idkwatodoanymore @livelaughlovelicky @dimplewonie @kdjdh @antwe @andsjun @soobiverse @jiseokzzz @countmekocho @minkkumaz @cowsidfk @softyminhee @raeewe @girlokarina @ihrtjeongin @hanjisbeloved @jiaant11 @ilovechanhee @keilovr @bbangricz @444yizhuo @qnrui @wave2love @iraa567 @backzuhaz @jakahbot @satoreu @doobinnies @yizhuotv @manduhao @onlyhoons @kyanmeai @taereae @beomibeom @poollabug @ilovewonyo @eternallyhyucks @ajybeo

[ducknewtonscoolhat]

I've been inspired to talk about ducknerva again. People have been reblogging my other post about them and now it's got me thinking about them frfr

Uhhh so I'd like to first start off with I am, and you can fight me on this, the #1 Ducknerva fan and I will support them till the day I die :D

Anyways

So Ducknerva is so special, in my opinion, I think that their relationship is so incredibly strong, stronger than people seem to realize. Like they, I think, are up there next to Lup and Barry, and if you know me (which y'all don't know my Balance opinions LMAO) you will know that I fucking LOVE blupjeans. On my main account, I'm planning on doing this whole big post about them but anyway, I think that Ducknerva and Blupjeans are on such a similar level with how strong they are, with the connection that these characters have. They had so much time to fall in love and they did, but the difference with Ducknerva is they didn't fall in love until a lot later, until Duck had experienced so much and Minerva was there to witness. She has been by his side, supporting him, wanting him to be more than he thought he could be, and refusing to give up on him. Sure, some can say she was really pushy with him, and she was, but she had good in her heart with these actions and for the most part only good seemed to come out of it. Of course some of the consequences of this, the bad of Amnesty, you can't avoid. This world isn't perfect and I think Duck and Minerva know that best. They know this better than most. I think Ned and Mama experienced the hate and the worst parts of the world, Ned even being a part of them at some point, but these two witnessed so much, even if they weren't directly apart. With their visions, with the pressure that they were given, and not just Duck but Minerva too, they were given the world to protect, both Earth and Minerva's world, even though it was destroyed, and had to deal with the idea of it ending if it wasn't for their efforts. And they worked together, building one another up and helping each other out to be better than who they were. We know that Duck wasn't all that enthusiastic with this whole chosen one thing, especially not after seeing friends get hurt and risking his life, I'm sure, but even after all this, Minerva stuck by him, kept training him and hyping him up even if they were worlds apart. She didn't leave him for a moment until she was forced to. They make each other stronger, so much stronger than they ever thought they could be, and definitely stronger than Duck thought he could be, and conquered so much. When seeing her for the first time the words 'It's so fucking good to see you,' said by Duck really just shows not only the amount that he confides in her but also just the relief to finally be able to be in her presence. I think before it all, maybe the following months before shit really went down, Duck had this feeling in his chest but never connected it to love when it came to Minerva. He kept it down, to himself, and when she was gone it kinda hurt not to have this pillar of hope and strength that he always had. So when he saw her for the first time, he just melted into the puddle of love, falling for her. They are both incredible warriors and they strengthen one another, and even after all was said and done, they just kept building one another up, kept making each other stronger and stronger, both emotionally and physically. I can imagine even after everything, Minerva made sure to keep Duck in shape. They made each other happy, they were all each other knew for so long. Like I think in some of Duck's darkest places, Minerva was there in her spiritual form to give him some sort of words of encouragement and while Duck really didn't know what to make of all of this, from some sort of ghost that kept following him around all the time, it was still nice to have those words when it seemed no one else would give them to him.

After they moved to the Amazon, and even before, they kept each other happy, active, and moving towards the goals that they had together. Once they did move though, with Juno by their side as well, I think that Duck had a really hard time with that change at first. He missed Aubrey, someone he saw as a sister, and not only that but he missed his actual sister. He missed Mama and he missed Indrid and he missed Barclay, all of them, he missed his hometown and friends. He wanted to do something more, something different, something bigger to impact the world, even more than he had (which is hard after basically saving the world from destruction), but he still had to deal with what I can imagine being some of the hardest struggles for him, and it's changing. But Minerva was right there by his side, keeping him steady, keeping him ready for everything that the world and this new life had to throw at him. Luckily for him, there was always a way to get back to his home, to see his friends again, and in the near future, there would be much easier ways of communication, even in the national quiet zone.

Anyways, they're just such a strong couple. They love each other and they love doing everything together. I can imagine that leaving each other's sides isn't something they do often, but when they are apart, they reunite as if they were apart for much longer. At least this is how Minerva does it. She's always over the top when it comes to seeing Duck after not seeing him for a lil while.

They love and care about each other so much.

[professionallydeadinside]

Oh and that bill was super sketch because i was the only person my grade who knew about it. That could also be that im the only one who watches and pays attention to the news, but it’s scary to imagine that if I hadn’t had an amazing band director who pulled me aside to warn me that next school year he’ll be legally required to tell the admins that I asked him to call me silas I wouldn’t have known when the bill took effect or for what grades, because this bill qualifies for all students, from the moment you enter a school building as a student to the day you graduate, and doesn’t seem to care whether or not you’re over the age of eighteen, and if I hadn’t known when it’d take effect and that my grade is impacted, I couldn’t have warned my friends who are also trans that this is happening. There are people i know who’s lives are going to be so fucking hurt with this. I have friends who try to take their own lives all the time and get admitted to so many hospitals because their parents treat them like such dirt because of how they identify, and that’s when they have marginal control over these things.

This doesn’t get talked about because no one ever talks about us, this state, what we’re doing. It’s always the big ones, with the insane riots, the police getting defunded, it’s always the big cities and states that get shown, meanwhile forgotten states like mine can quietly take our lives into their own hands and call it kindness. I’m lucky. I know that even under the worst reaction, I won’t be kicked out. I won’t be beaten. I won’t go through horrible abuse for this. At worst, I know, that it’ll get ignored in my home. I’m lucky I’m not afraid of this bill, because I know that my family wouldn’t do those things. I’m lucky because I think they already suspect something like that. I’m lucky because this law isn’t dangerous for me. But for others I know? This law is sending them to the gallows. And no one knows about it.

The worst part, I think, is people defending it, saying they can understand it. That amazing band director? I love him, but he said he was somewhat glad. Because he would want to know if his children felt that way and were hiding it because they didn’t trust him. And that’s a fine sentiment for him because he’d never hurt his children, he’d never hate them for that. He really is someone who would have much more pain and upset over the fact his children didn’t trust him with that part of them. But that’s being blind to every other parent. For every amazing band director who loves his kids, there’s a bastard who will hurt his children for that, there’s a whore who will drive her children away for that, there’s a cuntbag who will drive their children to death over this.

Nothing is private. Nothing has ever been private unless you kept it only in your head, never uttered it aloud, never wrote it, never did anything with it except keep it in your mind. But this? Depriving people of a safe space? Forcing adults who were comforting figured, who were safe spaces in and of themselves, who were towers of safety and comfort and love regardless of who you were, forcing people like my band director into this position? Where in order to keep their jobs, their homes, their families, they have to take a chance and possibly kill a student of theirs? How can we ask that of them? This was never about the children, so let’s not pretend like my previous points would ever matter to governor Eric Holcomb. It was never about the kids, so lets make it about the adults. How they have to live with the fact that if a child dies by their own hand, and leaves a note saying that their parents not loving them did that, that the pain they endured by being outed drove them to that horrible act, that person, that pillar of safety and comfort, did that? How can Eric Holcomb live with that?

Am I using a worst case scenario? Yes. Because I know people where that’s a very possible future. I have a friend who took too many sleeping pills just the other day. I have friends where this could kill them. This is important. This is meaningful. You want a fight that means something? Something that matters? Something that you can do? Fight this law. Fight it in Indiana, fight it in whatever state it comes to next. Go to council meetings, speak in front of city buildings, make them hear you, make them hear what their ignorance will cause because they won’t care until a dead child is laid at their doorstep.

I have nothing to add but this is a good thing to read

[writtenjewels]

[I'm going to add one!]

Salim twisted his wrists together testing the strength of the knot. A part of him hoped that Nick only tied him up for show. Make it look like he was following orders when in reality he was giving Salim an easy way out. To Salim's disappointment, he found the ropes around his wrists to be as tight and unyielding as one would expect from capture. He glared at the back of Nick's head. So much for their moment of teamwork.

“Quit squirmin',” the other marine ordered, giving Salim a little push. Nick had called the man Jason, though why Salim's brain decided to retain that information, he didn't know.

“Relax,” Salim huffed. “I'm only making sure I still have circulation.”

“You're fine.”

The Americans led him into a large room. At one point, he imagined it must have been an audience chamber for those petitioning the king. The pillars lining the walls were strapped with dynamite and there was an old machine gun mounted for use. A generator sputtered, bathing the space in dim light. It was obvious someone was here before to set all this up, but who and why? The mystery distracted him enough that he didn't notice where the Americans were guiding him until he was pushed down into a chair.

“Get cozy,” Jason said. “You're gonna be here a while.”

“I could do with a cushion,” Salim responded.

“Yeah, sure. I'll get right on that.” Jason actually looked amused, which Salim hadn't expected. “Go set up the cameras,” Jason told Nick. “Might as well make use of all that shit Eric brought along.” Nick hovered uncertainly; Salim gave him another disapproving look. It's a little too late to worry about me now. “Nick, did you hear me?” Jason prompted.

“Yeah, I got it.” Nick shifted his rifle into his hands and headed out.

“Well,” Jason spoke up once Nick had disappeared, “looks like it's just you and me.”

“Just you and me, huh?” Salim sighed. “That's just fucking great.” He twisted his wrists again. As tight as they were, he could work himself free in time. He just needed Jason distracted for long enough. “At least I know you won't shoot me,” he remarked.

“That right?” Jason tilted his head to one side. “What makes you so sure?”

“I saw you when we were up there.” Salim jerked his chin up. “You let that shepherd go.” Jason stared at him, and the silence that followed had Salim's heart beating faster. Was he wrong to bring that up?

“It was you.” Jason's voice dropped to something softer. “Holy shit. What are the fuckin' odds?”

“Good question.” Salim tried to move his wrists in a way that Jason wouldn't notice. An idea came to him. It would either work as a distraction, or make things much worse for him. It felt worth the risk. “You realize this is pointless. I could walk out any time I want.”

“Nah, I don't think so.”

“And how would you stop me?”

Jason drew closer. Salim braced himself for a physical blow, but none came. Instead, Jason sat down on Salim's legs. Salim froze, breath catching in his lungs. He thought he was going to trick Jason into looking for more rope. At worst, he would get pistol-whipped. It did have the desired effect of a distraction. The problem was it distracted Salim.

With their faces so close, Salim could more easily make out Jason's features: the cut of his jawline, the slope of his nose, the depth of brown in his eyes. Though he was clean-shaven, he was pale enough that Salim could see the ghost of stubble. There was some dirt flaked on the man's cheeks, but there were other black flecks just along his cheekbones. Freckles, Salim realized, and bit back a smile. The hat made more sense now.

“See?” Jason smirked. “You ain't goin' nowhere.”

“So...” Salim wet his lips. His heart pounded harder in his chest. His next words could put him in danger, but when had that ever stopped him? He hadn't even hesitated in decking his own superior officer. “This is what you wanted all this time,” Salim continued, keeping his voice low. “It's sad.”

“Sad?” Jason repeated, eyes narrowed.

“Sad,” Salim confirmed, “that you were too scared to just admit you want me.”

Jason's ears turned bright red. He jerked off of Salim's lap so fast he nearly knocked Salim and the chair to the ground.

“Fuck you!”

“Yes, I know. You want to fuck me.” Salim let a bit of a challenging edge drip into his voice. “That was why you wanted to shoot me, and that's why you have me tied up.” This rush of adrenaline was just like earlier, with the creature crushed by the truck. Some part of his brain screamed at him to stop moving the debris aside, but he was too stubborn. “You want to fuck me so badly,” Salim went on, twisting his wrists to work loose the rope, “that you couldn't wait for a chance to send Nick away so you could be alone with me.”

“Shut up!” Jason shouted back. “Fuck, give your mouth some rest already!” He didn't draw his gun, didn't raise a hand to strike.

