#though the watch (not pictured) on the end of the chain (pictured) is mine & it's pretty cool. maybe i'll post a photo of that tomorrow

[spectre-ship]

the waistcoat I mentioned in my last sewing projects post! since this has a lot more moving parts and involved some more complex work than the shirts, this was something of a practice exercise, so I did it with a kinda cheap print from a quilting fabrics store. since I had a lot of fun with this I plan to make more in blue and red/gold fabrics that I have, which will hopefully, unlike the print, not leave little white marks everywhere a needle pokes through.

big note for next time is to try and pay more attention to the pocket welts (the little strips that cover the opening), since the pattern doesn't quite match up on either of them & the attachment is a bit shoddy.

...but a very exciting note for next time, or the time after, whenever I use the red/gold fabric, is that I will be using these:

these brass buttons were dated to the late 1830s by the antiques store I bought them at (a cursory Google suggests that button enthusiasts concur.) there are seven in total, which is a couple more than I need for the front closure, so I might see about making that one double-breasted and keep the seventh around for a spare or memento or what have you. hang it off my watch chain maybe.

also, it's a bit too dark to get a good image of it right now, but soon I'll have a picture to share of my "new" sewing machine! I mostly plan to use it for seams and other concealable structural elements--hand finishing is too much fun & provides too neat of a finish for me to give it up.

[gilbirda]

Ceremony

This would Danny and the Whisper first in-person meeting. It doesn't go as well as Danny would have wanted.

This one is full eldritch babyyyy

Context for this excerpt: Masterpost

---- Word Count: 2758 ------

Once the deceptively small piece of jewelry was in, Danny knew it was way too big for his hand. No shit, it previously was Pariah’s, and even if he remembered Valerie putting it on, when the previous Ghost King wore it something happened that made it fit his giant body.

Not Danny though. He waited a few seconds for the ring to do something, maybe some kind of lightshow like the crown did a minute ago, but nothing.

He looked up at Clockwork, searching for help. “I don’t—”

Time stopped. 

Weird thing, Clockwork was also frozen in place. So it wasn’t him who did this.

“My favorite.”

A voice… THE voice said in his head, at last making sense and not being random gibberish.

“What’s going on? Who— Who are you?” he said out loud, one eye on the frozen people before him.

“My favorite…” The voice’s volume faded instead of becoming louder. 

“Hey! Come back!” Danny struggled against the chains. He looked down, finding black gloved hands.

Black gloves. A white suit.

He looked up, finding he wasn’t at the castle anymore. Not even in the Ghost Zone. He wasn’t even a halfa. Human. Human fourteen year old Danny, about to make the mistake that changed his life forever.

The portal. In front of him was the shut down portal, completely harmless, waiting for him to turn it on for the first time. For him to die there. 

Danny took a step towards the machine, his heartbeat loud in his ears, something it hadn’t done since his death that very day. On the back of his mind he registered a ticking noise, soft, but constant, present, reminding him of the passage of time towards the very second he pressed that button, the next few seconds when nothing happened, the final few seconds he felt his body burn from the inside out.

His feet guided him like on autopilot towards the hole in the wall, his body moving on its own, not looking at his friends watching him, Sam with the camera ready to take a picture, excited. Or Sam watching with a resigned expression besides the controls. Vaguely he wondered if he was seeing both versions of the story — the original one and the one where Sam had wished to never know him and they had to redo everything from the beginning. 

Whatever the case, he found himself inside the portal. There was a low machine humming — no, it was a voice. Both? The ticking noise became louder, eating away his thoughts. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t process. Danny had to press that button and die again. Third time's the charm, right? He had to. He had to.

He pressed the ‘on’ button, and the humming stopped. The ticking stopped.

The machine didn’t turn on. He turned towards the entrance of the portal, expecting someone there who could explain what was going on. Wasn’t he supposed to be somewhere else?

“My favorite, at last.”

Danny turned back, finding—

The first thing he noticed was the teeth. The other end of the portal had been engulfed in pure darkness, slithering through the metal surface towards the light. In the midst of that darkness, an enormous smile made of perfect white teeth ran from one side of the hole to the other.

The mouth didn’t move, but he heard the voice nonetheless. “We meet at last, my favorite.”

It was weird, Danny thought, how the creature’s voice sounded. He heard the whisper from before as well, but this voice was not talking in a language he could understand; instead, it underlined the creature’s words like a movie with two audio tracks in different languages at the same time.

Danny also noticed that he wasn’t freaking out. He should, especially when just a bit over the mouth, a green eye opened.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” The creature said not moving its mouth. “And now you are mine.”

This made Danny snap out of it. He opened his mouth to speak, but his vocal chords didn’t seem to work for him.

He tried to think hard at the creature instead. “Who are you and what’s happening?”

The creature chuckled in that deep, rumbling voice.

“I am everything. You are mine. We are bonded.”

Bonded.

The Core?

Was… Was this… thing, this clearly-not-a-ghost, sentient being, the Core? The one he was supposed to bond with? The one he was supposed to protect?

“Indeed, my favorite. I am everything.”

“You already said that.”

The creature snickered again, amused.

“I like you,” it continued, the black tendrils of darkness slowly reaching him and circling around his feet. “That’s why I chose you.”

Danny looked down, not missing how the black appendages were looping around his black hazmat boots. Possessive much?

“Not possessive if it's already mine. All is mine. Mine. My chosen.”

“I’m your favorite.”

Danny’s acceptance seemed to please the creature. It purred in vibrations that Danny could feel through his boots. He looked back up, finding that above the opened green eye, two more had opened from the void. 

For a brief moment, the halfa felt like he had been duped. He expected… I don’t know… Some kind of sentient piece of rock like the one the Observants showed him; or maybe some kind of god or goddess that ruled over the Realms and over the centuries had been venerated by humans; or in a twist of events, that there was no real physical form of the Core and it was the concept of power itself being bonded to him.

“I am that and more. I am everything. From my flesh the world is created, with my blood my children are sustained. I am the power from where they are born and I’m the place where they go to die.”

As the creature spoke, the hollowed portal was vanishing bit by bit, the darkness flowing and engulfing the surface, finally closing the only source of light until both Danny and the creature were floating in a thick void.

Holy shit, Danny thought, thinking that he should be panicking, but his heartbeat never faltered. In fact, he had forgotten it was there completely. He realized that his heart wasn’t beating.

That’s right. He wasn’t alive. He wasn’t exactly human either.

“Mine… Like all of the others made from my body.”

He was talking about ghosts. The Infinite Realms, ghosts, ectoplasm; everything was literally made from the Core. Everyone he knew, friends and foes, could be reduced to flesh and blood from the thing he had in front of him.

Two more eyes opened. 

“Why… Why?”

He didn’t know what he wanted to ask. Why tell him this? Why was he ‘chosen’? Chosen for what? What, exactly, was this coronation ceremony?

The mouth widened in the darkness, revealing a much bigger body. The mouth with too many teeth grew and grew, until Danny had to guess the size of the creature was at least as big as his house.

Five more eyes opened, the collective glow of the green hinting the real size of the body. All the eyes were fixed on him.

“I chose you that day. I felt you get closer and closer to me, I tasted you, and I knew I wanted you. But you didn’t become completely mine, even after making sure you would belong to me in the end.”

A halfa, half human and half ghost. Halfway in the grave. Halfway part of this creature.

“Indeed,” it chuckled again. “It only made me desire you more.”

Creepines aside, Danny still didn’t have all the answers. “Chosen for what? To eat me?”

This amused the creature. “I am everything, but I cannot enjoy what I have created, I cannot meet the children that exist because of me. My favorite makes sure I can.”

The King. He understood now — the Ghost King is some kind of communicator between the Core and the ghosts. Intermediate? The middle man. Okay. Okay, he could deal with this.

But the creature was snickering again. “You will be that and more, dear favorite. You will be my eyes, my mouth, my hands. You will be the well from which I can nurture my children and ensure that the balance is maintained. I will need you as much as you will need me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I cannot exist if I’m separated from my body for too long. I need to ensure that it doesn’t happen, and for that, I require a certain… minimum of power fed to me. My chosen has to be strong and powerful to keep up with my appetite.” The double layered voice glitched at the end, as if speaking of this ‘appetite’ ignited something in it.

Or else, was also implied in the end. Or else this… thing would eat the Infinite Realms and all its residents to recuperate its body. Or else everything would be destroyed. He remembered the void from that vision Clockwork showed him, back when he asked what would happen if he refused. A black void eating away everything it touched.

He looked around him, noticing for the first time the black tentacles covering his body, crawling through the void towards him, caressing him, as if they couldn’t believe he was real.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” The creature said again. “I wanted to make you mine.”

“But I’m already yours,” the words escaped his mind before he could reign it in.

What else could he say, though. There was no going back now. He accepted, he wore the relics, he consented to this.

Somehow it didn’t make it better.

The creature purred, and the whispering increased in volume. It was pleased.

“Not enough, not enough. I need you more. I can’t have you, but I want you.”

Danny felt the tentacles crawl up to his face, softly touching his cheeks, his ears, his hair. Soon, he could see them as well, barely distinguishable from the void background and the obscure creature made of eyes and a mouth. He considered the thought of pushing the tentacles away, but his hands were pinned to his body, as the dark appendages encircled his body like a boa constrictor.

Whatever. It was too late to resist, to step away, to say no. And how could he deny anything to the Core? How could deny anything to this creature?

He couldn’t, because he belonged to it now.

His vision became blurred with tears of defeat. He vaguely wondered if every king before him felt like this — if they also felt the crushing defeat before even trying, like all the power and training didn’t mean anything after all. Because there was no Core. There was no glory in this. 

Fortunately for him, he was never in it for the glory. He knew what he had to do, and he did it. That’s approximately how he rolled since the accident.

He looked up at the eyes, noticing that more and more were opening. Danny blinked away the tears as much as he could, ignoring how the tentacles tried to wipe them for him.

“I understand,” he was glad that they were speaking with their minds, because he didn’t trust his voice. “I will be your King. I will bridge the gap between your creations and you, like you wanted.”

“Ah, my favorite. Always the bridge. Always the middle. Always between two worlds. I love it.” The creature purred. “I then offer you my power. My blood will run through your veins and my flesh will be your skin. What is yours will be mine and what is mine… will be yours.”

Just as it said the last words Danny felt electricity course through his body, starting from his left hand and up to the rest of his body. He closed his eyes, knowing what was going on. He knew this. His accident, once again. He got the torture part anyway, huh.

But it wasn’t the same, though. Apart from the electrocution and the sensation of burning (the smell, that horrible barbeque smell imprinted in his nose); Danny could feel like something was piercing his skin and wiggling its way into his body. He had room in his consciousness to feel nauseated.

He heard himself scream his throat raw once again, at least until the sound was cut abruptly and his larynx felt like it was on fire and then dunked into ice.

From there, the sensation made waves down his body, touching every organ and every muscle and every bone, and he could feel it oh my god what’s going on.

“Relax, child. We are becoming one.” He thought he heard the layered voice speak in his tormented mind.

Somehow he managed to open his eyes, ignoring the white pain behind them. The creature was… different, once again. Where before there was void, he could finally see light dancing around the actual shape of the creature, confirming that its actual size was gigantic, beyond what he could have guessed, with many more faces and many more eyes and mouths.

He saw the darkness that formed that body slither towards him, quickly and swiftly, as if the creature feared that taking its time would scare him away.

Danny didn’t know how long he floated there as the void was forced into his human body, but after what felt like minutes and hours at the same time, he wondered how everything was going to fit inside him. 

Soon he stopped being overwhelmed by the pain and simply remained there, defeated and waiting for the next wave of darkness coming to merge with his body. It hurt. Everything hurts. There was only pain consuming every bit of available space in his mind, not leaving much room for regrets.

A pressure started building behind his eyes. He vaguely wondered if that meant that the suffering was coming to an end.

“You need to become more to be whole with me,” the creature whispered in his burned and frozen ears, but this time it sounded different. A new layer was sandwiched between the weird language one and the other he had spoken before. The new voice sounded eerily like his own.

The pressure kept going up and up and up until Danny had to close his eyes to try and mitigate the migraine-like feeling. It was useless, it kept building.

“Make it stop!” When did his hands go to his hair? He didn’t remember moving them. He screamed when he felt like his head was going to explode.

He heard a pop and with the new wave of painful darkness, his mind expanded. 

Now there was so much room inside, like his thoughts were there but were only a small allotted space for them to exist. He could see more and feel more and sense more. He saw himself floating in a now almost completely white void, crying with his eyes closed. 

He saw how his skin had darkened into almost a purple color, rippling with the vibrations of the waves as they entered his body, revealing cracks in the places the tentacles had pierced his skin. Through the cracks black ooze was almost pouring out, a swirling mass that reminded him of the form the creature presented itself as. Sometimes, he could see a green eye or perfectly white and sharp teeth peek through the open wounds.

Danny couldn’t recognize himself. He didn’t feel like himself anymore. Something else. He was something else.

“We become whole.” The new layered voice said, but it wasn’t in his mind. Danny saw as it came from his own mouth. 

As the last of the remaining darkness flowed into his body, his vision of himself faded, but he didn’t need to see it anymore.

He could feel that the process was coming to an end. He was feeling more awake, more aware of his body, of his limbs, of his senses. He looked down at his hands — purple skin, black claws oozing dark void mass — and he wondered if he would be able to go back to normal.

What was normal for him anymore? He chuckled, and he heard the other voice, the Whisper, mixed in with his. 

As the last of the tendrils were absorbed into his mangled body, Danny felt his strength leave him. He fell to his knees first, one hand quickly moved to stop his fall, but his sore muscles failed him. 

“... I really, really like you, Danny…” was the last thing he heard before his head hit a familiar stone floor and everything went black.

[rebrandedbard]

I have returned from Ren Faire!

For doublet pictures and a fun story about myself getting serenaded by The Prince, go ahead and click below!

To begin the real beginning of our adventure, my friend @prosebushpatch and I caught the champion’s joust after lunch. We sat by chance on the side of what I assume to be (based off their swaggering and charmingly unsportsmanlike conduct) the side of The Baddies, Sir Edgeron (who I erroneously thought was called Etteron) and Sir Maxmillian whose horse is named Drax. During the second run, I came up with a short verse for them to cheer in the lull. That’s the first domino that led to this chain of events:

You turn to look and then he’s gone

So swift is our sir Edgeron!

And riding just behind on Drax

None other than our noble Max!

After the round was over and the stadium was empty, my friend and I hit up the AMT so I could get cash to buy a flag. On the way to ask, I sang the little song. A member of staff was sitting on the fence, so I went to them to ask where the flag seller had gone. They and I got to talking while two flags were fetched and another man came up, having heard tell that I was a bard. He and the other staff said that I must, I MUST meet the prince as he would love to meet a man of musical talents such as myself.

The older gentleman of unknown but higher rank led me to where the prince was watching a celtic band and dancing. Before there could be any introductions, however, the prince invited us to join in his dance and he taught up a couple styles of jig. I was wearing a crown at the time and it fell off my head, only to be caught last second by a quick bow. It was most impressive. The prince called me a fellow prince throughout all our interactions thereafter, even when I put away my crown.

I spun him under my arm a couple times. It must be said, he has very comfortable hands. Made to be held, really.

So! At the end of the dance the prince asked if Rose were my fair lady. “Fair is she, and a lady, but mine she is not,” I said. Platonic companions, naturally. And he pulls out a dazzling crown pin to present to her for joining the dance; a pin which he only gives to two people in a day! I was very proud, and a bit envious. But not for very long.

Rose and I left to go kill a bit of time before the next part of the tournament. On my way out, I looked back and saw the prince and older gentleman talking, the older gentleman gesturing forward to myself and my friend. We lost them in the crowd. He's a picture of them just before they got to talking:

Eventually, we wound up in the place the feast was held and it was time for a village dance. The whole royal family was there, who would guess? I danced with the older gentleman from before, delighted to see him, and the princess, in the large circle dance. I got the steps quickly enough but always turned the wrong way on the first spin. Got it in the end though.

After the dance, the prince came through the crowd of dancers to find me, having spotted me and my friend in the circle. He asked if the gossip were true and that I was a bard. I gave him my unofficial title, the bard Galanthus, and he introduced me to the queen, leading me to the sort of staging part of the square so to speak. He then requested a song.

“If my prince commands it.”

“No, not a command. Not required, but I do heartily request.”

So I sang him a song from one of my upcoming stories, Buttercups Are Blue. Oh god, if you could have seen his expression! I had never felt my mouth dry up so quickly. I’m only glad I got through the first verse without stumbling, I was so nervous. He was well-cast: extremely charming, friendly, and handsome. Performing is nothing, but singing alone to him? Nerve wracking.

“I must say, I have never been serenaded quite so well!” (I’m so happy to have gotten that line on video):

And then he turned around, whipped out a tiny lute/mandolin thing the size of a ukelele and sang a song for me in Gaelic, then in English. I swear, I didn’t know what to do with my hands and my face was outside of my control. I’m glad he looked more to the camera in the last verse because I was feeling very red by the end of the second song with all the direct eye contact. I was more than a little infatuated by the end of the first dance—I was completely gone by the time he began to sing.

I was very light-headed after that. He introduced me to the jester to gift us another song, and I don’t remember which of them it was that asked, because both of them said something to the effect—but they asked why I was not among the other entertainers, singing for the crowds. I was invited to be the court bard (after the formality of an audition in August, said very quietly out of character lol).

We returned for the final part of the joust and I just couldn’t help looking up at the prince on the balcony between hits. Oh, I know it’s all pretend, but a prince is a prince is a prince! And I had the loveliest day. Thanks for the song, fair prince!

[moaihybitoyoidaics]

Some Things Never Change~ Jurdan

Jue and Cardan return to the Duarte family home to find a gift for Taryn's baby shower. A trip down memory lane leads them to reconnect with Jude's childhood best friend.

A chapter from The Captured King on wattpad (@ teddyhawkins thats me)

Word count: 2148

Jude's POV

The house still stood as it had the day I had left, almost identical to the pictures we had saved more than ten years before. Although now, instead of sun filled windows there were wooden boards, and the parallel-striped lawn was over grown. The door hung ajar, slightly off its hinges. I turned to look at Cardan, whose face was an indecipherable mask.

"Home sweet home." I muttered under my breath before heading up the cracked paving slabs. Running after me, Cardan's composure fell away a second later.

"Jude, are you sure we're okay to be here?" He asked quietly. "Are you sure nobody will be watching the house?"

I stopped just shy of the front door. "As far as this world is concerned, the Duarte family were massacred almost twelve years ago. No one is looking for us anymore, and no body is bothered about this house." I nudged the door open, groaning as it went. "There are things I should like to retrieve, if they're still here." "I'd follow you to the ends of the earth my dear, lead the way." He followed me inside, creeping as if he could somehow wake the ghosts that remained here.

The carpet was ripped up, presumably taken when the police came to investigate the murders. Still, though, a muddy brown stain remained and the floorboards in the vestibule. The sight turned my blood to ice and a cold sweat bead on my upper lip.

"Jude," Cardan tests, his hand grazing my shoulder blade. "What is it?"

I remembered the day Madoc took us, the day he made that stain. I remembered my white converse skidding in the blood, my legs too short to step entirely over it. "I- it's just hard. Being here, it makes it harder to pretend it all away. Let's just get what we came for and go."

