#tiny me would also be horrified of that and I think that’s a good sign

[gods-favorite-autistic]

I take a small bit of pride in the idea that tiny me would be just a bit horrified by me now

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

(for the bean) So I've been wondering. Since you sometimes draw yourself doing things that Peppino would do, it made me think about how your character (and maybe fake bean) would work as a playable character to in pizza tower. What abilities would you have that make you different from Peppino or Gustavo?

(Ooh! A good question! I have thought about this a few times, as I did consider actually making a mod (but then I realised I do not know anything about coding or game development, I just make da silly pictures fjhsdkjsd)

I imagine them as a duo, like Gustavo and Brick! But instead of riding on them, Fake Bean would chill in a backpack until needed

Bean can only go up to Mach 2 speed, but they'd have a comically large tablet pen that can turn into other things like big hammer for smashing and whacking. And with that pen, they'd be able to draw things into the world, like projectiles and tiny allies to help out!

Fake Bean would be able to go up to Mach 4, so they would be the source of the speed and wall breaking, while Bean hangs on for dear life. They'd kinda work like Fake Peppino, with stretchy limbs and tongue attacks, and be able to squeeze through very small spaces and climb walls

Only Bean would get transformations, like 'The Squeak' (a costumed version of Bean ala The Noise/Noisette) who can flap, glide and use a sound based attack, or Werewolf Bean, who can go Mach 3 and smash through walls with their big paws, but they'd require a continued combo to keep the transformation (which I guess would be easy if going for a P-Rank hehe)

Bean's idle animations would be pulling out a sketchbook to draw, hand flapping stim, biting on a chew toy, and smoothing back their hair curl, and their taunts would be that peace sign pose, a hair-down Bean, the Garfield pose, and probably one like Peppino's shirtless rose-in-the-mouth pose, but I am not very sexy like him jhsdksd

Fake Bean's idles would be peeking out of Bean's backpack (when in the backpack), sniffing around for snacks, pulling out a cake/other food to swallow like a snake, showing off their 'knowing' eyes (when they are pink and purple), and probably doing something horrifying. I am not sure on their taunts, but they'd probably be similar to Bean's but like off?

The collectable might be different too, but I am also not sure! Maybe the Toppins would be tiny versions of some of my favourite OCs hehe

Huh, I have put more thought into this than expected, gjsdasdl)

[genderstealer2000]

How do you start gender hoarding? I know that it might sound like a stupid question, but you see, I live in a place where trans people and nbs are looked down upon but lesbians and gays are ok. (rural Australia)

I felt weird coming out to my bf as a demigirl( I am AFAB) and he knows I’m a furry, but doesn’t know about my alter humanity (questioning therian)

So my view of gender is very “traditional” and where I live there’s only really female, male, trans and (very rare) nonbinary. I also have highly suspected autism/ self diagnosed yet I don’t see gender in a way I hear people with autism do, probably due to my upbringing

I want to know from a person like you who knows the “newer” ways of gender how I should gender hoard and not stick myself to just the traditional genders

its not a stupid question at all!! ill do my best to answer! so i identify as agender transmasc. agender goes under the trans umbrella and nonbinary, but i dont see myself as gender neutral i just have no gender. now going more into the transmasc, just means i feel more masculine. doesnt really effect the way i present my gender any differently, hmm i guess i dont really know how to explain it. i dont understand the concept of gender, i dont understand a lot of social constructs, i honestly think its sort of unneeded. my gender is complex in the most noncomplex way, its vast and its tiny. ive made my own genders based off of feelings and intrests, i think thats the best way to get started with genderhoarding. making your own ideas, analyzing yourself. (personally its helped me become more aware of who i am!) imaginationnnnn!! creativity!! make something up, no ones stopping you! the way i view gender is its what makes you, you. it doesnt have to make sense to anyone but you. it doesnt have to make sense! some of the things i tie in with my gender are the rustling of leaves in a forest, fog in the early morning, large fields, chaotic music, soft stuffed animals, the smell of pavement after it rains, soft piano music, acoustic guitar, the moon some of those things are real different!! and those are some of the things that i view my gender as! i think its a lot easier too with the internet, theres a ton of people who have similar ideas and interests so they also make genders, sexualities, and flags to go along with them.

i have a board on pinterest that i frequently add stuff to, i could link it here if you would like! i also save just anynthing that pops up if it remindes me of my friends or it seems cool. it doesnt mean i identify with it, but its cool to read about them! i keep track of them in a notebook as well!! my genders relate to my hyperfixations, mostly. Hyperfixations and anything that i can relate too! ex. horrormasc: a masculine aligned horrorgender. fits both definitions (1: a horrifying/all over the place gender, and 2: a gender related to different horror genres) raingender: a xenogender connected to the rain scenekid/scene neutral, oldwebemoic, onlineboyic, endspacic etc, etc. dont feel rushed at all to tell your boyfriend! when i started feeling more comfortable telling people, i made sure to have articals pulled up to read, notes etc. so it would be easier to sort me thoughts? get it out more smoothly. i also wanted to talk about self-diagnosing!! i hear so much negative about it, but honestly, its good to research and try and find out things about yourself. that my opinion. and not for longterm, just for a bit until you can get evaluated. gahhhhh self diagnosing is valid and it makes me so mad to see people who think its not. granted, some people to just see a couple things and "oh yup got that" but when you really spend time looking at signs, symptoms, traits it can be very beneficial in the long run, and also just to check before you go get evaluated also i apologize if this is insanely long, or if it makes no sense. im sleep deprived, im trying to fall asleep gahh i hope this helped even a little bit!! if you want me to expand on anything or explain anything further feel free to dm me!

[thebanishedreader]

Ongoing Book Review: Dead Inside (Chandler Morrison) Pt. 1

I take way too long to finish books since I read like 7 at a time, so I have decided to start posting my thoughts and reviews as I go along. Also, that way I can actually commit to posting these reviews once I finish the book, which is yet another thing the commitment devils have kept me from accomplishing.

Anyhow, though, here we go: the first ongoing review will cover what I have read so far of Dead Inside by Chandler Morrison.

(CW: mentions of necrophilia, cannibalism, and sex. NSFW I guess).

Description by Seller (amazon.com): "A young hospital security guard with a disturbingly unique taste in women. A maternity doctor with a horrifically unusual appetite. When the two of them meet, they embark on a journey of self-discovery while shattering societal norms and engaging in destructively aberrant behavior. As they unwittingly help each other understand a world in which neither seems to belong, they begin to realize what it truly means to be alive... And that it might not always be a good thing."

Here I am, 15% through the book. I know it's not far, but honestly, it's far enough. All I have to say is-- wow. Wow.

This book kinda sucks. Just an all-around drag. A bore, but not the pleasant boring drawl of a lecturer putting you to sleep. The harrowing, suffocating boredom of having to work a shift with that coworker that you hate, that makes you cringe so hard that it's not even entertaining to hate them anymore. Get me out of here. That's how this book feels.

For a book constantly boasting how readers say it's "not for the faint of heart," it's surprisingly underwhelming. I'm frankly disappointed, and yet this book keeps embarrassing itself so much within only 15% that I can't even be angry at myself for falling into its trap.

My reasoning falls into 3 categories: Let-Down, Cringe, and Excuses.

First things first - I was expecting something raunchy, something gruesome and disturbing. I'm not one of those people who shies away from Dead Dove content, far from it. I love that shit. Literature is a place to explore the dangerous, the taboo, the fucked up-ness of being a person. So, finding a book that pledged it was disgusting, disturbing, and medically horrifying? Sign me up. This book is... not that.

What was promised to be a horror novel that pushes the boundaries of what is too much horror, what toes the line between gratuitous and entertaining, this novel relies on one thing: shock value. And the biggest bummer for that tactic is this: if your audience is not shocked, then there is nothing left supporting the narrative.

Dead Inside relies entirely on the audience not being familiar with horror stories or even true crime stories involving necrophilia or cannibalism. The concept of a perverted security guard using his power to violate corpses is supposed to be mortifying, unbelievably despicable. Yet for a seasoned horror fan, it's nothing short of lame. Juvenile, almost. There is hardly any risk when our security guard goes into a morgue which he holds the key to, wherein there are no security cameras, where he can do whatever he pleases, lay on the floor afterwards, and go back to work-- in a tiny, unbusy hospital. It's boring, it's lame, who gives a shit if this weirdo gets his rocks off in weird ways; it's horrible to think of it happening in real life to the body of a loved one, certainly, but this is horror literature. Stephen King would have had worms crawling up the dude's dick and blossoming into a parasite that whispers in his ear until he castrates himself. Chandler Morrison just has our (I hate to even call him this) protagonist fuck a corpse. Cool, I guess.

2. Number Two. Let's talk Cringe Factor.

This narrator is unbearable. Unbearable. He sounds like the stereotype of a discord edgelord who is narrating this book with the sole purpose of scaring off the normies. He relishes in saying gross things, being gross, all while acting as if he is so much more sophisticated than he is.

It doesn't help that the book is narrated in first person. This goes back to how I described the experience of reading Dead Inside to be equivalent to working a shift with a coworker that is very much not your friend who disrespects you the same way a friend would tease. It's just plain oblivious. Our necrophiliac incel narrator is the epitome of the Riverdale meme where Jughead says "I'm weird. I'm a weirdo. I don't fit in. And I don't want to fit in." Like, Christ man, we get it, you don't shower and your hair is greasy and people don't want to be around you not because you're "weird", but because you're inconsiderate and unhygienic and put 0 effort into anything whatsoever. Having to listen to the narrator's commentary on how he's aware how disturbing his own actions are, how he knows the ordinary person would see him as a freak, it's just so lame. That's the only word I have for it, really. Just completely and utterly lame. This novel reads with the same tone as a Reddit incel jerk-off posting about Elliot Rodger. It's just pathetic, but there's no pity there. It's entirely self-induced patheticness that the narrator excuses as being "unique."

It's fine to have characters in books that are frustrating, irritating, that make you just want to smack them upside the head for yapping too long. But it's never a good sign when the person I want most desperately to shut the fuck up is the narrator. It's not good writing if my method of making the narrator quit talking is closing the book and contemplating whether or not it's even worth finishing. Extraordinarily poor quality character. But it's not intentional - we are supposed to find this character disturbing, threatening, and eerily fucked up. We're supposed to wonder why he got this way, and what it will take to break him. We are supposed to hate him, and relish in his demise. I feel nothing but exasperation from this man. The simplest way to resolve my hatred for him is to close the book and put it away. I don't give a fuck what happens to him. I don't think he even deserves my attention, and he's the narrator. This is bad.

3. And finally. Excuses.

This complaint is a short, but prudent one. The writing quality is mediocre at best. One of the biggest rules of any creative work, but particularly writing, art, and filmmaking, is that your audience is smarter than you think. Leave things open for interpretation. Leave opportunity for ponderance, and analysis. Show, don't tell.

Dead Inside is all tell, with nothing to show. Our narrator is a loser, but Morrison doesn't let us own it. Instead, excuses are made; the most infuriating example of this is after our narrator has finished fornicating with a poor, lifeless victim. The section goes:

"... but my lovers are all equipped with the best birth control the world can offer. As in, dead reproductive systems. I know that goes without saying, but I like to say it." (p. 21)

If it goes without saying, then don't say it. The segment would have been entirely fine without that last remark; if anything, it would have been better, and bolstered the narrator's character as a whole! And this is only one of the outright examples I have of this characterization.

The bitter, dark humor of our narrator would have been brilliantly given if the quote ended at "dead reproductive systems." We would have been left with the pure objectification and lack of emotion our narrator possesses, how he sees dead bodies purely as anatomical tools for his own peak control and pleasure, his own performance. We as the audience would have been victims of him as well, subjected to listen to the gross things he says and does and entirely unable to resist it-- pure puppets for his sick fantasies, just like the corpses he violates. It would have illustrated an actual level of mystique and unsettling nature to the relationship between narrator and narrated and audience. The novel's ongoing themes of fetish and object, the definitions of violation, it all would have been so interesting if only the narrator didn't say something so juvenilely self-aware every five seconds, like he's vying for our attention and approval. Look!!, Morrison makes our narrator constantly wave his hands in our face like a child, Look!! Isn't that fucked up!! Look at how fucked up I can be! Tell me I'm gross, tell me I'm weird!! Look at how gross that is, right!! That's scary, right??

No. It's annoying, and it gets old before it even got a chance to start.

Again, I'm 25 pages into a 191 page book. It's mid as fuck. I hope it turns around, but I don't think it will-- I can see from only 15% where this story is going, I bet I can plot out most if not the entire rest of the book. I think the concept is one spooky "what-if" that goes no deeper than that. Honestly, I'm really disappointed. I wanted to be disturbed. I don't have much motivation to keep reading this book except the pervasive nagging of my soul to finish most books I pick up. Plus, I want to know if I'm wrong about how dog this has so far turned out to be.

If you made it this far, holy shit. Congrats. You're running the Athens marathon by reading this. You're amazing. I'm giving you a small kiss on the forehead.

[fourseasonsfigs]

Good Sword

This fig set! I got it a long time ago, but it took so much wrangling I'm just now getting around to writing this post.

We know the inspiration for this fig from this amazing scene in Episode 2:

There's a lot of delicate pieces on this fig set - Lao Wen's hairpin, his flying hair wispies, and of course A-Xu's Baiyi, so I'm happy this fig set arrived safely in it's protective polystyrene.

I love it when figs are in plastic like this - they make it super easy to remove from the box. Less worry about breakage from me for sure.

Let's do a quick spin around of these two figs before we connect them.

Beautiful! I love this set - it's a slightly different style than the more typical chibi style, a little more "grown up". There's some wonderful detail of the bamboo embroidery on Wen Kexing's white robes, and on his ginkgo hairpin. A-Xu of course is in his hobo best, with his drinking gourd and layered blue robes.

So here's the problem. They're very difficult to fit well together. The fig maker was horrified to hear that some fans broke Baiyi by mistake, trying to get the two figs to connect together. She issued instructions to the buyers on how to connect them, but I have to say, they didn't help me all that much.

One of the issues is that Wen Kexing's two fingers that are supposed to hold the blade - don't. The fingers are tiny and cute, as you can see by him flashing a peace sign there, and not in any way big enough for Baiyi to snap into. You can press the sword a little bit into the fingers, but it pops right out. I guess if his fingers were actually big enough to hold Baiyi, they'd be comically large, so I get it!

You can see when I actually put them together so the sword goes in the fingers, that the heights are off. When I push Lao Wen down or A-Xu up so both of their feet are on the same level, the sword pops right out. Also, the wispies on Lao Wen's hair block A-Xu from getting too close, and then you have Lao Wen's hand that (in the show) wraps around his waist, but here, just seems to hold his drinking gourd.

This is literally the only way I can get the figs to fit together. You see Lao Wen's wispy that's running into A-Xu's hair? I was worried about breaking that putting them together. I was worried about breaking Baiyi of course. I was also worried about breaking Lao Wen's fingers! You can see now why I've put off doing anything with this set for a while. I ended up gluing the figures down, then put a bit of glue between Lao Wen's fingers and then holding the sword between his fingers for about 6 minutes until the glue set. You can see how Baiyi is more wavy than a curve - that's because the heights didn't quite work out. In retrospect and looking at this picture, maybe I should have angled Baiyi down from the top a bit so the tip was pointed down - less parallel to the base.