“You want to fuck me so badly,” Salim persisted, “that your idea to keep me in place is to sit on my lap!” Jason opened his mouth, read to snap back. He stopped himself and let out a breath. Then his lips curled into a smirk.

“I think you're the one who wants to fuck me.” Salim froze at that, staring at Jason. “You fuckin' remembered me lettin' the shepherd go,” Jason pointed out. “You been thinkin' about me this whole damn time, and now we're alone, the first thing to pop in your head is sex.”

“You aren't my type,” Salim dismissed. The words sounded strangely hollow. Jason lifted one eyebrow and promptly sat back down on Salim's lap. All this talk of fucking made Salim more aware of the weight of the marine on him, the heat of his body.

“Wanna try that one again?” Jason rumbled, almost purring the words. Salim swallowed, eyes dropping to Jason's mouth. He couldn't remember why he started this conversation.

“You...” Salim wet his lips and tried to breathe normally. “You, ah... you're not..." But he couldn't say it, not with Jason this close.

“Seriously?” Jason snorted. He didn't pull away this time. He lifted a hand to lightly caress Salim's cheek, the other resting on Salim's chest. “I thought you were just messing with me. Are you actually into this?”

“Not really.” Except for his pounding heart, his flushed skin, and how aware he was of Jason's closeness and touch. “You're the one who can't keep yourself away from me.” He leaned forward just a little and whispered, “You want to fuck me so badly, Jason.”

“I never told you my name.” Jason shifted on Salim's lap, his fingers brushing Salim's jaw. “And I never got yours.”

Salim's eyes dropped closed. He could feel Jason's breath teasing his mouth. Maybe I am actually into this, he thought. It would explain the eager beat of his heart, the energy coursing through his veins, the laser focus he had on every move Jason made. He could excuse it as a purely physical response—it had been far too many years since he got that sort of attention—except Salim knew it wasn't just that. He opened his eyes again and locked eyes with Jason.

“Salim,” he breathed out.

“Salim,” Jason echoed, his accent giving a charming twang to the name. Salim leaned forward and felt his hands pull against the back of the chair. He didn't fight against the ropes. Jason's nose brushed his, the marine tantalizingly close to his lips. “We're both so fucked up.”

“I don't disagree,” Salim responded, “but what makes you say that?”

“You know what. You been tryin' to make me admit it for the past ten fuckin' minutes.”

“Why is it fucked up?” Salim brushed his nose against Jason's. He heard the marine's breath hitch. “Is it because we are men? Because we're enemies?”

Jason didn't answer. Salim leaned forward a bit more and bumped their mouths together. It made something inside Jason crack and he surged forward, all but crushing his mouth to Salim's. Salim relaxed his lips to accept it, kissing back, parting his lips a moment after Jason. No corner of the marine's mouth was left untasted. The sensation burned through Salim's body. They only stopped to breathe, but even then Jason's lips weren't far.

Jason let out a soft noise the next time they parted for air. He slid himself forward, and Salim felt his crotch throb. Jason lifted up just a little and let his body drop in a gentle roll of his hips. Salim groaned, the noise turning into more of a frustrated growl as he remembered his hands were still bound.

“Untie me,” he hissed out.

Jason's hands immediately went around to work the knots loose. The ropes dropped away with Jason's fingers still wrapped around Salim's wrists. There was no need: he was already reaching for the marine's hips, lifting his own to grind up against Jason. He couldn't think of any other reason why he wanted his hands freed.

“Fuck,” Jason groaned. His hand at Salim's chest was making a slow journey down. It wedged between them to tease Salim's crotch. “Oh, fuck.”

“Told you.” Salim slid his own hands up Jason's sides. “I knew you... wanted to fuck me.”

“Fucking smart-ass.” Jason pulled back far enough for them to see each other. The marine's face was flushed, his eyes glassy and lips swollen from the kisses. His expression was guarded as he looked back at Salim. “Don't you?”

Some of the fog was clearing out of his mind. He started this to get untied, and now he was. But now he had the taste of Jason on his tongue and his skin tingled with the memory of touches. He did want this man—whether it was a desire sparked the moment they met or when Jason sat on him, it didn't matter.

“Not here,” he answered. “The chair's uncomfortable.”

“Right.” Jason cracked a smile, visibly relaxing. “Well, my chair's pretty comfy.” He wiggled on Salim's lap. Salim laughed, resting a hand on Jason's hip. He could feel an energy still crackling between them. If he thought back, the energy had always been there. It had simply taken a different form.

Nick's voice came over the radio to break up the moment. Jason left Salim's lap to answer. They went back and forth talking about cameras. Jason threw a glance at Salim before wandering over to one of the tents. Salim followed behind him. Inside he could see several monitors set up showing areas of the temple. He didn't realize the Americans brought so much equipment.

“I see ya, Nicky,” Jason reported. “Head down to camera three, see if you can block the exit there.”

“Copy that,” Nick confirmed.

“Camera three looks like it's a long way from this position,” Salim observed, trying to keep his voice neutral. Jason met his gaze. “I won't say it this time,” Salim assured him.

“You don't gotta. You're right.”

Salim took a step closer. His eyes traveled over the layers of combat gear Jason was wearing before taking in their surroundings. He centered on the table that looked long and sturdy enough to hold a person's weight.

“So are you.”

I think I've seen fanfic that started like this…👁👄👁

[moisummertime]

'Anything that ends with -ship will always trigger your insecurities.'

Feeling insecure in relationship is normal but it seems like everyone is expecting perfection in it. A lot of things will trigger you. They way they talk, the way they put things, the way they sleep, the way they talk to people, their clinginess, their neediness, their addiction, their insensitiveness, the fact they are exists somehow make you question why you are with such kind of person. Yet you still stay despite of all. I remember the podcast where Esther Perel explained about how even small things trigger you but you stay because you choose to, and despite all the annoying things about that person, you create a life story with them. How someone treat you trigger the unresolved issues within yourself. Like my jealousy issue, to me relation between man and woman should be forever monogamous, and it's the value that I'm holding. Whether it's with a partner, casual partner, I keep things monogamous, and if not it's an instant deal breaker to me. I consider a lot of things in choosing this, not just because Im so competitive I don't want to get divided attention or even zero attention. But I think about health factor. It's healthier to only have one partner at one time. Prove me wrong. But yea abandonment, this feels like some issue I think I have resolved now. These days, I burn bridges. Leave me, I'll make it easy. People leaving, it's their choice and it's not gonna make me feel less like I used to. I doesnt prove my worth. It is what it is. But one thing for sure is that I hate it when I feel like I'm invisible. I feel like... why I even in this place if no one talks to me. Why should I be here only to feel like Im a ghost. forgotten, invisible, unimportant. Alienated. I don't know why but it's just the worst feeling I've ever felt. And it's even painful if people that I thought won't do such thing to me end up doing the exact thing that hurtful to me. If I were in a sea of stranger, it won't bother me. I don't have many friends, I pick those whom I allow to see me as a person I am. I don't entertain crowds. Those I stick with are not many, so when they trigger that, it feels like a betrayal. Because I know, and I believe that it's not something I would to people who are dear to my heart.

I have priority, and those people I'm close with, they have my loyalty and trust. I will put them first. Everyone else will come second. I don't have obligation to entertain everyone else. Although I thought my tolerance is pretty high, I think for this, I would flip like a mad person when I am triggered. Now I write this, I feel like I should address this. I don't know why but the craziest part of this is that I never thought I'd experience so many negative emotions at the same time. Loneliness, anxiety, sadness, hopelessness, disconnected, you name it. Even now Im crying just to think about that feeling again. I feel like this is very important to me, and if anyone can't validate this feeling or supporting me when Im feeling such negative emotions, fuck them. I know people went through different battles in their life. God knows what I had to fight to be here, in this position and trying my very best to get my shit together all the time when different pillars of my life are falling apart. But Im not perfect either. I still need to work on a lot of things to be the best version of myself. I wouldn't try to make people feel the worst feelings that they made me feel. I just feel like if they feel it, they won't survive the pain.

I wish I was stronger, have more resilience about this but I can't help when people make me feel alienated, it's just triggers everything. It feels... isolating.

[equallyshaw]

𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔯 - 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔞𝔯.

inspired by miss o rodrigos: traitor.

part of the "sour" imagine series.

round of silence for this version of cale, gif fits so perfectly.

soooo, we seem to think that cale is the sweetest player around (i mean look at those cheeks!!!!) however, this imagine is gonna be angsty and drama filled. cool? enjoy!

Alsooooo, will be having a second part for cales pov In doppelgänger at some point. will update this post with link.

Warnings: few swear words. That’s all.

Sour Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

«»

Hazel guilty eyes and little white lies

Yeah, I played dumb but I always knew

That you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

« »

"I know you're lying to me Cale, I can see it on your face." I exclaimed, as Cale tried to look anywhere but my eyes. He knew that once he did, he was done for. I scoffed, turning away from him as I cried. I wrapped my arms around my torso, and sobbed. "y/n...." Cale softly murmured, and I whipped around pointing at him. "NO! You do not get to say all the right things now. You have no right, after what you've done. You don't think I didn't notice you looking at your phone more and more? I know you were talking to her after I introduced you two!!!!! But I can't stay quiet anymore, I just can't. It's killing me inside, I can't take you hazel eyes looking past me, when they should be looking at me. I can't take the white lies you give me or when I know you aren't really at a team meeting. I am not playing dumb anymore, so please. Please just get out." I said pointing towards the door, huffing as I try to control my breathing. He walked towards the door and stopped before he walked out, "And don't you ever come back." I said finally and then I heard the familiar click of the door. I leaned against the pillar in my Denver apartment, and sobbed. I felt the inside of my heart breaking more and more with reality setting it. He's a traitor, and I know he will be running to her as soon as he hits the road. I'm not stupid, but I am a fool for believing him for so long.

«»

And ain't it funny

How you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

« »

You ran to her as soon as you could, 2 weeks later I saw a post on instagram. From somebody who I thought was a friend, but no. She only wanted to be my friend to take you away. You fucking betrayed me, yet I know neither of you will ever feel sorry for the way you hurt me. You didn't neccessarily cheat on me, but I saw those hidden phone conversations you didn't want me to know about. I remember Bo telling me that I was just paranoid over nothing. Yet, he was not the one who you were talking too. You would leave the room for 5, 10 minutes sometimes and come back so distant. And then leave shortly after, claiming you had a team meeting or wasn't feeling well.

It did not matter that I loved you at your worst. I stuck by you through thick and thin, but I get it. She's perfect. She's gonna be your trophy wife someday while I am hopefully married to somebody who wouldn't think twice about cheating or stepping out on me. They won't say, "No, were just friends." Because it sure as hell didn't look like that. I won't be so stupid next time, and face the facts head on.

« »

Now you bring her around

Just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

« »

It was a month ago, when you brought her to a party for the team. Bo just so happened to convince me to come, claiming that you wouldn't even be showing up. I was in the kitchen of Gabe's place and you walked in with her. I came back into the living room, stopped and stared at the one person I hoped to have not seen. You knew I was there, but did not acknowledge me which I was grateful about. I slammed my drink into Bo's chest, before securing my bag on my shoulder and walked out. I slamemd the door, hoping it would break. Just like you broke my heart.

But I get it, you did it because I was there. Somebody tipped you off, and told you. You did it to rub it in my face, that I was not enough for you. God, it was like you were trying to show her off, but hey I get it. She's gonna be your trophy wife someday. She has that perfect look for a hockey player, unlike I. But that's what you loved most about me. You loved how unlike I was other girls that honestly, threw themselves at hockey players. I still remember your mom telling me, that she was glad he hadn't chosen anybody else. That I was the perfect girl for you, inside and out. But hey, I get it. You gotta play the perfect part. So every party I now go to, there's always some way you gotta make a point. May it be dancing, karaoke or even playing beer pong. All of which, you never liked doing before. So maybe she is good for you, she got you out of your comfort zone.

It's like you have something to prove, by showing her off. Does it make you feel more like a man by doing so?

« »

Ain't it funny

All the twisted games

All the questions you used to avoid?