I stepped over the stain and moved on through the house. In the lounge the TV was gone, the sofa was charred as if it had been set alight, soot crept up the wall behind it. On the chimney breast someone, probably an edgy teenager, had sprayed a pentagram, dripping and red. I moved on to the kitchen, noticing the notch in the door frame and another dirty brown patch on the floor. I looked out of the window, into the back garden. Our old swing set stood unused, the chains rusted orange, creaking gently in the autumn breeze. I turned to see Cardan sat on the breakfast bar.

"So this is a mortal kitchen."

"You've been to Vivi's apartment, you know what our kitchens look like."

"It's strange to think of you living here. Before all the... stuff happened." He spoke so softly, I could hardly hear him.

"It's stranger to be back." I left the kitchen and made my way upstairs. I had the best chance of finding what I came for up there. "You can wait here, if you want." I called back to him. He shook his head and jumped down off the island.

"No chance."

I pushed open the door I remembered to be mine. The sight sent another shiver through me. The room has been preserved, almost untouched. There drawers were still open, with the clothes we left behind. The bunk beds, made up with Peter Pan and pink floral sheets. "Mine was the bottom bunk, I used to be obsessed with Peter Pan. Sword fighting, pirates, fairies... I guess some things never change."

"Taryn had the flowers, I'm guessing."

"Like I said. Some things never change." I made my way over to our old bookshelves searching for my sister's favourite book. "Taryn would never like to admit this, but she always wanted to be a homemaker. My mom bought her this Tumtum and Nutmeg, I got the first Harry Potter book instead- which is also about magic-"

"I know, I've read them." Cardan said, surprising me out of my nostalgia.

"You've read them?" My mouth was agape, a shocked laugh at the back of my throat.

"The magic is somewhat rudimentary, I mean using wands? But I did cry in book seven." He seemed confused by my obvious shock.

"Okay, we'll discuss that on the way home. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to return her old copy, you know? For the baby shower." I shoved the book into my satchel and made my way towards the bedroom door. "Let's go."

He caught my arm. "Do you not want to stay? Take back some of your old things?"

"It's painful being here, with everything that happened here." For the first time, I realised how strong my husband was. "I do not know where you find the courage to sit in the burgh everyday, where your family was murdered. I am so sorry."

He shook his head. "You are my family. I don't need to dwell on that anymore."

We made our way out of the house, on the front lawn I took one final look at my old family home and sighed. "I can forget this now. I think I can do that." Cardan kissed me softly on my forehead and smiles.

"I think I saw some ragwort by the side of the house. I'll be right back."

I nodded and he turned and jogged away. I took the opportunity to look around the street I used to play on, the cracks in the asphalt, the weeds on the sidewalk, the girl across the street running out of her house...

"Jude?" I was startled out of my trance. "Jude Duarte?" She called.

"No, sorry." I panicked.

"Liar."

"You have the wrong perso-"

"So you're Taryn then?" I knew the girl. Or rather I used to know her, twelve years ago. A lot had changed since then. "I know it's you Jude."

"Jude Duarte is dead." I lied. "So is Taryn and so is Vivienne. They all died."

"Bullshit." She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips together.

Cardan strode around the corner, clutching a fistful of ragwort stalks, "Jude, are you ready to ride?" It was moments like that which made me remember why I used to hate him.

"Sorry, Jude Duarte is apparently dead." She called to him as she smirked at me. Cardan looked to me, visibly confused.

I sighed. "It's Rosie, right?" She grinned again and nodded. "Okay, Rosie, we were never here. "

"I knew he didn't kill you." She yelled. "I knew it! Everyone said I was crazy but I knew I saw him take you."

"Wait, you saw what happened?" Cardan asked. "You were there?"

"I called the police!" She continued to yell. "You left your bike at me house and I was returning it, I saw that guy take you. Sorry who is this guy?" She pointed to Cardan.

I turned to look at him and realised how strange this must've been for Rosie. Cardan, as beautiful as he was, did not look human. I had dressed him in sneakers and jeans but of course he hadn't concerned himself with disguising his pointed ears or his uncanny features, this was supposed to be a quick trip- in and out. Not to mention the fact that for all intents and purposes, to Rosie I was dead and had been for more than a decade. I looked back at Rosie and sighed.

"Would you like to come in? My folks aren't home, but I have some lemonade in the fridge." She asked sweetly. "I have some videos from when we were kids, if you want to see?"

There was a pang in my chest, a deep yearning to look back in time. But the thought of spending more time here with Rosie and seeing who I could have been coiled around that longing.

"We would love to." Cardan answered for me, taking my hand and following her across the street.

***

Rosie knelt next to an old VCR, feeding it an even older VHS tape. The label on the back of the cassette read Rosie and Duarte girls 2008. 2008? The year we were taken. The TV static dissipated and kicked into life, showing grainy footage of an orange summers day, brown lawns and tanned kids in shorts. The first few seconds of footage primarily consisted of Rosie's dad trying to figure out if the camera was on, that was until I heard a familiar voice; like something pulled from a forgotten dream.

"Mark, the red light is on. It's recording." The camera snapped up and I saw a man. The scruff of his beard and the chestnut brown of his eyes, the slight auburn of his hair catching in the August sun. I I grabbed Cardan's hand and squeezed.

"Jude?"

"That's... uh that was my dad." I said, lump catching in my throat. He squeezed my hand in return, his thumb rubbing gently circles against my skin.

I saw a girl, twin to my younger self sat on the grass with a young Rosie, pulling daisies from the grass and lacing them together, coronating each other with flower crowns. Taryn of course. Then of course there was Vivienne, a few years older than us but an eternity younger than I could recollect, sat under a shady tree. She wore the same disapproving then as she always had, as if she had never taken it off.

"I swear you're in this one Jude. Just wait a minute." Rosie mumbles, fast forwarding through what she must've thought was the most mundane memory, I didn't want to miss a thing. She pauses a rewinds it for a second. "You're going very fast, blink and you'll miss it."

For a moment, I didn't understand what she meant. Until I heard my father cheering and my mother screaming in horror. "Jude! Pull the brakes!"

There I was, a blur peddling faster than my little legs had ever gone before, or since for that matter. I flew down the street on my purple bike, which at the time I had insisted I was tall enough for, before crashing into my neighbours trash cans and flying over the handle bars. I landed in a heap on the floor, blood pouring out of my nose, my knees and elbows skinned and covered in gravel. The camera fell to the floor as Mark, Rosie's dad, ran over to me. My parents caught up a second later, picking me up and dusting me off. My mother fussed over me, pulling a Kleenex out of her pocket and dabbing my nose, but I pushed passed them and picked up my bike.

"I'm going again. I will jump over the trash cans." I couldn't help but laugh, some things never change.

***

We spent the afternoon and most of the evening in Rosie's living room, pouring over childhood memories. Cardan howled watching myself, Taryn and Rosie performing a dance routine to Wannabe by the Spice Girls, trying to convince our parents to let us have another sleepover.

"Jude still can't dance." He said, trying to catch his breath.

Rosie watched him cautiously, still unsure of what to make of him. "So, why did you never come home?" She asked tentatively. "I mean I always thought I saw you at the mall or in coffee houses or one time at a pool I think, so you I know you could come back but you never came home."

I thought about it for a moment before answering. "Where I've been, well where my sisters and I have been, is different. We had to change to survive. If you saw what I was truly like now you wouldn't have invited us in." Cardan watched me try to explain myself, engrossed. "Honestly, I am happy where I am. I made something of my life! But being here and seeing how things could've been for me... it makes me feel homesick but for life."

"Life sick?" She whispered.

"Exactly."

"I still have your bike." She grinned, sensing I didn't want to answer any more questions.

"Her what?" Cardan asked. I shot him a look that I hoped told him to shut up.

Rosie led me outside, she wandered into her garage and pulled out my purple bike, still scuffed with a flat tyre, but it was my bike.

"Take it home with you, wherever that is now. But come and visit us sometime, I want to prove to my folks that I'm not crazy."

I wheeled my bike up the driveway and out into the cool night air, turning back one final time to wave goodbye to my old friend. "Can you make her forget?" I whispered to Cardan.

"Why?"

"It'll be too hard to leave if she knows I'm still out there." I sighed. "There'll be questions, people will think she's lost the plot."

"No." He placed his hand on the small of my back. "You deserve to be remembered."

[pain-tool-sai]

Recently bought some watercolors but i have 0 experience and i really like your style, so can i know your secrets?

Oh I'm flattered that you asked me! Watercolor has become a medium I’m super passionate about, so I’m more than happy to talk about my process. (Putting a readmore bc it’s pretty long)

TL;DR: I like to layer my watercolor and use it in a graphic style, which I learned partly through experimentation and partly by watching other people's speedpaints/process videos.

Technique/Basics

3 years ago I suddenly thought to myself, “Wait, can’t you layer watercolor?” and my artistic life changed…

I’ve taken some simple process pictures to explain what I mean by that as best I can:

Step 1: Putting down the base color. Have fun letting different colors mix on the paper instead of in the palette while the paint is wet - I have a theory that this is the best way to get hue variation with this medium…

Note: Sometimes I have to repeat this step a few times if it’s not as dark or saturated as I want it to be. Usually, you’ll get a smoother area of color if you gradually build up many lighter layers instead of trying to fill a large area with a high concentration of paint in one go. Remember not to paint over areas that you want to stay light.

Step 2: After waiting for the base layer to dry, add general areas of shadow. Often, I can drop my shadow color directly onto my base color. Sometimes I reverse this process and I’ll put the shadows down before the base colors - this is usually for things like clothing folds or very large gradients.

Step 3: Adding texture/fine details. Hatching with a small brush can be a nice way to build up value (darkness) without disturbing the layers of paint underneath, but I like to reserve it for areas of high detail/focus.

Step 4: Outlines - I used to use colored pencil for this, but lately I’ve liked how it looks when I use watercolor on a small brush.

I have a few videos up on my Tiktok and Youtube where you can see this process in action.

*worth noting: I painted this demo on cellulose paper. Cotton rag paper is definitely the best for maximum layering and color vibrancy, but you can do a lot with cellulose too, so don't underestimate it for practicing.

Learning/Improving:

Watercolor technique

I didn’t actually watch very many “how to” instructional videos, but as a disclaimer I have had experience with other physical media and art classes before (charcoal, oil, acrylic).

I mostly learned watercolor techniques by finding artists who use watercolor in the same style I like and watching their speedpaints. (Apologies if not all of these have English subtitles; most are in Japanese, one is in Vietnamese - seeing the painting technique is the most important part though)

Mokumoshieru: Really great examples of underpainting to determine the color gamut of a piece

Yukorin: Wet into wet technique, still very graphic style, lovely hue variation

P..Potato: (afaik they really just call themselves potato) - Great examples of underpainting shadows

So Kimura: Variety of techniques for a very graphic/cel shaded style

Color Theory/Fundamentals

The book Color and Light by James Gurney completely changed how I approached painting, regardless of the type of paint. I usually work with a limited palette and try to do some underpainting to keep my colors harmonious.

Bonus: Setup/Tools

1) Paintbrushes

My first set was an inexpensive nylon set from Amazon, and it works just fine. As long as the bristles hold a point when wet they should be okay. It’s more useful to have larger than smaller ones; the smallest size I use is maybe a 2 or 4.

I recommend looking into Japanese or Chinese calligraphy brushes instead of quills if you need a larger brush because they’re cheaper and they hold a lot of water. I bought mine from Sekaido (Japanese art supply chain), but I think the brand Yasutomo exports them internationally.

2) Painting Rag

Very important! I use this constantly to control the amount of water on my brush. By the end of a painting session it’s usually totally soaked. If you don’t have a rag, you can use some paper towels.

3) Water cups/holders (plural)

Also very important: You need one cup for clean water and one for dirty/brush washing water. Because water is the carrying medium for the paint, it needs to be clear or the colors will mix together and get muddy. I also put a brush cleaner in the dirty water side to help get more of the paint out before I switch colors.

The process when you’re painting is: dip brush in clean water -> add paint, paint on paper -> wash brush in dirty water cup -> dry/swipe off dirty water -> dip again in clean water and repeat

4) Watercolor Paper and Backing Board

Taping the paper to a board with masking tape is optional, but will help the paper dry flat, especially if you plan to use a lot of water. Technically the right way to prepare paper is to completely soak it, let it dry, and then tape it down but… I’m too lazy so I just tape it and it’s usually okay. XD

5) Paint palette

I have several, including one that’s actually a plain ceramic tray from the dollar store. Ceramic is nicer than plastic because the water will bead up on plastic and it will be hard to get the paint off of your brush for mixing.

6) Paints

Whatever paints you have is fine… One of my favorite palettes is an old eyeshadow palette that I cleaned out and put paint in. I usually like working from dry paints, even if I bought them in tubes. Random tangent, Holbein paints are nice but it absolutely kills me how they get marketed as some sort of luxury expensive high end paint overseas cause they're pretty affordable in Japan lol,

Also, I've noticed (although this is just personal opinion) that paints made in East Asia (I have paints from Japan and China) seem to be more aimed at graphic art/character illustration: the paints are less granulating, but some trade permanence for saturation/vibrance. It's not necessary to get super expensive paints starting out, but eventually you'll get a feel for the difference between super cheap chalky craft paints, student grade, and professional grade.

And that's it! I love love working with watercolor, although sometimes I wonder if I'll have to migrate to something opaque like gouache for certain painting techniques or getting my values to be more cohesive. For now I'll continue to see how far I can push this medium on its own. I hope you have fun on your painting journey!!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Edge of Seventeen - Chapter Ten.

Big thanks to you all for your continued interest, besties :) 

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,288

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

(Note - Bella’s lyrics are not mine, but taken from the Juliet Simms song End of the World. Please give the song a listen for the full immersive effect - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=doRf_tdI48A)

It felt heavy on her finger, the thick, silver band, set with a piece of blue amber. There it was, what she’d always wanted, given to her as a gift from her love. Only one remained. The weight of the ring was her reminder, over what she’d done, her penance, something beautiful edged in sadness, reminding her never to be so stupid again. Some wouldn’t have worn it, but it was too beautiful not to. He’d wanted her to have it, too, regardless of their ending.  

Bella had found the box stashed away in the bag he’d brought with her possessions in it, tucked down right at the bottom with the rest of her jewellery. It had been gift wrapped, something she knew would have been done at the store he bought it from, her birthday present, since Angel was so useless with stuff like that, she used to be surprised he could even tie his own shoelaces at times. He only had dexterity when it came to handling a weapon or a woman.  

Christ, how she missed the latter.  

It had taken her an hour to actually open the box, after reading the tag attached to it. ‘Happy birthday, my sweet baby. You’d better fucking love it, with how long it took me to find it! Kidding!! Your day is gonna be great, because I’m going to be right there to make sure it is. I mean, I’m standing there now, aren’t I? Getting all impatient while you read this card, waiting for you to open the box. SO OPEN IT! Love you always. Angel x’

Except he hadn’t been there. Things had not played out how he’d anticipated they would, when he’d written that gift tag. When she’d finally mustered the courage to undo the bow and paper around the box, seeing the gorgeous, blue amber ring there inside it, she’d cried for an hour, slipping it onto her finger, and not taking it off.  

It had been on for six months, and she’d never take it off. It pinched a little, the filigree band that held the oval stone digging in a bit when she moved her fingers over the frets of her guitar, but still, it remained. It remained, when Angel didn’t.  

She still wasn’t over him.  

Gone were the days of endless tears and anguish, but no matter how much her usual cheer had retuned, it hadn’t come back fully. She was still weighed down a little by it, by her lost love. She knew she had to move forward with her life, though, so threw herself into college and her music, writing endlessly, taking on a couple more shifts at the salon where she could, too.  

Sometimes, she felt like calling him, just to see how he was, or sending a text. She tapped it out on her phone, probably hundreds of times at that point, reading her words, contemplating, only to delete it all and read the last one he’d ever sent her.  

‘I got hella dick pain from you, baby! Fucking worth it, though. Kiss it better later? Love you so much xxxx’  

She would let herself sit and read all the messages they’d ever sent one another every so often, going right back to the beginning of the chain, to when they’d first met. Bella knew it was a pointless exercise, that it only inevitably left her feeling upset, but it was all she had. That and the pictures she couldn’t bear to delete, hundreds of them, of him.  

She’d laugh at some, especially in the messages they’d sent, Angel sending her pictures of an orange Beetle, asking ‘Are you gonna drive this to the chip shop?’ and her sending random bread roll pictures with the accompanying text ‘None in Paris!’ a memory back to her sleep talking that had made him laugh until he’d cried. One particular text had her laughing one evening as she scrolled through, looking at a picture he’d sent from their date at the zoo, Bella and the giraffe.

‘I’m gonna lick your face worse than this mofo did when I see you, baby girl!’

‘Alright, as long as you don’t stink as bad!!’

He’d then sent a picture of himself, his mouth stuffed with Mentos, holding the packet between his teeth.  

‘On it!’

“Oh god, I still miss you so much.” She lamented, her thumb stroking over his image on the screen before closing them, sighing. She still couldn’t even think of dating anyone else, even turning down Tommy Valo, the guy everyone wanted to be with in her class, when he’d asked her for a date. He was her age, he was gorgeous as hell, he was talented, but simply, he wasn’t Angel. She wasn’t ready.  

The man himself differed, though. He wasn’t ready either, but Angel being Angel, had thrown himself into another relationship after taking a couple of months to try and mend from the loss of Bella. Mel was lovely, too. She was sweet and kind, down to earth and funny, everything he looked for. She wasn’t Bella, though.  

“Angel, did you see where I put that cake mix?” she called from the kitchen, Angel turning his attention away from the TV.  

“Cupboard next to the fridge, babe. It’s right at the back, behind the granola,” he confirmed, while emptying change from his wallet. He hated carrying anything other than notes, so filled a huge jar he had over in the corner of the lounge. He and Bella had added to it for months, back when they were together, planning on keeping it going until they had enough for a vacation together, or at the very least, a long weekend away somewhere. “God damnit!” he cussed, dropping half of the handful down the side of the couch cushions, heaving himself up to remove them and dig out the change.  

He found even more in there, along with chip crumbs, dust, and something else he’d thought lost. Bella’s hawk feather earring. Picking up the small feather in his fingers, he smiled sadly, stroking it fondly. “I miss you so much.” he whispered, the sound of Mel clattering around in the kitchen rousing him from the little dreamy state he’d slipped into, pocketing the earring and re-assembling the couch before taking the change to put into the jar.  

“Why you baking so late anyway, mamas?” he asked, moving to the kitchen, wrapping Mel in a hug and kissing her cheek, trying to get his brain back on track, back to the woman he was with, and not the girl he had to lose.  

“I have the munchies, and they’re all kicking my ass in the direction of something sweet!” she turned in his arms, kissing him before moving to the fridge to retrieve the eggs. “You wanna help me?”

“Nah, I’m too mashed.”

Her eyebrow fluttered. “Mashed?”

“Yeah. It’s a British-ism. Means stoned.” Bella’s colloquialisms had lingered, even though she was long gone.  

“How’d you get to learn that?”

He paused, not really wanting to converse about it. “My ex. She was British.”  