But! All that aside, it finally all worked out with no damage, so I'm very happy! Let's give you a spin back around the pair now that they're not going anywhere:

You can see Lao Wen's wispy here that kept getting in the way. I kept trying to turn A-Xu a little more into Lao Wen's hand, so his hand would properly go around his waist, but that of course just rotated Baiyi even further out. You can see here how, as it is, the sword tip just barely is being held between Lao Wen's fingers. If I rotated A-Xu the other way, away from Lao Wen (which just sounds wrong!), then Lao Wen's hand and that wispy gets in the way.

In the shot in the show, they both truly are facing forward, so the fig maker did a really nice job translating this to fig form. I think it must get real complicated real fast when you try to design figs like this to fit each other - I've seen how easy it is to get the proportions of arms and hands off, so the fact that this set adheres to closely to the scene while remaining cute and delicately made is amazing.

They're both wearing their pants and boots, you just can't see A-Xu's because of the dark blue layers. Their feet are also very, very small and narrow, which complicated things as well because they aren't very stable figs even before you try to connect them together.

Looks pretty good from the top, I think!

Here's a comparison of our Good Sword figs with our wonderful Dirty Bag and Snow Maiden figs so you can see the typical fig proportions with this new body style. Much smaller and more delicate all the way around. I love them both!

Our very cute box card with Lao Wen delivering his line...with a little smile!

It's funny the bits of Chinese I've picked up from the show, as I slowly and painfully plod my way through Learn Rudimentary Chinese in 15 Minutes a Day for Working Adults. Thanks to my lessons, I can say things like, I eat noodles, and I am busy in the morning. Thanks to Word of Honor, I can say things like Good sword, and I am a philanthropist.

We've already done the New Year Wenzhou set here on the box...just two more to go in this series! Please look forward to it!

Material: Resin and a very good sword

Fig Count: 397

Scene Count: 27

Rating: Thanks for helping out, Philanthropist Wen!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[thorn-91]

Bittersweet death

chapter 4

Word count: 1,127

Alone

It felt like her head was spinning when she woke, the room also seemed to be blurry. It took a few seconds for her vision to steady before she realized that she was back inside. Trying to sit up felt like a challenge, her whole body felt heavy.

“I wouldn't try getting up so quickly.” A voice spoke from behind.

Turning her head slowly she squinted her eyes in the dimly lit room. Once her eyes adjusted she realized that it was master Ubuyashiki on the other end of the room. She tried to speak but her head started to spin once again.

“What happened?...” she mumbled through the dulling pain.

Kagaya walked to the girl's side and kneeled next to her. “When I tried to ask what was troubling you… you began to breathe fast… I think you were having a panic attack. Then shortly after you fainted. I brought you back inside, but you haven't been asleep for too long.” His words sounded full of concern and worry for the young girl. She looked sleep deprived and dehydrated.

Izanami sat up straighter trying to calm her mind. After a few short breaths she looked over to kagaya.

“thank you… you really haven't heard from my family at all?” Her eyebrows lowered and pulled closer together. Small tears formed in her eyes waiting for an answer.

Kagaya gave her another apologetic look. “As I said before I am unaware as to what is happening. I have searched the entire estate for your family but they don't seem to be here.”

Pausing shortly then asking, “Izanami I know you are just waking up, but you really must explain to me what is going on.”

Izanami’s stomach began to twist and turn. Remembering what had happened. She had hoped that it was all just a dream, but when she woke up and saw master Ubuyashiki she realized that it was no dream.

“My … my mother and siblings started to vomit blood the night that you had visited. My father had rushed me to get the cart while my grandparents carried my siblings …” her tears began to flow more rapidly when she recalled the horrifying event.

But she continued.

“I tried to go with them… but my father stopped me from going…” her voice cracked and her mouth felt dry.

“ I waited for them to come back all day but… but no one came. no one has been here but me since last night.” she lowered her head in silence and stared at the sheets bunched at her knees.

Kagaya frowned at the terrible news. But it was the mention of the blood that grabbed his attention. When he had visited the other night everyone seemed happy and healthy. Not a sign of illness. Sudden vomiting of blood?…. That sounded a lot like when he first started feeling the symptoms of his own illness. Regardless this wasn't a good sign, and with so many demon sightings in the past few months in the surrounding area… he didn't have a good feeling.

And if they haven't returned since that night… I fear what has kept them from home for so long…

He would have to send out people to make sure. Although he couldn't necessarily do that without members asking too many questions. Crows would be the safer option.

But that would have to wait, he had to make sure that Izanami was okay. He would have to stay with her for a little while to make sure she didn't also start feeling ill.

And with Izanami not saying anything and her shallow breath he could only assume that she had fallen asleep again.

Kagaya sat in the quiet room a little while longer to make sure that he could leave the girl to rest alone. Quietly he got up and walked out into the courtyard of the estate. He was greeted by one of his daughters who had gone to fetch water for Izanami.

He walked further into the yard and stood near a small pond. He could hear the gentle drops of water made by the tiny waterfall. Raising his head to the sky, his thoughts wandered to Izanami's father. Him and Genkei had been friends for as long as he could remember. His father had brought Kagaya to the Hikari estate before when he was a young boy. Kagaya was surprised to learn about the strange family who lived on the mountain… swarming with demons.

When he and Geneki first met, Genkei took him all over the estate. Showing him all his favorite hiding places and teaching him some games he liked to play.

The two had become friends over a very short period of time. Kagaya would beg his father if he could come along on his monthly trips to the Hikari Manson. It wasn't until Kagaya turned 16 that he and his father stopped visiting the family.

Kagaya would often exchange letters with Genkei from time to time just to keep in touch. Most of their letters were discussions about demons and their families. And when word of Genkei's engagement was heard, Kagaya wanted to congratulate him in person.

Unfortunately it was around the time when he first started to feel the symptoms of the curse, and he was unable to go and see his friend's wedding in person.

Years had passed before the two met again face to face. Only exchanging letters, but even that was becoming increasingly less when Kagaya's father passed away, making him master of the demon slayer corps.

With years of no word between the two, Kagaya was sent a letter from Genkei inviting him to meet to catch up and introduce him to his first born, Izanami.

All which seemed like forever ago, and now to hear that his closest friend had gone missing and potentially…dead, was a lot to take in at once.

“Father Miss Izanami has woken up again, and is requesting you.”

Turning his head in the direction of his daughter's voice he smiled. “I will be right over. Could you please bring another pitcher of water, and possibly find something for Miss Izanami to eat? I believe the kitchen is down the longest hall

”She gave a quick “mhm” for a response and left quickly.

Before returning he gazed in the direction of the bright light of the moon.

The smell of rain filled his nose, and with a cool breeze setting in he could only assume that it would rain soon.

Soft droplets of water fell upon his face. Extending his hand outwards he felt more of the tiny cold pricks along his palm. With a heavy sigh he turned around and walked back inside to speak with the young girl.

End of chapter

Thank you for reading!

[cloudenthusiast2]

To be a human - Scaramouche x reader - Part 7 (Final)

You knew committing to a relationship with Scaramouche would be no easy task but you loved him dearly and unlike others, you believed he wasn't evil. But as a mortal and the devoted protector of your village you were too much of a good person, too much of a human compared to him and your differences slowly start to show.

Previous: Part 6

Length: 4000 words

Trigger warnings: blood, mentions of loss

A. note: Scaramouche is my favourite character in the game and I really love him. But I couldn't help and feel awful when he said those words in Inazuma. Look, I don't think that Mihoyo is gonna let the huge opportunity slip and not make him playable (for which we need to have at least a tiny bit of friendship with him and well, right now mc straight up hates him) but in case that does happen, in case he doesn't get a redemption arc, I made one myself. I wrote this to redeem him in my own, and hopefully your eyes as well. I hope you enjoyed reading this story of that little bastard as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It was fair to say that Scaramouche was stunned by the sight of the local people.

Certainly not because he suddenly grew fond of them. It was rather because the way they appeared out of blue when little Yu gave them a sign. She let out three short whistles and the forest came to life in front of the harbinger.

Old men and woman, little children and whole families walked towards them. It was clear even for Scaramouche that they looked uneasy and hostile. They surely wouldn’t have appeared in front of the fatui if it wasn’t for Yu.

The sixth harbinger was astonished.

Because they would trust someone, especially a child so much.

Because there were so many of them.

He counted the people walking towards Yu. Way more than he’d thought there would be.

These people were injured, dirty and exhausted. But they were alive. And all because of one person.

‘Impressive’ he thought to himself.

Yu talked to them, explaining why the fatui was there and promising that they’re not in danger any more. The people seemed less at ease in his presence now but the harbinger still felt the piercing gazes. If looks could’ve killed he would have been dead in an instant.

He knew they all blamed him for the things that had happened. Maybe they even thought he was the one who made the abbys attack their village.

But Scaramouche got used to these types of glances during the years and he did not care about them any more. All that mattered was that they were able to help.

He stood behind little Yu who was still clinging onto her doll. Scaramouche stared at the bloodstains on the toy as she asked the people of Qingce to help find you.

The thought to promise them money crossed his mind but the instantly threw it away. He just somehow felt that it would be very wrong.

These people won’t help him because he can pay them. They won’t help because Yu asked them to either. They will help because you had been guarding them for years.

Mentioning your name caused them to stir up, to get loud and the all of a sudden the whole crowd was ready to go and search in the mountains.

It was obvious how much they loved and respected you. Maybe even more than Scaramouche used to, he realized.

Yu turned to him and nodded.

‘I think we can go now.’

‘How are you going to search everything?’ the harbinger asked as he crouched down to the child. It wasn’t needed since he wasn’t much taller than her but it felt like the right thing to do.

Yu’s eyes wandered to the hat. She reached out and gently touched it.

Scaramouche normally would’ve ended the person who messed with his hat but when the child did it, he somehow felt no urge to do so.

‘It’s because so many people are watching’ he explained to himself. But it still felt a bit weird not being annoyed.

He cleared his throat so Yu would focus on him again.

‘We know this place well’ she answered, letting her arms fall back to her side. ‘We will split up and warn each other if we find something.’

‘My people are out too.’

‘Then call them back.’

The harbinger glared at the child. She really was fearless, wasn’t she, huh. First touching his hat and now disrespecting the fatui.

‘You know…’ he crossed his brows as he began to speak but Yu quickly cut him off.

‘Everyone is afraid of them. And they’ll just be in the way. They don’t know the mountains, do they?’

Scaramouche clenched his teeth together. But he had to admit that the girl was right.

He stood up and walked towards the agents standing by a nearby bridge. They were there since the people appeared to make sure they don’t try to do anything to their harbinger.

He gestured to bring them closer then stood and crossed his arms.

‘First, I want to know how a big group of fatui agents were unable to find anyone when there was a whole village hiding in the forest’ he questioned them with a glare.

The agents were bowing already but now they bowed even deeper.

‘F-forgive us, our lord!’ a pyro agent answered. ‘They’re locals and we…’

‘Spare your apologies, I don’t care.’

Scaramouche closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. He really didn’t care, he only snapped at them to let out a little frustration.

‘Call back everyone from the mountains. And let these people do what they want. Anyone who disturbs them in any way shall be punished.’

‘But my lord…’

‘Do as I say!’

Scaramouche turned his back to them and the agents hurried away. He watched as the people of Qingce split up and began their search in the forest, around the destroyed village.

He looked up to the mountains. Clouds hid the most of them, they were so huge, so high. And there were so many places you could be.

Was is it even possible that you were alive?

Scaramouche never lied to himself and this was the first time he wanted to. He simply just didn’t want to accept the small chances of finding you. He wanted to feel hope.

‘You better be alive, Y/n’ he muttered to himself. ‘For your own sake.’

For his sake.

*

‘Have you taken a look around in that cave too?’

‘I haven’t but I can go if…’

‘Stay.’

Scaramouche climbed to the cave and looked into the hole. It was smaller than it seemed from below and inside it there was absolutely nothing.

He quietly let himself down. He jumped on a bigger stone on the path under him, the bells violently jingling on his hat.

Little Yu asked nothing. It was obvious from the harbinger’s expression that he found nothing.

The air began to feel a little chilly in the mountains. The sun was getting ready to go down and let the moon take its place.

They’ve spent their whole day with searching. They’ve found absolutely nothing so far.

There were a lot of traces left behind the abbys order and the monsters. It was also clear that the fight continued outside of the village as well. Corpses of dead monsters bordered the narrow paths.

But your body was nowhere to be find.

Scaramouche looked up to the sky. The first star had already appeared. And with that, their last piece of hope started to slip away.

‘We haven’t looked there yet.’

The harbinger snapped out of his dark thoughts and glanced at the child in front of him. She pointed at a smaller mountain nearby.

‘That’s very far away from the village’ Scaramouche claimed. ‘We’d be just wasting our time.’

‘Then where do you want me to go?’ Yu asked.

The man let out a sigh. She was right, they’ve already looked through every bush and searched every rock on this mountain.

He started walking towards the other one without saying anything, and Yu silently followed him.

In the valley below them, lots of figures were moving and changing places. The locals still haven’t given up even though it was getting colder and darker with every passing moment.

A red dot appeared. Then another. They started lighting torches.

Scaramouche felt like choking. He touched his throat and fastened his steps.

He tried to banish the horrifying thoughts from his head but his desperate tries were unsuccessful.

You’re dead. They’re only going to find a cold body and not you. You’re dead and it is his fault.

He shook his head to quiet the voices and to get back into focusing on his search.

This made him realize that he hadn’t seen little Yu in a while. Scaramouche stopped and turned his head to check on the girl.

She was behind him a few meters away. Her movements were too slow to keep up with the harbinger’s.

‘Are you coming or not?’ The man growled at her. ‘Hurry up.’

‘Sorry…’ She was out of breath, quietly panting. ‘You can leave me behind. I know I’m just slowing you down.’

Scaramouche rose his brows at the young child who was not even tall enough to reach the ground from a bigger rock. Was she really that aware? What should he do now? Just leave her here? He was willing to do that, to be honest. The sun was about to completely disappear.

Yu grabbed the side of the rock. She let her feet down, trying to get down safely but she was too tired – the little girl stumbled and fell.

Scaramouche didn’t even realize he was reaching out – but a moment later he found himself holding the child in his own arms.

They stared at each other, the sixth Fatui Harbinger and the kid from Liyue. It was impossible to tell who was more surprised, the one holding or the one being held.

But it was the man who found his voice first.

‘Don’t think I’m gonna carry you like this to the other mountain.’

‘I didn’t think that’ she answered quietly.

Scaramouche cleared his throat and opened his lips. But before any other words could’ve come out of his mouth, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

They both jerked their heads up.

The sound was coming from below, south to the village.

The whistle was repeated – two short, two long ones.

‘They’ve found her’ Yu said.

*

Scaramouche had no memories of how he got down from the top of the mountain.

All he remembered was the crazy pace of his heartbeat. The darkness invading his head. That terrific feeling clenching his heart, incredible, deep fear he’s never experienced before.

There were many people standing in his way in front of a big cave. He pushed them away as he rushed to get closer.

It was dark. Everyone stood with a torch in their hands. He heard the whispers but the words were incomprehensiblenext to the loud beating of his own heart. There were figures but they were blurry, everything was blurry…

Until he saw you.

You were laying on the ground. Your body completely still, your chest not rising nor sinking. Your clothes torn, bloody.

There was so much blood.

He stumbled and fell on his knees in front of you. A local turned to him and spoke but he understood nothing. His hand was shaking as he reached out to touch you.

You were… cold.

He forgot how to breathe and just stared down at your body. Your messy hair hid your face and that just didn’t feel right.