« »

"You're being a fucking psychopath right now- you know that?" Cale threw at me as I stood in front of him. Questioning him once again, about why he missed my work gala before. "Really? God, you are so comical Cale." I said grabbing my bag to leave his condo. "Comical? You're asking me where I was last night? You're so controlling." He rasped as I began to walk away. "You promised you'd be there Cale! You promised me and then you weren't there. Remember the gala you told me you were going to be accompanying me to? For my job? Oh wait- Hockey trumps all in this household right? Anybody that doesn't posess a dick and chase a puck for a living has no precedence in your life, huh? I'll have to remember that next time, when I ask you to do anything for me." I brushed past him and walked out. He hadn't answered any questions I had asked. Why he missed the event, where was he, why was he being so secretive. He made up lies, and tried to manipulate me and make me feel like I was the problem, that he needs time away from me. Yet, I wasn't the one who had just gotten back from a week roadtrip two days prior. How was I the needy one? When we barely saw eachother, as it is.

« »

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

When she's sleeping in the bed we made

Don't you dare forget about the way

You betrayed me

« »

I wish Bo had never pushed us two together, two years ago at that party for a game of charades. I wish you had never given me the look, that made me fall for you in that moment. That look of innocence, charm and wit. The one that sucked me in, and had me until recently. I wish you had saved me time and energy and said no to playing, I would have taken the brief sense of embarrassment than this backstab. I wish you had never said those words, that secured our relationship. The one's that promised a long future ahead, with marriage, more dogs, a house and kids. One's that promised a secure future, which deemed you worthy for me. One that could provide a somewhat stable and healthy home. My fucking weakness when it came to my future. But I hope that when you lie awake at night, with her next to you in the bed we made that you see how much you betrayed me. I hope you see me thriving, happy and healthly as you close your eyes. And then lie awake, thinking of how good you had it and what your future won't include. It won't include the white picket fences, sex in the morning Canadian sun, the Sunday waffle food fights, or the sunset's in Calgary. It won't include me. I hope that when you lie awake, you realize how much you betrayed me.

« »

Everybody thinks you are so innocent, and that you could never hurt a fly. Hmm, makes me laugh everytime somebody brings you up. You are so far from the perfect image your PR has made you out to be. You are a schemy and manipulative human being, that I am glad I'll never speak to again. In the end, you betrayed me. You betrayed my trust, love and kindness. You used me until you found the pefect one. You used me until you found your trophy. And yeah, you can still parade her around in front of me but know that I did no wrong. And everyday, you will have to bear that guiltiness I know about. The one that Bo goes on and on about, hoping you will come to your senses and try to make amends with. You will have to bear the very sight of me as I thrive, and move on with my life. And realize that you fucked up, and that you have no place in my life. And I knew we weren't pefect but I had never felt that way about anybody. And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone. Never to speak to me again, and I hope that drives you crazy and keeps you up at night.

And now you'll bear the very sight of me, from across the room. One that never gives you the satisfaction of looking over, in the very dress you once loved on me.

« »

Yep, just did that lol. Hope you guys enjoyed, PLEASE like and reblog-- I'd appreciate it.

Tags: @fallinallincurls @eightmakar @pucksalotguys @jayda12 @dazeddobson

[robinofinashiro]

request from anon: “Hi, can I request yandere alphabet for Kyojuro Rengoku 👉👈Thank you and have a good day Queen.”

pairing: yandere! kyojuro rengoku x fem reader

request status: OPENED

A - Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

rengoku does not give a singular fuck who sees him when it comes to giving you affection! you’re in the public? you’ll be holding his hand, kissing your cheek when he feels like it, and if it’s that bad, he’ll do a quickie in the bathroom. 

B - Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

very messy! he doesn’t care. if he sees someone getting too close to you, he’ll make sure to get rid of them as soon as possible. he can’t let anyone get close to you. he’ll go to the ends of the earth to make sure that you’re by his side and that no one comes in between the two of you. 

C - Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

honestly, he’ll mock the hell out of them when he feels like it’s necessary. if you’re purposely doing things to annoy him or going out of your way to piss him off, he’ll make sure to remind you that you’re never leaving him. other than that, he’ll treat you like you’re a princess! you deserve everything in the world and he’ll give it to you if he feels like you deserve it. 

D - Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

despite from the sweet nature that he gives off, he will do ONE thing against your will and that’s to have kids. he needs to continue his family line and since Senjuro isn’t working to be a pillar anymore, he needs to make sure that someone continues that and it might have to be his kid. 

E - Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

rengoku, when he feels like the time is right, will bare everything to his darling. come on now, you’re gonna be his wife, right? it’s only right that you know what his baggage is! he doesn’t care if you judge him or not, when it comes to this sort of thing, he kinda wears his heart on his sleeve. 

F - Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

he would be kinda pissed. you’re supposed to be this perfect wife/darling and by you acting out, he doesn’t sit well with that. why can’t you be more like Sanemi’s wife? a perfect little darling that just sits there and waits for her husband like she should. punishment is a whole other ballgame that i will touch on later. 

G - Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

absolutely tf not. how can this be a game to someone? rengoku is the kinda person where if he meets someone that he falls madly in love with, he’ll stick by you until one of you dies first and even then, he might commit sewerslide if you happen to be the one to go first. however, he might get a kick watching you trying to leave him bc it’s nearly impossible to leave where you’re trapped.

H - Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

rengoku’s affection, jesus christ. that shit could get mad annoying. if he’s had a particularly bad day, just brace yourself and let it happen bc he will be one affectionate mf. it could get to the point where he’ll be affection even into the next day if it’s that bad. 

I - Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

literally a picture perfect life. (very much the american dream in a sense). he wants kids, hell, if you want pets of some sort, he’s down to adopt a few dogs or whatever you or your kids want. he just wants everyone to see that his family is perfect and how far he’s willing to go for them. 

J - Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

oh absolutely. rengoku is the type of mf that if he sees someone flirting with his darling, he’s ending that shit QUICK. he cannot and will not let it happen. clearly it isn’t your fault so he’ll console you that you had no way of knowing what that scums intentions were and after he’s done with that, he’ll try to find the person to give them a lesson. 

K - Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling

he will be very clingy like i said. he wants everyone to know that his relationship is perfect but in private, double that. he’ll make sure that you know you’re loved and that he wouldn’t trade his life with you for anything in the world. 

L - Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

he would try the attempt to court you at first. rengoku is someone who is very charming so 8/10 times, it’ll work. however, if you’re being stubborn, that’s when the other side of rengoku comes out. but if you do decide to date him willingly, he’s the sweetest mf ever. he’ll bring you courting gives to every date, etc, etc. 

M - Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

honestly, rengoku is seen as the black sheep in the sense that he’s always readily happy and enthusiastic. not much changes when he’s in the public. unless you happen to piss him off in public, seemingly the only time when he would change his personality. 

N - Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

he doesn’t try to do it often, he hates seeing you hurt. but if you happen to actually piss him off to the point where you need to be punished, anything ranging from being alone for days to sexual punishment (that i wont be going into detail for).

O - Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

not many tbh. you have free range into his entire estate. however if he has maids working around, they know it’s best for them not to talk to you. he wont let you leave his estate to speak to anyone. you have the right to anything as long as you’re not trying to leave or get into contact with someone. he’ll even let you visit your friends or family as long as he’s there. 

P - Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

eh, he’s about 50/50. he can be very patient with you or be ticked off almost immediately. more than likely tho, he’ll deal with your shit most days. the days that he doesn’t, it’s probably bc he had already probably had a bad day and you’re just making shit worse. 

Q - Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

if you die, rengoku won’t move on and like i said before, he’d probably commit sleep forever. if you escape, he’ll spend the rest of his days looking for you. regardless if you escape or die, he won’t move on. you’re his and you will remain that way important person in his life. 

R - Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

to a certain point, he’d feel guilty. i think the only thing eating him up is the unethical part in all of this. the fact that he’s basically abducted you and refuses to let you go. but will he ever let you go? absolutely not. you’d have to kill him before that happens. 

S - Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

i see the only way this happening is bc of his life. his childhood wasn’t the greatest but it wasn’t exactly the worst so idk, i think more than anything it was out of curiosity and probably seeing others do it that make him snap. 

T - Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

if rengoku isn’t at fault for making you upset, he’s HEARTBROKEN. he doesn’t like seeing you that way and he’ll find the person that did it and make them pay for it. HOWEVER, if he was the cause of it, he almost turns into a wall and brushes it off, probably murmuring that you deserved whatever it is that made you cry. 

U -Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

honestly no. he wouldn’t only bc he’s very much the person that finds the classics of being a yandere as the only way to do it. anything like killing your darling or along those lines are way to extreme for him and he doesn’t like it when others step out of line. 

V - Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

SENJURO RENGOKU. his little brother is also his world and i think if you catch kyojuro in a situation where you can exploit senjuro, he might give in but honestly, it probably won’t hurt and it’ll be worse for you when he finally has you alone. 

W - Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

like i said before, only if it was necessary. he wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you if you didn’t deserve it. he doesn’t like seeing you hurt and he hates seeing you cry so only if it came to you being a brat would he then actively physically punish you. 

X - Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

ehhhhhh, not really. he sees this relationship as 50/50 however he did kinda worship you when he wasn’t your boyfriend/husband but he would go different lengths in order to win you over. he doesn’t really care what he has to do, he will make you his whether you like it or not. 

Y - Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

tbh, it doesn’t take long before he snaps. if he sees you going out with someone and he feels like you might leave him, that’ll be a point. if he sees you being too free, that might be another point. in general, less than a year before he snaps. hell, less than half a year. 

Z - Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

mentally, YES! physically, if he needed to. but not to the point where he’s killed you. 

[bawdyknocker]

krakensdottir wrote:

it has been well over a decade since i last read any of the jan rawlins books, but i still remember clear as day what bullies her main cast had a tendency to be. people teased and bullied them, and so when time came to complete a revenge arc, you bet yer ass they fuckin did A Revenge. and i dont recall them being kind either. the worst bit to me is that tehy had every opportunity to show mercy, if only for their future selves to take solace in not having done terrible things when they could've.

[Never mind that harold patisserie grew up in a traumatic household, and like NEVER got therapy, or even a moments self-reflection of how that shit mightve permanently fucked him up... serious character development points completely whiffed. janky ranker could really take a lesson from leigh bardugo on vengeful character dev...]

counter this with pterry's good characters... sam vimes makes a great example here. a former alcoholic who looks like "a half drowned cat on a good day" (and user roach-works has demonstrated how jowling feels about cats...), sam is constantly at odds with himself. he *knows* he could be a good person, but he also *knows* he could much mpre easily be a bad person. he thinks of himself as a good person. and yet, most of the watch books make us privy to the thoughts of a man in constant struggle to do the morally right thing. sam wouldnt be able to live in comfort if he allowed himself a descent down a dark path (eg, "who watches the watchmen" ... "i do").

the astonishing ease with which jacob ramblings "morally good" characters justify little evils throughout those books, and yet seldom (if ever) seem to question the full breadth of consequences to those actions, speaks volumes of the author's true feelings of morals and justice.

...so pterry has shown anyone *can* become bad, but does he show how anyone "bad" can also become good? well, a brief look at sam again shwows an alcoholic staying clean for the rest of the books hes featured in. Moist von Lipwig (nee Spangler) repeatedly becomes a (re)founding pillar of ankh-morpork institutions. Rincewind is a college droput who has saved the world twice, and then again helps to save both the counterweight and lost continents (while being gay and disabled) ...[for sake of brevity, ill not get into the White Saviour imperialist wossnames here, though it shouldnt be discounted whatsoever.]

The point being, the leopard indeed CAN change its shorts. OVER AND OVER pterry writes this. different stories and characters and settings and trials...

like, FUCK. even the books about teenage girl wielding power beyond her conprehension, wrangling that power and STRUGGLING to use it for good. The Hiver take over her mind and body and pushes her to do horrible things. at the end of the book she realizes those were things she WANTED TO DO... and also things she was fully capable of doing. and yet. in I Shall Wear Midnight, she uses her power to make the bad people show their evil to the world, thus sewing seeds of their own downfall. so she has learned what evil is, and has also learned and SHOWN how not to be that way. and that is, in fact, still a struggle, but ultimately worthwhile.