Mel nodded, noting his quietness. She knew little of the girlfriend before her, Angel never forthcoming in discussing his previous relationship. All she knew about Bella was that he’d been so in love with her, he’d had her name inked above his heart. She felt like she didn’t measure up somehow, the fact he hadn’t covered it, or gotten hers put on him anywhere. He’d told her it was a lesson learned for him, not to get someone’s name tattooed, before swiftly changing the subject.  

“She’s tattoo girl, right?” Angel nodded in confirmation of her question. “Why don’t you get it covered? I’ve always wondered, why you still want her name on you when you’re no longer together,” she pondered, cracking eggs into the bowl.

He sighed softly, scratching his beard, “Tattoos are memories; you can’t just cover them.”

“Does she still mean something to you?”

Everything. She still meant everything to him. It was why whenever Mel told him ‘I love you’ he never returned it with ‘I love you, too.’ It was always ‘you too.’  

“Look, I’m with you now, querida. Don’t stress. Shit, you know how I feel. And if you need any further confirmation, I could always just show you.”  

Twenty pacifying minutes of kitchen quickie sex later, and Mel was content, back to baking, Angel going to the bathroom, taking his phone out, viewing the same image he let himself gaze at longingly every few weeks.  

He’d deleted all the other pictures of her. All except for one, the photo he took of her sleeping one morning, how the light hit her so beautifully. Six months on, and he still couldn’t quite find the strength to press the little trash can icon and whisk the last remaining part of her out of his life.  

Well, that and her name, still right there on his chest. The tattoo that Mel felt so uncomfortable about. And now the earring in his pocket, which later that night while his girlfriend was asleep, he took a pair of pliers to, linking it through one of the long, silver pendants around his neck, using the pliers to bend the stem and wind it tightly onto the chain, so it hung behind the crucifix and virgin Mary adornments.  

Feeling it tickle against his bare chest, he was reminded of when it did the same while it was in her ear, as he held her to him. Taking his phone, he pulled up Instagram, looking through for Heavenly Creature’s page, which he’d since unfollowed, same as Bella’s, having to put that distance there and not see her in his feed, although he was at best a very casual user of social media. More of him existed on his friend’s accounts than his own.  

Going to their Soundcloud page, he hit the song he always returned to, Edge of Seventeen, the very first he’d heard her sing. Except this time, just like any other since their split, he couldn’t make it more than a minute into the track, her voice haunting him, like a ghost, the burning of his heart that still beat just for her too much to bear. Mostly, he was alright, living life as if she’d never come into it, but when he allowed himself to think about her, it got too much, and the sadness washed over him in ceaseless waves.  

She’d be eighteen in five months. Twenty weeks. One hundred and fifty-two days. Nothing stopped him returning to her then, yet he knew he couldn’t. For all he loved her, she’d still broken his trust, and besides, she’d likely moved on from him. She was young, a vivacious, gorgeous seventeen-year-old girl. Of course, she’d have found someone else by then. He didn’t dare ever look at her Instagram page to find that out, though, because he knew one thing clearly. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it if she had.

Lying on the sofa, he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Get it together, for fucks sake, man. You’ve had months, just move on properly.” With that, he got up and went to bed, curling around Mel, holding her tightly. He liked her a lot; she was truly a lovely girl. He didn’t love her, though, and he wouldn’t, or rather couldn’t, until he stopped loving Bella.

Whenever that happened.  

Until it did, he threw himself towards Mel, doing as he’d always done with women, making them the centre of his world, trying as hard as he could to hopefully feel the love she felt for him catch at the edges of his own heart, so the blaze of love would be for her flames, and not Bella’s. Maybe after a few more months, it would happen? He saw in month nine, and still, his heart remained firmly within the fire of another.  

“I can fucking dribble in a dress, just you watch me!” Mel shouted, gathering the long, floral dress she had on in one hand, managing to run while she dribbled the basketball right past Creeper and Gilly, Coco moving rapidly to intercept, the fading light of the afternoon bathing the sky in an orange glow that she looked truly beautiful under, her long, bleached blonde hair shining in the hue.  

“She’s fucking great, ain’t she?” Angel hummed as he watched her. “Throw him an elbow, baby! He can’t get any uglier!” he then hollered, referring to Coco, who she’d just gotten the ball away from again.  

EZ sat at his side, quiet, thoughtful. “It isn’t fair on her, though.”

Angel was sharp in his retort. “What isn’t?”

“That you don’t love her.” He looked down, circling his foot around on top of a pebble beneath his boot. “Mel’s awesome, and she deserves to be with someone who really is in love with her, not with a guy trying desperately to convince himself that he is.” He looked sideways at his brother, the side of his mouth ruching into a lopsided smile. “I see through it with you, you know. Always have.”

Angel sucked his teeth in a hiss, sipping his beer. “Ain’t shit to see though, bro. I love Mel, that’s all there is to it.”  

“Mentiroso,” he muttered quietly.  

“EZ, I ain’t fucking lying!”

He finished his beer, taking Angel’s empty bottle too as he stood. “Then why are you getting so pissed?”

He opened his mouth to hurl another collection of angrily delivered words, before thinking better of it. This was his brother, for heaven’s sakes. He returned, handing over a fresh bottle, taking his seat beside him again, laughing softly at the scene ahead of him, Mel taking advantage of her height, able to jump up to shoot a very neat hoop. “You calmed down now?”

Angel pouted slightly, thumbing the label where it had begun to peel back a little. “I was calm before, just annoyed with you digging at me.”  

“Because it’s the truth?”

He sighed, closing his eyes, his fingers swiping over his forehead. Honesty was likely the best policy here, especially with his own brother. It should have been with Mel, too, he realised. “Yeah. How lame is that, huh? It’s been nine months now, and I still ain’t over her. Not enough to be in love with anyone else, even if they are as great as Mel.”  

“Then why are you hurting her by staying when you don’t really love her? Because one day, one day soon, if I’ve remembered right about nine weeks from now, actually, Bella is gonna turn eighteen, and you’re gonna find yourself hitting the highway up to La Jolla. I know you, man. I know you better than anyone does. I know you want her back.”  

Angel hadn’t even truly admitted that to himself as yet, that he really had been counting down the months and weeks, unsure what he would do, when he knew she’d turned eighteen. “I dunno, EZ. She might have moved on, be with someone else by now. And how can I trust her again, after what she lied about?”

“Because she was a kid, and she made a mistake? One I think she’s likely to have learned from bigtime?” he suggested, pulling his phone out, tapping the Facebook icon, swiping and searching until he found the information he was looking for. “As for if she’s seeing anyone else? Relationship status; single.”  

Turning his cell around, he showed Angel the information on Bella’s profile. “You’re still friends with her on there?”  

EZ snorted, incredulous. “That’s your takeaway from this?” He shook his head, laughing softly through his nose.  “It isn’t like I talk to her, but yeah, I am. I’m not the one she lied to, though.”  

Angel sighed again, placing his beer down, stretching his arms out above his head. “That’s literally the only thing keeping me back, once she does hit eighteen. The lie. I dunno, EZ. I need to just deal with it and move on.”

His brother chuckled. “And how’s that working out for you? Nine months and like you say, you’re not over her. What’s worse, Angel? Her making an egregious mistake that I don’t doubt she’s truly sorry over, or losing her forever, and hurting a wonderful woman who you can’t give what she deserves in the process? I’m not gonna keep on at you with it, but maybe sit with what I just said and let it marinade.”  

He was quiet then, partly because he knew that if he bombarded Angel too much, his brain would short circuit and he’d lose his temper, and the rest because Mel was on her way over to them, Gilly’s girlfriend Amelia in tow.  

“If you want tickets, you gotta look now and see if there’s any left. We got ours weeks ago and they’ve usually all sold by now,” the latter was saying, sitting down on a chair opposite the couches, Mel picking up her ice water (she didn’t drink) and taking a few gulps before seating herself upon Angel’s lap.  

“How about it, sweetie? Music festival up in Loma Linda in three months?”

“Oh, you mean Rock Largo? I went to that last year, it’s pretty decent,” EZ chirped, nodding.

Angel was tentatively interested. “Who’s playing? Anyone good?” Amelia called up the website on her phone, turning the screen and passing it to him. After a preliminary scan of the main stage bands, his eyebrows raised in further interest, handing it back to her and pulling his own phone from his pocket, getting tickets for him, Mel, and being a kind older brother, one for EZ, too. A few of the other guys made their way over, the one-day festival seeming to become a bit of a club outing, a few others ordering themselves a ticket as well.

It seemed like no time passed at all before the day was upon them, almost the entire club (bar Bish, Taza and Hank, who decreed it to not be their kind of thing) heading up to San Bernadino, the women of the group, Mel, Amelia and Nala, a girl Coco had begun dating in the interim, all buzzing with excitement as they held hands in a row, the guys more invested with getting some cold beers while the girls browsed the little market stalls there for jewellery, band apparel and other items of clothing.  

“Don’t you be buying anything you can’t fit in your bag, baby cakes, I ain’t being your pack horse while you go off dancing,” Angel warned Mel, grabbing her by the back of her dress and pulling her near, kissing the side of her neck a few times.  

“Daisies!” she announced, brandishing the clips she’d just bought, sliding them into his hair.

He was not impressed. “I look like a flowery dick, don’t I?”  

Throwing her head back, she laughed loudly, taking them out and clipping them into her own hair. “You look gorgeous! Come on, New Year’s Day hit the main stage in ten minutes, and I want to be somewhere close by.” Not particularly liking their music, but having a bit of a thing for Ash Costello, Angel was agreeable, taking her hand and heading over to where the large crowd gathered. There were three stages there at the festival, the main one, a smaller one across the other side of the open land, and off towards the back, a small, yet reasonably sized tent where smaller bands played, and the larger acts did Q&A seminars with the VIP wristband holders intermittently.  

After most of the bands they wanted to see in the afternoon had played, he and Mel found themselves separating from the others, walking down by the small tent, where there were more stalls dotted around, Angel waiting for her while she browsed. It was as she was talking to a woman with dreadlocks that touched her waist about the candles she was selling that he heard a voice, one which made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, singing lyrics he recognised instantly.  

“We flew too close to the sun, so close I thought it was heaven...”

Bella.  

Ice and fire ran through his veins, his entire body tingling with goosepimples, his feet taking him towards the tent, standing at the back, seeing her there, sitting on a stool on stage, playing acoustic guitar accompanied by Richie, Ian sat at a keyboard playing the piano parts of the song. Oh god, there she was. The one who he’d never gotten over. Looking at her, he knew, he felt it; she was still the love of his life.

“The skies on fire, the stars disappear. No signs of life, without you here...”  

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling as if someone had his heart in their grip. Someone did, and she’d never let go.

“Oh my god! What an incredible vocalist, wow!” Mel exclaimed, her touch to his hand making him jump out of the little void he’d slipped into, but not enough to cease feeling her words yanking at his heartstrings, the emotion in her voice so clear.  

“World stops turning, every breath feels like it’s burning...”

She always sang right from her heart, but Angel heard it, he knew it, because he knew her. She was singing from her heartbreak, and it only made it all the more emotional to listen to. That as well as seeing her again, looking just as beautiful, as ethereal, as amazing as he remembered, it stirred him so heavily, he didn’t know what to do.  

“Awww, honey! Are you okay?” Mel cooed softly, watching tears trickle down his cheeks, Angel having to turn away and walk back out, drying his eyes, composing himself. Inside, though, he was churning, his heart hammering so hard, he felt lightheaded. “I didn’t think you were the type to be so stirred by a song! I mean, it is hauntingly beautiful, isn’t it?” she continued, Angel feeling his entire body tingle.  

“It isn’t that,” he spoke quietly. “That song? That song’s about me. She wrote it about me.”

Mel paused for a moment, her face falling when it dawned on her. “That’s Bella in there, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his voice but a whisper. “Yep.” He knew in that moment, he couldn’t hide from it, couldn’t distract himself from it any longer. It didn’t work. It never would. She was lovely, but she wasn’t her. There was nothing holding him back now, apart from the lovely woman before him who didn’t deserve to be caught up in his mess for a second longer. Taking her face in his hands, he leaned down, kissing her forehead. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t do this anymore. It’s over.”  

Without further word, he turned, heading back into the tent, moving around to the side of the crowd, staring up at the stage, willing her to see him there, listening to her singing the rest of the lyrics she hadn’t yet written back when he’d read the first part of the song...

“Slept on your side of the bed, replayed the things that I should have said. Wish I had some of the strength, to leave alone what I couldn't change...”

He was right back there, holding her as she slept, leaving quietly, writing his last words to her. He felt it welling up inside him again. And then she looked right at him...

Bella thought her heart was about to fall out of her mouth, seeing him there, staggered that she didn’t miss the high note she sang, witnessing him standing there, her entire body feeling like it was coming alive again, unable to look away. Oh god, how she’d missed him, longed for him, and there he was, hearing her heartbreak through the words she’d written in the direct aftermath of it, of losing him.  

She couldn’t look away, her eyes locked on his, singing her heart out for him, just him, no one else in the crowd mattering one bit. She needed him to hear it, hear how much it had crushed her to lose him, how much she still loved him.  

“Tears will fall, oceans will rise, the world will stop turning. Since you left, every breath feels like it’s burning...”

Her eyes filled with tears when she saw him smile, her poor, lovelorn little heart feeling like the dead garden within it was blooming back to full colour once more, smiling back although she was in tears up there, feeling it reflected back to her, that he still loved her just as much as she did him. As Ian played out the last part of the piano bars, she placed her guitar down, climbing off the stage. She climbed over the metal barrier at the front, people moving back, fighting her way through, Angel doing the same.  

“Excuse me, move it, get the bloody hell out of my way!” she spoke lightly, her impatience growing by the moment, shoving through the bemused people who turned to watch her, Angel parting the crowd like Moses parting the red sea through his sheer size, until there she was, opening his arms, Bella jumping into them.  

They didn’t speak, but as she held his face in her hands and leaned down to kiss him, the crowd beginning to wolf whistle, cheer and clap, it hit him like a thunderbolt.  

He could breathe again.  

“Can you do something for me?” she finally spoke.  

He knew exactly where this was going. “Anything.”

She rested her forehead to his, stroking his beard with her thumbs. “Never leave me.”

“No.” He shook his head, kissing the tip of her nose. “I never will.”

[adamwatchesmovies]

Yakuza Apocalypse (2015)

Every source I've seen describes Yakuza Apocalypse as an action film. This must mean that my initial thought to categorize it as a parody comedy is inaccurate. So what is it then? An incomprehensible tale that seems to halfheartedly say one thing until it devolves into absolute madness and then just ends. I kind of hated it.

Beloved Yakuza crime boss Genyō Kamiura (Lily Franky) is the idol of Kageyama (Hayato Ichihara) and secretly, a vampire that drinks the blood of criminals. When a gunslinging priest (Ryushin Tei) and an assassin (Yayan Ruhian as Mad-Dog) decapitate Kamiura, he uses the last of his strength to turn Kageyama into a Yakuza Vampire. Unfortunately, he only learns the rules of his new condition after biting a civilian and unleashing a plague upon Japan. Meanwhile, the priest is not done yet and summons the ultimate terrorist (Masanori Mimoto) to finish what he started.

At first, I thought this was prolific director Takashi Miike lampooning Yakuza films. We’re told Kamiura has kept the big companies and chain stores out of the city and that he instructs his men only to harm other criminals. This makes him a hero of the people because Yakuza gangsters are so cool. Kageyama thinks so. All his life, that’s all he’s wanted to be but he’s never been able to get the trademark tattoos. When Kamiura bites him and transforms him into a Yakuza vampire, he becomes the real deal but in time, vampirism is rampant. Teachers, high-school girls, nurses, police officers are all becoming Yakuza vampires! Where is this going? Is it a lamentation that the criminal identity has become meaningless today, that it no longer inspires fear?

I'd say yes, if the idea went somewhere but in-depth analysis has no place in a film like this. Ambitious criminal Masaru (Makoto Sakaguchi) starts leaking brain matter out her ears like a hose, we get psychedellic gardens, martial arts battles between people in the worst monster costumes you’ve ever seen, and more. It should be so nutty it becomes awesome but it isn’t. All of the characters are so flat you don’t care about them and the incomprehensible non-logic means you have no idea what you should be paying attention to, what’s there just to be weird or if anything means anything at all. Did we just witness a rape scene? Who cares? Not the people who made this film. If they did, they might’ve tried harder to give us some convincing special effects or believeable performances. When you don’t speak Japanese and you can still tell the actors are struggling with their lines, you’ve experienced a badness so intense it transcends language.

The only thing that keeps you watching Yakuza Apocalypse is that something will make all of this click together. Is Miike saying the Yakuza are the vampires of Japan as they bleed the population dry? Does he suggest we’ve become infatuated with people who should be hated like we have with vampires? Your guess is as good as mine. The non-ending doesn't help. Abruptly cutting off your story can work - sometimes. Here it feels as though everyone got bored and said “let’s just end it here and move onto the next thing. It’ll be too late for them to get their money back after nearly two hours”. That’s another mark against this picture. It’s way, WAY too long.

Yakuza Apocalypse is little more than a mad-lib of supernatural action. Ideas are tossed in at random. Few of them pay off. You’ll retain nothing from the experience and will feel like you wasted your time. (Original Japanese with English subtitles, April 2, 2021)

[jaypacoo-the-second]

I wanna get married, like the Currys, Steph and Ayesha shit

But we more like Belly, Tommy and Keisha shit

Gave you TLC, you wanna creep and shit

Poured out my whole heart to a piece of shit

Man, I thought you would've learned your lesson

'Bout likin' pictures, not returnin' texts

I guess it's fine, man, I get the message

You still stutter after certain questions

You keep in contact with certain exes

Do you, though, trust me, nigga, it's cool, though

Said that you was workin', but you're out here chasin' culo

And putas, chillin' poolside, livin' two lives

I could've did what you did to me to you a few times

But if I did decide to slide, find a nigga

Fuck him, suck his dick, you would've been pissed

But that's not my M.O., I'm not that type of bitch

And karma for you is gon' be who you end up with

You make me sick, nigga

The only man, baby, I adore

I gave you everything, what's mine is yours

I want you to live your life of course

But I hope you get what you dyin' for

Be careful with me, do you know what you doin'?

Whose feelings that you hurtin' and bruisin'?

You gon' gain the whole world

But is it worth the girl that you're losin'?

Be careful with me

Yeah, it's not a threat, it's a warnin'

Be careful with me

Yeah, my heart is like a package with a fragile label on it

Be careful with me

Care for me, care for me

Always said that you'd be there for me, there for me

Boy, you better treat me carefully, carefully, look

I was here before all of this

Guess you actin' out now, you got an audience

Tell me where your mind is, drop a pin, what's the coordinates?

You might have a fortune, but you lose me, you still gon' be misfortunate, nigga

Tell me, this love's got you this fucked up in the head

You want some random bitch up in your bed?

She don't even know your middle name, watch her 'cause she might steal your chain

You don't want someone who loves you instead? I guess not though

It's blatant disrespect, you nothin' like the nigga I met

Talk to me crazy and you quick to forget

You even got me trippin', you got me lookin' in the mirror different

Thinkin' I'm flawed because you inconsistent

Between a rock and a hard place, the mud and the dirt

It's gon' hurt me to hate you, but lovin' you's worse

It all stops so abrupt, we start switchin' it up

Teach me to be like you so I can not give a fuck

Free to mess with someone else, I wish these feelings could melt

'Cause you don't care about a thing except your mothafuckin' self

You make me sick, nigga

The only man, baby, I adore

I gave you everything, what's mine is yours

I want you to live your life of course

But I hope you get what you dyin' for

Be careful with me, do you know what you doin'?