Why was this happening?!

Everything was supposed to become alright after they’ve found you!

How dare you be dead, how dare you not wake up to his touch, to his wishes, to all wishes around you…!

‘Balladeer!’

He snapped out of the blurriness when someone grabbed his arm. An old lady with a serious look tried to pull him back.

‘Let go of me!’ he hissed, pushing her away. He groaned when the grip became stronger instead on his arm. Pain in his heart and body blinded him as he shouted. ‘I said, let go of me or else…’

‘Please stay out of the way of my people’ the lady asked in a calm tone. ‘She needs serious help.’

‘What help can you provide when she’s dead?!’ he screamed at her in a hoarse voice. ‘You stay away from her!’

‘Please calm down. Y/n is not dead… yet.’

Scaramouche slowly closed his eyes. The words echoed in his head.

She’s not dead. She’s not dead. She’s not dead. Yet.

He took a deep, shaking breath. The cold air in his lungs cooled him off a little.

You were alive. But also, only barely. He finally understood what that meant. But he couldn’t let himself feel any relief nor fear…

He was a harbinger, he was part of the Fatui under the rule of the almighty Tsaritsa. He was Scaramouche, the Balladeer who simply could not allow himself to show any vulnerability in front of mere mortals.

Even if it was about you.

Even if he wasn’t the same person any more.

‘Bring a healer’ he said in a lower tone.

‘We don’t have any vision bearers among us’ the lady answered. ‘But we’ll do everything to keep her alive.’

Scaramouche nodded and stood up. It took a lot of strength to tear his eyes from you but he forced himself to do it and turned around.

‘Alert my people and tell them to give you all that you need’ he told the locals as he fixed his hat. ‘Tents, medicine, food, everything.’

The people stood there in silence for a few seconds, not knowing whether to obey him. They only moved when the old lady from before thanked him. Then they finally set off towards the village.

Scaramouche wanted to turn back and take a glance at you one more time to make sure you’re really there and not just a hallucination. But suddenly little Yu appeared in his sight and that made him stay.

‘She’s alive’ the girl whispered. The mask she had worn so far finally broke and her expression was an expression of a little child. She seemed tired, sad and a little happy. ‘I’m so glad… Scara.’

The harbinger nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. His heart was still beating fast with fear but those heavy weights on his shoulders finally started getting lighter.

He felt something touching his hand and he opened his eyes to the sight of Yu holding onto him.

This type of physical connection was very far away from what Scaramouche would tolerate coming from a human but he felt way too tired to resist. He just let the little girl clench his pinkie and they both watched silently as some helpers grabbed your body and moved it to a safer place.

*

You felt like something that had been sitting on your chest for a while finally moved. Something even bigger, a huge, scary type of darkness slowly left your body.

It left you with the first breath you were aware of taking in a long time.

You let out a small sigh. And opened your eyes.

There was a fabric cover above you.

You were in a tent, safe and sound. Alive.

The first thing you noticed was the temperature. It was warm, welcoming and comforting. Lot of soft blankets covered your body which hurt badly but the pain was dim.

You tried to look around but your head was too heavy. You could barely tip your head to the side.

But the sight was worth it.

Your breath was taken away one more time. You just stared in silence and you could feel your eyes widen in shock.

‘You’re awake.’

Scaramouche closed the book he was reading and looked at you with a straight face.

‘Finally.’

He put the book down with a slow movement.

Mixed emotions invaded you. You fell from relief to happiness to fright in a span of a few seconds. You were alive and Scaramouche was here with you, but – why did he seem so distant? Was he still angry at you even after everything that had happened?

You almost let fear overrun you. Almost.

But your gaze fell on his hands and he couldn’t hide his true feelings from you any more. His hands were visibly trembling as he still held onto his book.

Little did you know he could have not read a single word written in the last couple of hours. He just sat there and watched over your sleep, not dozing off for even a second himself.

The shaking of his hands became even more obvious and he couldn’t hold himself back any more.

He moved closer and placed his trembling palms next to the sides of your body. He looked down on you from above and as you stared back at him, you could clearly see something that wasn’t there before.

The usual cold, emotionless blur was nowhere to be found in his dark eyes. Instead, there was pain. And a lot of it.

‘How dare you do this to me?’

During the years of your relationship, he’s grown to be comfortable in your presence but he never ever showed any signs of vulnerability in front of you and you just accepted that it’s probably never going to happen.

It was shocking, almost scary seeing him like this.

The desperate expression on his face softened and he let his head plop on your shoulders.

‘Scara’ you whispered. Your voice was hoarse and dry but it was your voice. You were able to speak.

The realization of how unlikely your survival was suddenly hit you and your eyes teared up.

‘Scara, I… I really thought I was gonna die…’

‘Then you’re stupid’ he answered, speaking into the blankets covering your shoulder. ‘You should know that you can’t die without my permission.’

You laughed through your tears. They streamed down on your face, straight into your ears. But even that felt so good. Crying was a sign of being alive from the very beginning of life and you never understood that so much than at that time.

‘Don’t… leave me ever again.’

You didn’t event think, the words just left your mouth.

‘Don’t worry.’ Scaramouche finally got himself together enough to sit up and at least pretend that he was alright. ‘You have successfully proved you’re not capable of taking after yourself so now I’m definitely stuck babysitting you till the rest of our lives.’

His movements said otherwise though. The way he caressed your cheek to dry the tears up showed that he’s not just stuck. He wantsto stay.

Just what kind of thinks did he go through in the past days? – the question occurred to you.

To think about it… why did he even come back? How did he hear what happened? And your people?! Were they safe?

So many questions echoed in your head and you couldn’t even put most of them into words that made sense. So opened your mouth and quietly asked:

‘What happened?’

‘I want to know the same’ he said. ‘What happened? How did you get so far away from the village? How are you alive in the first place?’

You thought back to the night. Pain stabbed you instantly and you had to close your eyes for a moment to calm it.

‘I don’t remember much. But I think the abbys wanted to take me with them. Is that… possible?’

‘I heard all kinds of things about them’ Scaramouche nodded. ‘It is very possible. Continue.’

‘There isn’t much to say… Obviously I tried to resist but there were too many of them. They probably realized I would be just a burden. I remember a mage knocking me out. But they didn’t kill me…’

‘Well, given your injuries, they must’ve thought there’s not a lot of time left for you. It really is a miracle that you’re alive.’ Scara stated. ‘And you were in that wet cave for an entire day too. You were nearly dead when we found you.’

‘We?’

You stared at him and your heartbeat dropped.

‘You mean…’

‘Yes’ he sighed. ‘That people of yours.’

He went silent for a moment then rolled his eyes.

‘They helped me out… I guess.’

‘So they’re all alive and safe?’ you asked and couldn’t help but laugh in relief. ‘That is so amazing! Thank you, Scara!’

‘Thank yourself, idiot’ he snorted. ‘You were the one who kept a whole abbys army away from them after all.’

The harbinger shook his head.

‘I hate that you were so reckless to do that… but I have to say I’m impressed. We should spar again sometimes.’

‘Aren’t you afraid you’re getting your ass kicked?’ you grinned.

‘I compliment you one time and you get this cocky?’ he crossed his eyebrows. ‘I have to put you back into your place, I see.’

You laughed and as you were finally strong enough to move a little, you grabbed his hand. He had to oppress his smile with force.

‘And how did you know… we were going to be attacked?’

The question made his task much easier. The harbinger’s face turned back to being serious once again.

‘I have my connections’ he answered briefly. ‘But you don’t have to worry, the fatui had nothing to do with the attack.’

‘I would never think that’ you rushed to make your words clear. ‘I just… hope that my people feel the same.’

Scara shrugged. Then averted his eyes as he thought of someone.

‘I don’t know about the others but there’s one person who clearly does.’

‘Who?’

‘That girl… Yu or whatever her name is.’

You stared at him in surprise. You’d never thought the day would come where he mentions a child and doesn’t frown. And to think that it’s Yu as well! Yu who was normally wary of strangers and such a gentle child…

Just what happened to him? – you asked yourself again.

You searched for answers in his eyes but it seemed like there were things that even this new type of Scaramouche, this more vulnerable and open one wouldn’t tell.

But it was alright. Maybe you didn’t need to know. You were just happy to be there and experience it yourself.

‘How is Yu?’ you asked.

‘Alright’ Scara muttered.

‘Her mother?’

‘Oh, her… Well…’

He hesitated for a moment and that was enough. Every good and warm feeling was instantly replaced by cold ones and you found yourself sitting up in dread.

‘Please tell me… She’s not…’

‘Hey, don’t sit up! Lie back right now!’

When you didn’t obey, Scaramouche pushed you back with his own hands. He was right, your body started aching terribly from moving and the physical pain almost outgrew the pain in your heart.

‘Is she…’

‘Yu’s fine. Don’t worry.’

‘No! I need to talk to her!’

‘You won’t.’

You clenched your teeth together in despair and Scara flinched. He saw himself in you when you did that. Earlier this day his expression was still this full of pain.

‘Scaramouche!’ you said, calling him by his first name which he suddenly realized, he hated more than that stupid nickname. ‘I will go and talk to her and you can’t stop me!’

‘I…’

‘Just think about everything you felt while I was missing! I know you don’t want me to go away again but you need to understand.’

‘All I’m trying…’

‘Maybe I really am cocky to think that it was painful to you but if I’m not and it really was, then just imagine that Yu feels like that too right now. And on top of that, she has no hope whatsoever. She knows that her mother is dead and there’s no…’

‘Oh, to Celestia, can you shut up for a moment?’ Scara interrupted you harshly. Then he frowned and quickly continued. ‘What I was about to say is that under no circumstances should you get up with these injuries. But you can talk to Yu.’

‘I can…?’

‘Yes, idiot. I’ll call her over.’

You stared at him in silence.

‘You’d… do that?’

‘Yes.’

‘So… you won’t mind if she stays with us?’

‘I guess not?’

‘Not even for a long time?’

‘I said no, stop asking these stupid questions.’

You were speechless and just gazed at him without saying anything for a long time.

You had mixed feelings about the Scara you woke up to so far. But this had finally convinced you that he really has changed into something better.

A slow smile formed on your lips. It grew bigger and bigger and it completely lit your face up.

‘You’re grinning like an idiot’ Scara claimed but nothing, not even his salty remarks could take away your happiness any more.

‘Scara, I really love you.’

‘You better do.’

He stood up and turned away as quickly as he could to try and hide the blush on his face. He knew if you saw that, you’d be teasing him about it till the rest of your lives together.

You were still grinning “like an idiot” as he was rushing to leave the tent. But even though he was in hurry, before he’d stepped out, he made sure to turn back and say:

‘I’ll be back.’

[cherienymphe]

Cruel Intentions (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, mentions of abuse, therapist!Steve, silverfox!Steve, drugging

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ Image by @angrybirdcr

      ➥ dividers by @firefly-graphics

This is for the “For the Fic” challenge whose winner for my fic was @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

The entire plot was her request and I hope that you like it!

summary: after escaping an abusive ex, you find solace in a therapist recommended to you by a friend. 

~

“...I know I shouldn’t...but sometimes I blame myself. In Harry, I know that I was looking for what I never had in my family. I think it made me quick to rush into things...to ignore what I should have seen.”

Your eyes remained on the dark carpet, the man before you humming as the scribbling sound of his pen reached your ears. You fought hard not to fidget, a horrible habit you’d picked up in the last 3 years. You finally lifted your head again when the room was bathed in silence, eyes meeting familiar blue ones as he studied you.

You were used to these short moments of silence by now.

You’d been recommended to Dr. Steve Rogers by a friend, a friend who’d helped you escape your violent ex in the dead of night while he’d been away on business. She had grown worried when it became obvious that the effects of your tumultuous relationship would be lasting if you didn’t do something about it. Oddly enough, you’d been receptive. For 2 whole years, you’d wanted to tell someone, have anyone to turn to and talk to, but fear, a very valid fear, had stopped you.

Not only had you been worried for your life, something that was threatened on a constant basis, but you’d also been afraid of judgement. You worried what your friends would say, if they’d blame you for finding yourself in such a predicament, if they’d look down on you for no longer fighting back. It was only by a stroke of luck that Nakia had seen Harry slap you right across the face when he thought she’d left. You were grateful that she’d waited for him to leave before rushing towards your trembling frame, pulling you into her arms as she shushed you.

She had demanded to know how long this had been going on. She had been horrified and confused and angry. It didn’t take her long to come up with a plan, and within 2 weeks, after waiting for Harry to leave the city for 2 days, she’d gotten you out and into her place across town. You didn’t stay for long, maybe a few weeks, wanting nothing but to put it all behind you, and although she was sad to see you go, she understood.

It was how you found yourself in upstate New York, in a secluded tiny thing of a house. You hadn’t even realized that you’d become something of a recluse until Nakia had pointed it out during one of your weekly calls. It had never hit you that you went to work and to home and that was it. You barely ate anymore, so grocery shopping was never a frequent affair. That was when she’d told you about a well known therapist in the area, Steven G. Rogers. You had been shocked by how much you weren’t opposed to the idea as she went on listing all of his credentials. 

It was only moments after she hung up that you found yourself researching him yourself. You remembered noting how handsome the man was, even more so in person. His bright blue eyes and silver tresses complimented his strong features nicely, pink lips pulled up into a polite smile. You didn’t find yourself put off by the stranger, thinking to yourself that talking to someone you didn’t know, an objective listener who was paid not to judge you, might be for the best.

You soon found out that was easier said than done.

The first visit had been rocky, barely mumbling a thing and constantly fidgeting. You had hardly been able to meet his eye, and the session had abruptly ended when you’d left early, stumbling over your words as you gave some half assed excuse for your sudden departure. He was far more understanding than you deserved during your second visit. Wracked with guilt and anxiety, you’d written some things down that you wanted to talk about, and thankfully, the man hadn’t laughed at you. In fact, you remembered how fondly he looked at you as you unfolded it.

As it turned out, you didn’t need the slip of paper at all. Notes forgotten, you had rambled on for an hour. It was like once you started, you just couldn’t stop, and Steve simply listened the entire time. The next time he spoke to you was only to tell you that your time was up, and both embarrassment and disappointment had flooded through you. It must have been obvious, plain as day on your features, because Steve reassured you that it was normal to ramble. 

You had been reluctant to leave. After years of biting your tongue and living in fear of even making the wrong sound, you finally found someone to listen. Even if it was only a stranger getting paid for it, it was still something. There was someone to express your fears to, and although it had taken some time, terrified that you’d say the wrong thing and upset him, eventually, you started to express your anger too.

“...and then I get angry all over again,” you continued when he said nothing. “...because I’m smart, because red flags in others’ relationships have always been so obvious to me. I’ve always been the mom friend, the one who can spot trouble before it even starts. I’ve helped friends get out of situations before they even had the chance to turn sour…”

You shook your head.

“...and yet...it took a slap to the face to realize just how deep I was in? Not the jealousy, not the anger issues nor the way he’d isolated me from just about everyone in my life...but a slap? It should’ve never gotten to that.”

“You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d told you that, and yet here you were again.

“We can go in circles analyzing your own behavior and the things you did and the things you said, but the truth is that you could play it out in your head a million times. You could do every single thing differently, and it still wouldn’t change a thing.”

The corner of his lips lifted into a crooked smile, a familiar sight.

“Some people are simply cruel, and it has nothing at all to do with you.”