I’m hardly the first person to compare them but Terry Pratchett and J K Rowling really are polar opposites in terms of the way their writing treats weird characters. In Rowling’s writing, any weirdness is there to be laughed at (for example: Professor Trelawney, the fake seer who doesn’t know she’s an actual seer). In Pratchett’s writing, though, the characters’ weirdness is taken 100% seriously and the humor arises organically from the situation itself and is never at the characters’ expense (for example: in Making Money, the man who was born a clown and was never told so until he was 13 years old). In Rowling’s writing, the main characters poke constant fun at Professor Trelawney, making joke predictions and fudging homework and talking about how divination isn’t a legitimate field of study. Even after she gets fired and more or less drops the act, the joke changes to “look at this sad drunk lady” and the main characters express little sympathy. The narrative is saying she’s there to make one real prediction and otherwise she’s only there for comic relief. This sort of thing happens over and over in Rowling’s writing, where any quirkiness is there to be laughed at and the misfortunes of characters we’re not supposed to like are supposed to be funny, and it sends a message of conformity under threat of ridicule. In Pratchett’s writing, the clown man’s story is treated as a great tragedy: imagine growing up not knowing why you are the way you are, and then finding out the truth as a teenager! And knowing that your own mother kept the truth from you! This man was so deeply traumatized by this he denied himself any humor or fun for decades, and when he has a crisis and runs off to become a clown again, he is given support and medical treatment and is welcomed back to his job at the bank and accepted for who he is. The fact that this whole situation is hilarious is secondary. And again, this sort of thing happens over and over again in Pratchett’s writing, where characters’ quirkiness is embraced and often seen as irreplaceable by the end of the book, and it sends a message that our quirks are valuable and weirdness should be acceptable. It just strikes me as a much… kinder approach to people, you know?

[honey-lemonz]

From wattpad:

Xmale reader

3rd pov

Sexual Content is included move on if not comfortable with

Includes:masturbation, but plug, dildo, getting caught, slight degrading rough and passionate sex, multiple orgasms, sexual frustrated Obanai.

Request by:EMOPHASEWHENIWASAKID

(Some parts by me other by the Request..)

(if you read American boy here is your smut that I never added. Taisho era)

For almost two years the sun pillar was sent away on an expedition mission to northern Japan, the rumor of the blue spider lily was heard around. A rumor that sounded so true that Muzan may go there himself.

The pillar wasn't sent for the flower he was sent for the upper moon that could be sent or the demon lord himself.

Leaving behind his younger siblings, Tanjiro and Nezuko who was demon. He was also leaving his lover. Iguro Obanai the serpent pillar.

Obanai understood reasons they sent him. He could handle the cold and could handle the upper moon without and problems..its just..

Its been two whole years without him. That meant no one to come home to at their home. Kaburamaru had no ball of sunshine that could let him sleep in his hair. But for obanai it was worst.

Two years sexually frustrated.

Obanai has tried many things even taken suggestions from others. Nothing. 

He could get off on just memories or the kimono's he wore that were left behind. He has sent letters but most were professional ones. Not any promising any punishment or any reward when he would return. It would get to were he would put a but plug in his ass just to satisfy the itch that his lovers cock could get to.

He had to be feeling the same way? Right?

Or was someone else pleasuring him? No he couldn't, Obanai knew. Only he could satisfy his lover the best.

The serpent pillar sat on the back patio of his shared home. For the time being he had finished taking another nap. He had a dream about a fantasy about his lover returning and fucking him ruthlessly.

But a dream is only as good as you make it.

He walked back to the futon on the floor. Feeling the arousal slowly makings its way out of his tight heat. The but plug wasn't going to work anymore. He needed something fucking him, penetrating him.

Pulling the (favorite color) toy out of his hole, leaving it gaping and stretched. Obanai whined at the loss full feeling. But he got up and went into the bathroom. In a small black box were a box full of toys Obanai had even before meeting his lover.

But after meeting him..they weren't needed at all.

Obanai squatted and looked inside for the dildo he wanted. He found one that was about 5 and half inches and was a good 2 inches wide. It should do for now.

In these two years he has been a horny mess. Constantly needing something to please him and the uphill battle of his needs. He just wanted his lover back to please all those needs. 

God it was infuriating.

Obanai's own cock was still hard as when he woke up from his nap. Tip red and need of attention. It was painful but still didn't go away. He just could not finish.

Obanai sat down on the silicone dildo and moaned at the feeling. it wasn't a bratty or a desirable one just a moan of something inside him. It filled a good percent but not enough to reach his prostate. Obanai started to move up and down, bouncing on the dildo.

His white kimono slipping off his shoulders, showing his smooth skin and none marked skin. that was another whole problem he didn't like. 

Trying to get down to the hilt of the dildo to at least graze his prostate to ease the itch, he was moaning and gasping at the fullness. Maybe this time his needs would be met.

Obanai was stroking himself and teasing his nipples, the sensitive buds were being pulled at and pinched, leaving the pillar awe struck. 

Moaning his lovers name as if it was a cry or a plea. Obanai speed up his pace, moving to lye on his back and use his hands. One hand stroking himself the other using the dildo to fuck himself. He was so close, eyes becoming glossy at the feeling. 

"(M?N) FUCK~! Fuck, fuck, shit, please my love come fuck me.." he was crying for his dear lover. The dildo wasn't hitting the right spots no more, and the itch grew even more harsh. His toes curling and his head thrown back on the futon.

"Why when your obviously doing it yourself? Having a hard time getting off my cute little baby?"

Obanai froze. His eyes snap open to see his love sitting cross legged on the opposite side of the room. He was in his uniform, (favorite color) but plug in hand inspecting it. "So this is what you have been doing while I have been away. Begging me to come home and fuck you silly like the slut you are? That's quite surprising isn't it."

His words weren't hurtful just teasing. Obanai could see the large bugle growing in his pants. The sun pillar had his hair down which rested the floor. His uniform at the top was slightly unbuttoned at the showing his chest and abdomen. His eyes had bags under them. But his eyes..

Something Obanai has only seen a handful of times.

Eyes were darker and burning with a lust. His stare and hoarse voice was enough to set the tone.

Obanai felt his cock twitch and he moaned out a spur of curses. 

"Now your having dry orgasms by just my appearance? You must be a desperate little whore today aren't you?" He didn't move from his spot what so ever.

Just drinking in on his expression. It was filling and made both Obanai and (M/n) twitch.

"Please, my love its been two fucking years with out you,please fuck me.." The sun pillar chuckled. "So my cutie is begging to be fucked? That's unlike you Obanai. If you can fuck yourself can't yo get off?"

Obanai groaned at the teasing. He just wanted him to fuck him. 

The an idea came to him.

His lover looked too calm for him. He needed him to get to his level of arousal, by being a fucking brat about things. if he wanted to get fucked he needed to do more.

"No."

The eyes on the sun pillar widen. 

"Why no then cutie? I just saw you so continue."

"No. I want you to fuck me. Unless you've lost your touch." Obanai said getting a little more confident. If keep going he would get the punishment he deserved.

"If my dildo was that close than what says you? I've used them plenty since you left two years ago. SO why don't you come over here and fuck me. Or has the sun pillar found a better bottom bitch to fuck?"

That set the fuel to the flame.

Calm and collected turned to possessive and aroused.

(M/n) was possessive of Obanai, he loved him and only him. Insinuating that he found a better person to fuck made the calm pillar pissed. Obanai knew this, because his lover can get jealous and possessive he knew what he did.

And is getting what he wanted.

The sun pillar was on Obanai in less than a second.

Choking his neck tightly and pinning his hands above his head. Eyes that were usually full of love and kindness, were dark with lust and irritation. He knew his words were empty but couldn't let it up.

"Why when I have a bratty bottom slut here? You want to piss me off for a good fuck cutie? You want me to pound you, make sure you can't walk for a fucking year?"

Obanai had another dry orgasm from his words. This is what two years of a pent up sun pillar was..

Then he should be sent off more often. ( Empty threat.) He hasn't even touched him fully for him to even think like that. The red headed male unbuttoned the rest of his uniform, not having the patience to take off all of his clothes. He undid the belt, taking the hands off of Obanais wrist.

His cock sprung free.

Oh how Obanai wanted to suck him off and tease him. But now wasn't the time.

(M/n) pulled the dildo out and scowled at it.

"Such a pathetic size, this trying to please your for that long, no wonder you couldn't get off cutie..don't worry we'll fix that..

positioning him at Obana's desperate hole, he slammed into him.

"Now!"

Obanai threw his head back and scream. His cock spurted long ropes of cum. Something he couldn't do until now.

"Cumming already? We just started, you really were a desperate slut?" He slammed into him again. Ever word followed a thrust, each time hitting Obanai's prostate and making his see stars. (M/n)'s past wasn't fast or slow. Just from Obanai challenging him made him almost bust a load.

The hand around Obanai's neck tightened, pushing on certain spots to not restrict air, just to make him a little dizzy. Obanai's toes curled as his lover slammed his cock into his tight heat all while degrading him.

His reward.

(M/n) pushed his legs to his chest, making his cock go even deeper into Obanai's dripping heat. He was truly surprised, he was that pent up himself. He didn't even have time to masturbate himself on the expedition.

"Fuck, my cutie your so cute looking fucked out of your mind. Is that what you wanted? To get fucked stupid by me?"

Incoherent word mumbled back a response.

"Yes..please~ fuck..*hic* me more~" He was hiccuping from the tears. The long haired pillar nodded and made sure to aim for his prostate and to basically abuse it as best as he could. Sweat ran down his forehead, making his hair stick to it. The white shirt underneath the black on was sticking to the sides of his torso.

Obanai's eyes had tears brimming out, drool slipping from his lips. His hands held his legs to his chest, hair spread out on the futon all around him. Moans and shouts, hollers and begs came out of his mouth without a care of who heard.

That's what the larger pillar wanted. he wanted anyone and everyone hear his beloved getting fucked out of his mind.

"Such a good little slut..you want the whole village and headquarters to hear your getting a good fuck cutie? You want them to hear you getting pounded by your lover? How you begged and been a bratty  bitch with a fucking plug between your legs? You want to be seen as my slut then I will make you my slut."

He pulled out of Obanai's tight and puckered out hole, flipping him face first into the futon. Using his foot to keep him in place and rammed back into him and a faster pace. Obanai's moans and screams were blocked from the futon mat he was getting fucking into.

 His cock spurted more roped of cum even though it wasn't touched.  His lover feverishly gripping and slapping his ass for good measure.

"God fuck, i'm going to cum and fill your little whore hole kay? I need you to tell me who the fuck gets to fuck your bratty ass kay cutie?"

Mumbles came as an answer. (M/n) making and annoyed noise, pushed his foot harder on Obanai's head. "Can't hear you cutie, you don't get my cum if i can't hear you like fucking you. Again and louder.  Why can fuck this bratty ass cutie?"

"Y-you.."

"Louder cutie!" He removed his foot from his head and pushed his chest into Obanai's back, teasing his over sensitive nipples and continued slamming into him.

"LOUDER."

"FuCk~ YOU DO!" Obanai had tears all over his face, face read and a mess.

"Good now let me fill you with cum like the slut your are. Such a pretty cutie for me." As he said that another orgasm ran through Obanai. It was becoming painful a little.

Obanai's babbles were filled with begs about being his cumslut and filling him to the brink. With one final thrust, making the smaller male see stars again. His desperate prostate and hole was filled with thick and large amounts of the larger's cum.

Emptying himself out, Obanai's hole was milking him dry of the desperate need that was begging to be released. His loved pushed deeper to make sure he took all he had to offer.

He slowly pulled out of his stretched and abused hole, gaping at the loss of contact and fullness. Obanai screamed again while being filled and also came again. He could feel his lovers seed push out of his hole and onto the futon below them.

Pushing the hair out of his face, (M/n) looked at the sight his lover was him. The demon slayer below him, the feared serpent pillar of the demon slayer headquarters looked as if he had been drugged.

Well he was, off of his lovers addicting seed, smell and cock.

"You did so well cutie, such a good slut. See if you follow instructions you could get fucked like this more often instead of pissing me off kay?"

This even only made Obanai want to be even more of a brat to him.

^wattpad, kny oneshots.

[kravkalackin]

Barry knew that the powers he was tampering with were not to be taken lightly. He knew that he was not a particularly good person for deciding to tamper with them anyway, and even less wise. 

He also knew that he didn’t really care. 

The worst part, the thing that he could understand objectively made him pretty fucking terrible, was that there wasn’t even a reason. He had no great loss, he wasn’t looking for vengeance or love or even just raw power. No, none of that. 