Whose feelings that you're hurtin' and bruisin'?

You gon' gain the whole world

But is it worth the girl that you're losin'?

Be careful with me

Yeah, it's not a threat, it's a warnin'

Be careful with me

Yeah, my heart is like a package with a fragile label on it

Be careful with me

[atlabeth]

nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

~

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

[btschooseafic]

House of Hope/Chapter 18/kisses

Pairing: OT7 x Reader, OT7 x OT7

Details: hybrid!bts, a/b/o dynamics, asexual!reader

Summary: You and Jungkook go out. There is much talk about kissing.

Warnings: The recognizable names and personalities do not reflect their real life counterparts. Prejudice, anxiety, self- doubt, drinking [masterlist]

“Are you sure?” You said, nervously examining the black skinny jeans and baggy black t-shirt Taehyung had laid out on your bed.

“Positive.” Taehyung nodded. “I mean, you could wear a paper bag and Jungkookie would still be happy, but this’ll give you a little extra… something.” He studied you closely. “As long as you’re comfortable with it?” You nodded.

“It’s not that far from what I usually wear anyway.”

“Great!” Taehyung beamed. “Now—let’s talk accessories.”

You walked out into the living room with Taehyung’s arm slung around your shoulders. Namjoon and Jin were talking to Jungkook with serious looks on their faces. Yoongi was lounging on the arm chair, watching them with his mouth curled in a smirk.

“Everything okay?” You asked.

“It’s fine,” Namjoon said, still eyeing Jungkook. “We’re just reminding Kookie to look after you properly.”

“I’m not a child,” Jungkook grumbled.

“And neither am I,” you said. “In fact, Joonie, I’m pretty sure I’m a couple months older than you.”

“That’s not…” Namjoon trailed off, his eyebrows shooting up as he looked at you. “Those are very tight pants.”

“Are they weird?” You wondered, tugging on your belt loops self-consciously.

“No,” he said quickly. “Definitely not weird.”

“You are, though,” Taehyung said. “Namjoonie-hyung is a pervert.”

“I’m not!” Namjoon protested.

“You are,” Yoongi said. “I don’t mind.” Namjoon shot him a half-fond, half-exasperated look. Jin dissolved into laughter.  Yoongi stood up, walking around you and Taehyung in a small circle. “You do look hot.”

“Thanks?”

“Tae’s bracelets, Jiminie’s rings, and this…” Yoongi tugged at one of the chains hanging around your neck. “…Is mine.” Yoongi’s tail curled around your ankle as he leaned up, pecking Taehyung on the cheek. “You did good, Tae Tae.”

“Didn’t I?” Taehyung said proudly.

“Has anybody noticed that Jin-hyung and Jungkook-ah are being super quiet?” Namjoon pointed out. “Maybe they’re the perverts, actually.” Jin snorted.

“Thanks, Namjoon-ah.”

“Wait!” Hoseok said, running into the room with Jimin. “Don’t leave yet!” He looked at you and gasped. “Nobody told me we were doing couple’s outfits! I’m a little jealous… should we all dress matching up?”

“No,” Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jungkook said immediately.

“You guys have no sense of style,” Taehyung said. Jimin squinted at him. “…Except Jiminie.” Jimin smiled. “Sometimes…” Jimin frowned again. Hoseok grabbed Taehyung in a headlock.

“I have an excellent sense of fashion,” Hoseok told him. “I’m the most fashionable person in this pack!” Taehyung smirked.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I think the point is,” you spoke up. “We all have our own sense of style, so for us all to be matching wouldn’t be respecting our individuality enough.”

“Exactly,” Namjoon said, pointing at you and nodding. “Also, we would look like an idol group.”

*

You and Jungkook had some trouble getting out of the house. Yoongi wanted to take pictures of the two of you. Jimin kept trying to convince you to let him do your makeup, and ended up pouting until Jungkook asked for eyeliner instead. Hoseok unpacked your bag and argued with Jin about what you should bring with you. Then Namjoon broke a figurine he had bought for Taehyung and everyone got distracted trying to put it back together again.

You eventually managed to get out of the house, after Hoseok pointed out you were going to be late to the movie. Luckily you managed to run into the theatre just as the starting credits were ending.

“I wanted to buy candy,” Jungkook muttered.

“I’ve got you,” you said, pulling a small package out of your bag. Jungkook grinned.

“I love these!” He said. Someone from behind you shushed him. You twisted your head back, frowning. “It’s fine.” He lowered his voice, squeezing your hand. “Let’s watch the movie.”

*

Two hours later you walked out of the theatre arguing about the final scene, which Jungkook thought was poignant and beautiful, but you thought was heavy handed.

“The score was beautiful though,” you conceded.

“Oh definitely!” Jungkook agreed. “When they played her theme one last time at the end, I nearly cried.” He cleared his throat. “But, I didn’t…”

“Okay.” You grinned. “Crying at movies is okay though, you know.” Jungkook made an uncertain noise. “Where are we going next? You wouldn’t tell me earlier.”

“Cause it’s a surprise!” Jungkook said. “You’ll see when we get there.” You let out a big sigh. “Noona?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, about your outfit…”

You blinked. “That’s fine. It was only partially for you, anyway. I never know what to wear, and Tae seemed excited to help out, so…”

“I bet he was.” Jungkook smiled slightly. “But, um… you do look really good. I was… a little overwhelmed, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Like, in a good way.”


“Oh.” You smiled. “I get that. You guys do that to me all the time.”

*

 “I’m so full,” you said as you stepped out of the restaurant later that night.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded. “…Want to get ice cream on the way back home?”

“…Yes,” you agreed reluctantly. He laughed.

“We don’t have to!”

“We do,” you said, squeezing his arm. “Of course, it’s such a big sacrifice for me to have to go get ice cream, but I’ll do what I must! Your mouth must still be on fire from that spice challenge—we’ve got to cool you down!” Jungkook shook his head, looping his arm with yours.

“Actually, it’s my stomach that’s dying… but on the plus side, we got all those free noodles!”

“They were really good,” you agreed. Jungkook’s ear twitched.

“There’s an ice cream place over there.” He pointed. “What flavor do you want? If you’re really full, we can share.”

“No.” You shook your head as you pushed open the door. “You’ll eat it all.”

He looked at you wide eyed. “Don’t you trust me, noona?”

“Not when it comes to my ice cream!” You said. He laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulders and nuzzling against your neck. “Mischievous bunny.” You leaned up and kissed his crinkled nose. He blinked at you.

“I think you missed.” He tapped his lips with his finger.

“Nope!” You turned to the cashier. “Hello!” He frowned at you. You blinked. “Ah… warm tonight, isn’t it? Good night for ice cream…”

“Listen—you need to leave,” the cashier said. You stared at him. Jungkook’s arm tightened around your shoulders. “We don’t serve people like you here.”


“Excuse me?” You said. “People like you?”

“Noona,” Jungkook muttered in your ear. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just find another place…”

“Hybrids and hybrid-fuckers like you,” the cashier elaborated. Jungkook growled. The cashier flinched, but continued glaring.

“You’re right, Kookie,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him hard. He barely budged. “Let’s find another place.”

“Fine,” Jungkook grunted, allowing you to pull him towards the door. You saw a flash of white, and suddenly Jungkook was smacking something out of the air. It was a cup of soda, you realized, feeling the cold stickiness against your skin, seeping through your shirt. Jungkook was splattered as well. He stared down at the crumbled cup on the ground.

“Freak!” Someone shouted. You frowned at the middle aged woman sitting at nearby table.

“Me or him?” You asked her calmly. She blinked at you.

“B-both of you!”

“Ah.” You nodded. You stretched up, cupped his face in your hands, and kissed him softly on the lips. Then you broke apart, flipped the woman off, and dragged Jungkook out the door. You took off at a small jog, just in case, trying to put a good amount of space between you and them. At some point Jungkook sped up to a run, and you were running all out, your lungs burning. When you stopped, you realized he had brought you to your car (the rental car you and Jin had picked up last week, while the van was still in the repair shop).

“Noona.” Jungkook was frowning at you.

“I’m sorry I did that without asking!” You said quickly. “I should’ve asked!” He nodded stiffly.

“But… you knew I wanted to.”

“Still…”

He sighed, pushing his hair back from his face. “Why did you… did you actually want to kiss me, or were you just trying to piss them off?”

“…Both?” You said uncertainly.

“[F/N],” he said. You stared at him. “I’m being serious. Did you actually want to kiss me? I… I don’t want you to kiss me just to make a point—I want you to kiss me because you want to.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “I wanted to.”

His brow furrowed. “You’re sure? You wouldn’t rather be kissing some human boyfriend you could walk into an ice cream shop with without getting harassed?”

You frowned. “Of course I don’t want to be harassed—and I especially don’t want you being harassed, but if we’re both willing to deal with it, that’s our choice, right?” You thought. He grunted, opening the door and sliding into the driver’s seat. “Are you okay to drive?” He nodded. “Can we just sit here for a minute, catch out breath?” He nodded again. “Jungkook-ah, are you mad at me?” He blinked and turned to you.

“Maybe a little,” he said. “They could’ve started throwing things worse than soda, and you were egging them on.”

“Yeah… that’s why I ran afterwards…”

He snorted. “Yoongi-hyung’s gonna be so turned on when he hears about this.”

“What? Really?”

He nodded, sighing. “I kind of was too, to be honest. But, also, you worry me, noona.”

“…Sorry.”

He shrugged. “That’s part of caring about someone, I guess.”

“…You sound like an old wise man.”

He laughed. “Shut up. Can I drive now?”

*

“I had more planned,” he grumbled as he pulled into the driveway. “We were gonna get ice cream, and walk along the river holding hands, and I was gonna kiss you. But now the guys are gonna be all over you, and I’m not gonna get a minute with you to myself.”

“We have ice cream in the freezer,” you said. “We can shower and change and then regroup—hang out some more, just you and me?”

He smiled. “That sounds good.” The two of you got out of the car and walked to the door. “Ice cream, and maybe some games, and... kissing?”

“Hmmm. I guess.” You frowned slightly. “I don’t think I’m very good at it. But I guess nobody’s perfect on their first try?”

“Video games? I thought you said you’ve tried them before?”

“Not the games, the kissing,” you clarified. “I probably I need more practice. You might have to teach me… what?” Jungkook was suddenly gripping your shoulders, wide eyes staring into yours.

“Noona, was that your first kiss?”

“Ah…” You scratched the side of your face. “Yeah.” Jungkook continued staring at you. “I know, I’m a little old to be so inexperienced.”

“That’s not…” Jungkook’s foot tapped.

“Kookie. Talk to me, what are you feeling right now?”

“I’m torn,” he said. “I’m, like, really excited to be your first, and—oh my God the others are going to be so pissed off, this is great! But also, if I had known I would’ve tried to make it more romantic—but also, you kissed me to piss off a bunch of jerks, which I’m annoyed about, but also, like, appreciative of, so, I’m just, really… torn.”

“Wow.” You blinked at him. “That’s, ah… a lot of feelings.” He nodded. “I hear all of that, and I’m totally willing to listen more if you’d like to talk more, but I really, really want to take a shower first.”

He laughed. “Good idea. It’s sticky.”

You nodded. “Really sticky.”

*

After showering and changing, you did play video games and eat ice cream. There was also some more kissing. Jungkook was both anxious and excited to teach you.

“I’m the maknae, so I’m not exactly the most experienced among us,” he told you. “In terms of kissing, I mean. I’ve only kissed seven different— I mean, other than you, I’ve only kissed one other girl before. And she was… well, let’s just say you’re not the only person who’s kissed someone to piss people off.”

“Oh.” You titled your head. “Who were you trying to piss off?”

“Ah…” Jungkook blushed slightly. “The guys… Seokjin-hyung, mostly. He really had trouble with… well, even now sometimes, he still thinks of me as a kid. It’s gotten a lot better, but back then I went a little… well, it worked. He got really pissed off, and we barely spoke for over a week, and our pack bond was suffering, and the guys felt weird because they didn’t want to act like they were choosing sides…”

“…That sounds rough,” you thought. He nodded. “How did you end up making up, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jungkook winced.

“Hoseokie-hyung and Yoongi-hyung kind of staged an intervention? They sat us down with a bunch of psychology books on relationships and didn’t let us leave until we talked it out… it was really… embarrassing,” he admitted. Your lips twitched. He groaned, hiding his face in your neck. “Don’t laugh, noona.”

“Hello!” Hoseok said, bursting into the room. You and Jungkook jolted, nearly bashing your heads together. Hoseok snickered. You both glared at him. “Hi—I know we’re all adults here, but I’m just checking to make sure we’re all respecting each other’s boundaries—”

“Can’t you respect the boundary of my closed door, hyung?” Jungkook interjected.

“—And I also really wanted to know why you guys smelled like Sprite when you came back earlier,” Hoseok continued. “But, ah, yeah, Kookie, you’ve got a point about the door, I probably should’ve knocked…” He pouted, reaching out and squishing Jungkook’s face. “Will you forgive me?” You sniffed.

“Have you been drinking, Hoseokie?”

“Maybe a little?” Hoseok said. Jungkook raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s got to be more than a little if even our favorite human can smell it on you.”

Hoseok nodded. “That’s fair. That’s fair. It might’ve been more than a little, because we were all… well, our maknae was out on a date tonight, with someone who wasn’t us, and [N/N]!” He squished your face. “We like you, so, so much! But this is new, right? So it’s still a little weird.”

You nodded, gently peeling his fingers off of you. “That’s understandable.”

Hoseok nodded again. “And Namjoonie is a really good kisser. Which is also new, but…” Hoseok held up a finger. “I had my suspicions.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agreed. “You need to go to bed, hyung. You’re gonna be so badly hungover tomorrow…”

“I’ll get him some water,” you said, standing up. “Can you make sure he drinks it?”

*

The next morning, you and Hoseok appeared to be the only ones awake.

“Drunk Hoseokie is such a little bitch,” Hoseok muttered, squinting down at his cup of coffee like it had personally offended him. “I knew I should’ve drank that water Jungkookie was trying to force on me—I’m all about hydrating—why doesn’t drunk Hoseokie know this?”

“Headache?” You asked, smoothing back his hair, which was sticking up in all directions.

“Yeah… Aspirin should kick in soon though, thanks for that, [N/N].” He smiled tightly at you. You nodded, leaning over and kissing his temple. He blinked. “Will you look at that—I’m cured.”

“You’re not,” you said knowingly.

“I’m not,” he admitted. “Maybe you should try again?” You snorted.

“You guys are really into kisses, huh?”

“You guys?” He wiggled his eyebrows and then winced, holding his head. “You and Jungkookie…”

“There was some kissing involved.”

“And…?”

“I liked it,” you said. “It was nice.”

Hoseok sighed. “That’s rather… subdued.”

You shrugged. “I’m new to this.”

Hoseok blinked. “Kissing?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re the same age, right?” He gestured between the two of you. You nodded. “Hmm.” He stared at his coffee again. “Was I a slut when I was younger?”

“Probably not?” You thought. “I think I’ve mentioned, I was never exactly the most social person. So, like, I don’t think I’m a good measurement for that, but… you do you, right?”

“Actually, it was me doing lots, and lots of other people,” he corrected you. You laughed. He smiled tensely. “… I think I need to lie down some more.”

“Is that where everyone else is?” You wondered.

“Yep. I checked on them before I came down. Everyone’s hungover except for Jungkookie, who is currently sandwiched between Taehyungie and Jiminie.” He looked at you hopefully. “Want to come cuddle?”

“Hmm. Sure, why not?” You took a sip of his coffee. “We’re bringing this with us, though.”

He laughed. “The first time Yoongi-hyung and I slept together, I wanted to cuddle afterwards, but he demanded I go get him coffee first.”

“Sounds reasonable,” you thought as you walked up the stairs.

“But he wore socks,” he told you, voice full of tragedy. “He refused to take his socks off, but I still slept with him, because I’m a fool in love.” You patted him on the back. “But he made me breakfast after he finished his coffee, so...” He opened his door. You paused in the doorway, suddenly realizing you had never been inside his room before. You had only been to the younger three’s rooms, actually. Jimin and Taehyung’s room was cluttered with beauty products, clothing, and manga. Jungkook’s room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Hoseok’s room was neatly organized, down to the figurines lined up on the shelf.

“Snoopy,” you noted.

“Snoopy,” Hoseok agreed, a lot more subdued than normal. He flopped down on the bed, groaning.

“You should sleep,” you said, pressing a kiss to his head, his cheek, his mouth. He made a noise, parting his lips and slipping his tongue against yours. You pulled away, making a face.

“Too much?” He asked nervously.

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking,” you told him.

“Hmm. Maybe too much for me,” he said. “I won’t be able to sleep if we keep doing that.”

“I won’t,” you assured him. His brow furrowed. “Your breath is horrible.” He laughed.

“I know.” He sighed. “I brushed my teeth twice already, and it still tastes like something died…” You crawled into bed next to him, leaning against the headboard with your knees hugged to your chest, the coffee mug balancing on them. Hoseok smiled slightly. “You look adorable—but don’t you dare get coffee stains on my sheets.”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted. Hoseok raised an eyebrow at you.

“Let’s not get into all that, please.”

“…Right.”

He closed his eyes, frowned, and then opened them again, looking at you.

“[F/N], I have, sort of a weird request.”

“Yes?” You said warily.

“Could you… rub my stomach until I fall asleep?” He blushed slightly. You smiled.

“Sure thing, Hoseokie.” You placed the coffee cup on his bedside table, lying down on your side and scooting closer to him, resting your hand on his stomach.

*

After the hangovers passed, word of what had happened during your and Jungkook’s date slowly spread. Namjoon was trying to convince you to report that ice cream shop, while Jin chased Jungkook around the living room, threatening him for ‘ruining your innocence by stealing your first kiss.’ Jimin was filming them while Hoseok laughed. You frowned.

“Jin-oppa.” You grabbed his arm, stopping him. Jungkook pounced on Jimin.

“Delete that video!”

“I really don’t appreciate you talking like that, especially since I’m the one who instigated the kiss,” you told Jin.

“Instigated,” Namjoon repeated. “Good vocabulary use.”

"Quiet," you shushed him. "I'm trying to be angry at Seokjin." Namjoon snorted.

Jin’s shoulders slumped. “I just… I want to protect you.”

“From Jungkookie?” You wondered. Jin pursed his lips.

“He’s a lot more menacing than he looks, you know.”

“Yah!” Jungkook protested. “Stop spreading lies, I’m completely innocent.”

“Oh really?” said Jimin, who he was currently straddling against the carpet.

“Hmm. He really isn’t,” Yoongi commented, looking up from the comic he and Taehyung were reading. Taehyung turned the page. “Ah, wait, I want to re-read that last panel…” Taehyung rolled his eyes and flipped the page back. “Thank you~” They shared a kiss.

“Cute,” Namjoon muttered, watching them.

“Maybe not innocent,” Jungkook admitted. “But I don’t like him implying I put noona in danger.”

“I—“ You started.

Jimin caused a slight disruption by wrapping his legs around Jungkook’s waist and flipping them over.