You sharply inhaled, unsure of why such a simple statement resonated with you so deeply. You stared at Steve, blinking a few times, opening your mouth to respond when he glanced at the clock. It was a tell tale sign, and your shoulders sagged. You would think that after seeing him for 7 months now, you’d be used to leaving after only an hour, but it never got easier.

“That’s all the time we have for today,” he said, standing. “You’re progressing nicely, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled, eyes crinkling. 

“You are. Progress and healing isn’t linear. Sometimes you’re going to take 2 steps back before you can take 10 more forward. It’s all part of the process,” he assured you.

You sighed.

“Well… I guess that does make me feel a bit better,” you replied.

He sent you a small smile as he guided you towards the door.

“I’ll see you next week?”

You returned his smile with a nod and didn’t let your face fall until the door was shut behind you. The good thing about therapy was that you could recognize your own toxic behaviors now, and it was clear that you were becoming reliant on your sessions with Steve. You had never liked being alone, but you had come all the way out here to learn to do just that. For your sake, you needed to learn to love being alone. It was how you had gotten into this mess to begin with.

Your phone vibrated with a call from an unknown number, and figuring it was a scam call, you silenced it.

Your house was practically in the middle of nowhere, so when the tv wasn’t blasting or you didn’t have Spotify playing some light tune, the house could get scarily quiet. But that was what you wanted...right? Harry had always been so explosive. The smallest of things could set him off and then the sound of yelling and shattering glass would rain down on you. Silence and solitude was what you wanted, needed.

Your phone buzzed again as you settled into your car, and you huffed when you noticed it was the same number. Again, you weren’t unfamiliar with scam callers so you ignored it. You noted that you needed to go grocery shopping, but you weren’t on the precipice of starvation just yet, so it could hold off for another day. By the time you got inside, your phone had started to buzz again, and with a frown, you decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

You were met with silence as you unlocked your door, and you repeated yourself, but there was no response. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You both loved and hated coming home. It was quiet and safe and everything you had craved for years now, but the unfamiliarity of it all unnerved you. Sometimes you were just waiting for Harry to come flying through the door, screaming and breaking things. You had to remind yourself that this silence, this security, is how it’s supposed to be.

You went about making a quick meal, hopping into the shower while leaving the stove on low. When you got out, in the process of moisturizing your arms, you noticed your phone buzzing with another call. From that same number. Unease filled you as you neared it, and you hesitantly reached for it before answering.

Again, you were met with silence, and frustrated and annoyed, you simply blocked the number. A quick look through your phone revealed that you’d missed several calls from the same number while in the bathroom. Blinking with a deepening frown, you set your phone down and made your way to your kitchen. Dinner, like always these days, was quiet. You curled up on the couch with your plate while you watched some old sitcom.

The rest of the night passed as blandly as it always did. Sleep was much easier to find these days, so you had no trouble as soon as your head hit the pillow. However, just as you were on the verge, your phone buzzed with another call. This number didn’t match the previous one, but it was unknown nonetheless. With a groan, you put your phone on silent and rolled over, sleep claiming you.

“I know it’s you,” you sneered into the phone.

Unsurprisingly, you were met with the faint sound of breathing, and you clenched your jaw. You slammed the car door behind you before stomping across the parking lot.

“I know it’s you,” you quietly repeated. “Stay away from me.”

You hung up before blocking the number, the 10th number you had blocked in the past week. Every few hours or so a day, like clockwork, you got calls from an unknown number. You’d always end up blocking the number after the first few calls, but they always called again from a different one. At first, they’d say nothing, and you’d listen to silence for a few seconds before hanging up. Now, they’d taken to breathing in your ear like a creep. It wasn’t even until you blocked the 3rd number did it finally hit you.

Harry.

Harry freaking Osborn.

You felt like such an idiot for not putting it together sooner. Of course, it was Harry. Was this not the same man who threatened to hunt you down and drag you back like some animal if you ever left him? You had always equated woman beaters to cowards so you never thought he’d have the nerve to actually do it. Putting the pieces together didn’t bring you any comfort. Your filthy rich abusive ex had managed to track you down. What comfort was there to find in that?

Since that day, you hadn’t had a proper night of sleep. Your mind was constantly at war with itself on what to do. Having been down this road before, you knew the police would be no help. You’d gone to them once before, at the very beginning after the first time he’d hit you. It was your first harsh lesson that money ruled over everything. If you thought hard enough, you could still recall his hands around your throat, eyes alight with anger at what you’d tried to pull.

Still, you considered at least trying to get a restraining order but at the end of the day, that was a mere piece of paper. If Harry came to your door, it wasn’t going to stop him from hurting you, and that’s even if the whole process went through. They don’t just give restraining orders out willy nilly. You tried not to dwell on that hypothetical situation, but if he’d found your number, it would only be a matter of time before he found your address.

“Oh!”

You’d only just entered the grocery store, barely stepping into an aisle when you bumped into someone. The chips and bread in his hands went flying to the floor, and apologies tumbled from your lips. It was only after you helped him pick up what you made him drop did you realize who you’d run into.

“Dr. Rogers...hi,” you breathed.

The corner of his lips pulled into a crooked smile, head tilting to the side as his gaze fell onto you.

“We’ve discussed this before, Y/N. You’re more than welcome to call me Steve,” he told you.

You gave a nervous chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah...uh… I normally do, it just...it just slipped my mind,” you replied.

He blinked at you, eyes narrowing just a bit as he studied you. His brows furrowed in that concerned way you were used to, a silver strand of hair kissing his forehead.

“Everything okay…?”

You folded your arms over your chest, nodding with a strained smile.

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. “It’s just… It’s been a weird week. Our next session cannot come fast enough.”

You forced a light laugh, and he joined you. He placed a hand on his hip, eyes boring into your own.

“There’s a coffee shop just over there,” he gestured. “Did you want to sit and have a chat?”

You frantically shook your head.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you told him. “I-.”

“I know I’m your therapist, but I want you to think of me as a confidant outside of the office too. You’re more than welcome to talk to me anytime. In fact, I encourage it,” he interrupted. 

You nervously eyed him with a frown.

“Are...are you sure?”

His smile was comforting.

“This may be my job, but it’s one I chose because it’s one I enjoy. I don’t want you to feel like you’re only allowed to talk to me during our sessions,” he quietly said.

You bit your lip, and Steve continued.

“I’d hate to think that you’re bottling things up for days on end, suffering in silence because you’re just waiting to talk to me,” he confessed.

Your shoulders sagged, and you hesitantly nodded.

“...okay. I just need to get a few things for the house.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “You know where to find me.”

You parted ways, and a sigh escaped you. You really didn’t want to become reliant on Steve. Wasn’t the whole point of therapy to learn how to process your feelings and cope with them better? Running to your therapist every time you have a problem just seemed counterproductive. And yet, once your car was loaded up with the few items you bought, you found yourself making your way to the coffee shop.

After ordering a small drink, you easily spotted Steve at a table in the back. You noted that even outside of your sessions, he still dressed nicely. The dark button down he wore contrasted with his light hair, dark slacks making him appear taller. You felt simultaneously nervous and comforted as you settled across from him. There was a brief silence, one in which you sipped on your drink while he eyed you before finally speaking.

“So what’s on your mind?”

What a loaded question. You struggled over whether or not to tell him the truth. Your abusive ex had found you somehow and was currently harassing you. That’s not something you could just casually drop into the conversation. Besides, Steve was your therapist, not your friend. You didn’t think it fair to rope him into the drama with your ex. That wasn’t part of his job description. Right?

“Just sleepless nights,” you said.

It wasn’t a complete lie. Steve eyed you like he was waiting for you to continue, blue eyes soft.

“I’m also worried that...my past might not remain in the past.”

Once again, this wasn’t a complete lie. 

“How so?” Steve hummed.

“I can’t help but wonder about what will happen if Harry finds me. He always threatened that he would if I ever left, and while I never believed him before, I just keep wondering… What if he does?”

Steve tilted his head at you, and you leaned back in your seat with a sigh.

“I’ve moved all the way out here to get away from him. I’ve isolated myself because I thought it was for the best, but it would have the opposite effect if he ever found me. I’ve never been particularly close with my family as you well know, and I’ve left all of my friends. I’m all alone here, and it’s the worst thing to be if he ever did track me down.”

Like always, you had started to ramble, and you snapped your mouth closed, embarrassment flooding through you.

“What brought all of this on?”

Steve’s eyes were sincere as he ran them over you, handsome face twisted in concern, and you glanced away.

“Just thinking,” you lamely replied, eyes on your drink now. “It’s something I’ve always thought about, sure, but it’s been more pressing as of late.”

“Well...that’s what I’m here for. You shouldn’t have to deal with these thoughts alone,” he eventually said.

“I know,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “...but I shouldn’t become so reliant on you. The whole point of therapy is to learn to deal with these things on my own, is it not?”

Steve exhaled, leaning back in his seat as he gazed at you.

“Not necessarily. Not always,” he answered. “...but even then, until you can get to that point, it’s best to lean into your support. After all, you’ve gotta crawl before you can walk, right?”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“...and even when you’re walking, you usually need someone there in the beginning to hold your hand in case you fall. I encourage you to talk to your friends more, maybe even branch out and find some friends here, but I’m here as well. Don’t halt any of your progress because you feel like you need to be dealing with this alone. Outside help does more for your progress than you’d think.”

“I guess that does make sense. I don’t know… I just- I’d feel so bad about showing up at your office throughout all hours of the day or calling your receptionist-.”

You cut yourself off when he took out a pen and a slip of paper.

“Here,” he said, scribbling a number on it before handing it to you. “This is my personal number.”

Your eyes widened. 

“Oh, I can’t-.”

“It’s fine, trust me.”

You hesitantly returned his smile, taking the piece of paper.

“Don’t hesitate to call me anytime you want to,” he told you, standing.

You joined him, fingering the note before sliding it into your pocket.

“Thank you…Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually call you, but just knowing that I have the option makes me feel so much better,” you whispered.

You heard his pager go off, and you watched as he glanced at it. He let out a sigh, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded disappointed.

“I’ve got to go, but I hope you’ll use that number if you need to.”

Thanking him again, you said your goodbyes, and you watched as he exited the shop. The slip of paper felt heavy in your pocket, so you solved that by putting his number into your phone. Just as you were about to put it back into your purse, it buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Fear settled into your gut, and with a grimace, you silenced the call and blocked the number.

You were late. You were so late it was laughable to even show up at this point. Your shoes tapped against the tile as the numbers on the elevator lit up as it passed each floor. You slipped through the doors as soon as they parted, and with no mind to check in, the receptionist calling your name, you raced towards Steve’s office. You reached his door just as he opened it to step out, and the papers that he was holding scattered to the floor as you collided with him. You hadn’t even realized how fast you’d been running until you were knocked on your ass. 

You could hear the heels of the receptionist as she ran over, apologizing to Steve for letting you slip past her, but he waved her off. She reluctantly returned to her desk, and you scrambled to sit up, reaching for everything that had fallen.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show,” Steve joked.

You gave a shaky laugh.

“I uh...I got caught up,” you replied through trembling lips, fingers shaking as you struggled to stack all of his paperwork.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you avoided his gaze.

“I know I’m late. Our hour is practically over, but I- I just… Um, crap.”

You had dropped the papers all over again, and you both reached for them at the same time. At least, that was what you thought. Steve’s hands covered yours, and you only just realized how badly they were shaking.

“Y/N.”

His voice was soft, exactly what you needed right now, but you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

Your chest was tight, and you wanted to will your lips to form a yes. You wanted to tell him that everything was fine, but you couldn’t even get the words out. He called your name again, and you suddenly stood, taking the papers with you. You handed them to him as he followed your lead, still avoiding his eye.

“I’m sorry for being late, and I know that you probably have another session-.”

“I don’t,” he interrupted. “Come in.”

You glanced up from beneath your lashes as he opened the door, ushering you inside. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he shut the door behind you.

“Is everything okay?”

You turned your face away from him, unable to keep it from crumbling as you held in a sob.

“Y/N.”

The way he called your name had you freezing in place, a shiver running through you at his firm tone, authority in the one simple word. In a way, it reminded you of Harry, and you looked to him with wide eyes. Seeming to understand what he’d done, Steve sighed before sitting down, making himself appear smaller to show that he wasn’t a threat to you.

“I’m sorry,” he genuinely apologized. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please...sit.”

You hesitantly did so and reached out to take the tissue he offered you. You hadn’t even realized that you’d started crying.

“Now… I’m going to ask you again, and I’m begging you to please be honest with me. I’m here to help you in any way I can,” he whispered.

You wiped your face, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“It’s...Harry.”

Steve’s face was pinched with concern.

“What is it? Are you having nightmares again-?”

“No, you don’t understand. He’s calling me,” you confessed.

Steve froze, blinking a few times before his eyes widened, your words finally registering. You sniffed, fighting to hold in a sob.

“It started weeks ago, before we ran into each other that night…”

You didn’t miss the disappointment that flitted over his features, lips pressed together.

“...and I know I should’ve said something then-.”

“You should’ve called me.”

“I know! I know, but… I don’t know. I just wanted to handle this on my own,” you quietly said.

He didn’t respond, and you turned your eyes towards the window.

“Last time...I wasn’t able to get away on my own. I wanted it to be different this time. At first, I simply blocked him but he kept calling and calling from different numbers. Then I got a new phone...and eventually another, but it’s still the same. He keeps finding me,” you tearfully told him. “...and today…”

Your eyes met his, and you were comforted by the concern you saw there.

“Today I was at the police station. That’s why I was late.”

Steve straightened up at this.

“I thought that maybe I could get a restraining order or maybe they could trace the calls to show that it’s him, but the whole visit was useless. They boiled it down to petty relationship drama, and since there’s no record of his violent behavior because I never reported anything…”

You shrugged, scoffing.

“There’s basically nothing they can do. The whole visit was a waste,” you spat.

Steve heaved a sigh, and he slowly reached out towards you, leaning forward.

“I didn’t ask before, but… Is it alright if I hold your hand?”

You nodded. That was what you liked about Steve. He was always asking for your consent with just about everything, even the simplest of things, and it was such a nice contrast to Harry who used to feel like he was entitled to your body. Steve took your hand, throwing you a comforting smile as he eyed you, worried.

“I wish that you had called me,” he said.

You looked down, guilt filling you.

“I could have helped you before it ever got to this point. I have friends on the force, friends in high places who could lock this creep up if you wanted.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Of course Steve, Dr. Steven Rogers, knew people who could help you. Of course he did! Your stubbornness had gotten you far deeper into this than necessary. 

“What have I said about self deprecating language?”

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“You’re not an idiot. Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re just a woman trying to find her strength again.”

You hesitantly nodded, and he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand.

“I want you to get rid of your phone,” he suggested.

You frowned, and he continued before you could question him.

“I’ll work on getting a new one for you. A secure one under my name.”

You frowned, not liking the idea of being so indebted to him.

“Steve, I don’t know-.”

“It’ll only be temporary. You can use it until I talk to some people and have him properly dealt with.”

Even though you weren’t keen on the idea, you reluctantly agreed.

“...and you have to promise me one thing…”

You eyed him, holding his gaze as you waited for him to continue.

“Promise me that you’ll call me the second he bothers you again,” he proposed.

Accepting the fact that your stubbornness was doing you more harm than good, you nodded. Steve seemed pleased with that, and with one last pat on your hand, he let you go. As he guided you out of your office, your phone in his hand, you felt more hopeful than you had in over a month. You felt so silly for not seeking out his help sooner, and you couldn’t deny the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders as you settled into your car.