It was just interesting, and so few understood these dark magics. Even fewer could wield them properly. He wanted to see if he could. 

Even his almost clinical interest was starting to have concerns about this one though. The book had been old, older than anything Barry had ever seen before. Scorched and what remained written in a language that had taken him months to translate. The damage left some parts incomplete, most of it incomplete actually. 

But this ritual, this one had remained intact. Almost eerily so, like whatever fire had befallen it wouldn’t or couldn’t harm this part. 

The only problem was that he had no idea what the ritual was supposed to do. 

So of course, he was trying it out. 

Magic this old, this deep, there wasn’t a lot he could do to really ward it in case things went wrong. Still, he had set up the strongest charms he could around his lair, and that would have be be enough. Despite the power he could feel from just reading the book the actual ritual was surprisingly simple. 

Runes in an ancient language, carved into the rib of an ancient whale (which had taken... some effort to get down here) surrounded by more runes crafted from melted wax on the stone floor. Taking a deep breath, he used another piece of bone to craft a clean cut across the palm of his hand, reaching out to let the blood drip onto the bone as he began speaking the incantation. 

As he spoke the small amount of blood that had dripped onto the bone began to spread, covering it in red much more than it should have rightfully been able to, until the entire pillar was soaked in it, covering the runes that had taken a whole day to carve. 

He continued with the incantation, his voice starting to sound doubled in his ears. He couldn’t tell if it was his own voice heard twice, or if someone else had joined him. Whatever it was the ritual continued, the runes underneath the blood bursting into flames, quickly engulfing the entire pillar and threatening to choke him out with its heat. 

Barry forced himself to keep going. If there was one thing he knew was worse than trying one of these things, it was leaving one incomplete. As he drew to the last few lines of the incantation he heard a loud crack, followed by another, and more still. Through the flames he could see the giant, ancient bone in front of him splitting and splintering like a twig in a bonfire. 

With the last lines of the incantation, it exploded around him. 

Barry was knocked back, and it must’ve been the spell that kept any of the jagged bits of bone or flame from impaling and killing him then and there, despite the way they jabbed into the cave walls around him. He was still flung into a bookcase behind him, and there were a few moments where he was left lying there, coughing and wheezing as the fire and smoke around him slowly subsided. 

When he finally managed to look up, to see exactly what it is this damn ritual actually did, for a moment he thought the center of the room was still on fire. Then he realized his glasses had been knocked askew, and when he pushed them back into place he could see a bit more clearly. It still looked like fire, but there was so much more to it than just that. 

She was humanoid, looking like a wildfire given form. A few of those runes glowed brightly along her limbs, before fading away as her own fire seemed to quell some, until she appeared more like a comforting smolder. Despite the bright, somewhat shifting form her features were surprisingly pronounced, and Barry could see her staring right at him, her head cocking to the side after a moment. 

“Not... what I was expecting,” she said, a strange, almost otherworldly accent to her voice. Barry coughed once more, pulling himself up along the shelves behind him. 

“Are you the creature this book summons?” he asked, holding up the ancient tome as he asked. At least the magic that summoned her decided to update her language so that they could understand each other. 

He saw her eyes land on the book, an enraged glare suddenly crossing her face, the flames that made up her hair flaring up as she shot a hand forward. Barry couldn’t move fast enough, the book shot with a blast of fire. He at least managed to drop it before it burned his hand. 

“Summoned? No, that damn thing trapped me,” she snapped, and Barry felt his stomach drop a little at that. He had certainly considered the idea that he’d be releasing some ancient evil into the world when he decided to use the thing. “What’s your name?” she asked suddenly.

“Barry,” he answered, honestly, like an idiot. He must’ve hit his head harder than he thought in that crash. The beautiful spout of fire in front of him grinned at that. 

“Nice to meet you Barry. I’m Lup. I was kind of in the middle of something when locked away for, uh, how old would you say that book is?” she asked. 

“Rough estimate? Two, two and a half thousand years?” he said, and she winced at that. 

“Ouch, okay, when I was locked away for fucking two thousand years. And since you let me out, you get to help me pick up where I left off. Sounds good?” 

If Barry was a good person, he would have refused. Would have recognized that something locked away this long, and with something so powerful, was locked for a reason. Would have started a search for some way to bind her again, so that whatever dark plans she had would never come to fruition. 

But as previously stated, Barry wasn’t a very good person. 

“Yeah alright, works for me.” 

[cryopathiic-a]

When the ancient warlord had visited here for the first time, the Lord Founder had relayed upon him a simple truth; of the people that flock here, he has never forced, threatened or made anyone stay. Of course, their existence within those walls is a finite thing; it was a beginning, a middle and an end. When Dōma wills it. It is by his mercy that anyone here still breathes. But he never forced them to come. All living things, all of them without exception, are obsessed with their own death.

And that's why they prolong their existence. Out of weakness to accept that inevitable end.

Dōma is just someone who chose to capitalize on that simple truth. As most men of the cloth tend to do. With an added touch, that he is no longer a man, either. A creature, an entity, however one chooses to call it; it doesn't matter. He's not afraid of death. He's never been afraid of death and that's what makes him inhuman, isn't it.

Even their own Master... could not overcome this fear. And now he comes to find out that they are ruled by it. So... where does that leave him?

Probably exactly where he is. In death's arms, where he belongs.

And it's... oddly comfortable. He shifts a bit, as his pulse begins to drop again — a body that's usually in a state of frigid stagnancy spurring to life for just a few moments back there. It was too much on his organism, he could tell. There was that tickling numbness spreading everywhere, eliciting a content purr from the younger oni as he curled up, chin over his hands, and sprawled himself across the other's lap.

Make no mistake about it; he'd seen the shards pierce through, even if the attack in itself had been a mere accident. Reflexive; instinctive, and a testament to his full potential. Not many could claim to have pierced Upper One's skin like that. Probably none other, actually. And yet Dōma seemed to have discarded all bragging rights in favor of sitting here and enjoying the afterglow of his body coming down from that adrenaline high.

❝ Mm— well, I'm a little jealous, won't lie. I've never met a slayer like that. ❞ Some could entertain him for a few hours. But then they just fell over dead from the hoarfrost, either way. A slayer is nothing without their breathing and no breathing has managed to pierce through his blood art, yet. At this rate, he thinks the humans are just as responsible for his own vanity. Because they've never managed to bring him down from his high horse, have they.

There's a small shift in the fabrics as he moves to pick a strand of white gold and twirl it absent-mindedly between his fingers.

❝ I get it now. I'd be bummed too if I were you. They don't make them like that anymore. ❞ He might not be able to relate to most things, but he can relate to that; perpetual boredom. That's horrible. That's something to be wished upon only to your worst enemy. Dōma took Muzan's deal to escape from that! And now... he was learning that this would be his fate? As the second strongest in line, with no one to stop him or kill him... really, what reason did he even have to obey at this rate?

❝ I mean, even the ones as of late, that everyone says have gotten stronger... well, they're laughable, at best. Last time I took on a pillar, it was only frustrating because the sun came up and I couldn't eat her in time. Nothing they've ever done has made me feel that, though. That... thrill. ❞ The thrill of death. He swoons.

❝ Hey... thanks for that. ❞ Lying on his stomach, he couldn't see the other's face. But even knowing it was there, staring at him like those amethyst eyes were trying to burn a hole through his skull... it made his spine shiver. ❝ I— It was nice. Well, I'm sure Master will be furious but— ❞ A carefree chuckle. He did not give a flying fuck and the other would know, from the elated squeal that caught in his throat.

❝ All I know is I've never— ❞ Pause. There was that pang in his chest. What, was his heart finally beating or something? He refused to believe this was anything else but the natural connection that happens between predator and prey; you know, the age old love story between wolf and deer? Enamored with each other in their eternal hunt. One runs, the other chases, and if the deer stops running the wolf will have no reason to hunt anymore. But if the wolf stops, too, the deer has no reason to keep running. Ah, maybe he has romanticized the concept of death a bit. It must be the religious upbringing.

He can't help feeling at least a little bit attracted to something so dark, though. So finite. If Kokushibo is the end, Dōma is the nothingness that comes after. He can't help but want to squeal! Why do they fit so perfectly in each other's horridity?!

And why is his heart still beating so fast? Is it— ...

❝... ugh, oh, anyway, let's not make this about me. You were saying something about, uh? The path you will continue to walk, or something like that? ❞ He reaches back, to take the other's hand and place it on his own hair, right over the bloodstain crown. ❝ Tell me, tell me more about that revelation. I mean, when you gifted me with this kind of experience... the least I can do is listen, right? ❞

[teatitty]

Fuck it it’s gone one in the morning so here are my thoughts on Fionn and Diarmuid canonically, in myth, internalising everything that happens to them and repressing the fuck out of their emotions (specifically the negative ones)

Fionn is the most depressing so lets start there! I’ve mentioned before that he’s only cried in public twice in his entire life; once when Bran died and once when Oscar did. Given that Oscar died in the middle of a war we can probably infer that Bran also died during some kind of fight, which makes sense since wolfhounds were both hunting dogs and war dogs, trained to take people down off their horses. Now the thing about Fionn is that he always puts the needs of other above himself. Every single time, no matter how trivial, he will prioritise the people around him before he ever thinks about himself, which is both his best asset and his biggest flaw

When Sadhbh was kidnapped he went dead silent, thinned his lips tight, and locked himself in his room for the rest of the day, not once coming out, not even for food or water. When Oscar died, he broke down on the battlefield there and then before completely ripping the opposing army a new arsehole. So why does he repress those emotions and bottle them away until he’s in a situation where that’s not possible? Easy! Because he’s not just the leader of the Fianna, he’s not just the Seventh King of Ireland, he’s also Ireland’s pillar, their protector, hell he even operates as a therapist sometimes

Fionn takes on everyone’s burdens, physical or emotional, literal or metaphorical and because of that he cannot afford to let himself get caught up in negative emotions like anger or grief or bitterness because everyone looks to him for help and guidance and if he falls they will have no-one. He’s basically the mythos version of Superman and Captain America - a symbol for his people that has to put aside all of his own personal shit to ensure the livelihood, safety and continuing peace of the masses

He internalises and represses so that nobody else has to. As long as he is standing - as long as he is smiling - there is hope

With Diarmuid the reason is much simpler; Fae experience emotions far more intensely than humans do. This is a fact of their lore, it’s why any small slight against them can have them turn into the most vindictive shits you’ve ever met and why when they fall in love they can become near obssessive with it. A good example of how strong their emotions are is when Brigid’s son died during the war between the Aos Si and the Formorians; she broke down on the battlefield and her grief was so strong that not only did she invent the ritual of keening there and then, it was also the first time grief had ever been felt in Ireland

And I don’t mean that in a “oh Brigid was the first one to feel it” way I mean it in the “Brigid’s grief over her son was so fucking strong everyone in Ireland, including her fellow deities, could feel it” way. Diarmuid represses his emotions because he is keenly aware that if he didn’t he could seriously fuck up all the humans around him. Unchecked joy and happiness could at best be too intense for humans to deal with and at worst it could charm them so severely that they die from grief the moment he leaves (yes there is quite a bit of folklore of humans being charmed by a fae - usually because of their singing which they do mostly when they’re happy - and then dying of grief or heartbreak when they can no longer hear or feel their presence anymore)

His grief could tear someone’s heart to pieces in such a way that they never fully recover and his rage may rival even Cu Chulainn’s riastrad. These are all hypothetical scenarios. Diarmuid is half human himself and so there is no proof that his emotions could affect anyone this strongly. But the one time we know of where he got genuinely angry, he put the fear of the Gods themselves into Conán mac Morna for the first time in his long lived life and during the Gowra battle his glee and bloodlust was so strong that everyone left himself and his opponent completely alone to tear eachother to pieces

So yeah. There you have it. “I repress shit so I can put the needs of those around me above myself” VS “I repress shit because if I don’t there’s a chance I might accidentally kill you or something”

[100hearteyes]

any more thoughts on 'clarke and lexa make a porno'?

🤔😏

Part 1 Part 2

“Last but not least, worry no more, citizens of Capitola: after a grueling week of searching, our very own superhero Jasper Jordan has finally found his cape. He was wearing it all along.”

“It’s so good to know that he will be able to go on keeping Capitola safe.”