“Ah ha!” He looked down at Jungkook smugly. Hoseok suddenly jumped on top of both of them, making excited noises.

“Can we please finish this conversation?” You said, trying to be heard over the laughter and shouts.

“That’s enough,” Namjoon called out firmly.

The three of them froze, Hoseok slowly easing his teeth off of Jimin’s ear. Jin’s eyebrows went up as he surveyed Namjoon, clearly impressed.

“If anything, [F/N]-yah’s the one who put Jungkookie in danger, with how she reacted to the situation,” Yoongi continued as if nothing happened. Jungkook frowned at him. “I’m just stating the facts, JK. I’m not denying she sounds badass and I totally would’ve been all over her…” He paused, looking at you. “After figuring out what you’re into exactly, because we really should talk about that at some point—but Jungkookie, you’re the maknae, so we’re bound to be a little extra protective over you.”

“I know,” Jungkook said. “I hate it.”

“I probably would too, if I were you,” Yoongi thought. “But, I’m not, so… be more careful next time please, both of you.”

You nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” Yoongi said. “Now, [F/N]-yah, you should probably kiss Seokjin, cause, while I’m sure he genuinely wants to protect you, he’s also jealous Jungkookie got to you first.” You looked at Jin. He blushed. You grinned.

“Jinie, do you want a kiss?”

Jin made a strangled noise and covered his face with his hands.

“You can’t kiss him properly with his face like that,” Taehyung said. “So I’ll take the kiss instead.” He puckered his lips.

“Feel free to ignore him,” Jimin told you. Taehyung’s brow furrowed, his lips still pursed. You shrugged.

“I don’t mind kissing him.” You leaned forward.

“No!” Jin grabbed your arm. You laughed.

“Oppa, I’m not forgetting about you, okay? I can kiss you both.”

Jungkook gasped. “I’ve created a kissing monster.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist

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[anime-lover-forever-1127]

Game On {Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano}

Game On {Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano}

*****

Disclaimer - (Cause fanfiction is tricky ground and I hope not to offend the creator of the original story and get sued)

I do not own "Tokyo Revengers", it belongs to its original creator Ken Wakui. This is only a fanfiction that I was inspired to write by the original work. Please support the official release. Most of the media - such as the art and illustrations, gifs, video's, etc. used in this fanfiction - are from the web. Thus, most of them aren't mine (because I really, really can't draw) unless mentioned. To fit the story, images are also edited by various apps and websites. So they aren't mine, just edited.

Also if you own a picture or Video that I found online, and you either want your name added, or me to take it down. Please contact me and we can talk it out. P.s. I also ask that you do not copy my work and publish it onto any other website.

If you're gonna use my idea, please ask me (If you ask nicely, I for sure, will agree). If I don't contact you within a week, then just assume I'm giving you the all clear and go for it. Just remember to credit me.

Warnings: Yandere, Death/Murder, Kidnapping, Alive Emma, Chaining someone, Holding them angst there will, Talk about taking lives, Mention of rape, Faking deaths, bribing

*****

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Character(s)/Who's it for: Yandere Bonten Mikey x Draken's Sister

Type: One Shot

Requested By: No One

Word Count: 1.9 K Each, and 3.9 K Total

Summary/Prompt: When Mikey sees his ex-girlfriend again after 12 years, he knows he just can't let her go this time. He needs her. And is willing to do whatever it takes to keep her.

There are two versions. A name selected version (I don't know why, but personally I find it easier - even when reading and feeling like it's from my perspective). And a x Fem Reader Version underneath.

*****

Today's Special

I'm crazy?

What's crazy is this world that refuses to let me be with you!

~ Unknown

~o~

You survived what you thought would kill you. Now straighten your crown and move forward like the queen you are.

Unknown

*****

Freya Version (Reader Version Underneath This Version)

{Third P.O.V.}

Pah-chin's wedding was tomorrow. So the girls decided to celebrate Ria, his soon-to-be wife's, last day as an unmarried woman, by hitting as many clubs as they could.

They'd only been here for about an hour, but 3 drinks in, and the blond was ready to call it quits.

"Oh come one, you can't be tapping out already, can you? It's only 1." Emma pouted.

Hinata patted Freya's back, as the younger tried to cool down by laying her head on the cool table in front of them.

"It's fine." Ria said, shooting the girl hugging the table a worried smile.

"No." Freya shook her head, "I am not going to be that person. I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air. That should help. You girls hit the floor, I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Could you watch my bag for me though."

With a nod from Hinata, Freya, slightly swaying in her heels, walked out the closest exit to her.

She pushed open the door, only to freeze, sobering up instantly at the scene in front of her.

There were four men in the alley.

One, forced to kneel down, with his hands behind his head as he stared down the end of a barrel.

The one holding the gun with steady hands, had pink hair, in a mullet, and two scars near the ends of his mouth.

The other was a tall purple haired man. He was casually leaning against the brick wall opposite of her.

And then, there was a white haired man, who nodded his head, and a loud gun shot rang through the area. Though no one except for the four people remaining could hear it.

It took a second for her brain to realize that the man she was staring at, the one who just gave the order.

Was Mikey.

Her Mikey.

"Hey boss, what are we gonna do about her?" Ran asks, pointing to the long haired women who had just witnessed their crime.

Mikey turned around, his once bored eyes widening at the sight of the women in front of him.

She had grown up. Her body filling out in certain places a little more, and the little two piece blue dress he knew she'd could only be wearing because of his sister, only highlighted that fact. Leaving nothing to the imagination. She had let her hair grow out, letting it read her lower back.

But she hadn't changed. She still had the same heart shaped face, and big blue eyes. Eyes that were staring at him in surprise, and fear.

Sanzu's eyes narrowed, as he took the women in.

Draken's little sister.

He'd seen her around Toman multiply times. But never really met her.

Freya's heartbeat sped up, and her body began shaking as she tried to figure out what could have exactly happened, and how she could get out of this mess.

She was struggling to keep her panic at bay, when she heard. "Well we can't exactly leave a witness behind. Just call and tell the clean up crew that there will be another body to take care of."

That was it.

That was the last thing she heard before she fell unconscious.

Mikey had seen that coming, and was next to her in an instant, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Ran and Sanzu looked at them confused, "What just happened?" Ran asked.

Mikey sighed, standing back up with her still in his arms, he answered, "She was always weak as a child. Well Draken was strong, both physically and mentally. She bruised easily, and used to cry over every little thing. She was always the first to crack under pressure." Well the words coming out of his mouth were insulting, the tone he had used clearly gave away how precious she was to him. It was the kindest they had heard him speak to anyone in years.

"Wait? You know her?"

"She's coming with us." Mikey said, ignoring Ran's question.

The two looked surprised at his sudden decision, but couldn't say anything as he began walking away.

Staring down at her unconscious face. Mikey knew, now that he had her in his arms again, there was absolutely no way he could let her go.

*****

Freya groaned as she woke up. It honestly felt like there was a jackhammer inside her skull, trying to break her head open.

But, it wasn't uncommon after nights out. It took a moment for her groaning in pain, to remember what had happened last night.

She panicked as the scene in the alley came back to her.

She frantically looked around to see she was in a large, king sized bed, with a large black canopy hanging over it.

The walls were a pure white, matching the bed sheets with black flowers embroidered onto them. There was a desk in the corner of the room, and two doors. One across from her, and the other, she assumed led to the bathroom. There were various flowers scattered around the room, in an attempt to give the cold room the illusion that it was full of life, and a single window, which led to a balcony.

She tried to get out, but was stopped only 3 feet away from the bed by something pulling her back.

She looked down to see a silver chain connecting to the wall, leading back to her foot. Where a black, padded cuff was wrapped around her ankle.

It was also at the moment she realized that she was dressed in a white sleeping shirt and some underwear, and nothing else.

Dread began to build up inside of her, and she collapsed against the foot of the bed as she struggled to figure out what to do.

Freya buried her head in between her knees, and her fingers tangled in her golden locks. The momentarily forgotten hangover had returned with vengeance, making it impossible for her brain to think straight.

That was also the reason she hadn't heard someone else enter the room, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to let out a startled yelp.

The blond turned around to see familiar warm blue eyes staring at her. It was a stark contrast to the last two times she had stared into their icy depths.

"Mikey!" Freya, unable to keep it in anymore, sobbed into his chest. Mikey stayed quite, only wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her closer to him.

She had no idea how long they had stayed like that, a part of her didn't want to let go, but after her past experience she feared that the sudden warmth in him would once again vanish, and she may not get another chance to get her questions answered.

She tried to pull away, before after a couple of inches of space, his arms wrapped around her wouldn't let her go any further. She tried to wiggle out of his hold, but it wouldn't give. So she turned her gaze back up at him, confused at why he wouldn't let her go. It isn't like she could go anywhere with the chain wrapped around her ankle.

The chain!

"What the hell is that?" She asked, pointing to the instrument caging her to the bed.

"It's just an ankle chain." Mikey answered, as if he didn't see the issue with matter.

Freya just shook her head in disbelief, still trying to wrap her head around what was happening, she fired off her next two questions, "And why exactly is it on me? Where are we even?"

Mikey sighed, Takeomi had warned him that she'd ask this. Turning down his advice of tricking her, he decided to be upfront about it. The sooner she came to terms with this, the sooner they could move on and continue with the life they were always supposed to have.

He decided to answer the easier question first, "We're in a mansion in the countryside. As for the chain, it's so you won't leave again."

"What do you mean, 'won't leave again'? Do I need to remind you that YOU were the one who pushed me away. And now what, you're going to keep me locked up like a princess in a tower." Freya scoffed.

"Actually, that's exactly what's going to happen. If I'm not here, then one of the bonten executives and guards will be. If you do somehow get out of the chain, I wouldn't try the door. It's going to be locked, and a guard will always be stationed outside."

Freya's eyes widened, and she frantically shook her head, "No. NO!" She screamed, frantically thrashing around in his hold. She managed to push him away, and fell onto the floor. She backed up, until her back hit the nightstand next to the bed, the handles on the drawers digging into her back. But the women could barely feel them in her panicked clouded mind. "Emma, Hinata, and Ria know I didn't come back last night. By now, everybody knows I'm missing, and are looking for me. Draken won't stop until he knows I'm safe." The blond desperately threatened.

"I know." Mikey nodded. He of all people knew how determined and stubborn the ex-toman members were. "That's exactly why the police have now found a body belonging to a 23 year old woman with long blond hair and blue eyes who was beaten to death, and raped, her face unrecognizable. Along with it, they found your ID."

"No." Freya shook her head, "They'll know it's a fake."

"She was also dressed in your clothes. The clothes you were last seen in." Mikey continued on.

Freya's breathing quicken, "W-well… well…" Her eyes widened with hope as she finally thought of something, "D.N.A. tests, and dentals. Don't they need to run those."

Mikey only shook his head, "Koko's already on that. The police force is practically living in Bonten's back pocket. Those test results will say what I want them to say."

Freya's head fell to the side, as a large lump formed in her throat, making breathing harder and harder. The stinging tears forming glazing her eyes were definitely not helping.

What could she possibly do. She'd been warned by her older brother that Mikey had formed another gang and had his hands in all sorts of shady things, but she hadn't expected to ever meet him again.

And now, she was trapped. He refused to let her go, slamming back into her life like a wrecking ball.

She felt helpless. Because once again, whatever Mikey wanted. Mikey got.

A perk of being invincible.

He chose to leave, and now, he's choosing to do this to her.``

But what choice did she have?

Nothing.

Once again she was helpless because of the same man.

"What do you want?" Freya asked, voice horse from the crying.

Mikey smiled, "Well for starters. You're going to be staying here for quite a while. You'll have everything at your fingertips. Anything your heart desires will be yours."

Freya was tempted to scoff, 'Except my freedom'. But she chose to bite her tongue and hold it in.

"The better your behavior, the more leniency you will receive." Mikey told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and underneath her legs. He picked her up and set her on the bed.

She wanted to push him away, but the small part of her brain that was still hanging on to reasoning and hope, combined with the warming strength in his embrace, held her back.

So instead, she eased into his hold.

Fine, if Mikey wanted to play this game, Freya would play it.

And she would win!

*****

Fem Reader Version

Legend:

y/n = Your Name

h/c = Hair Color

e/c = Eye Color

{Third P.O.V.}

Pah-chin's wedding was tomorrow. So the girls decided to celebrate Ria, his soon-to-be wifes, last day as an unmarried woman, by hitting as many clubs as they could.

They'd only been here for about an hour, but 3 drinks in, and the h/c women was ready to call it quits.

"Oh come one, you can't be tapping out already, can you? It's only 1." Emma pouted.

Hinata patted y/n's back, as the younger tried to cool down by laying her head on the cool table in front of them.

"It's fine." Ria said, shooting the girl hugging the table a worried smile.

"No." y/n shook her head, "I am not going to be that person. I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air. That should help. You girls hit the floor, I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Could you watch my bag for me though."

With a nod from Hinata, y/n, slightly swaying in her heels, walked out the closest exit to her.

She pushed open the door, only to freeze, sobering up instantly at the scene in front of her.

There were four men in the alley.

One, forced to kneel down, with his hands behind his head as he stared down the end of a barrel.

The one holding the gun with steady hands, had pink hair, in a mullet, and two scars near the ends of his mouth.

The other was a tall purple haired man. He was casually leaning against the brick wall opposite of her.

And then, there was a white haired man, who nodded his head, and a loud gun shot rang through the area. Though no one except for the four people remaining could hear it.

It took a second for her brain to realize that the man she was staring at, the one who just gave the order.

Was Mikey.

Her Mikey.

"Hey boss, what are we gonna do about her?" Ran asks, pointing to the long haired women who had just witnessed their crime.

Mikey turned around, his once bored eyes widening at the sight of the women in front of him.

She had grown up. Her body filling out in certain places a little more, and the little blue dress he knew she'd could only be wearing because of his sister, only highlighted that fact. She had let her hair grow out, letting it read her lower back.

But she hadn't changed. She still had the same heart shaped face, and big e/c eyes. Eyes that were staring at him in surprise, and fear.

Sanzu's eyes narrowed, as he took the women in.

Draken's little sister.

He'd seen her around Toman multiply times. But never really met her.

y/n's heartbeat sped up, and her body began shaking as she tried to figure out what could have exactly happened, and how she could get out of this mess.

She was struggling to keep her panic at bay, when she heard. "Well we can't exactly leave a witness behind. Just call and tell the clean up crew that there will be another body to take care of."

That was it.

That was the last thing she heard before she fell unconscious.

Mikey had seen that coming, and was next to her in an instant, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Ran and Sanzu looked at them confused, "What just happened?" Ran asked.

Mikey sighed, standing back up with her still in his arms, he answered, "She was always weak as a child. Well Draken was strong, both physically and mentally. She bruised easily, and used to cry over every little thing. She was always the first to crack under pressure." Well the words coming out of his mouth were insulting, the tone he had used clearly gave away how precious she was to him. It was the kindest they had heard him speak to anyone in years.

"Wait? You know her?"

"She's coming with us." Mikey said, ignoring Ran's question.

The two looked surprised at his sudden decision, but couldn't say anything as he began walking away.

Staring down at her unconscious face. Mikey knew, now that he had her in his arms again, there was absolutely no way he could let her go.

*****

y/n groaned as she woke up. It honestly felt like there was a jackhammer inside her skull, trying to break her head open.

But, it wasn't uncommon after nights out. It took a moment for her groaning in pain, to remember what had happened last night.

She panicked as the scene in the alley came back to her.

She frantically looked around to see she was in a large, king sized bed, with a large black canopy hanging over it.

The walls were a pure white, matching the bed sheets with black flowers embroidered onto them. There was a desk in the corner of the room, and two doors. One across from her, and the other, she assumed led to the bathroom. There were various flowers scattered around the room, in an attempt to give the cold room the illusion that it was full of life, and a single window, which led to a balcony.

She tried to get out, but was stopped only 3 feet away from the bed by something pulling her back.

She looked down to see a silver chain connecting to the wall, leading back to her foot. Where a black, padded cuff was wrapped around her ankle.

It was also at the moment she realized that she was dressed in a white sleeping shirt and some underwear, and nothing else.

Dread began to build up inside of her, and she collapsed against the foot of the bed as she struggled to figure out what to do.

y/n buried her head in between her knees, and her fingers tangled in her golden locks. The momentarily forgotten hangover had returned with vengeance, making it impossible for her brain to think straight.

That was also the reason she hadn't heard someone else enter the room, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to let out a startled yelp.

The h/c turned around to see familiar warm blue eyes staring at her. It was a stark contrast to the last two times she had stared into their icy depths.

"Mikey!" y/n, unable to keep it in anymore, sobbed into his chest. Mikey stayed quiet, only wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her closer to him.

She had no idea how long they had stayed like that, a part of her didn't want to let go, but after her past experience she feared that the sudden warmth in him would once again vanish, and she may not get another chance to get her questions answered.

She tried to pull away, before after a couple of inches of space, his arms wrapped around her wouldn't let her go any further. She tried to wiggle out of his hold, but it wouldn't give. So she turned her gaze back up at him, confused at why he wouldn't let her go. It isn't like she could go anywhere with the chain wrapped around her ankle.

The chain!

"What the hell is that?" She asked, pointing to the instrument caging her to the bed.

"It's just an ankle chain." Mikey answered, as if he didn't see the issue with matter.

y/n just shook her head in disbelief, still trying to wrap her head around what was happening, she fired off her next two questions, "And why exactly is it on me? Where are we even?"

Mikey sighed, Takeomi had warned him that she'd ask this. Turning down his advice of tricking her, he decided to be upfront about it. The sooner she came to terms with this, the sooner they could move on and continue with the life they were always supposed to have.

He decided to answer the easier question first, "We're in a mansion in the countryside. As for the chain, it's so you won't leave again."

"What do you mean, 'won't leave again'? Do I need to remind you that YOU were the one who pushed me away. And now what, you're going to keep me locked up like a princess in a tower." y/n scoffed.

"Actually, that's exactly what's going to happen. If I'm not here, then one of the bonten executives and guards will be. If you do somehow get out of the chain, I wouldn't try the door. It's going to be locked, and a guard will always be stationed outside."

y/n's eyes widened, and she frantically shook her head, "No. NO!" She screamed, frantically thrashing around in his hold. She managed to push him away, and fell onto the floor. She backed up, until her back hit the nightstand next to the bed, the handles on the drawers diggin into her back. But the women could barely feel them in her panicked clouded mind. "Emma, Hinata, and Ria know I didn't come back last night. By now, everybody knows I'm missing, and are looking for me. Draken won't stop until he knows I'm safe." The h/c women desperately threatened.

"I know." Mikey nodded. He of all people knew how determined and stubborn the ex-toman members were. "That's exactly why the police have now found a body belonging to a 23 year old woman with long h/c hair and e/c eyes who was beaten to death, and raped, her face unrecognizable. Along with it, they found your ID."

"No." y/n shook her head, "They'll know it's a fake."

"She was also dressed in your clothes. The clothes you were last seen in." Mikey continued on.

y/n's breathing quicken, "W-well… well…" Her eyes widened with hope as she finally thought of something, "D.N.A. tests, and dentals. Don't they need to run those."

Mikey only shook his head, "Koko's already on that. The police force is practically living in Bonten's back pocket. Those test results will say what I want them to say."

y/n's head fell to the side, as a large lump formed in her throat, making breathing harder and harder. The stinging tears forming glazing her eyes were definitely not helping.