True to his word, at your next session, Steve presented you with a new phone. It had all of your important contacts with Steve being at the top of the list. Embarrassment had flooded you as you thanked him with tears in your eyes. The week without your phone had been the most peace you’d had in a while, and you finally got some much needed rest.

“You haven’t heard anything from him, have you?” he’d asked you.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “Not a peep.”

He threw you that same smile that always brought you comfort.

“Good. Even if you never do, you’re always free to call me,” he’d reminded you.

Finally deciding to let your stubbornness go, you did. Talking to Steve outside of your sessions was easier than you thought it’d be. It was like talking to a friend. Sometimes you’d meet up at that same coffee shop not too far from his office, and other times you’d be putting a quick meal together while he was on the other line, listening to you ramble. You soon realized that it wasn’t just his profession that made him that way, but Steve truly was an unbiased listener. He never judged you for any steps back in your progress nor for any of your more self deprecating thoughts.

Best of all, you hadn’t heard anything more from Harry.

Not until he knocked on your door one night.

It was late when you’d heard the pounding on the wood, and having been watching tv in your room, you wondered if you imagined it. It was only moments later that you’d heard it again. Your eyes had widened, sitting up in alarm. No one knew you lived here. Not even your mailman. All of your mail collected at a Post Office box before you eventually went to pick it up. You stood, standing in your room, trembling in fear before a knock on your bedroom window had you screaming.

You didn’t hesitate to call the police, and it took longer than you liked for them to arrive. All the while, you dealt with knocking and pounding on your window and door. Back and forth, it alternated with minutes in between before stopping altogether when the sound of sirens could be heard. Unsurprisingly, and frustratingly, the police didn’t find anyone.

“Look, we’ll get this report down to the station,” the brunette had told you, not looking concerned in the least.

Frustration filled you, and you shuffled on your feet.

“Can’t you...idk, have someone stay here? Not even the whole night but just a few hours in case they come back?”

The tall man sighed, and you glanced at his badge. Officer Barnes, you noted.

“With all due respect mam, we can’t just have one of our officers sitting in your yard because someone knocked on your door-.”

“I told you-!”

“I know, I know. The windows too,” he said, sounding exasperated, and your frown deepened. “The best we can do is get this down to the station. You’re more than welcome to call us again should anyone come back.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as they left, finding no relief. You swallowed as you thought about Steve. You didn’t want to, but Harry had found you, tormenting you by knocking on your house in the dead of night. This was exactly the reason Steve had given you his number. Swallowing down your stubbornness, and with a deep breath, you called him.

He didn’t sound like he was asleep, and for that you were grateful. You would’ve kicked yourself if you had woken him up. Finally getting out why you’d called him was an awkward affair, stumbling over your words, and you felt even worse as he agreed to come over. There was no hesitation, and you couldn’t help but feel as if you were taking advantage of Steve’s generosity. 

You mumbled out your address, surprised to realize how relieved you were. You couldn’t remember the last time you had trusted a man this much. Harry had made you so paranoid, but you supposed that was what therapy was for. This was why you had all those sessions with Steve. To learn to heal and to trust again.

You opened the door with a small smile when he finally pulled into your yard. He was dressed comfortably, and you felt much better about your own ratty t-shirt and leggings, but his casual attire made him no less striking. 

“Thank you,” you breathed as he stepped inside.

“I was up going over paperwork when you called. I’m glad you did,” he told you.

You leaned against the door as you closed it, rubbing your arms.

“I didn’t know if I should. It’s just… He was here, Steve. Knocking on my door and window like something out of a horror movie, and the police treated it like it was nothing,” you complained.

Steve tilted his head at you with a sad smile.

“First thing in the morning, I’m going to make some more calls. Since he’s in town, it should be easy to have him put away. At the very least, a restraining order.”

Relief and hope filled you as you brushed past him.

“I really can’t thank you enough for coming over. I promise I won’t keep you long, just until I feel I can be ok being alone,” you said over your shoulder.

He followed you into the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Eat? It’s the least I can do.”

“Some wine might be nice. You might want to pour yourself a glass too,” he suggested.

You chuckled, and he joined you, but you agreed with him nonetheless. You poured a glass for both of you, and you leaned against the counter with a sigh.

“I just don’t understand why he can’t leave me alone. Hasn’t he put me through enough?”

Steve hummed.

“From what you’ve told me, he strikes me as a narcissist. I’d bet that he doesn’t want you to move on,” he mused.

“Maybe,” you distractedly replied as you heard your phone ring. “I’ll be right back. Let me grab that super quick, it might be Nakia.”

Your phone was in your room, but by the time you reached it, it had stopped ringing. Sure enough, it was a missed call from your best friend, and you brought your phone with you to the kitchen, determined to call her back. Steve’s eyes were fond when you returned, and you shrugged.

“I need to call her back. I’ll only be a moment,” you said, swiping your glass.

“Take all the time you need.”

You made your way to the living room, taking your place on the couch as you called her back. She answered almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She greeted you with a soft exhale.

“Uh… Harry’s...dead.”

You froze at her words, pulling the glass away from your lips. You blinked a few times, trying to come to terms with what she’d said.

“...what?”

“I just found out. I honestly didn’t know how you’d take the news, but I thought you should know.”

She was right. You yourself didn’t even know how you felt about this news. You had loved this man at one point...but he was also your abuser. This was good news...right?

“How?” you finally asked her.

She sighed.

“Apparently, he’d been missing for months-.”

“Months?”

“Yeah,” she quietly replied. “They found and identified his body today. I just saw it on the news.”

Your stomach twisted as the truth, and the meaning behind it, sank in. Just because Harry had been missing for months, it didn’t mean that he’d been dead for months. It very well could have been him harassing you like you believed. But...if they’d found and identified his body today, then there was no way it was him at your house tonight.

“Thank you,” you eventually said. “Um… I’m glad you told me.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you honestly replied. “I’m just a little unsure of how I feel about all of this, but I’ll call you tomorrow when I’ve slept on it.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

You said your goodbyes and returned to the kitchen with an empty glass.

“Everything okay?” Steve questioned.

Your face must have been an open book.

“Harry’s dead,” you scoffed, blinking as you still fought to process this.

Steve didn’t respond, and just like one of your sessions, he seemed to be waiting for you to continue.

“Apparently he’d been missing for months and they just identified his body today. There’s no way it could have been him knocking on my door tonight, and now...now I’m even more scared than I was before,” you confessed. “God, I can’t even fully come to terms with my feelings on this because I’m realizing that Harry might not have been the only thing I should’ve been afraid of.”

“Hey,” Steve soothingly said, nearing you. “Are you sure it wasn’t someone who got lost? Maybe they had the wrong house?”

You thought about it before shaking your head.

“No, it definitely didn’t seem like that. Oh my God,” you cried, letting your head fall into your hands.

Steve pulled you into his arms, startling you, but you eventually relaxed, the wine settling into your system nicely.

“It’s going to be alright-.”

“What if it isn’t? Because I’m the idiot who thought that Harry was the only possible danger out there, I’ve attracted another without even realizing it.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “Maybe it was nothing, and maybe it was more. Either way, I’m only a phone call away. Say the word, and I’ll have an officer living in your yard if need be.”

You chuckled at that, and nodded.

“Thank you,” you said, looking at him. “I-.”

You swallowed your words when his lips met yours, soft and demanding as they moved against your own. You were stunned, and it took you a moment to realize just what was happening before you pulled away. You stared at Steve with wide eyes, hesitantly reaching up to touch your lips as you took a step back.

“Steve…”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

Your lips parted, a soft gasp escaping you at both his words and the fire in his gaze. It was so sudden and great that it froze you.

“Steve, I think… I think you should go,” you whispered, almost in disbelief.

He frowned at you, tilting his head just a tad as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Go? Why would I do that when you’re not feeling well?”

You opened your mouth to repeat yourself, even demand to know what he meant, but a sudden wave of nausea hit you, head feeling fuzzy. Steve caught you just as you stumbled, and you frowned, fighting to get out of his arms.

“What…?”

“You seemed really tense. I thought you could use something to take the edge off…”

You stared at him in disbelief, attempting to blink away the stars in your vision. Your legs felt like they were made of Jell-O as Steve guided you towards the living room. He deposited you on the couch, and you could hardly do anything as he laid you down, sitting beside you. His blue eyes, normally so soft and comforting, were dark with a longing you had never seen before.

“You were like a wounded little lamb when you first came to me,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your lip. “So lost...broken… It’s because of me that you’re even halfway back together again.”

His hands moved to slowly undress you, taking his time, and your hands might as well had been air as you tried to stop him. You shuddered as the cool air in the house hit you, nipples pebbling, even more so when Steve brushed his fingers over them.

“I wanted to wrap you in my arms during that first session. Drag you back as you tried to leave, show you how a woman should be touched by a man.”

You were in a state of shock, disbelief coursing through you as you watched Steve undress. Even at his age, the man was a wall of muscle, thick bands making you swallow in fear as you hopelessly tried to tell yourself that this was a dream.

“Steve,” you whispered.

“I had to be patient. I didn’t want to scare you off, push you into the arms of another dangerous man. I had to help you heal before showing the kind of man I can be for you,” he told you, fingers on your face as he neared you again.

Your whole body felt weighed down, and you couldn’t stop your tears even if you wanted to. Your touch was light as you pressed your hands to his chest, feeling like you were going to be sick as he settled over you.

“Harry is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore, and I’m going to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

The irony was not lost on you, but the way he said that struck something in you, and your mind traveled to the unthinkable. You didn’t get the chance to think about it some more before Steve was forcing himself inside of you. A choking noise escaped you as he filled you to the hilt, your legs spread wide to accommodate his frame. Steve released a shuddering breath, breathing through his nose, body trembling as he delighted in the feel of you wrapped around him.

It was amazing that while all of your senses felt dulled, you could feel his pulsing member inside of you so well. He surrounded you, bulky frame caging you in, and you felt like you would pass out from suffocation. Steve sighed just before his lips met yours, and your stomach clenched as he moved within you. A broken moan slipped out against your will, and Steve groaned at the sound.

“I’ll show you pleasure that you’ve never known, touch you in ways you never felt. I know how to make you happy,” he purred, his pace languid as he thrust in and out of you.

You turned your head away, the furniture of your living room blurring together from whatever he’d slipped into your drink.

“I know your deepest desires and your deepest fears. I know you better than anyone else out there…”

You hated that in a way, Steve was right. You’d bared yourself to him under the guise of trust and healing. He really did know all there was to know about you, and you hated yourself for it. You hated him for hiding his intentions so well, for taking advantage of your vulnerability and trauma. He tutted as you started to squirm beneath him.

“After all I’ve done for you...in all the ways I’ve helped you, the least you could do is give yourself to me. I deserve to reap the benefits of my efforts-.”

You gasped beneath him, legs kicking around him, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“...I’ve gone out of my way to make sure you were safe, to protect you so that no more threats remained to you nor our relationship.”

“You’re crazy-.”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as he nipped at your neck, jerking in his hold as he continued to snap his hips into yours. His hands were gentle on you, a contrast to how he fucked you, his pace increasing with every passing minute. Despite the fact that you could hardly move, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you in place as the sound of your coupling filled the room, your core now wet and slick from his ministrations.

Steve seemed intoxicated, blissfully immersed in the feel of you and how you clung to him. His low groans and moans filled your ear, and you could do nothing as he covered your lips again, tongue tasting you, moaning at the taste of wine that still remained.

“My touch will never cause you harm, bringing you nothing but pleasure for the rest of our lives.”

~

tags:  @xoxabs88xox​ @harryspet​ @readermia​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @nickyl316h​ @captainchrisstan​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @lokislastlove​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @coconutqueen21​ @hurricanerin​ @hyoyeoniie​ @sherrybaby14​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @mandiiblanche​ @gotnofucks​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @doozywoozy​ @sapphirescrolls​ @threeminutesoflife​ @searchforanotherway​ @mcudarklibrary​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @widowsmaximoff​ @nerdygirl8203​  @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @charmed-asylum  @harrysthiccthighss​ @patzammit​

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Closing Time (Johnny Utah x fem!reader)

Summary: You work at a clothing store, you get a last minute customer at closing time and sexy tims happen.

Pairing: Johnny Utah x fem!reader

Author’s Notes: So I’m slowly getting back to writing. I’m not gonna say I’m fully back just yet, but for this week at least, there will be content! Huge thanks to @toomanystoriessolittletime and @meetmeinthematinee​ for being cheerleaders and giving me early feedback on this! 

Wordcount: 3125

Warnings: smut. oral sex (F! receiving); dirty talk; unprotected sex with strangers (don’t do this kids!); sex in inappropriate places.

Most days you quite enjoyed it when there was barely any movement at the store. It gave you the opportunity of just being by yourself, reading a book, or enjoying some music or studying for college, things that you didn’t always have the privacy of doing at your dorm because your roommate seemed to always be around. Even during the summer and what was up with that? Didn’t she have better things to do?

She wasn’t like you, who actually had to work to put yourself through college and took some extra jobs during the summer so you could have some savings for the following term when all you managed to get were part-time jobs that you had fit in between classes and paid shit.

Fortunately, at the shop, you had some peace and time for yourself. It was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall sort of place around Venice Beach where tourists could get some shirts and other knickknacks to take back home and locals surfers could find cheap clothing and supplies for a day out on the beach. Most days, you worked from 9-5 and after your shift, you could head to the beach, spread your towel on the sand and enjoy the gorgeous Californian sunset. However, as the summer winded out and the fall winds blew the scalding hot weather into simmering heat, your boss let you close a little early, especially on Tuesdays, when most tourists had already headed home and the new arrivals hadn’t landed yet so there were barely any customers around.

Your plan today had been to finish your reading for class and start the new crime thriller you picked up at the used books store on your way to work. Except, today you were just too restless to focus. You must have reread the same paragraph of your textbook twenty times before you gave up and set it aside, giving the other book a go, but it was just as unsuccessful at holding your attention.

So instead, you moved around the cramped space, adjusting the decoration items, dusting off shelves, and refolding every single shirt in the display until it was perfectly symmetrical while you willed time to move faster so you could end this day. Maybe it was the heatwave that had made an appearance turning the air in the shop stifling and all you had to help you was an old and slow fan that made more noise than blow air. The A/C was busted and your boss still hadn’t called someone to fix it.

Another possibility was the fact that you had to keep the glass doors opened to help circulate a little air and every time any kind of wind blew or someone walked in, it brought with them the crisp smell of salt and sand that always made you ache for the ocean and fight against the temptation of just abandoning everything and heading for the beach so you could cool off taking a dip in the deliciously cold water. Either way, you kept checking the slow ticking of the clock hands, counting the seconds before you could turn the closed sign.

When the minute hand finally hit twelve, you let out a cheer, jumping off your stool and taking a step towards the door. You always locked the doors first to discourage most last-minute walk-ins while you closed the register, put away the money in the back office safe, and slipped out of the store through the back door, taking any garbage with you to throw in the dumpster outside.

Before you could move from behind the counter, a man stepped into the store and you groaned low in your throat. Of-fucking-course! It was like they stood in wait to come in at the precise moment you were about to head out.

“Hey, you’re still open, right?” He asked, pushing the overgrown dark hair back from his forehead and offering you an unsure smile. You felt the urge to lie and say that no, you were closed and he should come back tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure.” You said instead placing your best and most fake seller’s smile. “Feel free to look around and let me know if you need help.”