“Yes, what would we do without Jasper Jordan here to protect us? And from now on, you’ll be in Lexa Woods’s hands. Also, such good hands those are. She’s got very long fingers.”

“Oh. Well, I never actually noticed, but I guess they are. Thanks, Clarke. And now, perk your ears for the new hit single from our very own global country star, Harper McIntyre. It’s called Call Me Harp-by. She’s a creative genius!”

-

Lexa’s first instinct when she hears the studio door open is to hide. She checks her options: Monty is holed up under his desk playing on his GameBoy Color, Octavia has barricaded herself in a corner with actual hand-carved sticks and is roaring at Bellamy in a strange language, and Murphy is probably peeing into a bin behind the pillar on the far side of the room.

She’s too slow to think of a solution in the end and she can’t do anything but flush when Clarke strolls in and heads over to her, smirk plastered on her face. Lexa only has time to save her miniature Baby Yoda from Clarke’s weapon of ass destruction before her coworker sits on the edge of her desk.

“Hey, Lexa.”

Lexa forces a polite smile, trying to focus on her outline for the day rather than the butt cheeks planted on her desk, the body attached to them, or the face looking down at her with a sly grin. “Hello, Clarke.”

“What do you think of Harper McIntyre’s new song?”

The topic confuses her, but she trudges on with a brave face. After all, she’s got opinions on Capitola’s Taylor Swift rip-off and if Anya is going to make it a point of leaving the room every time Lexa so much as mentions them, then she’s going to take this opportunity with both hands and pull out all the receipts. “Uninspired. Derivative. Oddly reminiscent of Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen.”

“Yeah...” Clarke nods pensively, letting the subsequent silence drag on for a few more seconds. “I like your fingers.”

Lexa starts at the sudden topic change and struggles to keep her blush under control under the brazen intensity of Clarke’s stare. “Yes, I- I noticed. You mentioned. On the radio, for all of Capitola to hear. Thank you, I guess?”

Clarke hums, before clicking her tongue and hopping off of Lexa’s desk. She roundabouts it until she’s right next to Lexa, thigh brushing Lexa’s arm.

Lexa tries and fails to swallow down the knot in her throat as Clarke sits on her desk again, this time on her side, crossing her legs so her feet touch Lexa’s leg.

“So a little bird told me we’re starring in a porno together.”

Lexa almost yelps, scrambling out of her chair to fasten both hands over Clarke’s mouth. “The whole world doesn’t need to know, Clarke!”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but Lexa can feel her smile under her hands. Their eyes lock, a tacit understanding passing between them. Clarke's eyes are a vivid blue, like a cloudless sky or the color of Lexa's highlighters before Anya dunked them all in a bag of manure, and it's hard not to drown in the depths of them.

"Glad to see you two getting intimate already."

They spring apart as though they were burned. Lexa sits back down on her chair, while Clarke takes a seat at her desk, which to Lexa's chagrin is right next to her own. Anya chuckles as she sinks into her own chair, propping her feet on Lexa's desk, crossed at the ankles.

"Anyway," she slams a hand over a stack of papers, making Clarke and Lexa jump in their seats, "can you guess what this is?"

Clarke and Lexa look at each other with raised eyebrows, then at Anya. Lexa shrugs.

"This is your fucking Bible," Anya says, not waiting for them to guess. "Your Dianetics.Your Loose Canon. Your gospel." At her companions' still expectant stares, Anya heaves a dramatic sigh, throwing her arms up. "It's the goddamn screenplay."

Oh.

Oh.

It's like the snap of an elastic band. Lexa and Clarke shoot out of their chairs to snatch the script from Anya's desk. Lexa gets there first (going to the gym does pay off after all), dribbling around Clarke, and lets out a triumphant cry before sinking back into her chair, thumbing through the pages of the heavy tome.

She stops on a random page and feels Clarke press closer to read over her shoulder.

-

INT. BLONDIE'S KITCHEN - TWILIGHT

Enter Lulu. Plumber by day, detective by night. She stops by the island and twirls a lead pipe in her right hand before sheathing it like a cowboy's pistol.

LULU

It seems it's time to read your...

Lulu puts on her shades. ZOOM IN.

LULU (CONT'D)

...Anya rights.

-

Lexa balks, peeling her eyes from the page to gape at Anya.

"Anya rights? Anya rights? You can't just... Arbitrarily rename the Miranda rights. They have that name for a reason."

Anya rolls her eyes like Lexa just said something obnoxiously stupid. "I didn't just rename them, you dumbass. I fucking changed them. If you'd read the whole thing, you would know that the suspect has the obligation to remain silent. No more fucking cry babies in cuffs."

"This is..." Lexa opens and closes her mouth like a fish, trying to find a thread of logic in the midst of... Whatever fever dream she's living in right now. "I thought we were filming a porno, not a sexy cop movie. Plumber by day, detective by night? That's- it's not even remotely realistic."

"Lexa... Suspend your disbelief."

"I think it's really good stuff," Clarke chimes in, her breasts still firmly pressed to Lexa's shoulder blade.

"Thank you, Clarke!" Anya exclaims, throwing her hands up and letting them fall on her legs with a loud clap. "At least someone appreciates my genius."

Lexa rolls her eyes, but fine. Fine. She will read more; she will give Anya a chance. She opens the book on a new page, several scenes ahead.

-

INT. BLONDIE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Blondie rubs her lover's love button like she's scratching at a turn-table, making Lulu scream louder than Saoirse Ronan in Ammonite when Kate Winslet was eating her out with her neck.

LULU

Oh, fuck! You're so good at this! Almost as good as my awesome best friend and mentor Anya, even though I've never had sex with her because that would be totally gross.

Blondie stops her ministrations to look up at Lulu and smirks.

BLONDIE

I know. After all, they don't call me DJ Diddles for nothin'.

-

Lexa stares incredulously from the two hundred-odd pages to Anya, wondering how grave a sin she must have committed in a past life to deserve this.

"What are you, a sex-deprived straight guy?"

Anya scoffs, yanking the script from Lexa's hands before she can do anything to stop it. "I can assure you there is no deprivation in that department."

"After reading that I am seriously starting to doubt that you've ever even seen a vagina."

"I thought it was good," Clarke pipes in once again. This time, Lexa turns to her with a raised eyebrow.

"Is she paying you to say that?"

Clarke tsks with a smirk. "I'm just smart enough to know better than to get on the lead producer's bad side."

Anya snaps her fingers and points at Clarke approvingly, and Lexa has never regretted a decision so deeply in her life.

"Anyway," Clarke resumes, standing up and grabbing her bag. "This has been fun, but I need to get going. Anya, stay classy. We'll work out the schedule this week. Lexa," she adds, her voice dropping a tone to turn into a seductive purr. She leans down, and it's all Lexa can do not to focus on how her breasts squish together and seem to become fuller and more inviting. She loses the plot when a pair of lips presses to her cheek in a kiss that is chaste, yet way too slow for propriety. "See you tomorrow."

Lexa's throat is dry as a desert as she watches Clarke leave, her hips swaying more than usual. She jumps in place when Anya clears her throat next to her. This time, she can't avoid her friend's shit-eating grin.

"No chemistry, you say?"

"Shut up, Anya," she grumbles, focusing back on her work. She has a full, five-minute newscast to prepare, she can't dawdle and joke around gossiping like some people. But then a thought pops up in her head and she turns to Anya, eyes narrowed. "Is this some elaborate plan to get us together? I refuse to be your little Love, Actually experiment."

Anya's stare is fifty shades of unimpressed. "Lexa. Don't take yourself so seriously. It's a bad look on you."

Lexa buries her face in her hands with a long-suffering sigh. Why is this her life? Why is this her best friend? Why is she hopelessly attracted to the worst, most unprofessional coworker on the planet?

"Why couldn't you find a normal hobby? Something that doesn't include me? Like baking. Baking would have been so much better."

"You know," Anya drawls almost nostalgically, "I actually considered that, but the criminally inclined baker niche was already taken up by Martha Stewart."

"She is surprisingly niche," Lexa says, intrigued.

"Indeed."

"But she's also able to appeal to a larger audience."

"Uh-huh."

"Fascinating."

"I know. It's like Punkya. You'd think a lesbian erotica magazine would only appeal to queer women and depraved straight men, but it's been selling surprisingly well amongst the straight female demographic."

Hm. Are all women secretly queer?

"Interesting," Lexa concedes, before veering the topic back to Anya's passion (and Lexa's torture) project. "So when does principal photography start?"

And there it is again, that nefarious gleam in Anya's eyes. It grows along with her Cheshire cat grin, curling and curling until it's pure, unbridled evil.

"Next week."

[starkeristheendgame]

Hunter!Tony x Demon!Peter AU

Hunter!Tony binds Demon!Peter to himself in order to find the monster that murdered his late fiancée. Lead down roads he’d never imagined himself taking, Tony discovers that maybe revenge isn’t the only thing he’s hungry for.

TW/Tags: Supernatural AU | Enemies to something | Hurt/Comfort | Angst | Injury | Blood | Near-death experience | First kiss

“Is being a pervert part of the hiring process or are you just getting your money’s worth?”

Tony couldn’t see it, but he knew regardless that those plush lips would be pushed into a pout and those arched brows would be furrowed into a petulant scowl.

“If you’ve got me running around like your little errand boy, the least you could do is be nice to me,” a high, sweet voice simpered back. The face that belonged to it was just as youthful when it appeared in the mirror over his shoulder, watching him button his shirt with vested interest.

Tony didn’t deign to dignify it with a reply, staring down the pretty little monster until it let out a sigh.

“Fine. I have your lead. Arkansas, a seedy little dive known as the Dog Den.”

Something hot and rabid twisted in his gut and he had to pause his motions, hands trembling almost imperceptibly. It felt a lot like rage and a little bit like hope.

“Are you sure?”

Eyes the colour of fresh honey rolled so hard he could almost hear the muscles stretching. “No. I asked a magic eight-ball.”

He twisted with a snarl, reaching out. The ring on his finger pulsed with a molten orange glow and between slender wrists a chain that shimmered transparently flared to life, forming a delicate set of shackles no wider than if he’d wound a necklace there.

He curled a finger in the glowing links, dragging the Demon close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in those dark eyes. 

“I’m sure,” it repeated, softer, quieter, holding his gaze with wariness, but not fear.

He let the chain drop after a moment, grunting as he turned around and finished buttoning up his shirt. When he twisted to reach for the jacket the lithe figure was sprawled out on his bed, artfully arranged as the Demon flipped through a magazine Tony knew hadn’t been in his own bags.

“You know,” the Demon piped up again as he tucked in his shirt, “maybe if you smiled a little more, the ugly things in the dark wouldn’t try to kill you as much.”

“Shut up.”

“Not possible.”

“I’ll make it possible.”

“Oh, you always promise me a good time and never deliver.”

Despite himself, Tony found he had to wrestle fiercely with a smile. “Peter.”

That heady, dangerous gaze pinned itself to him again. He met it evenly, ignoring the thrum of his pulse. The Demon really couldn’t have picked a prettier vessel to take over, a smudge of parasitic darkness inside the prettiest packaging.

That pink little mouth opened like it was considering another witty retort, then closed. Instead the Demon - Peter, merely hummed and went back to flicking through his magazine, disinterestedly glossing over half-naked women and gossip scandals.

It was almost disconcerting. To look at the pretty little slip of a thing sprawled out on his bed like some rented whore and to know that behind that pretty face was a being of Hell’s creation. Something twisted and dark, a corrupted soul festering behind a distracting smokescreen.

Peter Parker was the sort of face Tony would’ve fallen for like a rock, if he hadn’t been the one to summon the Demon to the surface.

Perhaps that’s why the Demon had chosen such a nice outfit. A desperate bid not to get ganked the moment he crawled out of Hell.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Peter sighed, turning a page idly. He’d rolled over onto his stomach now, jaw propped in his palm. 

“You can’t read minds. Don’t get comfortable, we’re leaving soon,” he grunted in reply, shrugging on a jacket.

“Can’t I just meet you there?” the Demon whined, looking up with (literally) sinful puppy eyes.

“No.”

He left it at that, flat and unforgiving, as he had to be. In another life he’d have fallen for that soft whine and that pleading look. Might’ve taken his shirt right off and crawled onto the bed, put that open mouth to good use.