What could she possibly do? She'd been warned by her older brother that Mikey had formed another gang and had his hands in all sorts of shady things, but she hadn't expected to ever meet him again.

And now, she was trapped. He refused to let her go, slamming back into her life like a wrecking ball.

She felt helpless. Because once again, whatever Mikey wanted. Mikey got.

A perk of being invincible.

He chose to leave, and now, he's choosing to do this to her.``

But what choice did she have?

Nothing.

Once again she was helpless because of the same man.

"What do you want?" y/n asked, voice horse from the crying.

Mikey smiled, "Well for starters. You're going to be staying here for quite a while. You'll have everything at your fingertips. Anything your heart desires will be yours."

y/n was tempted to scoff, 'Except my freedom'. But she chose to bite her tongue and hold it in.

"The better your behavior, the more leniency you will receive." Mikey told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and underneath her legs. He picked her up and set her on the bed.

She wanted to push him away, but the small part of her brain that was still hanging on to reasoning and hope, combined with the warming strength in his embrace, held her back.

So instead, she eased into his hold.

Fine, if Mikey wanted to play this game, you would play it.

And you would win!

*****

This was my first one shot. So if it was a bit choppy, or the speed was a bit off. Sorry. I'm mostly used to writing chapter stories (all of which are still in progress). So this was my first time trying this. Hopefully I'll get better with practice.

But I honestly quit like them. Especially because i switch fandoms I'm into quite quickly. so it lets me write quick pieces, without having to create covers and stories or anything too complicated. it's also great for building up control. when i have a character who already has a story. I can create a one shot for them, instead of writing a longer story, which I may barley get a chance to write. or forcing me to choose which story I'm going to update when I'm in the mood to write for a certain character.

I'm not really sure how well I can exactly write x Readers, this was my first one. So that's why I kept it a fem reader. Maybe when I get better, I can come back and try my hand at a gender neutral reader and publish it under the x Fem Reader Version, but until then, sorry for all my gender neutral readers out there.

I also have a part 2 for this in mind. I still haven't written it. But I've planned it in a way where it can mostly be read as a stand alone by itself as well. I know I said that if there was a part two, I'd come back here and post it.

(Mostly because wattpad is stingy with the number of chapters it lets you post.) But screw it, unless it's a clips story (where I fast forward through all the possible scenes in a story), I'll create part twos. And once I reach the 200 chapter limit. I'll just create another book. And if I hit the 200 book limit, I'll then create another wattpad account. (Which I asked the wattpad support - is perfectly allowed. As long as I'm not misusing it to like trash other accounts and stuff.)

^ This is only for wattpad. For , Quotev, and Ao3, I'll keep it all in one book.

I'm also thinking that once, I have over 10 chapters for a certain story. I'd give it it's own book. Where I'd take it down from the one shot, and give it, it's own book. Where the one shot's chapters would be spread out through the story. I wanted to go for 7, but it's such an odd number. So I decided to go for 10 as the requirement to have it's own book.

[amerrierworld]

I’m Not Jealous

request: more dom!daphne x reader? Thank you!

Summary: the press have seen you and Daphne together, but your relationship hasn’t been confirmed, so speculations are made. 

Characters: Daphne Kluger x fem!reader, a real-life actress cameo ;)

Word Count: 2,121

Warnings: SMUTTT. you know how this goes :) dom!daphne & jealousy!

“People are staring at you,” Daphne whispered in your ear as she wound an  arm around your waist, flashing a sweet smile at the cameras. 

“They’re looking at you,” you chuckled, pressing close to her. “It’s not every day  a big-wig celebrity is out shopping.”

“Hmph,” Daphne put her sunglasses back on, you following suit, before pulling you to the nearest restaurant. Your arms ached from the bags hanging off of your wrists.

“Table for two, please, pronto,” Daphne sighed, startling the host who was stacking some new menus. He was about to protest until he realized who was talking to him, and the cameramen pressed up against the front door windows, trying to get a good shot at the actress. 

There was a seat in the back, away from the windows, close to the kitchen where chefs were bustling and cooking relentlessly. You would be shielded here, even if just momentarily. 

“Daph.. this is a steakhouse.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Are you sure you wanna eat here? You told me you don’t like steakhouses, cause of your diet.”

“Do you want me to drag you out there again?” Daphne raised a sleek eyebrow at you, and you raised your hands in mock defeat. 

“Very well, m’lady.”

“This’ll have to do,” she skimmed through the menu, lips pursing as she read  through the options, “I’m starving after such a busy day.”

A day that had consisted of manicures and a shopping spree. Not that you were complaining, of course. 

Comfortable silence followed. Daphne picked at your side of fries as you ate, just like she always did, when suddenly your phone pinged. You ignored it.

Then it pinged again. And again. A series of text messages from friends and colleagues that read OMG and you sly devil! and other sorts of teasing, confusing texts.

You got a couple of fresh news article links, and intrigued, you opened some.

And then you nearly choked on your drink. Daphne, startled, quickly asked what’s wrong.

You coughed, “...People seem to think I’m involved with.. Anne Hathaway? What the hell?”

“Oh, really?” Daphne’s voice was light, but tense. You scrolled through your phone again, pictures of the other actress jogging your memory.

“Oh, yeah, cause I ran into her at that gallery last week! Remember? You had something to present, and you got me that extra ticket. I ended up sitting next to her in the audience when you were on.”

Daphne scoffed, “everyone knows Annie is straight. She’s got a kid too, for crying out loud.”

“Okay wait, this is hilarious though,” you mumbled around a mouthful of steak, “listen to this... Mystery gal seen in tow with Daphne Kluger a week after getting comfy with Anne Hathaway... Hathaway and Kluger: fighting over damsel?... serial heartbreaker or love birds?”

“What the hell?” Daphne bristled, nearly yanking the phone out of your hand, “I swear to god, tabloids are the absolute worst.”

“I think it’s funny. They don’t have any proof other than I’ve spent time with both of you. They don’t even know your sexuality, so what’s the worry?”

“Hmph,” Daphne chewed aggressively on one of your fries. They were almost all gone, and you had barely touched them.

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Daphne snapped, and you suppressed a smile. “I hate how they feed lies into the media, that’s all. There’s always going to be people who believe them, too.”

“Yeah, but they don’t matter. I can call Anne right now and settle it? Maybe she can come join us for dinner sometime-”

“No! I- I mean.. let’s not. Let’s not bother her, right?” 

You reached over and grabbed her hand, and Daphne sighed, flicking her hair over her shoulder,

“Maybe I should just come out and tell them about us. I’m getting tired of this. They’re thinking that I stole you from her. When they should be worried about it happening the other way around.”

“You don’t think that’s actually going to happen, do you?” You asked, startling her. She hadn’t expected you to take what she said that way, and she was lost for words for a moment. 

“Come on, call your driver, we should go home,” you suggested, “I’m full anyways, aren’t you?”

-

“We didn’t even get to that shoe store downtown,” Daphne grumbled as you got inside her second city apartment safely. 

“I can call Hathaway,” you teased, smirking as you dumped the bags in the front hall, “she could get us in-”

A finger hooked in the collar of your shirt and pulled you backwards, Daphne catching you and pulling you close, hot breath wafting over your ear.

“Don’t say her name,” she growled. You wriggled your hips, trying to escape her grasp.

“So you are jealous?”

“No.” 

“You’re a great actress, Daph, but you can’t always hide-”

“Fine.”

Daphne pushed you forward until you were pressed against the kitchen counter. Her hands tugged at your shirt and pressed against the soft skin of your stomach. Your breath hitched.

“I am jealous. Alright? I’m so fucking jealous at the thought of all those people thinking you’re with her when you’re mine. And will always be mine.”

“Tell them, then,” you said, head tipping back onto her shoulder and your breath hoarse. “Let’s tell the world.”

“I suppose it’s about time, right?” Her hands grabbed your hips and she rolled hers against you with a slow, maddening pace. 

“Y-yeah,” you whimpered, because now she was sucking her neck. You could faintly see yourself in the reflection of the cupboard door glass, and dark lipstick was already smudging on your skin.

“You can tell them now, if you want,” Daphne’s voice was lilting, seductive, and your brain was trying to catch up with what she was saying.

“Now?”

“Yes. When I fuck you so hard that you’ll be screaming my name so loudly every paparazzi in town will hear it.”

You laughed, because Daphne was always so private with her sexual escapades, and you knew that would never happened. But you toyed with the idea in your mind briefly, just for fun.

The fantasy escaped you, however, when Daphne’s hands began pushing past your waistband.

“B-bedroom?” you pleaded.

Daph relented, but only briefly, to make sure you both watched your step as you got to the bedroom. 

You wanted to pull her dress off, but she tutted.

“Not so fast,” she whispered and you stilled. She pressed against your shoulders until your back hit the mattress and yanked your hands up above your head.

“Hng- wait- the clothes-,” you mumbled deliriously, distracted by her cleavage in her formfitting dress.

“Shush,” she said, as if scolding a child, “all in good time.”

She unclipped the belt that sat at her waist and created a rough resemblance to a pair of handcuffs that chained you to the headboard.

Then her hands pulled your shirt up, over your head, and bunched it around your wrists. The same happened with your bra. You felt their fabric wound around your hands and wrists, cushioning against the metal of the headboard. 

Daphne straddled you for a moment, the dress riding up until you cold see her lacy underwear peeking out from underneath. You felt your arousal coursing through your body now, and she raked her newly manicured fingers up your sides, making you shiver.

“If only they knew, hm?” she chuckled, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. She raised herself up on her knees, arms stretching to unzip her dress from behind, and slowly tugged it down. 

With every extravagant motion of a silver screen actress she deftly pushed her dress down, revealing her bra, breasts threatening to spill over, and you felt yourself salivate. 

Then she turned around, and you watched, gaping as she pulled the rest of her dress over her ass and down her long legs. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, hips bucking up at the sight. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate.

Eventually, Daphne tossed the dress to the side and faced you again. She sat on your stomach, unabashedly grinding against your abdomen, her knees spread wide. 

“D-Daphne,” you gasped. She had pulled one cup of her bra down and was tugging at a rosy nipple. Her lower lip was caught by her teeth and she looked down at you with a grin.

“Need more, baby?” she asked, voice rough. You nodded, straining against the multiple things holding your hands together. Your pants felt unbearably tight now. You wanted her skin, wanted to feel her, your body heat suffocating you in the fabric.

“God, you look so needy,” she chuckled. “It makes me so wet, you know that?”

Her hand left her breast and pushed into her underwear, fingers immediately rubbing her clit as she rocked on top of you.

“N-not fair,” you whined, pressing up again, making her gasp softly.

“I’ll decide what’s fair,” she retorted, and her other hand snaked behind her to sneak past your own waistband and press snugly against your cunt.

Your voice came out in a choked cry. It felt nice- warm and wet and her long fingers rubbed vigorously, but it wasn’t enough. The fabric of your pants held her hand in place, in the wrong place, and she was obviously getting distracted by touching herself that you couldn’t get any proper friction.

You spread your legs as wide as possible, pushing her closer with your thighs and you wriggled for her attention. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked down at you and your pleading eyes.

“Not enough?” she asked, a finger slipping around your clit, but not touching where you needed it. You furiously shook your head, and she flashed her award-winning smile.

“That’s too bad then, isn’t it?”

She swiftly took off her underwear and before you knew it her cunt was settling over your face. You whined in protest as her hand left your pulsing clit and she fisted it in your hair instead. 

“Give me that tongue and maybe I’ll let you cum,” she gasped. 

She cooed soft praise as you followed through, tongue sliding out to suck and lick her wet skin desperately.

“Hungry, are we?” Daphne chuckled, her breath catching as you suckled at her clit. “Didn’t get enough at the steakhouse?”

You hummed in the back of your throat as you pushed your tongue deeply inside her and she groaned. Her milky thighs trembled and tensed at the sides of your head and she pressed closer to you.

You breathed in heavily through your nose, catching her sweat and arousal and bucked your own hips in response.

Taking pity, Daphne’s hand slipped back behind her, clumsily nudging your pants away until her fingers roughly found your cunt and pushed inside of you. You whined against her cunt, your pace stuttering for a moment.

“Don’t slack off,” she said, her other hand tugging at your hair in reprimand. Your fingers twitched and tensed above you, wishing you could touch her. 

She slipped her bra off completely as she rocked on your face. Her hand pressed deeply inside of you, wriggling and nudging against your front walls with strong fingers. 

“Make me cum,” she ordered breathily, her hips stuttering, and you pressed your tongue against her clit until she gushed into your mouth, sweet and intoxicating. Her soft, high-pitched groans contrasted with the iron grip she had on your cunt. 

Now that she had nothing else to focus on her hand picked up a sure pace. She lifted off of your face to let you breathe, only for you to gasp and beg,

“Please- please, please please..”

Daphne chuckled, two fingers pinching and rolling the hood over your clit, and you were done for.

You felt sweat and slick sliding down the inside of your thighs and she kept rubbing lightly as your orgasm rushed over you. Your abdomen convulsed and shivered through the sensations until your senses could return to normal and you saw Daphne staring at you lovingly from above.

Her hands reached forward and tugged the restraints off of your wrists. You felt blood rush back to your arms as they dropped by your sides, but you were too distracted by sucking and kissing her breasts hanging so close to your face to notice.

Daphne squealed as you nipped her skin and cradled your head closely before pulling you up for a deep kiss.

“Love you,” you mumbled against her lips. 

“I know,” she muttered, making you chuckle. Her hands worked the rest of your clothes off and then she laid down by your side, stretching like a cat, a leg hooking over yours as she kissed your face.

The shopping bags remained unpacked in the front hall for the rest of the night.

[barnes-n-nobles]

Youre My Path (SMUT)

Yandere Bucky being crazy, possessive, and DARK!

TW-Mentions on non-con, drugging, stalking, and overall dark behavior. A little bit of knife play as well.

Smut SMUT SMUT

Let me know what y’all think 

Today was just another boring ordinary day. You had to go to the store and stock up on some groceries that you had been planning on getting but you lacked the will power to do so. You opened your phone and looked at the time. Ugh, I need to go before they close you thought to yourself as you managed to peel yourself off of your comfy sofa. You got ready and headed towards the nearest super market.

Lately youve been having some weird feelings, as if someone is constantly watching you. You always shake it off though, because nothing ever happens to you. You always get home safe and sound. Today was a little more intense though, as if you could almost hear someone breathing behind you when you were walking to the store. Relieved to have made it inside, you grabbed your cart and started your trip through the empty isles of the store. You loved and hated to come at night, it made you feel at peace knowing there there wouldn’t be annoying ass kids and angry moms yelling at them to behave. No people blocking the isles with their carts and most importantly, no need to run into someone you knew. The only reason you hated it, was because you didn’t want to get kidnapped and left for dead.

As you made your way to the bread isle, you had that feeling again. You felt like someone was behind you, you stopped dead in your tracks to see if anyone would walk past you. You pretended to look at the merchandise and you slowly turned around to see if there was anyone there. You looked both ways, and sure enough there was nothing. You rolled your eyes and kept it moving. As your trip started coming to an end you decided to stop by the makeup isle, needing a couple of items that you would use for your upcoming date.

Usually you didn’t try this hard but you figured you would give it a shot. All the past times you went on dates they would disappear after your first date. You weren’t sure if it was because you didn’t try hard enough or if they simply weren’t feeling your vibe. As your mind trailed off you accidentally ran into another person with your cart, completely snapping you out of your mind. A broad man, fell to his knee. “Oh my god!!! I’m so sorry. Are you ok? God I’m so clumsy please forgive me” you said frantically as you started to help him up. He lifted his head up to meet your gaze, big blue eyes % bore%% into your own. Your eyes started to trail from his eyes, to his lips, and up again to his perfectly sculpted face. You were mesmerized, you had never seen such a handsome man. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it, y/n” he said quickly getting up and walking off with a visible smirk on his face. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, knowing damn well he did not just say your name. You werent exactly sure if your mind was playing tricks on you or if he really said what you think he had said. You got up quickly, still in shock but hoping that it was really your mind playing tricks on you. Hesitantly you continued to shop, even though there was a little voice in your head telling you to get the hell out of that store.

Bucky POV

FUCK she’s so beautiful, he thought to himself. The way you stared at him, it was clear you wanted him the way he wanted you. This was the moment that he had been waiting for ever since he laid eyes on you. He had never been this close to you, it was like a dream come true. You smelled like candy, your beautiful e/c eyes meeting his. Just how he had imagined but better. The way you apologized made him hard. Just think of how submissive my y/n will be to me mmmm I’m going to devour her in every way possible he thought to himself, smirking.

Bucky ran into you at a coffee shop near your house. It was love at first sight for him. He watched you interact with your friends, smile, laugh, and it was like a match made in heaven for him. He knew he needed you to smile for him, laugh for him, and live for him. He followed you home that night. Making sure you wanted to be safe, of course. But his monthly visits turned to weekly and then turned to daily. He eventually managed to get into your home. You left a space key under your mat, and he felt so happy yet disappointed that you would endanger yourself like that. “When we live together, I’ll make sure you don’t make silly mistakes like this” he said to himself as he got into your home.

He went through your house just browsing, seeing if anything interesting caught his eye. He then made it into your room and continued to look through your things. He found your panties next to your bed and quickly grabbed them and put him in his picked for him to enjoy later. He also took some pictures of you, to also enjoy later.

You were his new routine and he enjoyed every second of it. As time went on he would keep tabs on you, absolutely hating it when you went on dates. He was consumed with jealousy and couldn’t believe anyone would dare lay a finger on you. He knew that this would not fly and he had to make sure to get rid of any roadblocks that got in his way. Bucky murdered them and everytime he did he felt relieved, almost happy knowing that he was that much closer to you.

After his encounter with you, Bucky walked off into the parking lot, one car over from yours, slipping into the drivers seat. His mind started to go wild. He needed you so badly. He wished he could have taken you right then and there. How he wished he could be inside you, your soft moans begging him to make you feel good. His cock soon started to throb at the thought of you. He leaned back in his seat taking a pair of your panties out from his pocket. He brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply, moaning as he exhaled. “Fuck Y/n...you make me so horny...I’m going to fuck the shit out of you when you’re here baby just you wait”.

Wasnt long before he pulled out his dick, stroking it hard. His hips bucking into his hand wishing it was your pussy. He started to think about how beautiful your pretty mouth would be around his dick, how good your tongue would feel swiveling around his tip. Just as he was about to cum, he stopped. He growled and threw his head back lowly moaning your name. “Fuck...I cant take this anymore. I need her” He quickly tucked himself back in and relaxed.

All you could think about was how that guy knew your name. It kept replaying in your head and it didn’t make sense. You headed to your car and started to load everything in. “Hello my Y/n” you heard someone say in a low deep voice. You quickly turned around, your heart starting to beat a little faster. “Umm. Do I know you?” You asked. Bucky sighed and started to walk towards you. “Not yet doll but you will” a smirk on his face once again. You backed up as he took steps forward. “Don’t come any closer, or I’m calling the police”.

Bucky pressed himself against your body, his hands snaking their way to your hips. His face now pressed against your neck. “No you wont Princess, I know you like this. I can tell by the way that you’re breathing that you want me to keep going” his low voice going straight to your core. “N-no please...stop I ..” you tried pushing him off but you started to feel so weak. You had not noticed that Bucky had used something to drug you. All you felt was your body going limp and you falling into his arms.