“Thanks!” He replied, flashing a wider smile that showed a small dimple, before moving towards the shirts in the display while you made your way to the main entrance, flipped the sign, and locked the door to bar any other walk-ins.

You hung back while the guy browsed the options, taking a moment to assess him. He didn’t look like a tourist, but also not fully like a local. Most Californian guys that you knew had the most horrifying hair cuts or bleach jobs you had ever seen and that was not the case for the man in front of you.

His hair was dark brown, a little shaggy from too much exposure to sun and salt and it flopped a little over his forehead, just above his eyes. He wore a grey cropped t-shirt that had definitely seen better days and struggled to contain his broad shoulders, showing a peek of toned abs. His jeans were ridiculously tight and hung low on his slender hips, the light-wash of the denim accentuating the perfect bubble butt and for the love of God, you needed to get laid. Badly.

“Excuse me,” he called, startling you and you prayed he hadn’t noticed the way you were checking his ass just now. “Do you have this one in black?”

“Yeah, sure.” You moved towards the drawers. “What’s your usual size? Medium or large?”

“I think large should be good,” he replied and when you turned around with the requested shirt, he was just standing there, barechested, his top hanging from his shoulder and you hoped your gasp wasn’t as loud as it sounded in your head.

“Here you go,” you croaked, offering him the shirt. “We do have a fitting room…” you gestured towards the small cubicle to the rear of the store.

“Oh right!” He glanced over as he pulled the shirt on. “Do you mind if I try them out here, though?”

“Not at all,” you forced your voice to sound somewhat normal.

“Awesome!”

Damn! He wasn’t just fucking hot. He was also cute, the wide grin he just flashed giving him a boyish look that was only enhanced by the almond-shaped chocolate-colored eyes. Biting your lip, you watched as he turned side to side in front of the mirror, checking himself out.

“It think is a little too big,” he said, meeting your gaze. “What do you think?”

“Well…” you cleared your throat and moved closer so you could look at him through the mirror. “If you want it more fitted, then yeah, probably a smaller size would be best. Want me to get it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Once again, by the time you turned back to him, he was shirtless, the garment he had just tried neatly folded and resting on the shelf as he took a look at some other shirts, his attention snapping at you when he noticed you coming closer to hand him the new shirt, giving you a glimpse of a pale, sunken scar running down his abs that stopped just above his belly button and that drew attention to the small trail of fine dark hairs that disappeared under the waist of his jeans and holy shit! He was bare beneath those jeans.

“Bike accident,” he commented as he took the shirt that you offered and you met his eyes in confusion.

“What?” You asked, mouth suddenly dry.

“The scar,” he clarified, putting on the shirt and his lips were tilted into a slight smirk. “That was what you were staring at, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, feeling your face burning. “I’ll just head to the register and give you some privacy.”

I don’t mind,” he shrugged, turning to the mirror. “This is better. What do you think?” He turned towards you, giving you a full view of the cotton fabric covering his muscles, looking almost as if painted on him.

“Sure...” you swallowed hard, trying not to stare. “If you prefer it more fitted...”

“I do,” pulling the shirt off and once again giving you the glorious view of his torso. “I’ll take it.”

You took the shirt to the register and he followed, pausing only to pick up his own, which he had discarded on a nearby hanger. You were expecting him to put it back on, but he just threw it over his shoulder, reaching for his wallet as you registered the sale and tried not to stare.

“Is that the only camera you have around here?” He asked, gesturing to a point above your left and you glanced at the object before nodding, exchanging the money he gave you for the paper bag with his purchase.

“Yeah, why?”

“So basically...” he started, taking a step to the side, closer to the fitting room. “I’m completely out of sight over here?”

“Basically, yeah,” you frowned a little, stepping away from the counter. “Why? Are you planning to rob the place? Because let me tell you, there’s not much worth...” You trailed off with a surprised squeak as he tugged on your hand, pulling you over to the blindspot and nearly pressed against his strong chest.

“Because honestly, I never really gave a fuck about the shirt. I just thought you were beautiful and wanted to ask your number when I walked in, but you looked kind pissed so I got cold feet,” he confessed with a rueful smile.

“So you decided to just get mostly naked in front of me?” You snorted, shaking your head and he shrugged.

“Needed to make sure you might be interested and considering the way you were eyeing me earlier, it looked like you saw something you liked.”

“You’re really sure of yourself, aren’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at him, not ready to concede just yet. Even if the heat of his body and the smell of sea breeze whiffing off his skin were driving you crazy.

“Only when I’m right,” he flashed you a lopsided smirk and just waited, gazing into your eyes, making it clear that the next step was yours.

Part of you screamed that it was crazy to even consider hooking up with a guy that just walked into your store, no matter how hot he was, but it had been a ridiculously long time since you last had sex and he was so fucking hot, the scent of his golden skin intoxicating and his heat was making you dizzy with want as you looked him up and down, noticing the volume pressing against the denim of his pants.

“We might not have cameras, but the windows are see-through, so get your ass to the fitting room while I finish closing up.”

He flashed a victorious smirk and nodded, heading towards the back while you rushed through the steps of securing the store before joining him.

Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you made your way towards the back, pushing away the curtain that blocked the small space of the fitting room and finding him perched on the low stool that you kept there so customers could put down their things, facing the full-length mirror, legs spread, jeans undone, revealing the bush of dark hairs surrounding his long and thick cock.

You nearly whimpered at the sight, your center pulsing in want as you leaned against the doorframe, watching him as he run his left hand up and down his shaft, head tilted back, breathing hard, eyes hooded. He was such a beautiful and debauched sight that you felt the urge to photograph him, capture that sensuality.

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch?” He asked, eyes meeting yours through the reflective surface.

“You seemed to be doing fine on your own,” you teased stepping into the tight space, fingers itching to touch all that glorious skin.

“I did not just spend most of my afternoon at the corner diner, drinking burned coffee just to jerk off in front of you,” he declared, standing up and turning your way.

“Ohhh, so this was premeditated?” You asked, kicking off your sneakers as he reached for you and you stumbled against his chest.

“A little bit, yeah,” he admitted, large hand hot against your hips and you wanted to feel it against your flesh. “You probably don’t remember, but I was here last week and you had to bend over to get something from one of the lower drawers...” he let out a soft groan, hands moving to your ass and squeezing lightly. “Fuck! I don’t think I ever popped a boner so fast in my life. I had to get out.”

You vaguely remembered that. There was so much coming and going in this place, it was hard to keep track of faces, but customers just taking off after asking to see something usually caused an impression. If you weren’t about to get fucked after six months, you would be more pissed.

“So you decided to come back when I was alone and seduce me?” you asked, running your hands over his chest and abs, scratching it slightly and goosebumps rose in his skin as he hissed.

“Yeah,” he spoke in a low voice as his hands move to the button of your jeans. “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he slid your fly down and your breath caught in your throat. “I thought about bending you over that counter and fucking you until you’re screaming.” His fingers skimmed over your cunt, just a soft touch, but you gasped and arched your hips forward, holding onto his arms to steady yourself. “I thought about it eating your pussy and your ass until you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Those words were whispered right against your ear, before he changed your positions, crowding you against the mirror and pushing your jeans down to your thighs before he once against skimmed his fingers over covered sex, making you ache for him.

“What do you think about that?” He asked, lips brushing your cheek in an almost chaste kiss, completely opposed to the lewdness of his hand exploring your cunt. “Do you want it?”

“If you’re as good with your tongue at eating pussy like you are at talking dirty, then I maybe I do,” you declared, tired of his teasing and you felt his smirk as he gracefully slid to his knees in front of you.

You didn’t manage to get another word out before he shoved your panties down to join your jeans and his lips firmly connected to your clit. He gave it a sharp suck and you groaned, burying your fingers into his hair to keep yourself on your feet as your brain short-circuited and your knees turned to jelly.

He was very good at eating you out, especially because he was very attentive to every sound you made, every tightening of your grip on his hair, and roll of your hips to nudge him into going faster or slower, harder or softer... It wasn’t long before he reached that perfect alternation of fast flickering against your clit and slower and broad strokes of his tongue over your entrance and lips, a combination that drove you crazy.

You were whimpering and moaning, legs quaking with the alternating urge to close them around his face to keep him trapped there pleasuring you forever or spreading them wider so he could have more space to work, but the edges of your jeans were digging into the lower part of your knees, signaling you that that was as far as they could go.

As if reading your thoughts or maybe he just realized he would need more room, he shoved your pants down and helped you to kick them off so you could be completely free of the garment. And didn’t you two looked like a mismatched pair, with you standing there wearing only your top while he knelt in front of you, his jeans still on.

Once your pants were off, he hooked your right thigh over his shoulder, pressing his mouth even harder against your cunt, flickering his tongue over your clit before dipping it in between your lips, gathering the juices soaking your sex like a starved man.

“Fuck! I’m so close...” you hissed, rolling your hips, seeking more because that tight knot deep inside you was about to snap and from the way you ached and shuddered, your muscles tensing, you knew it would be a hard one.

“Yeah?” He mumbled against your core, his breath against your overheated skin making you shiver as he pushed two fingers inside you. “Gonna cum all over my mouth?”

He pistoled his fingers in and out at a fast pace, crooking inwards with every down motion, his tongue matching his rhythm against your clit and it was that made you snap as you bit down on your fist to stop yourself from shouting as your body was flooded with pleasure and all you knew was the unbelievable bliss that surrounded you. Stars bust behind your closed lids, the air came out of your lungs in short gushes as you fought hard not to slide down to the ground because your legs felt like jelly.

“Ok?” he asked, making you finally snap your eyes open to look at him.

He was sitting on his heels, face still glistening with your orgasm, his lips swollen and red from the abuse. His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking and you really wanted to return the favor.

“Way better than ok,” you replied with a gasp. “My turn?” To your surprise, he shook his head and got to his feet.

“Tonight, the only place I’m cumming is in that pussy,” he announced against your ear and shivered with anticipation. “So let’s get out of this fucking store and go to my place?”

“Fuck yes!” you grinned breathlessly at him as you reached for your jeans and he buttoned his over his hard cock and that couldn’t be comfortable.

“I’m Johnny, by the way,” he said. “Johnny Utah. Just in case you want to know what to shout when I fuck your brains out later.”

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky smirk and moved closer to him, once fully clothed, the only evidence of your recent climax was the sweat cooling on your skin and the stupid grin that refused to leave your face.

“I think I like you more when your mouth is busy with something other than talking,” you declared and before Johnny could manage a reply, you silenced him with a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue.

xxx

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[diaryofassortedimagines]

freak like me

request/summary: Can I make a request where Credence has a girlfriend who protects him from cruel people and then consoles him? @green-day-fangirl

warnings: my poor baby credence gets so scared, angst, fighting

anywayssss i hope this was good enough!

——————————————————————————

credence cringed a bit every time he would stroll through the streets of london where he used to hand out flyers. remembering the chill of each gust of wind, the abuse of every passing individual, the emotionally draining and hope-killing life he had once had. for a long time, he was hardly able to walk through the streets without being on the edge of a breakdown

all that he had in his hold life had changed, however, on the day you two met eyes. it was not long before his obscurial incident, in fact. vividly, the two of you remember the story of how you met- it started from the usual bully, pushing him out of his way with clear intent on hurting him, an experience credence was all too used to. as you witnessed the act and looked around you, only to see a plethora of people ignoring it, you found it your duty to right the wrong no one else would. in your eyes, it was unacceptable, something credence had never seen from anybody.

“hey!” you stepped in front of the man, being careful not to actually put your hands on him and looked him, bravely, in the eyes before turning your gaze to credence. he shriveled a bit, afraid of what the outcome would be, but snuck looks at you. “what was that for? you had plenty of room!” the man scoffed.

“just get out of my way, sweetheart.” you stomped to the side, not letting him pass. “apologize to him. now.” he sighed. “look, i have places to be, lady... if i apologize, will you move?” you nodded in triumph. “fine. sorry, kid.” “no, no no,” you said. “look at him, like you mean it.” the man turned to the frightful credence and said. “i’m sorry i pushed you, kid.” he looked back at you and you gave a straight faced nod, stepping aside.

“are you okay?” you took just a few steps toward credence. wordlessly, he nodded yes. “good.” you smiled and turned. credences eyes widened.

“wait!” he clasped his hands over his mouth in regret. however, you quickly returned back to his side. “you didn’t have to do that. it happens all the time.” he was hardly audible. you tilted your head in confusion. “well, it’s precisely for that reason i did do it. it doesn’t have to happen all the time.” he smiled a tiny bit, although you could hardly see his face as he tilted it downward. “i’m y/n.” you reached your hand out, speaking and acting cheerfully. weakly, he took your hand and “shook it”. his grip wasn’t firm in the slightest, and was clearly inexperienced in the act of meeting people. he inhaled, gathering as much bravery as he could. “c-credence.” he shrunk into himself with embarrassment. “well, why don’t i take some of these for you, credence?” you gestured toward the small stack of flyers still left in his hands. this certainly warmed him up to you a bit, as his eyes brightened and he smiled up at you. “really??” you chuckled and took them from him, putting them in your bag as if you would actually use them. “maybe i’ll see you again? i-i just landed a job here, so... yknow.” he could’ve cried in that moment. he’d never really had a friend, but what he knew about how they acted, you were pretty close to it. “y-yeah.” he started playing with his fingers behind his back, his heart absolutely faltering. you gently placed your hand on his shoulder, entirely in a friendly way, and he melted on the inside, but wouldn’t let himself show it. “‘bye for now, credence.” he loved the way you used his name. “goodbye... y/n.”

that had all happened almost a year ago, now, but you were still just as protective of your dearest as always. you learned his telltale signs that said he was nervous, and as his chest began to heave, you clenched his hand with a strong grip and pulled him into you, moving your hand to be over his shoulders.

“here we are.” you said as the two of you stopped in front of a tailor shop. “i’m just gonna run in. ‘you okay here?” he smiled a bit.

“yeah! ... yeah i’ll b-be okay.” truthfully, he was nervous, but also thought it was good for him to face his fears a bit. you kissed his cheek before heading inside. he turned on his heel and looked at the passerby’s in the chilly streets.

at an almost comically bad time, the unthinkable happened. a group of kids, even younger than credence, caught each other’s eyes for a second or so.

“what’s with that hair?” he and his friends laughed. credence inhaled deeply and pursed his lips, pretending to ignore it. “hello?” he snapped a finger in front of his face. he was in so much strife at the moment. he expected to either break down and cry or enter his obscurial form, something he had done so good at controlling.

“stop... p-please.” he was so proud of himself in that moment! not only did he look them in the eyes for a moment, he spoke at a level they could hear (even if barely). his naivety got the best of him however- they didn’t stop like he expected them to. “why should i do that?” they were relentless on terrorizing him. “what a silly outfit!” they were all snickering and giggling at him, shamelessly. “take this stupid hat off!” as the kid raised his hand, fear struck his heart, and credence instinctively caught it. he was unaware of his own strength, as the boy struggled to get free. in an instant, everything happened. first he saw another hand coming for his jaw, and the next, the soft and gentle hands of yours stopping it.

the rage in your eyes as the two of you had a little staring contest was insatiable. credence, in shock let go of his hand by mistake. as one hand was freed, you expected his next move to be to go for you, and dipped out of the way of his blow. as peaceful a person as you were, you would allow nothing to come between credence and his happiness. as a last resort, you used both arms and bashed him into the rest of his friends, standing there looking at them like a lion. the kid scoffed. “whatever, he’s not worth it anyways. freak.” credence had shed a tear by now, and without hesitation you spat in his face. his mouth was open in shock as he used the back of his hand to wipe it away. ”go home, young man.”

your power was that you were a formidable force that nobody feared until you had reason to. you fought valiantly against a variety enemies as a friend of the goldstein’s and mr. scamander to the extent where a snot-faced kid was no match, no matter how much he thought he was. not to mention, you had a few... spells up your sleeve.

as he charged at you, you twirled your wand discreetly under the cover of your coat sleeve. “slugulus eructo.” you whispered with a sly smirk. in an instant his mouth erupted with slimy slugs. the boy was revolted and horrified as his friends ran away from you in fear, him soon following. credence laughed quietly- had never seen that spell.

the very second they left, you sped over to credence, who was looking at you both amazed and terrified, and held his face, wiping away a tear.