But this was not that life, and that pretty face was stolen.

He checked all his things then reached out, plucking the gossip rag from Peter’s hands and throwing it in the trash. “Meet me at the car.”

“I was reading that,” Peter huffed indignantly, glowering up at him before he disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a dip in the bedspread and the scent of copper.

He was sprawled in the backseat when Tony made his out to the 1970 Challenger he called his own, a set of stylish shades covering his eyes, fluffy hair unkempt and arms folded behind his head.

“Feet off the upholstery,” he huffed as he turned the key, swinging the car out of the parking lot and onto the road with a loud rumble of the engine.

“I know for a fact you sleep in this car and my shoes are clean,” Peter answered primly, angling his head towards the open window and the warmth of the morning sun.

Arkansas was a three day drive. They spent the first in almost complete silence, although the Demon did sulk when they stopped for gas and Tony declined to buy him anything. Rather than waste money on another motel he pulled onto a quiet patch of land behind a thicket of trees, settling across the bench seat with a sigh.

“Fuck off and come back in the morning.”

“Eloquent as ever,” Peter griped, leaning over the seat, arms folded and chin atop them. He looked laughably angelic in the darkness, all soft edges, voice quiet enough that a mouse wouldn’t flee it.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, and when Tony cracked open an eye to repeat his command, he was gone.

Gone, until he thumped his fist on the window at the ass-crack of dawn, looking chipper and cheerful, Starbucks cup in hand. “Up and at ‘em, sunshine! The monsters aren’t gonna hunt themselves!”

Tony considered stabbing him there and then, but Peter was unfortunately an asset he couldn’t afford to lose. Invaluable, as much as it stroked the Demon’s ego. He settled for glaring, baring past the Demon as he stomped off to relieve himself. 

The next two nights went much the same, although Peter got chattier the more bored he became. Fiddled with the radio, disappeared for moments only to return holding an ‘interesting’ leaf or rock, scooped up from the side of the road Tony had just driven past.

Arkansas was crisp and bright and dewy in the mid-weeks of spring. It was so different from the New York of his youth, with it’s towering glass jungle and concrete pillars. It was a visceral reaction to think of the scent of flowers and clean air in Sicily, of pink lipstick smudged on his jaw, a laugh fading slowly, overtaken by the rumble of the engine.

Countryside became a smattering of industrialisation, bars and houses, garages and stores. He wanted to keep on going, chase that tail until he caught it and tore it off, but he knew better than to rush in half-blind.

He had to eat something proper. Had to rest. Had to learn everything he could from the paltry little stack of papers that Peter had given him, printed out at a library miles and miles back in the time it had taken Tony to piss and buy a bottle of water at a gas station.

Food, first. 

The diner was like every other. Gaudy and cheap with food that was more grease than nutrition. Peter’s nose scrunched the moment they entered and he looked nonplussed when they were guided to a booth.

The Demon made a big show of pulling out a pack of wipes from the pocket of his fitted jacket, scrubbing the table as the waitress listed off the day’s specials. Tony rolled his eyes before ordering coffee and a slap-up breakfast, about to dismiss the waitress when Peter cut in with a saccharine smile. 

“Bacon too, please. Crispy. And a milkshake. Thanks a bunch, darling.”

She arched her brows but made no comment, glancing at Tony before leaving. Then it was Tony’s turn to stare and quirk his brow, watching the Demon shrug lightly. 

“What? I get cravings.”

Peter fiddled with a napkin as they waited, as Tony read through the sheets of paper. Folding it over and over into a little crane that he perched atop the salt shaker. 

“Where did you even learn origami?” Tony grunted, watching it sway before it stabilised. Peter’s gaze flicked up to him and there was something unexpected there. A hollowness, heavily guarded but flickering in the gold of his irises even so. 

“Even the worst of the worst need hobbies, hunter,” he uttered softly, and then their food arrived and they were lost to the silence that overcame those sating their hunger. Peter ate with an almost childlike manner, easily distracted, toying with his straw before each sip. He even swung his legs a little and drummed his fingertips on the table top.

The perfect performance.

He looked away.

Peter was unusually quiet after that, subdued as they made their way to a motel relatively close to the Dog Den. He didn’t even pester the receptionist or try to embarrass Tony by pretending to be some sort of rent boy as he purchased a key, eyeing the Demon consideringly.

When Tony slipped beneath the sheets Peter disappeared without argument, offering only a mock salute before he flickered and was gone, leaving nothing but a wisp of dark smoke.

He wondered where the Demon went. Back to Hell? Some run-down library to read through the night? An empty motel room to pilfer their cable connection?

The disconcertion over Peter’s silence left him the next day, when he commanded Peter to steer clear as he got dressed to hit their lead.

“You can’t go alone,” Peter announced, frowning.

“I can and I am. You’ll just attract attention,” Tony pointed out, shrugging on another flannel and tucking the flask of holy water against his belt.

“And if you die?” Peter shot back. It surprised his brows into lifting as he met the Demon’s gaze, tipping his head.

“Then you’ll be free of your bindings and there’ll be one less hunter ganking your friends. What’s the problem?”

Peter’s mouth opened, then closed, as if he was only suddenly remembering that he wasn’t in this little dynamic duo willingly.

“I get the Challenger if you die,” the Demon said instead, turning away from.

And maybe Tony should’ve thought more about that demand, because the only thing he could think of as he lay bleeding in the middle of the woods several long hours later was that Peter would most definitely get the car all scratched up and dirty.

Demons had no respect for vehicle maintenance. 

He coughed wetly and grunted, pressing a hand to his bleeding chest. They wouldn’t, he supposed. Demons could just fly everywhere.

Peter had adamantly argued it was not teleportation.

He breathed out a sigh and shifted fumbling for his wallet. His fingers smeared blood against the white edges of the crumpled photograph in there and he stared at his wife’s smile, frozen in time and taken just days before a Demon on a murder kick had burnt her soul up from within her, along with their unborn daughter.

“I’d say see you soon, but. W’both know m’goin’ to Hell, not where you are,” he told her image softly, giving it a weary, slow smile.

“Hell would ask for a refund,” came a familiar voice, and moments later there were warm hands on his jaw, tilting his head up. “You stupid bastard. I told you not to go alone. I could feel there was someone stronger in this town!”

Peter’s eyes were wide and round, plump lower lip between his teeth as he dropped his gaze, eyeing where Tony was slowly leaking his insides all over his outsides. “Shit,” the Demon breathed softly.

Tony made an agreeable sound. Shit was about right. He’d run head first into the messy, gruesome end that almost every hunter found themselves at. The end of the road; the final curtain; bleeding out somewhere at the hands of something twisted and ugly and evil.

“Guess you get th’car,” he rasped, aiming for humorous. It fell short when he blanched and more hot fluid slid down his throat and his chest, pooling at his navel. 

“Shut up,” Peter growled at him, letting go of his head to pull up his shirt. His fingertips were light, but it still felt like fire. Hot and licking over everything he touched. “God, you’re so fucking stupid. I told you to take me. I told you I should go.”

“C’n you save th’gloatin’ ‘till I’m dead?” he asked, frowning. Most hunters probably didn’t get this much conversation on their deathbeds.

Peter shot him a positively scathing look, pressing down hard on the wound. It made agony flare up his torso, smothering his pathetic yell of pain into a weak, thready rasp.

“This is gonna hurt us both,” the Demon muttered, looking inexplicably angry as he settled his palms flat atop the worst of the wound. A muted sound was all Tony could manage, watching the Demon with hazy confusion.

For a moment, nothing happened. 

Or at least, Tony didn’t notice it happening. 

But then a strange, new type of pain began to lance through him, battling against the numbing burn of his torn organs. It crept through his veins and branched out, a tingling, almost electric sensation that had him tensing as best as his broken body would let him.

He opened his mouth and if he’d had the energy left for it he’d have reeled in surprise when Peter leaned forwards, slotting their mouths together firmly.

The Demon’s lips were soft and plush, with the faintest trace of soda. His lips were warm, too, just a breath above what would be normal for a person. 

Tony almost didn’t know what he should be recoiling at the most; kissing a Demon, or kissing what was for all intents and purposes a sixteen year old.

Peter didn’t try to do anything else and Tony realised in the timeframe that he’d been internally broiling over the situation, breathing had become easier.

The fire was dulling to a simmer; a slow ember that still ached but no longer made him feel like he had one foot in the gates of Hell. His breath hitched and Peter pulled back slowly, keeling to one side slightly and almost falling over as he drew away.

His eyes were pools of inkblack, shiny and void as the Demon sucked in his own rattled breath, pulling shaking hands away from Tony’s torso.

He let his gaze fall slowly to his chest. He was still covered in blood, but the flesh there looked smooth and unmarred. Where he was once carved open like a pot hole there was once again closed off muscle and flesh.

He looked up in surprise. Peter was on his knees, hands braced on his thighs as he rode out the strain of wrangling his leashed powers. His eyes were slowly returning to the human hue, red-rimmed as if he’d been crying, plump lips downturned.

Tony licked his own, jerked straight back into the sensation of Peter’s mouth on his.

“Why?” he demanded roughly, bringing a hand to subconsciously touch his chest.

Peter shot him a sidelong look, the effect slightly dampened by the way he looked vaguely sick.

“A thank you might be nice,” the Demon sneered at him, huffing a twisted curl from his eyes as Tony pushed himself to his feet, ungainly and uncoordinated. Bracing himself on a tree, Tony stared down at the Demon.

At Peter, who’d saved his life. Against all he stood to benefit from Tony’s death, against all that he’d done his best to kill him when he first discovered he’d been shackled to Tony. 

Coughing, Tony did his best to pull his shredded shirt closed before he made a rough gesture. “Get up. You’ll have to take us back to the motel. My car’s still at the bar.” Smashed up or stolen, he realised with a pang of sadness and anger.

“Oh no, lover-boy. You’ve been keeping me at half-mast all year. One night of fun has done me in for the night. I’m limp - get your own ride into town.”

Tony glowered, but all his frowning and snapping proved fruitless. Peter’s powers had been bound tight for almost a year and he really was burnt out, looking every inch as young as his vessel as he wobbled to his feet. The most he managed them was a few meters down the road when he tried.

It took them until sunrise to come close enough to the town that Tony could hotwire a car from the side of the road, ditching it a reasonable way from the motel and wiping it down with a clean patch of his shirt to get rid of his fingerprints.

He wasn’t bothered about Peter’s. Peter had mentioned having this particular vessel for over fifty years - his prints would be written off as a glitch on the system.

He went straight for the shower, scrubbing his skin pink as he tried to sleuth off the memory of being cut open, of dying alone in the dark and the cold, certain that this was his one-way ticket downstairs.

Brushed his teeth; trying to rid himself of the guilt that came with realising that the kiss had been pleasant, to a degree. Soft, pink skin, the sweetness of a soda consumed while Tony had been-

He shut off the water.

When he stepped out, Peter was actually curled up in the bed, looking almost infantile with the covers pulled up to his jaw. He seemed only half-awake, barely stirring when Tony entered the room. He was pulling on a new shirt when Peter spoke, voice sleepy and quiet.

“My Uncle taught me.”

Tony paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Origami,” Peter clarified softly. “You asked me. At the diner. Where I’d learned origami. My Uncle taught me when I was thirteen.”

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, Tony took a light seat on the edge of the bed, each of them facing a separate wall. He was quiet for a little while, digesting the information.

“Thank you for saving me,” he grunted after a moment, uncomfortable with the intimacy of the words. It wasn’t anything he’d ever thought he’d say to a Demon. Peter had gotten him out of scrapes and healed up wounds before, but always under command and never anything so serious.

Desperate to rein back some control, he slid under the sheets and stared up at the ceiling. “If you ever kiss me again, I’ll use thread soaked in holy water and sew your mouth shut.”

Irritatingly, Peter snorted. “That was hardly a kiss.”

“You’re in a snot-nosed brat’s body, what would you know about kissing?” Tony shot back, brows pinching into a frown.

“This,” Peter huffed at him, rolling over and on top of him.

Tony blamed the fact that he didn’t pull away on simply being too tired to.

[arllenn]

Staring down at Ruri- no Chime is his name, before you, you can help but feel tired. None of this is making any sense it’s all too much at once.