Bucky smiled as you fell into him, placing a soft kiss on your temple. He noticed that someone was coming over so he quickly pressed your body to your car, and grabbed your face, kissing you. The person walking, walked a little faster as they were feeling a little awkward. Perfect he thought to himself. He placed you into the back to his car, resting your head to a pillow he had just bought and covering you with his sweater. He quickly drove off, leaving all your things by your car.

Your eyes opened, your head pounding. Wherever you were it was dark but comfortable. You groaned as you started to fully wake up, slowly sitting up. Your left hand felt heavy, you tried pulling it and you heard a chain. You yanked your hand hard again, making a loud sound. Bucky heard the noise coming from your guy’s room and he smiled and quickly got up making his way to you.

“Baby you’re awake now” Bucky excitedly said

“What’s going on..why are you doing this to me, where am I?”

“You’re home doll, with me”

“But I don’t know you” you cried softly

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky. I’ve been looking after you for a while now and it’s been a pleasure but I'm so glad that I finally have you all to myself, just how it was always meant to be”

He started to get on the bed climbing towards you. You backed up as he came towards you, your back was now against the wall, pinning yourself between the cold wall and his broad body. His hand going to the back of your neck, bringing you close to him, your lips almost touching his.

“I’ve waited a life time for this, to have you here with me. You make me crazy and I would sacrifice the world for you. Now that you’re all mine, I won’t ever loose you” he closed the gap between you two, his lips desperately locking into yours. Kissing you passionately, he was hungry and desperate. You turned your head to the side, breaking the kiss.

“This isn’t the way Bucky, this isn’t right. You need to let me go” you begged. Bucky smiled and looked down moving back away from you. It made you feel relieved that he was not too mad due to your actions. He slowly got up from the bed and went over to his dresser, rummaging through some things.

“Bucky...maybe we are in different paths right now, maybe in the future we will be together but now right now, not like this...please Bucky listen to me”, hoping that he would have a little sympathy, you used his name to make it more personal.

“You know , y/n...just because you say we are on different paths doesn’t mean it’s true” he grabbed something and started to walk towards you again. This time his metal arm reached out to pull you by your leg to the edge of the bed, giving you whiplash. He quickly climbed on top of you, pinning your arms above your head with his metal arm and pulling out a syringe with his other hand.

You quickly started to wiggle around trying to get him off you. Shaking your head, “no no please stop no”. Buckys eyes had a hint of madness to them, dark and disturbing. “Don’t worry these don’t hurt, it will make you feel better I promise”. He quickly injected it to you and you soon started to feel get hot, with a tingling sensation “This will loosen you up a bit, it’ll make you relax so that we can enjoy eachother baby”

His lips made their way onto your neck, kissing and licking you all over. Your heart started to race, your eyes closing, soft moans escaping your lips, “n-no..” Bucky grunted as his erection started to press against your clothed pussy. His hips bucking forward, dry humping you. He lowered down to your ear, whispering, “ cant you see what you do to me. You’re so sexy and sensual you’re almost making me cum in my pants with your adorable moans, my love. As much as love to hear you right now, I want you to moan and scream my name y/n...begging me to fuck you harder”

All his words, combined with his dry humping made you soaking wet. As much as you hated this you couldn’t help but moan louder. His cock pressing against you was not enough and you needed more. You tried your hardest to resist, “G-get a..way f-from me..” you managed to choke out, trying to not moan anymore and trying to push him off with your body. Suddenly Bucky got angry. Hating how you were fighting him. He tore off your thin leggings in a fast single motion, revealing your soaked panties. He took out his knife and pressed it against you, earning a frantic gasp but you stopped moving. “Stop fighting me doll, for your own good because I swear I will fucking destroy you. I’ve waited too long for this, don’t push me because you won’t like the way I punish you.But......if you behave I’ll make sure to take care of you..real good care darling” he said as his knife traced your body. He grabbed your shirt roughly and ripped it off, slicing your bra open as well.

His mouth watered at the sight of your delicious breasts, making his cock twitch with excitement. His knife trailed down to your panties, making you whimper. “You’re so delicious kitten, I’m going to fuck you so hard. I cant wait till my cock is right in here” he motioned and tapped your clit with his knife. He roughly grabbed them and ripped them open instantly. He threw his knife to the side and quickly started to rub your clit making your back arch with your eyes closed. Your moans now filling up the room. Bucky smiled and took one of your nipples into his mouth, making you quiver and move your hips down into his hand. “Mmm, I knew you wanted this..wanted me...only me” he growled against your chest. “F-fuck Bucky...keep going please”. You hated yourself for saying that but you couldn’t help it, you were in pure ecstasy.

Just as you were about to reach your orgasm, he removed himself from you. Making you whine and buck your hips up, wanting and needing his touch once again. “Don’t worry kitten, I’m not done with you yet”. He quickly undressed and positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing his tip on your clit, making you mewl. “Tell me what you want doll...tell me what you want from me” he coaxed. You didn’t answer, as you were too embarrassed to say anything. His metal hand went to your neck, squeezing it hard. “Tell me y/n..tell me what you want NOW” he yelled, releasing his grip from your throat.

“Fuck me Bucky...please” you finally said. “I don’t think I heard you doll, say it loud and clear”. “FUCK ME BUCKY PLEASE I NEED YOU...PLEASE”. You finally broke. You needed him now, there was nothing in the world you wanted more than to have his cock inside of you, his lips on your skin and his hands all over you. You were finally filled with his big cock slipping in and out of your wet pussy. His hands on your neck, choking you but not too hard like before. His hips snapping in and out of you making your body shake. 

“Such an obedient slut, MY obedient slut. I’m going to break you and bend you to my will. Making you all mine. I’ll make you crave my touch, my attention, my voice. You’re going to live only for me, doll. Only for me” he growled as he pounded into you, rubbing your clit making you loose it. He then started to feel you reach your end, making him moan, “cum on my dick baby...cum for me. Let go” he cooed as he angled himself to reach into you deeper. That’s when you felt your orgasm hit you, your body started to shake, waves of pleasure surging through your body. “Mmm Buckyyyy” you moaned. Making him loose it as well, he coated your insides in his thick warm cum. Pumping himself in and out slowly. Gasping for air.

Fuck he was such a God, he made you want more of him. It was the first night and you were already going crazy for his touch. You wanted him to keep going keep doing you however he wanted, but most importantly to keep pleasuring you. Bucky finally pulled out and laid next to you, looking at your beautiful face. He brought his lips to yours and gave you a soft kiss. “The drug hasn’t worn off baby, don’t think this is over. We’re going until we cant no more, doll.” He said against your lips, flipping you over for round two.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Graveyard Siblings (5)

[Masterlink] (PART 1) (PART 4)

-----

Mari and Cass sometimes switch their suits as they have the same body type. Cass would sometimes go out in full Hellbat gear and give the appearance that Hellbat is out more often than she actually is.

So Orphan/Black Bat also sometimes uses guns.

This also helps with concealing secret identities. Maria was rescued by Hellbat from Joker’s Henchmen. (Vicki Vale was getting sus of the new Wayne and Hellbat.)

Unfortunately since Hellbat rarely comes out and she had already made all of her appearance for the month and it wasn’t a busy weekend, the public had come to the conclusion that Hellbat has a crush on the newest Wayne.

Basically everyone thought that Mari has a crush on herself. Which led to some teasing and escalated to Mari announcing that Jason had a crush on Red Hood on live TV.

It didn’t help that a video of Red Hood and Jason re-enacting Romeo and Juliet with Jason on his apartment balcony and Red Hood on the roof was posted on the internet a few days later. (Thank you, Trixx and Tim’s awesome video editing skills)

Sadly, it was taken down 24 hours later. (Tim and the others have multiple copies of it, on the cloud or hardware, hidden around in the manor and their respective safehouses in the US.)

Some people kidnapped Jason to hopefully gain leverage over the Red Hood and to their dismay and nightmares for years to come, Hellbat came instead.

One lucky and incredibly brave reporter asked why she was there instead of her brother.

Mari being a little shit, “Red Hood may be a tough and scary guy but when it comes to his feelings, my brother is a chicken.”

Pictures of Jason tackling Hellbat somehow never made it into any papers.

The criminal underworld hasn’t taken a hint and Jason has been kidnapped a few more times.

Other times Jason was kidnapped:

Robin: Red Hood made a fool of himself in front of Todd recently and he doesn’t dare to show his face.

Spoiler: He was taking too damn long checking his hair even though I told him that no one was going to see it under his helmet and he was so offended that he is currently sulking in the bathroom.

Red Robin: Red Hood can’t think straight when he is around Jason. I mean have you seen the dude.

Arsenal*during a rare visit to Gotham*: Red Hood owes me one now.

Dick finally ends it by going out as Red Hood and rescuing Jason. Gotham is happy that Redson (Red Hood x Jason) ship has finally sailed.

-------

Kate, Babs, Cass, Steph and Mari were out on Mari’s first girls’ night since her move to the manor.

This is set a little after she came back from Paris with Jason.

They watched rom-com movies, did hair and nails, gossip about the superhero community and bitch and vent to each other.

Marinette off-handedly mentioned the crazy shits she had done during her stint as Ladybug. It started with asking about the T-rex in the Batcave and she mentions jumping into the mouth of a live one before.

Everyone in the room was shocked and after a few more questions, it was obvious that she was very reckless and self-sacrificing. Yep, she was going to fit into this crazy family just fine.

And Holy Shit. There is so much trauma packed into this kid. She needs lots of therapy.

Babs finally decided that they all needed to get out and have some fun. All in their respective suits and they went out.

Joined by Harley, Ivy and Selina.

Plagg came along because I want Plagg to meet Selina.

It was a chaotic night and it was a miracle that Bruce didn’t find out about what the girls did.

-------

Batman and Red Hood were on patrol together when Selina jumped in front of them.

“Hello, Boys”

“What do you want, Catwoman?”

“I want to meet my new prodigy, Kitty Noire.”

Cue Marinette jumping down from her hiding spot, transformed with the Black Cat Miraculous. “Hiya.”

Red Hood carries her like a potato sack and points his gun at the other two.

“Nope, she’s my sister and I called dibs. I adopted her. She’s off limits.”

“Legally, she’s mine.” Batman coughed out.

“I did it first. Emotionally. She’s my emotional support sister. You have plenty kids already, B and Selina, get your own.”

“Hey, I am still here and can hear you.”- Maria

-------

Alya was worried for Lila. She had been acting weirdly for the past month.

She looked very out of sorts. Her clothes weren’t in order and her hair was in disarray. She had bags under her eyes and her eyes looked wild. Lila didn’t look like herself at all.

She jumped at any sound and flinched at really sudden movements.

Alya tried to find out what was wrong with Lila and received vague answers.

One time Lila said that Marinette is to blame.

Alya reaches the somewhat right conclusion that Marinette was haunting Lila and hurting her because Lila used to come to school with bruises and claims that Marinette did it.

Alya goes to Marinette’s grave to desecrate it. (Yeah, go anger the ghost that is haunting someone.)

Unfortunately, the moment she tries to do something, the sky turns dark, clouds appear and the wind begins whipping. A Lightning strike near her and there was a cloaked figure beside her with a scythe.

All Alya saw from the figure was the blood-red lips in a very sharp grin and glowing blue eyes, raising the scythe high before she ran away. The scythe swiped the air where her head once was.

Alya didn’t get far before she tripped and blacked out.

When she woke up, she found herself in the hospital with no idea how she got there.

She was told that somebody found her with a concussion in the park and took her to the hospital.

------

The next one on Mari’s hit list was Natalie.

She wasn’t as involved in the whole thing like Lila, Adrien or Gabriel but she still did it anyways.

Her punishment is a little mild compared to the others and was more of a warning to Gabriel.

Natalie woke up in the middle of the night to see a not-so-dead Ladybug sitting on her vanity chair with the moonlight from the windows illuminating her body and her neck. Her suit was torn exactly like the day of that battle with blood dripping down her arms and from her open wounds. The shadows kept her face hidden but glowing blue eyes stared at her.

Natalie was scared at first. But she regained her normal cool composure.

“I assume you are here to extract your revenge for aiding in your unfortunate demise. But before you kill me, I regret my part in my entire thing and I apologize for everything I have done against you even though I knew it was wrong.”

“At least you show remorse over what you have done. Visiting my grave when even my parents didn’t and leaving flowers. I love those purple hyacinths by the way. Did you know that they mean sorry in the language of the flowers?”

“Why are you stalling my death? Just kill me already.”

“Madam Sancouer. You just played a minor role in my downfall compared to what Adrien and Lila Rossi did to me. And you showed more guilt over your actions than they ever did and Adrien claimed to have loved me. And like I have told the Bats, Death is too swift of a punishment.”

“Who are the bats?”

“None of your concern. You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Lila sees the ghosts of her past and they haunt her. Adrien is in a living nightmare and has no control over his actions and is despised by everyone. What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, since you show some guilt over your actions, let me tell you a little secret. I am not dead. Not really. I mean I did die. But there was a spell in the grimoire that revived me. It took a few days to work.”

Marinette changed to her normal form. It was a little jarring to see an older Marinette Dupain-Cheng sitting on her vanity chair like it was a throne. The Ladybug suit and the wounds were gone. She looked a little familiar.

“Why are you telling me this? What was the point?” Natalie faltered as she wondered why the girl looked familiar. Marinette moved closer and her face was fully illuminated by the moonlight.

“I intend to take everything by which I mean everything from Gabriel Agreste for what he did.”

“M. Agreste just wanted his wife back. You just gave him your Miraculous, you would still have everything.”

“What difference would it make? Sure I had friends and family before but they turned out to be disappointing. I might have become a famous designer like I dreamed of and can't achieve because I died. Besides, he never said about wanting his wife to come back in his tedious monologues. For all we knew back then, he wanted them for world domination. He showed that he would end the world for them. For kwamis’ sake, he nearly started World War III, just for a pair of earring and a ring. He was willing to kill me to have her back. No wait, he did that too. If he actually read the translated grimoire or asked the Guardian or at least someone with magic for help instead or maybe used his head and made some who can heal as his champion using the Butterfly, we wouldn’t even be in this mess. Face it, Mme Sancour, your boss is a power-hungry and very controlling maniac who is also thankfully an idiot.”

“But- he- he just-. You are just a child, what do you know? M. Agreste knew what he was doing.”

“A child who had a normal life up until he tried to ruin it with his idiotic schemes and hiring Lila to do it. A child who had to fight a war on her own.”

“I am sorry you had to go through that but I doubt you and your little revenge rampage is going to solve anything.”

Ghostly Chains wrapped around Natalie’s body, squeezing tight like it was squeezing the life out of her.

“I was all for sparing you, you know. If you had actually listened to my side of the story, you would have spared from my ‘little revenge rampage’. This is going to be a little painful. Sorry about that.” In a tone that was definitely not sorry.

Pain coursed through Natalie’s body. Her skin crawled and itched as pitch back feathers grew out of it. Her bones turned to dust and reformed.

Where Natalie Sancour once was, there was a raven.

An omen of death and destruction for one Gabriel Agreste.

Marinette leaned down towards the raven. Natalie tried to peck her eye out but Marinette held the beak in a firm grip.

“Ah. ah ah. Luckily for you this is temporary. Mostly. Every night, you will assume this shape and each night the longer you will stay in this form. Slowly counting down the days until Gabriel’s downfall. Since you love helping him so much, you are going to help him know how long he has to live. The night you are a raven from sunset to sunrise, that sunrise starts the day Gabriel Agreste will be utterly destroyed.”

She released the beak and headed towards the window.

"Send him my regards."

With that, she was gone.

(Part 6)

[fluorescentbrains]

ok genuinely I'm sorry for bringing this into your inbox but I saw your recent post about this channel & I guess I just need someone to vent to. mr ballen posted a video earlier this month about a case where the victim was a friend of mine. I have no idea if it's one you've watched recently but it has over 6 million views at this point so you might've seen it. I don't follow his channel and haven't seen any of his other videos, it's just that her case has been covered by true crime types several times over the years, I keep an eye on them even though it usually fills me with rage & other mixed emotions (one recent video got her name wrong in the title). fwiw his wasn't the worst I've seen and he plugged her father's charity at the end. I have a real distaste for true crime frankly, I guess for obvious reasons - even the folks who do it to "spread awareness" are really only rehashing the worst and final moments of someone's life, in service of feeding their own brand. then I get to see that people left comments talking about how her music sucks and her parents are bad and weak people for how they responded, a few saying she deserved to die because she was an sjw (in 2013 which was before "sjw" was even in the popular lexicon), and to top it off, several d*pp stans in the pinned comment whining that her father's charity (which is for raising awareness of male on female violence) ignores violence against men. I don't know why I'm sending this, I'm not mad at you or anything it's just a jolt every time I'm reminded. I don't want to leave a comment on the video where it will just get buried and probably piss people off.

she was a great and a WHOLE person and it's hard to describe how surreal and unsettling it is to see her story, and her parents' story, being spread with a "MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY" warning and an 'omg!' reaction thumbnail to literally millions of people, most of whom are just rubberneckers and fans of the channel mindlessly consuming crime content. you seem like a thoughtful person & I guess I'm just trying to tell someone that she was here and people knew her. she was incredibly outgoing and considerate and engaged with the world, socially conscious in a conservative small town before it was cool, genuinely a people person, she always encouraged me to come out of my shell (even though she was a year younger than me). her hair is short in most of the pictures shown in the news but I always remember it long. she was tiny and willowy but had a big personality and always seemed confident. she was a great musician & fledgling composer, every time she came over to my house she'd beeline right to our piano. she taught me how to play Ingrid Michaelson's "The Chain" and we'd sing the round part together. her singing voice at 19 is instinctive and raw and striking and I wish more people had heard it. she really was just getting started. this is a Bon Iver cover of "Skinny Love" that she did that I like to listen to sometimes (she's singing and playing the piano) -

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLSELs5ArN4

this is another song she wrote with a friend:

https://soundcloud.com/ian-nytes-1/resonance?fbclid=IwAR3YIM6D04Vp6miUzizzVOEFcJzbfTxJz8jYsMPoTIaRIKhyqy69g5J7aUQ

i’m really sorry to hear about your friend. honestly the comments on his videos are often pretty awful and victim-blamey no matter how the story is presented in the video. people are always trying to convince themselves nothing in these stories would have happened to them because they would have been tougher or smarter. I hadn’t watched this one; i avoid his true crime videos (and most other true crime content in general) because it does leave a bad taste in my mouth. I looked into it out of curiosity after getting this ask and it is a terribly sad story; I can only imagine how hard it must have been for her family and friends.

for me, seeing someone say anything that i know is misrepresenting/misunderstanding a real thing that happened, even something i’m not that personally invested in, is really maddening and has gotten me into many a blow-out fight, so i can see how watching all of this play out would be incredibly frustrating. i think while it’s pretty normal to have a morbid fascination with scary things that have happened to other people, a lot of the people who watch these videos are just mindlessly consuming, as you say, and have no respect at all for the dead or traumatized. even if content creators try to be respectful, their audience usually isn’t. i’ve rarely seen people pull off respectful true crime content and sadly mrballen is not one of these people; he’s just too clickbaity to cultivate a respectful and restrained audience.