“are you okay?”

“are you okay?” the two of you spoke in union.

“oh, baby, i’m okay. you’re not hurt are you?” he nodded no. “i’m so sorry. i should never have left you alone, it’s my fault. i’m sorry, honey, i’m so sorry-” he cut you off by simply hugging- clinging to you tightly. you kissed his head. “oh, credence i’m so glad you’re okay. that was amazing what you did back there, catching his hand like that. i’m so proud of you honey. it’s okay, everything’s okay. you’re doing so good, my love, look at you, how far you’ve come.” you clung to each other like leaches. he was blown away at your existence, each and every word that came out of your mouth was his saving grace.

“i-i’m sorry i didn’t want you to get caught in the middle.” you chucked. “don’t worry about me; it was hardly an inconvenience.” you held up your pair of just-tailored pants, completely intact and undamaged. he smiled “gosh, you’re... you’re incredible... my real guardian angel.” pausing, he said: “i’m... not really a freak, am i?” you gasped. “oh darling, i thought we’d been over this, how could you think that after all this time?” he shrugged, and as he wouldn’t look you in the eyes, you gently took his chin and made him. “even if you were a freak, you’d still be mine. my freak, and i love you so much, credence. you’re simply beyond words splendid. besides, who can say what normal is? your normal is different than mine, and to some people, i’m a bit of a freak too.” you smiled. “and baby, you’re the prettiest, most talented, kindest freak i know.” a pretty coral tint was across his face as you spoke. “thank you... i-i love you... too.” he spoke with uncertainty, but you knew completely that he meant it and was only unused to affection. the two of you laughed as you said. “i know, babe. wanna head home.” he smiled to you and nodded as you apparated into a swirl and returned to your warm bed.

——————————————————————————

not to ruin this with how much of a horny bitch i am, but alternate ending where credence gets aroused at how much of a badass you are....? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[shinonometrash]

The Kitten

Court of Darkness Fan Fiction - Short Story

Rating: General

Main Characters: MC, Lance Ira

You’re out on a field trip when you find a baby kitten! Wait-, why is Lance carrying around a blanket in this hot weather? Where did that kitten formula come from??

(This is the expanded version of an excerpt from Chapter 4 of my Jasper Lane - Reimagined fic! It got too long for the chapter when I was originally writing it, so I had to shorten it. (Also, I couldn’t have MC just ditch Jasper for Lance four chapters in...) But I didn’t want to deprive the internet of any fluff Lance content, so I decided to expand it a bit and make it its own fic!)

You can check out other content that I’ve written/made by clicking here!

We head to the lake where Roy will be conducting his lesson on the relationship between Magical Theory and nature.

Before the official lesson begins, we’re given a thirty minute break to wander around and eat the dinners provided to us.

???: -eowwww!!!

As I'm eating, I notice a strange noise coming from a bush.

(Hm? What's that sound?)

???: -eowwww!!! Meeowww!!

I go to investigate the sound and stumble upon a very tiny kitten sitting next to a bush, crying loudly.

Kitten: Meowwwwwww!! Meowwwww!

MC: Oh no, are you lost? Where's your mommy at?

The kitten is clearly very distressed as its cries get even louder.

Kitten: Meowww!! Meowwwww! Meowwwwwww!

(What should I do??)

I glance around, but see no signs of a mother cat nor any other kittens.

I'm debating on whether I should call Toa or Roy over when somebody appears behind me.

???: Move. Let me see.

MC: Wha-

I half move and half get shoved out of the way. When I look to see who it is--

MC: Wait, Lance??

(Isn’t this the guy who told Toa to shut it earlier? What is he doing over here?)

Lance: A kitten, is it?

Locating the kitten, he gets down on his knees next to the bush.

MC: Wait, just stay here, don't touch it. I'm going to go get Toa.

Lance: No need.

Wasting no time, he pulls a magnifying glass out of his bag.

(Huh? What's he gonna do…?)

He scoops up the kitten and uses the magnifying glass to examine it.

The kitten’s cries get louder and it starts squirming.

MC: Hey, be careful-!

Lance: I know, I know, just let me look you over first…

(Whoa…)

At first I was worried he might be accidentally hurting the kitten, but now I realize he's actually being extremely gentle as he talks to the kitten in a soft voice.

Lance: Good. Doesn’t seem to be any open wounds or visible injuries. Definitely on the underweight side, though. Looks like he hasn’t eaten for a bit.

Kitten: Meowwww!!

Lance: Yeah, you’re hungry, aren’t you buddy?

Kitten: Meow!

MC: Oh, I was in the middle of eating when I came over here, so I think I've still got some chicken left…?

Lance: Ah, no, it's too young for that...this little one should still be nursing from its mom.

MC: Then should we just leave it and wait for its mom to come back?

Lance: If the kitten has gone this long without being fed, I don't think she is coming back.

MC: What do you think happened??

Lance: A lot of things could've happened…maybe something happened to the mother, or the little guy wandered too far from home...he seems like a runt, so the mom might've even abandoned him…

MC: Oh my gosh that's so sad! Why would a mother abandon her own baby??

Lance: It happens sometimes. More importantly, we need to get some food in him soon. At this age they're supposed to be getting fed every three to four hours.

MC: We can get a saucer of milk for it when we get back to the academy then?

Lance looks at me with an expression that could only be described as some sort of horrified scowl.

Lance: What? No. Are you trying to kill the thing?

MC: Huh? But you said it needs milk…

Lance: Yeah. From a cat.

Lance: Unless this looks like a baby cow to you?

He holds the tiny fluff ball in front of my face for emphasis.

Kitten: Meow?

MC: I've always given Robin milk since he was a kitten, though...

Lance: Cow’s milk isn't very good for any cats, it can hurt their stomachs.

Lance: Plus, it doesn't have the right nutrition for kittens to be a suitable replacement.

(He sure seems to know a lot about this.)

MC: Then what are we supposed to do?

Lance: Give me a moment…

Carefully holding the kitten against his chest with one hand, Lance opens his bag again and pulls out a blanket to put on the ground.

(Why does he have a blanket in his bag? Isn't it kinda hot out right now…?)

Lance: Watch to make sure he doesn't try to wander off anywhere. He's pretty weak right now, so he shouldn't, but...

He sets the kitten down on the blanket and then starts rummaging through his bag.

After a moment, he pulls out a jar with some sort of white powder, along with a tiny bottle.

MC: What’s that?

Lance: Kitten milk replacement.

MC: ???

(Why does he just have kitten formula in his bag…???)

He adds a small scoop of the powder into the tiny bottle and then looks up at me.

Lance: Is that water?

MC: Yeah, but, I've only got like two sips left...

Lance: Give it to me.

(That’s all the water I brought to drink, though!)

MC: Did you not bring any of your own water?

Lance: I did, but…

MC: But what?

Lance: I gave the rest of it to a stray dog earlier.

MC: C-Can’t you just use some of the lake water from over there?

Lance: You want me to give this baby kitten lake water?

MC: I mean…that’s what it’d be drinking from normally…so it should be safe, right?

Lance: Alright, great idea.

MC: Okay cool then I’ll go and-

He pours what’s left of my water into the tiny bottle and hands me back my (now empty) water bottle.

Lance: You can refill your bottle with lake water.

MC: …

(Well I guess we don't have that much longer anyway…)

Lance: Alright, latch on to the bottle now, won't you?

Lance: I know…it's different from what you're used to, but you can do it…

Lance: There you go, that's it. Good.

After a bit of struggling, the baby kitten starts drinking from the bottle.

He watches the kitten with an incredibly soft expression, a big smile across his face.

(BRB, swooning.)

Once the baby kitten has had its fill of milk, Lance puts the bottle back in his bag before immediately returning his attention to the baby kitten.

Lance: Haha, that's better, now isn't it?

He gently strokes along the kitten’s tiny back with two fingers.

(Oh my god, this is way too precious. Help.)

MC: So, umm…

Fighting the strong urge to squeal, I try to start a conversation.

MC: D-Do you just carry around stuff like that all the time…?

Lance: It’s baby animal season right now and it's not uncommon to find hurt animals around this area…

Lance pulls a small foldable carrier out of his bag and stuffs it with towels.

I peek into his bag and see a multitude of different first aid items and animal foods.

(Oh my god, he really doesn't have any school supplies in that bag at all!)

Lance: Well, I’ll be taking this little one into my care now.

He bundles up the kitten into the carrier and starts walking off.

MC: Wait! What about the lesson?!

Lance: Not important, don't care.

Kitten: Meow!

MC: Shouldn’t you at least let Roy or Toa know??

MC: ???

(Is the only reason he came here is in case there was a hurt animal??)

I watch as he walks away, feeling equal parts charmed and confused.

The whole “bad boy with a gentle side” was never really my thing, but I think I might be reconsidering that now.

(Although, truthfully, I have the sneaking suspicion that the “bad boy” part of him is in appearance only…)

The end.

You can check out other content that I’ve written/made by clicking here!

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

My Liability, My Deadweight

Fandom: The Chronicles of Riddick

Collection/Series: My Liability, My Deadweight

Pairing: Richard B Riddick x Female Fat + Glasses Wearing Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T (Swearing, Riddick is Riddick, violence)

Warnings: Swearing, violence towards deadly alien creatures, violence from deadly alien creatures towards the reader

Summary: None of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a holiday resort planet, relaxing by glistening waters and forgetting your troubles. Not traipsing through a deadly jungle on an uncharted planet with a just as deadly companion who seems torn between helping you and hating you.

Notes: So I guess this is going to be similar to Western AU Din in that i’ll probably write some stuff in the same sort of world/vein as this. I’m just interested in the idea of Riddick with a reader who is the opposite of a survivalist, who isn’t fit or strong, who is scared. The idea of Furyans having mates or soulmates that they don’t really get to choose and the idea of Riddick having to come to terms with the idea that the person he wants to protect so bad needs his protection more than most is interesting to me.

This is probably such a niche thing to write, not only because the fandom is tiny, but also because people tend to write Riddick fanfic where the reader or OC is extremely capable, but I wanted to write it. So self-indulgent fic coming up.

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Kratos is a horror show of a planet. It’s the sort of planet you’d never thought you’d end up on, the sort of planet that you saw on horror vids and read about in the tales of survivors of tragedy. You weren’t supposed to be on it. You were just on a short trip, just supposed to go to a stupid holiday planet, at the insistence of your boss that you needed a break from your desk, that you worked too hard. You were a city slicker, an urban citizen, not an outdoorsman or an adventurer, certainly not the sort of person who’d come to a planet like this. But, your pilot had needed to make a stop, said there was a problem with the fuel cells that he needed to check out. So you’d made a pit stop on a barely charted planet. Nothing good ever happens on a barely charted planet. 

Covered in dense, muggy jungle, the planet would have been beautiful had it not been trying to kill you and your, for want of a better word, companion at every turn. It was covered in vibrant green forest, tropical plants, exotic and brightly coloured flowers (many of which, it turns out, were deadly themselves). There were brightly coloured bird-like creatures and primitive mammals that scurried through the trees and across the ground. It would have been beautiful, except for the limp in your walk from the burning claw marks deep in your thick thigh, except for the blood that followed in your wake, the dead bodies of the crew you’d left behind, and the yellow eyes that seemed to follow the two of you under the dark canopy.

After a stupid decision by your group to go out into the jungle to try and find a settlement of some sort, just because it had seemed like (as if there was any real reason to leave), you’d been picked off one by one. You could only describe the beasts as fucked up panthers. Two tails with stingers at the end, sharp spindly spines along their backs, an elongated neck, venomous fangs and sharp teeth and claws. They were hard to spot, silent in the underbrush and decidedly and most definitely deadly. The only reason you were still even alive was because of Riddick, because for some unknown reason the man, the murderer, had decided to stick close to you, like glue. You weren’t complaining.

At the time of boarding the ship for your trip it had seemed horrifying, to know that you were travelling on the same transport as Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, known murder, predator. He was the sort of man your parents whispered about, the sort of man that you never wanted to meet. He was someone from your worst nightmare. Now he is your saving grace and surprisingly not what you had expected of a notorious big bad. While he meets many of your expectations, crude at times, harsh, and physically intimidating, he defies them too. He is at times oddly gentle with you and, the mere fact he cares about someone’s survival other than his own, is in itself a surprise. A fortunate one for you. 

“Are we nearly back to the ship?” You ask because your leg is killing you, because you so desperately just want to get off this planet even if it means being stuck in a confined space with a convicted murderer. You hate this planet, you hate the constant feeling of fear and of uselessness. You hate the truth of it all, that you are weak, vulnerable, prey not the predator. It has you realising your many weaknesses, many vulnerabilities, many failings. 

“Shhh…” Riddick raises his hand out in front of you, a universal sign to stop, while the other comes to his lips in a shushing motion. If he were a dog, his ears might very well have pricked up at the slightest sound. 

To you nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no unusual sounds or movement in the brush. You couldn’t see anything out of place. Just as you begin to notice the silence, the lack of sound, that is the moment everything goes terribly wrong.

“Riddic-” You were cut off by your own scream. 

Things happen so fast that you don’t really have time to process them. One minute you are standing behind Riddick attempting to get his attention, the next a dark shape crashes into you and you’re on the jungle floor a heavy weight pressing on your chest and stopping your breathing. Your hands reach up instinctively, pushing against the creature in an effort to keep sharp gnashing teeth from your face, but you’re not strong and you’re not a fighter and you can feel your arms beginning to collapse already. Can hear yourself screaming for Riddick even as part of you thinks he’ll leave you there, abandon you to be eaten alive. There is a deep fear that this is it, this is the end. That it shall be painful, terrifying, lonely, and unfamiliar. 

Claws scratch at your arms, blood runs over your skin in rivulets as you scrabble in the dirt. Then as suddenly as the weight came it was gone, hefted off of you with an angry roar and the sound of a knife hitting flesh over and over again. You don’t look, can’t bring yourself to look, just lie there and breathe, in and out. You don’t want to see him do what he’s good at, don’t want to see alien blood, a dying creature, the parts of him that are less than gentle. So you stare up at the canopy and catch your breath, feeling the blood flow down your arms, the bruises that ache over your stomach, hips and legs. Feel the relief flow through you, combat the shock, as you realise you are not dead, you are alive, and he did not leave you to die. 

You’re rather numb in truth until you hear him muttering above you, “goddamn liability, deadweight…”, it shouldn’t upset you because it’s true. But it does, it upsets and angers you because you didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want any of this and you didn’t ask him to hang around, didn’t ask him to help you. You had no say in this. This was not your idea of a holiday, your idea of fun, or your fault. 

It forces you to your feet, forces you, despite the blood dripping from your wounds, to stand and face him, despite the bruises, despite the pain, despite the fear. You find yourself planting your feet even as you sway unsteadily, standing with hands on your wide hips and a scowl aimed at a man that could kill you easily. For the first time you’re too angry to overthink your actions towards the man. For a moment you stop thinking and start acting. 