Bonderev, one of the dickheads behind what happened at black swan bay, had apparently been alive and living well enough to the point where he could give lessons on morality in his final moments. Imagine that! HIM a man who BLEW UP an ORPHANAGE and who had personally shot you and Renata, what he persumed to be, dead! And he had the nerve to ask you to, no- TELL you to protect his son, to not let his actions get in the way of YOU PROTECTING his SON! You’re so frustrated to the point where you’re not sure if you want to burst out into maniacal laughter, break down and cry or just destroy everything in your sight the same way that dickhead had done to you and your family all those years ago.

He had gotten everything and more. A family, a happy life, power and he was freed from all the consequences of his actions. So what about you what did you get? A permanent fear of trusting anyone because “hey I’ve already been used as a genetic experiment by the man I considered a father who then proceeded to blow me, everyone and everything I’ve ever loved to kingdom come! But sure thing nice stranger who I just met let’s be besties!” Makes so much sense. Oh, oh! What about stealing years away from your life! 20 to be exact, man you could’ve been married, had a family, gone to the capital and achieved everything you had wanted to! But no instead what you’re doing is standing here, the same 18 year old who couldn’t do anything to save your friends, your family, as you watched them die in front of you. You’re the person who even in her last moments Renata had to look after and protect. And wow doesn’t that smart, doesn’t it hurt to look down at Chime to see how weak he is, with a voice that trembles and eyes that seem one glare away from overflowing with tears, doesn’t it hurt to look at him and see the worst parts of yourself reflected back at you? The parts you wanted to bury so deep down inside that they’d be forgotten by even you. But here they are, loud and angry and demanding your attention.

Your throat closes in on itself, the hand on your hip tightens. It’s a painful squeeze that’s only purpose is to remind you that, no you can’t cry here, you can’t let anyone see you like that, you cant let yourself be like that, not here. Not in front of people who you should know, who you should trust but who you don't You've spent more time running around for them then with them. It's mean and the ugly cloying feeling that rises up from your chest makes you look back at your relationship with 'your' uperclassmen. Were you even close enough to be called comrades? friends? Most of the time it felt like you were just there. A living phone running to deliver messages from one of them to another. Running errands, throwing yourself into danger or just escaping death for what? People who, people who you- people who you... what even are they to you? Right now your upperclassmen feel miles away from you, both emotionally and physically.

Your nails were starting to dig into your skin in a way that was more then painful. You could feel the moment the skin on both your hip and the palm of your other hand broke. Pulling your lip in between your teeth you try and tune back into the conversation waiting for the right words, for your upperclassmen to throw another request at you so that you can leave, preferably go outside and beat the shit out of one of the trash cans out back before running off into danger once again to fulfill their orders like you always did. And wow, isn’t that something... even now, even now, you’re still just blindly following people’s orders, never asking questions, never saying no. What... what is wrong with you? Hadn’t you learned your lesson already? Hadn't you learned after Herzog that you don't, you can't, just do that. Last time you did that you grabbed onto a rotten rope, a horribly, disgustingly, rotten rope.

"Promsing to protect somebody so recklessly is a foolish thing... nevertheless... thank you." Chime's retelling of his life comes to an end at a convient time. It's perfect really, and so you take that moment, the lull after his thanks, to leave.

You walk out into the lobby of Takamagahara the slow calming jazz music a horrible contrast to the thoughts and feelings that are swirling inside you right now. You make it two-thirds of the way to the bar when you're met with an extremely unpleasnt sight that has you cringing for more reasons then one.

Crow and Yasha are sitting the bar, resting most of their belegirantlty drunk weight on the actual contertop instead of on their chairs. They're demanding extra achoul, Crow shouting about how he can't take something anymore who knows what. And yikes heres a thought, Chime Gen is in the VIP room right behind them, those two who, even if they are drunk out of their minds, are Chisei's aides. They find Chime or even gain the smallest inkling of an idea that he may be here and you'll have more to worry about then cleaning up the counters from their drunk cry fest. Normally you'd step in here, and take over for Quinton the poor bartender on duty who always seemed to get the worst of the costumers but you really aren't feeling up to it today.

Just as you're about to turn around to give the trashcans outside the beatings of their lives Crow says something that you can't help but stop at. "You know I like Sakura don't you?" It was a question directed at Yasha who was only able to groan out what he thought was a response. You debate staying for a second. This isn't something that you particularly care about, nor is it something that really concerns you. But it just, you just want to know a little bit more about what Sakura was like before she became another one of Herzog's victims. Its with that flimsy excuse and the puppy dog look that Quinton gives you once he notices you're there that has you stepping closer, leaning against one of the pillars that trap the bar in its own seprate space.

As Crow continues to slur his feelings out Yasha seems to sober up a bit, it's not by much but its to the point where you're no longer worried about him getting into a bar fight, more just what taxi service to call for him when he inevetably passes out and where to send him afterwards.

Yasha leans over the bar apparently ready to give Crow some type of advice when the following happens. 1) he trips and stumbles over his words "Don't.. Don't worry. We are brothers. I... will never... mock you." sweet right? It would've been if not for 2) The fact that he lurches over its a face you recgonize all too well.

"Quinton get out of the-" 3) Yasha hurls all over Quinton, your words left to hang just as Yasha's icky face goop is left to hang off of Quinton. And now you're royally pissed. Sure you were pissed before but this is the type of rage that can only be quelled by you being left alone to stew in it. Its not the emotional type of rage that you felt earlier when you wanted to smash every glass surface you came across no this is the cold type of rage that leaves nothing but apathy in its wake. because as much as you've been trying to ignore it theres so much more that you had been trying to ignore, so much more that had been pushed to the wayside that you're angry about. You look up at Quinton whose looking at you like a lost kid in a mall that had mistaken you for their mother. Running a rand through your hair you harshly scratch at your scalp. "Quinton," you let out a frustrated sigh, "Take the rest of the night off, you'll be paid regularly and you can take extra pay if you wake up sick tommorrow." You turn to him and start to walk behind the counter switching places with him.

“Right thanks a bunch, manager." He rushes out. Turing towards the staff area most likely to change into his extra uniform instead of going home covered in puke. Staring down at Yasha's mess which was covering most of his area of the counter as well as the floor under his chair your annoyance hit an all new peak. It's not the chunky kind of throw up that can be easily cleaned up, its a mush that resembles watery baby food. It's obvious that this wont be a quick clean and that both mops and floor wipes are just going to push this stuff around instead of soaking it up.

Today just can't get any worse can it? Pushing your hand back into your head you aggitatedly rubbed at your scalp, pushing and pulling at the skin there. You’re pissed off. To come back after fighting against Herzog, let’s not forget HERZOG WAS THERE TOO! HE WAS THERE, HE WAS THERE LIVING AND BREATHING, AFTER ALL THAT HE HAD DONE, HE HAD THE NERVE TO GET UP ON THE PEDESTAL THAT HE HAD CONSTRUCTED, DESIGNED AND BUILT HIMSELF THROUGH EXPLOITING THE INNOCENT TO TEST HIS FREAKY DRAGON DRUGS ON, HE HAD THE NERVE TO TALK DOWN TO YOU! ACT LIKE YOU WERE STUPID OR SOME KIND OF PREDETERMINED FAILURE! You get back from that battle exhausted , emotionally drained, and wanting to destroy yourself to find Finger leisurly drinking with Humpback! After you thought that he died you thought that you had lost another person, only for him to be there and fine. It was reliving yes, but just fucking horrible at the same time. So when you stare down at that mess and the first thing you see when you look up is the VIP room that the others are in you felt like you were justified in deciding that you would be acting on your tiredness and handing off this task to one of your upperclassmen like they do to you so often.

Actually you retract your earlier statement today can in fact get worst. Crow and Yasha have apparently had enough to drink both uncoordinatedly slamming down the money to pay for their drinks, you really don't care wether or not is correct you just want them gone, they BOTH step into Yasha's puke tracking it out the door with them. Yeah, no- you're not cleaning that up nope, nu uh, never. You blow out a heated breath and start to walk towards the VIP room careful to avoid all of the face mush on the floor. Pulling on the curtains that served as the door to enter you called out to the occupants.

"Right, sorry to ruin the fun but I just had two costumers who puked and tracked the throw-up everywhere so I need one of you to go out and clean it up preferably like," You looked down at your wrist as though you wore a watch. Truthfully it was just to hide the annoyed look on your face, "right now please." You glanced up at them Before clarifying "Chime I'm not asking you to clean it up, just focus on resting." Because as much as you wanted someone to clean that nonsense up right away you were also specially tuned into just how draining it could be to meet Herzog like that. "Cool thanks guys!" You clapped your hands together and prepared to leave the room when Luminous started complaining.

"Aw, come on no way newbie, I don't wanna clean something like that up!" He put his hand to the back of his head, a tick you had noticed he did when he was complaining, nervous or worried, "Come on can't you do it? You were already out there.." And there it was normally you would excuse that tone as just being something that made Luminous, well Luminous but today the whiny tone was grating on your ears and you were two steps away from man handling him like you used to with Anton when he was being uncooperative. The thought of him hurts. Witnessing his final moments, being there when they happened, it was both the same and different then the others. Sure you had watched all the others die but Anton's had always stuck with you in a way that was far too painful for someone who you really didn't like. And now the urge to cry was back, you felt your eyes burn with unshed tears that were a culmination of too many of your emotions to name.

Caesar brought a hand to rest on his chin tapping away at it, before he even got the chance to talk your anger had already started to peak "Luminous is right newbie, theres no reason for us to do it, you were already out there and knew the areas that needed to be cleaned. This just seems like a waste of both yours and our time." Yeah, yeah, you seriously contemplated grabbing Caesar by his ponytail and using him as a mop for a second.

"You just cleaning it up would've been more efficient." Johann unhelpfully chimed in. Yeah, maybe you would use Caesar as the mop and Johann as the counter rag.

"Yeah freshie! Everyone knows that newbies do all the grunt work, you can't expect us to do it can you?" Fingers nasally voice made you want to throttle him the more he continued to talk. Sure he may have meant it as a joke but you really weren't at the point of caring. In fact you couldn't care less about anything right now. The anger that had just been building had condensed into a vengeful apathy that demanded the souls of those around you.

Once again Caesar spoke this time however you decided to cut him off. "That's right newbie, using my authority as team leader I order you to-"

"Damn I kinda don't care," You said scratching at the back of your head in an obviously exaggerated way. "Yeah actually..." you started mimicking Caesar's earlier stance, "If you're invoking your team leader rights then I'm invoking my manager rights."

"Hey wait-" Luminous tried to interject.

"Yeah as your manager I order you all to have that throw-up cleaned within the next half an hour." A bit long of a time slot, sure, but really who cares as long as it gets done.

"No way newbie team leaders out rank managers, which means my order still stands." Caesar's stubbornness in this situation could be something to praise if not for the fact that a) you don't care and b) you're two steps away from bringing your thoughts of using him as a mop to fruition.

"Team leaders outrank managers when we're out on the field sure, but right now we're in Takamagahara not battling death servitors, which means your team leader status is moot." You made a slicing motion over your neck. "You may be the leader appointed by the college but right now that means nothing, were not fighting and this isn't reconnaissance, we're working."

"That doesn't change the fact that Caesar is team leader freshman." You can always count on Johann to speak up for what he believes in. Too bad you're not here to praise your upperclassmen but instead get them to work.

"Cool! And I'm still the manager. Right now you all are technically on the clock at Takamagahara which means what I say goes. Caesar may be the team leader and you may be my upperclassmen but that doesn't change the fact that right here right now what I say takes precedence in all matters that aren't dragon related because I'm the ma.ne.ger. " You smile your best costumer service smile and speak in the same tone that you do with costumers when you say this. Then you turn on your heel and walk out calling out behind you that "I expect to not wake up to puke covered floors in the morning! I'm going to bed good night."

And well if Finger chose not to comment on your behavior because he watched you break down in the elevator through the security cameras then that will remain with him. And if Caesar and Johann chose not to speak on it because they heard you sobbing from outside your room that night then thats something that stays between them. And if Luminous caught a glimpse of the empty look in your eyes that night when you left your room for water then he definitely held that as a close secret to his heart. Choosing not to comment on it. And if you noticed that your seniors were just a bit more gentle with you or asked for your input before sending you off on recon missions when they didn't before then you don't comment on it.