I listened to the music you sent. her voice is very beautiful. it is a shame more people don’t remember her for the person she was rather than the way she died.

[justalost4girl]

" If anything can go wrong, it will."

Good night!! (Here it's still night :p )

A few weeks ago I said I would do a oneshot Lorraine Broughton x F! Reader, but it got too big so I decided to follow the initial idea and turn it into a mini series. I have two chapters written and I'm going to post them here and in Ao3, I think there will be 3 or 4 chapters in total, but I'm not sure yet.

English is not my first language, so all mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!!

warnings: mention of violence, R cursing, forgery of documents (?)

Words: 4573

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1989

Berlin, East Side

You feel in your bones, when you wake up, the consequences of last night and think that the famous Murphy's Law decided to test you. On this side of the wall few things go right, but having an order in your head two days after joining STASI's wanted list proves that nothing is so bad it can't get any worse. Courtesy of a dumb customer who messed with the wrong people and thought revealing where you find your customers would be enough information to escape death. The Local Gang (or Angels, as they call themselves) loves to eliminate competition from the market.

Now he's dead and you have to deal with the STASI AND the Local Gang (you refuse to call them Angels).

The local fucking gang that sent a team of idiots to break into your favorite bar and made you run out the back door before meeting a customer who was going to pay well. The local fucking gang who must be pissed that you shot the six dumbest members you've ever had to face in your life. No really fatal shots, but of course that won't matter as they do business with the KGB.

Sometimes you want to ignore the rules you've made for yourself, especially "never kill someone unless it's in defense of yourself or someone you love", but you think killing six agents who don't have the ability to set up an ambush of success would be a great waste of bullets. Now you know you're going to have to leave town soon and you have no idea how to break the news to your brother/partner, how do you honorably abandon a war before it's over?

Damn Murphy's Law

You know you need to sort this out, but you refuse to stay in bed crying over what's already written and decide to leave the wonderful Egyptian linen sheets you got from your favorite client last month to face the world and it's impossible to face the world without a good amount of coffee. After a quick shower with a cup of Blue Mountain in hand, your newest addiction, you sit in a robe in a nice armchair, look out the window at dying Berlin and thank heaven for the comfortable life you've earned by working with one of the greatest smugglers on this side of the wall, perhaps from all over Germany. Some desperate customers offer you valuable items from them in exchange for passports and unlike your idiot “brother”, you don't have a rule about only receiving cash. Almost everything here comes from gifts, from the sofa, pictures, bags, clothes and even some books on your shelf. You don't even remember buying that cup, or the coffee set, for gods' sake.

If he saw you now he'd complain about being soft with customers and say something about how items aren't a bargaining chip in the real world, you'd get into a tiresome discussion about enjoying the finer things in life and how bills don't compare in the importance of yours. silver chain with moon pendant that was once an amulet for more than three generations for a French family.

At the end of the day, Merkel has a large information network and an office that takes up half the block, where she keeps as much money as she has secrets, and you have a house decorated by other people where each object symbolizes someone you've helped.

Four walls don't make a house

The thought takes away some of the almost peace you feel and you decide to finish your coffee before it gets cold.

After a quick glance at the calendar you remember about the march that will take place in Alexanderplatz square and decide to go scream for Germany one last time, hopefully you'll be able to hide long enough to see the fall of the damn wall that divides this country. It's not your country, not really, you don't even like to remember how you got here, but the experiences you gained wouldn't be exchanged for anything, not even for an original Van Gogh. Also, Merkel asked you to go and bring a black umbrella, the reason was not explained and you didn't feel like asking, sometimes you think Gordon Merkel is not his name, but how to judge the man who is your only family in this end of the world? You smile when you remember that he shouldn't have an umbrella with a story as cool as his and decide to piss him off for it.

Your phone rings, and you notice you've lost track of time. Merkel was helping a blonde woman named L, he didn't give you more details other than a few stories about how she was a perfect and dangerous assassin that you should keep your distance, as few people know how to deal with her. You thought he overreacted, but you had to take over some business from him while she was in town. She seemed important considering the way he told you about her and you knew better than to deny help to the person who always supported you and declared himself a brother, you trusted him because not even the best agent in the world could fake so much sincerity and affection in claiming this title for himself.

You reach out, pick up the phone, and decide to answer it. “Hey little sister, how are you out there? I called to say that everything is fine for dinner today, but there was a mishap and the wine ran out, bring the best Bordeaux you have, I'll return the courtesy as soon as possible." A code, of course.

He needs your services ASAP. Wine is a passport, Bordeaux means two elements, courtesy involves a child.

You can combine business with pleasure "Hi brother. I'm looking forward to today, I'll take the best wine I have, don't worry. I already know how you can thank me. I need to clean the house and go to the office first, but I'll be there on time. wait for me." you say in a voice that oozes normalcy, you never know when someone's listening on the phone especially now that you're a fugitive, disgraced customer. Your body sinks into the armchair noticing the oncoming cloud of worry

Merkel now knows you need his help, as cleaning the house means getting away and going to the office shows you're in a hurry.

"Alright, do you want me to send the driver?" He asks like he's not freaking out and offering the bloody job of one of his mercenaries

“No, bro, thanks, I know the way.” You say as if you really have an escape plan besides getting a fake passport, emergency backpack and all the money you can find.

“See you later, don't forget the wine. Are you sure you don't want the driver?" You wonder if he has forgotten that knowing the way literally means everything is fine

“Relax, see you later” It takes a few seconds for him to hang up and you can hear his sigh.

He will be SO pissed.

You put the phone down as you get up to gather the passport forgery materials and put them in a briefcase. Your cookbook is already there along with some banknotes from different countries. As you pick up the black backpack of standard clothes and accessories that always waited for you in the corner of the door, you decide to wear the first jacket you bought, the dark blue jeans, the combat boots you got from a skinhead, the wristwatch you bought. you got for your brother's birthday, thick leather gloves and a thin white shirt that matches the rest of your outfit. After all, if you can die when you open the door, then die well dressed. Be sure to keep the Colt 1911 around your waist and the Russian dagger around your ankle, after yesterday you never know, Your pocket watch with the coat of arms of the Brazilian imperial family indicates that 15 minutes have passed since Merkel's phone call

You take one last look at the house you've been so proud of in recent years, snap a photo with the Polaroid you've won, and, with a bittersweet smile, close the door. One day when the wall comes down, the government changes and your face is forgotten, you can come back here, until then you will have to make do with the photo album you keep in your backpack and this photo.

Putting on your sunglasses, you arrive on the street and decide to take a taxi on the other corner, make sure you look around before leaving your home, no one knows your address, but you can't be sure the local gang is so stupid to the point of not following you after last night.

Getting a taxi was relatively easy. Neil, the driver, thanks to the boots, mistook you for a revolutionary and talked for 10 minutes about how he hoped he could take down the wall with his bare hands, you thought it was cool, but as you passed the big river that was just a few blocks away from the your brother's office, you couldn't hear a word from him.

A sign signaling that the river was closed to visitors made your eyes fill with tears. You used to go there when the day was bad, spread a blanket in a corner and watch the stars, or just laugh at the distinct reflection the water made of the moon and stars. Merkel accompanied you on anniversaries, justifying them as bonding experiences. After some freaks started swimming in the river and executions increased, STASI took over and you replaced the dark water for the restaurant's bright lights. But seeing it tightly closed gave him a feeling of anguish and rancor. You would silently curse the wall builders for the rest of the trip.

Neil seemed to notice but didn't comment on it, you thanked him, wiped your tears and left a good tip as you descended a block away from your final destination. This time you didn't need to look around because even though Merkel was super busy, he made sure to leave some security close to where your landing place was.

A tall man dressed in a red T-shirt approached you and hugged you as if he hadn't seen you in a long time. You've known him since the beginning of last year, when he arrived at Merkel's office begging for a job, and from the first moment the way he turned grief over his brother's death into a thirst for revolution made you admire the young man. The two of you walked through the great gate hand in hand as you asked about his life with genuine interest, and Klaus increasingly believed in Merkel's theory about you having such a pure heart that you didn't care about motivation or the number of lives they took, your explanation of the judgment not being your responsibility, crossed the man's head before he escorted you to the main office.

You thanked him with a smile, opened the door and stood in front of the table in the windowless room, where your brother was already waiting for you.

"What the hell happened? Are you okay? I was about to send J to get you, please tell me what happened"—he said hurriedly as he got up and pointed at the couch for you to sit on. J was one of the most dangerous women in the building and you were grateful for not wasting her time.

Putting your backpack and umbrella aside, you answered:

"I'll explain later, little brother, now let me help you. You need passports urgently, don't you?" Yes, you were stalling and postponing the conversation. He'd call you an idiot for going out on the street right after you got on the wanted list, and he'd feel guilty when he found out why you didn't tell him. Merkel wasn't going to understand that her fear of failing him was no one's fault but yourself.

Your sentence seemed to give him some responsibility back, but still, as he held out a glass of water for you, his eyes met yours with a glint that warned that this conversation was far from over.

"Yeah, I really do, but don't think I'm going to forget about it. Let's talk when this is all over. Even if it's the last thing I do today."

You accepted the glass with a bit of trepidation and stood up towards the large center table while opening the briefcase with the supplies you were going to need, if Merkel noticed the bills he didn't say anything. Once at the table, you made two passports for mother and daughter in record time. According to the clock, 10 minutes passed, faster than a car, this deserves a celebration. It would have been six if Merkel hadn't been so curious to make you waste time pulling your watch out of your pocket just for him to analyze.

Everything was going well and there was only one last detail for mother and daughter to be taken by one Percival to the other side of the wall. Percival, according to Merkel, was strange and fickle. Unreliable and extremely dangerous, you should also keep your distance from him, as this man had crucial contacts on both sides of the wall.

"He must have fewer contacts than you", you would answer

If a loud noise didn't break the silence

The annoying noise of the door creaking made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you almost missed the last signature, it made your body vibrate with irritation and your eyes follow to the offensive source of the sound. A tall man with short hair and blue eyes was holding the doorknob with a military posture and before you could release your anger and explain something about how people shouldn't be violent inside Merkel's office you noticed he was accompanied by a woman.

AND WHAT A WOMAN!

Your eyes connected to a pair of fierce, intent green eyes, surrounded by a pale skin tone and hair so blond it looked like snow. The barely perceptible frown showed she was surprised to find someone other than Merkel there, yet she looked ready for a battle. You looked into her eyes again and nodded in acknowledgment, this must be L, the woman he was talking about.

She looked at you suspiciously, but also as if she could see into your soul, and what must have been frightening, you found endearing. A few stories of murders orchestrated by her crossed your mind, but all you could imagine is how beautiful she must be when she's mad.

They say green eyes darken when we're high on adrenaline, does that happen to her?

Her analysis of the intriguing blonde ends when she notices that the man accompanying her has raised his voice and from his furious expression, it's not the first time he's repeated the question. You interrupt him before you hear him and make sure to direct the ghost of anger before him:

"Have you lost your mind? Who walks into the office without knocking? Surely you should be here asking about passports, but if it weren't for my experience and steady hands, they would be in the trash by now. Learn to be civilized. You're under two paws not four, so act human and not animal" you say in an explosive but articulate tone to make sure he understands what you say. Sometimes when you speak fast, you are betrayed by faulty diction. Not today. Today you want this man to feel every fiber of irritation that went through his body.

Hearing Merkel holding a nervous laugh, you try to relax, but judging by the cold, almost murderous look of the man in the doorway, you've definitely gotten yourself in trouble. Looking at the organized clothes, you notice it's an old police uniform, probably taken by your brother, and unless Merkel has hired new employees, you've never seen it around here. His eyes snap back to his and something inside you warns that this must be Percival. He probably wants to kill you.

Damn Murphy's Law

A brief silence settles in the room and you shake off the fear and turn away, refusing to play the glaring game with a man who almost spoils your art. On other days you might look at him at a party, but today you want to make him swallow the ink on the stamp in his hands and invite the blonde to dinner

And it's her voice that breaks the silence.

You're flipping through the two passports for failures when she says

"Sorry, miss. My friend is an unprecedented idiot. Shall I close the door and knock again? Perhaps your highness too--"

You turn her body towards her when you hear the slightest hint of irony in her tone and interrupt her with a fake smile as you look into her eyes.

"It's not necessary, I accept your apology, Miss. I always said that Merkel should have someone armed at the door to remind everyone of the need to knock on the door. Anyone who didn't knock would lose his mind as the law of my reign says. Perhaps I should start. for him, since the top head is the last thing he wears lately" you joke look at Merkel who doesn't seem offended by the statement, shrugging you look at those blue eyes again and say "the passports are ready. Let's get out of here."

You close the passports, reach for your backpack and umbrella and start moving towards the door, both agents let you lead the way and judging by the blonde's expression, she's not used to being interrupted, nor is she used to seeing someone talking like that with Merkel, but today it was acceptable. You really think she's adorable, but you know better than to let someone make fun of you, especially in front of your brother who wouldn't let you forget about it. Either she doesn't care, or she's a great actress. Anyway, that idiot is still by her side and you refuse to be the reason for his possible laugh.

Her friend probably didn't have the same acting classes and his resemblance to the local gang members, like he's going to kill you in the blink of an eye in a cowardly way, is almost frightening. If Merkel hadn't said L is a woman, you'd be scared. It makes you shiver a little and look for Merkel, but he's not following you. Looking over his shoulder you see him putting a few more piles of dollars and euros into your briefcase. With a snap of your fingers you get his attention and before you walk out the door, you hear the briefcase click closing.

Once out of the room, you look around and realize that nothing has really changed, all faces are familiar, except for three people: a couple talking to a child. After a brief analysis you find yourself facing the passport clients, mother and daughter. The man doesn't look older than 60 and has kind eyes, almost as if he doesn't live on this side of the wall.

They don't seem to notice you

Your observation is interrupted by Merkel's loud, proud voice, right behind you. Here it comes

"This is Elizabeth Loyd and Percival, two trusted clients. Elizabeth and Percival, this is my little sister, she will be on the march today, if you need anything in the future you can talk to her."

Hearing her name, you notice that Merkel really wasn't creative at all. Who would use the initial letter of a surname as a symbol? Anyone who heard the stories about L and met a loyde who knows a Merkel would make the connection. As you turn around, you swallow your nervousness and try to put on your best smile as you say your name to them. The blonde woman who finally has a name, Elizabeth, leans closer, her eyes never leaving yours, and you wonder if she can feel the jumble of emotions that is unraveling inside you.

She smiles a smile that makes you sure she does and reaches out and greets you with a firm grip, if she noticed the sweat on your hands, she didn't let on. She also looks a little more comfortable.

Maybe because she noticed you said her real name, idiot.

You hate yourself for one second and the next you want to be without gloves because it feels soft and warm.

The man, Percival, comes next and looks at you suspiciously and the smile fades from your face, you wonder if no one else can smell the strong smell he gives off, a smell of cheap whiskey and arrogance. Still, he holds out his hand and this time you thank the gods for the gloves. Make sure you don't bow your head or fail in your posture. He still looks at you like you killed his son. Useless even to pretend, for God's sake.

Merkel watches the exchange from afar and nods to Elizabeth, she responds and Percival walks away looking uneasy. You look around uncomprehendingly, feel a little left out, and wonder which computer must have Tetris installed.

You would kill for a distraction right now.

Going out on the street in a crowded march while being chased by two groups still makes you sick.

Your brother approaches and extends his hands around you. You've missed him for the past few weeks. He still wears the perfume you gave him for his birthday and it makes you sink deeper into the hug. You know he's going to be mad when he finds out what happened so you enjoy as much affection as you can

"Little sister, in addition to our conversation I need to tell you something" his voice is low in tone and you doubt you would understand the words if you weren't so close to him "but I can't do that until the march is over. Meet me at usual table at the restaurant where we celebrate our achievements, It's very important"

His even low voice is charged with strong emotion and you are genuinely worried, Merkel has never been like this before.

"I'll do it, brother, I promise. Whatever it is, we can work it out together" you say with all the certainty you can muster in your voice, because you need him to understand that this is true.

You feel eyes on you and as you look up you notice that Elizabeth keeps an eye on your exchange with Merkel while talking to the little girl's father, from the distance she probably can't understand anything and you don't know if she celebrates or cares with so much attention received. A little further away is a Percival who pretends to be busy with the coat he's wearing. He also pays attention to your exchange, but his talent for discretion is as effective as his ability to open doors.

Your eyes return to the concentrated blue eyes that are in front of you and Merkel speaks in an almost inaudible way:

"When I whistle, I need you to raise your open umbrella and stay alert. The three people we're going to cross are very important, nothing can go wrong. But if it does, I'll be at the restaurant, whatever happens find me there."

Noticing the proximity of Percival and Elizabeth, you place your hand on your brother's shoulder and smile as you speak a little louder:

"Don't worry man, it's always a pleasure to help you. I'll leave my briefcase here, then meet you to get it. Good march."

Merkel shows that she understands his strange move and smiles, you greet some friends of his that you haven't seen in a while and as you head towards the exit, you meet a pair of deep green eyes. Elizabeth is gleaming in the cold lights that are refracted by the mosaic of the gate, she looks into your eyes, ever alert, looks at the object in your hands and nods her head with a half smile, do you think the guard's idea black rain was hers.

As you wave back, you can feel that a pair of eyes haven't left your back since the moment of your brother's embrace, as the old man is saying goodbye to the family, you know who they belong to and decide not to look for them. If the STASI, KGB or local gang find you, he doesn't own the pair of eyes you want to remember before you die.

Taking a deep breath, you walk through the gate and blend into the crowd.

..........................................................................................................................

After leaving Merkel's office block, you take a hat out of your backpack and wear your sunglasses as you look around, not that a local gang member is here but because if he sees you in disguise he will ask a series of questions and he has enough problems already, plus STASI must be monitoring this area and the last thing you want is to be arrested. You decide to tuck your coat into your backpack to change your look, and while internally debating your ability to ignore the cold, your eyes catch the almost snowy blond hair in the crowd.

This signals that they are already on the march and you decide to get a little closer to them, but make sure you do this without drawing attention to yourself since the nasty man is still there. Elizabeth is on your diagonal absorbing all the extraneous details that might be a possible threat, she seems so focused on the job of passing the owner's gentle eyes in a safe way that it makes you wonder how important he is and if she's noticed you.

A few meters later a familiar noise floats through the march and you open the umbrella almost instantly, as do other protesters.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Percival taking the man's family across and sometime later Elizabeth does the same. You notice that her posture has changed and when she decides to stop for a better look, the crowd drags her and you can no longer locate her.

Her feet continue forward and as some signs are raised by the protesters, you try to find your brother. Unsuccessfully. You decide to trust their ability and hope that you can meet him again at the restaurant.

You also want Elizabeth to be okay.

Continuing on the march, after two or three long blocks you notice the familiar silhouette of one of the STASI bosses, he is watching the crowd as if looking for someone, but he doesn't seem to notice you. You notice observers on top of buildings and decide to leave the streets. Whether it's the Local Gang, KGB or STASI itself you don't know and decide you don't want to know.

Your brain tries to design routes to escape and your body mimics the movements of the closest protesters so as not to draw attention to you, but when some agents in black point in your direction and make space in the crowd, you run between people to seek shelter in somewhere you know and at every step you are sure that the day will be worse than you thought.

Damn Murphy's Law