“If i’m such a goddamn liability, then just leave me here! I didn’t ask for you to stay, Riddick! I didn’t ask for your help! If it’s such a fucking chore to have me along, if i’m really dead weight then leave me! Go!” You didn’t normally scream at anyone, it wasn’t your personality type. You were quiet, shy, retiring. A wallflower. You didn’t scream. You didn’t start fights. You didn’t do any of that. Anger wasn’t your natural response to anything. Fear was. But after being hunted down, time and time again by giant alien cats with venomous fangs and an uncanny ability to hide on a jungle planet, all while being called a liability, a dead weight by the one person you had to rely on, well, you were finally at your wits end. You were in pain, you were upset, frustrated and ready to just go home. 

You didn’t understand it. Why Riddick even bothered with you, practically a stranger. You knew you were a liability, that’s why it hurt so much when he said it. You were soft, emotionally and physically. You were a slow runner, a poor fighter, had terrible eyesight that required glasses, you weren’t light on your feet or graceful and you certainly didn’t know much about survival. You were overweight, unfit and unsure on your feet. You were prone to panic and tears, you were easily emotionally and physically unbalanced. Until this trip from hell you’d been content in the inner rim, working a normal job, a safe life. Your day to day had been comfortable, safe. Easy. You weren’t cut out for this, for danger and potential death and had Riddick, this known criminal, one of the most sought after murderers in the verse, not decided to stick by your side you’d have died at least ten times already. It didn’t make any sense and your frustration at yourself, the situation and at him had tears pooling in your eyes. You didn’t ask for any of this.

“I can’t.” He’s so impassive, so calm, that it pisses you off more. It pisses you off how hard it is to read him, how he hides his eyes behind black goggles that stop you understanding him. How he hides all emotion from you so easily. How is he okay with this? How is he so calm when everything around the two of you wants to kill you, when he could have left this goddamn planet already if you weren’t slowing him down at every turn? How could he stand there above the body of some hell spawn creature and just stare at you like that, like everything was just fine, just normal? Like he wasn’t covered in it’s blood. Like you weren’t dripping in your own. Like you hadn’t almost died. Again. 

“I..I don’t get it…? What do you mean you can’t? You could walk the fuck away right now. I can’t stop you! No one else is here to stop you! If you want to leave, leave! No one’s holding you back, Riddick! No one is going to stop you! I can’t bloody well can’t! Look at me!” You sound hysterical even to your own ears but you can’t help it. You are so scared, so confused, so frustrated, so panicked by all that’s happened, all that could happen. You gesture down to yourself, to the bloody coating you, the way you protectively hold yourself off of your hurt leg, the sheer stature different between the two of you. All the things that make it very abundantly clear that if he chose to simply walk away you couldn’t stop him. 

“Listen, princess, it’s not that fucking simple!” The snap is almost relieving, that he’s not as cold, not as impassive as you thought. That he could break too. That he could be angry, that he could be upset, that this wasn’t just normal. Even as his steps closer cause your back to hunch, cause you to second guess your antagonist behaviour. 

“I don’t understand!” 

With a growl he’s crowding you against a tree, thick arms caging you in. He’s imposing, large, a head taller than you and the action has him taking over every one of your senses. He never touches you in anger and while the display is intimidating, it oddly enough doesn’t scare you. It almost feels secure. Perhaps because not once has he done anything to suggest to you that he would hurt you, every move he’s made has been to keep you safe. Every time he’s touched you has been to pull you from danger or bring you back to your feet. Despite his harsh appearance, his foul language and the deadliness that he displays at every turn, he has never once given you cause to fear him. To fear how he would treat you. 

“You’re my mate, got it?! I don’t get to choose, I don’t get a choice! I can’t leave you! I just fucking can’t, so you’re a fucking liability and dead weight, but you’re my dead weight, got it? I ain’t fucking leaving you, we either both get off this motherfucking planet or we both get eaten by these fucks, princess. There’s no inbetween, understand?” Silver eyes flash at you as he tears the goggles from his eyes,  his brow furrows and the muscles in his thick neck and broad shoulders bunch and move with every piece of tension that bursts through him. You are distinctly and sharply reminded that Riddick is a predator in every sense of the word, while you are prey. You are on two separate ends of the spectrum. 

“Mate…?” Your eyes flit across the landscape behind his head, trying to process all those words and all their meanings. You don’t understand, you don’t understand any of it. But, those words soothe you in a way you can’t explain. He isn’t going to leave you. For whatever reason, for whatever this is, whatever he means, he isn’t going to leave you.  You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. He’s not leaving, even if you’re a liability, a deadweight. Even when things get bad, he’s not leaving. He is, at this point, your only chance at getting home, getting away from him, of surviving. The panic in you begins to soothe, calm and settle. 

“We don’t have time for this.” You’re startled by the sudden display of affection as the man cups the back of your neck and presses his forehead into your own, “Just trust me.”

“I do, Riddick, I trust you” It’s hard to explain, the trust you feel for him, the safety as you let him lead you once more through the jungle. You are bleeding, in pain and still ever so aware of the dangers around you, but you have an implicit belief that with Riddick you are as safe as you can be. That if there was ever a person to carry you through this it would be him. 

You might still be confused, might not understand what he means by you being his mate or by his obligation towards you, but you know that he isn't leaving you for dead and that is enough right now. That is more than enough.

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

                                                   All Works Taglist

@charradelange @belfry-bat  @gabile18 @beccaboo929​  @trasheater

[no-stabbing-wednesdays]

The Conspiracy Job

I made a post about the “Eliot’s semi-famous identities” conspiracy here and @what---i-dated-a wanted a fic, which got my muse going. So, here it is, and also on AO3

An amazing version of the same concept by @copperbadge was linked in the notes and I recommend you all read that too! The Job Interview Job

The Conspiracy Job

“Oh, not again!”

The others, busy drawing up plans for their latest con, looked over at Hardison. 

“What is it?” Sophie asked.

He brought his display up on the large screen at the front of the room. 

“Someone’s just searched a bunch of Eliot’s old aliases, all at the same time.”

Parker frowned as she looked at the screen. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Eliot was on his feet immediately, concern clear on his face.

“Who is it? CIA? FBI? KGB? Mossad?”

“Give me a second,” Hardison said. “No, I don’t think so. They’re not being flagged on any databases. Someone’s just googling them.”

Eliot relaxed slightly and rolled his eyes. “It’s not those damn conspiracy forums, is it? I thought you got rid of those.”

“I did! They haven’t posted anything, they’re just looking. Oh, they’re here in Portland.”

Eliot tensed again at that, but Hardison shook his head.

“Relax, man. It’s a family house; a couple of dentists and a fifteen year old. If they post anything I’ll take it down, nothing to worry about.”

On the other side of Portland, Julia stepped into her friend Marcie’s bedroom and her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. Marcie was connecting red threads between grainy, printed-out images on her corkboard and empty bottles of Gatorade littered the desk.

“You have to cool it with this, dude.”

Marcie turned to face her, her hair a mess and her eyes red from lack of sleep, and Julia sighed.

“You look like freaking Charlie Kelly!”

“There’s something here, Jules. I’m sure of it.”

“It’s a couple of athletes and a singer who happen to look similar. It’s hardly the scoop of the century.”

“Look similar? Look similar? Julia, they are completely identical! There are exactly three possibilities.” She held up three fingers in her friend’s face as she counted them off. “Triplets, clones or one ridiculously talented guy.”

“Okaaay, and which one do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” Marcie answered, turning back to her board. “Triplets? Why would they have different names and hide it? One guy? He’d have to be able to sing and play guitar, baseball and hockey. Why wouldn’t you own up to having that kind of talent? Why go to different places with different names? Clones? I’m leaning clones.”

“Clones? Come on, Marcie.” 

“It’s the most logical explanation.”

“You think someone cloned a human being just to create a one-hit-wonder country singer and some short lived athletes?”

Marcie shrugged. “It could be a trial run or an experiment or something. And you remember that anything I ever said on the forums would mysteriously vanish? I went to look after Jacques Labert turned up and every single forum post was gone! Every one! Doesn’t that sound like a government conspiracy to you?”

“It’s weird,” Julia admitted. “But I think you might be taking this a little too far. If the government were making clones, why would they let them get famous so people could discover it?”

“But they weren’t that famous. Think about it, what were the chances that someone would connect them? There were only ever a couple of us posting on the forums. If I hadn’t happened to be visiting my uncle in Palmerston when Roy Chappell was playing and then gone to Saddle and Spurs for my birthday, I’d never have known.” 

Her eyes widened as a horrifying thought occurred to her . “Then Jacques Labert turned up in my city! What if I’m the connection?”

She swung back to the board and began to write her own name. Julia grabbed her hand.

“Marcie! You’re not the center of a government conspiracy! Besides, who’s this fourth guy again?” She asked, tapping one of the photos in the corner. “You didn’t have anything to do with him, did you?”

“No,” Marcie conceded. “And I told you about him, remember? He’s an animal rights activist who was on the news in San Lorenzo a couple of years ago, talking about dog fights in the Presidential Palace. And he’s Canadian. That’s why it’s so exciting that, after almost two years of nothing new, Jacques Labert, Canadian hockey player, suddenly appears. Was the guy on the news Jacques Labert? If there really is more than one of them in the first place!”

Julia grimaced, increasingly worried about Marcie’s obsession with this wild conspiracy. “He was on the news where?”

“San Lorenzo. It’s this tiny European country. Here look.” Marcie sat at her desk, tapped the name into Google and turned her laptop towards Julia. 

Julia scrolled through a few pictures of the idyllic Mediterranean island, then stopped suddenly and pointed at one of them. 

“Wait, who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Rebecca Ibañez. It’s a tragic story,” Marcie explained, as she clicked on the link and showed her some clearer pictures. “A couple of years ago, the same time maybe-Jacques Labert was there, there was an election and her fiancé won. But, just as the results were announced, supporters of the former president tried to assassinate him and Rebecca stepped in front and took the bullet for him.”

“She was assassinated?”

“Yes, isn’t it awful?”

Julia shook her head. “She can’t have been.”

“What?”

“She’s my brother Zachary’s acting teacher.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I went to see his play last week and I met her. Her name’s Sophie Devereaux and she’s definitely not dead.”

Marcie looked at her in amazement, a grin breaking out across her face . “And she was in San Lorenzo at the same time as Jacques-Roy-Kenneth! There might be even more to this than I thought!”

Julia, almost as invested as Marcie now that her brother’s odd director was mixed up in this, pulled up a chair and looked on excitedly as her friend brought up another google search. 

Back at the Brewpub, the crew were working out the kinks in their plan while waiting for any sign of the internet sleuth trying to share their ideas about Eliot’s multiple identities.

When the computer pinged again, they all turned to see which of his aliases had been flagged this time, only for their eyes to widen in horror as the search term flashed on the screen.

“Rebecca Ibañez” “Sophie Devereaux”

Sophie gave a gasp that almost turned into a choke. “Wha- wha- what?”

Eliot turned to Hardison, furious. “Oh sure, just dentists and a teenager! Fix. This.”

“I’m trying!” Hardison said. “I can’t find any connections to anything. They look clean.”

“Then look harder!”

Wait, I have something. It’s the kid’s computer.”

“Who’s the kid?” Nate asked.

Hardison pulled up a Facebook page. “Marcie Taylor. She’s a sophomore. She used to post on those stupid Eliot forums that I had to take down every week after Memphis. It was pretty harmless, but I’ve no idea why she’s suddenly looking at Sophie’s aliases.”

He scrolled down the page looking for any kind of hint, when Sophie called out to him to stop.

“Who’s that with her? She looks familiar.”

A few more clicks and Hardison had a name.

“Julia Gutmann. She’s in the same class.”

Gutmann?” Sophie groaned. “I know why she’s familiar. That’s Zachary’s little sister.”

“Zachary? Your acting student Zachary?” Nate asked disbelievingly.

“Yes, she came to our play last week.”

Nate shook his head. “I told you to use an alias at that theater.”

“But I wanted to do this as me,” Sophie protested.

Eliot turned back to Hardison. “So, let me get this straight. The aliases and digital trail that you set up to be uncrackable by international governmental organizations are about to be blown apart by a couple of high schoolers?”

Hardison glowered at him. “They’re only looking at old aliases and they were all burnt when we had to leave Boston anyway. It’s not that bad.”

“Sophie’s still using Sophie,” Eliot argued, nearly yelling now. “And I was only just Jacques Labert and in this city. Now they’ve tied me and her together. How did they even do that? That’s way more than some fifteen year old girls should be able to accomplish on Google.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t panic. They were looking at photos of San Lorenzo. That’s how they found a picture of Sophie."

Sophie glared at him.

"Hey!" he protested. "You're the one who jumped in front of the cameras! I can't control the entire internet you know, and I think the people of San Lorenzo would have noticed if every image of their martyred heroine suddenly vanished.

“It’s just bad luck that Julia had met you. But why were they looking at…” Hardison groaned. “They found that video of Eliot and the puppy somehow.”

“Why didn’t you take that down?” Eliot snapped.

“It’s a thirty second feature on the news from two years ago in a country smaller than Iceland! It wasn’t my top priority!”

“Dammit, Hardison!”

“So, our cover’s going to get blown by kids?” Parker asked, incredulously. 

“No,” Nate insisted. “Well, maybe. But we can manage this. Hardison, don't let them post anything. Sophie, call Zachary. Let’s go steal ourselves some silence.”

[bonesandthebees]

Okay, so the clinic one shot. I had to sit there for a full minute recalling the plot and characters so I could read because it’s been so long since I’ve read it. Anyway, it’s amazing how you convey the hero-villain dynamic. It’s one thing to know that the heroes do a lot of unnecessary damage. It’s another to see Wilbur being chased across rooftops with no way to defend himself or escape. It paints that constant fear they live in.

Because this is Dream, who has already killed a man and walked away without consequences. Dream who knows he can get away with it again. Dream who knows Siren is alone and can’t defend himself without his power and back-up will never get here fast enough. Dream who knows there are no p witnesses and this would be the perfect time to kill him. So he does.

And then there’s Wilbur realising Tommy is a good person and immediately becoming protective. Because being a villain (or associated with them) is dangerous. He would’ve been dead without Tommy. And it’s interesting to see that from the very beginning Wilbur knew how this would play out. He knew the kid would get dragged into being their healer so he tries to hide his existence without even considering that maybe that’s what he wants to do. If he saved Siren, knowing it was Siren, then surely he just wants to help people.

Also, Techno has to put so much effort into getting the tiniest piece of the puzzle. Which makes me think that Wilbur constantly downplays how badly he was hurt because he doesn't want the others to worry. So protecting the kid is just an excuse, but he’s just hiding the trauma of a near-death experience and trying to deal with it on his own. That’s not healthy.

Also, by the time Phil and Techno show up on Tommy’s doorstep, they know he saved Wilbur’s life. So, either he told them when he sent them to Tommy or he caved before that or they wrung it out of him because he clearly wasn’t okay. It’s good that it does get dealt with, even though it should be the go-to to tell them.

Lastly, of course ‘spend a year starving on the streets’ Wilbur instantly notices Tommy is too tiny and probably not eating enough, so as a thanks he takes him out for food. It’s a nice character detail that even though he has enough now he still knows the signs and he’s definitely ongoing to do something about it because he remembers what it was like.

Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed the clinic ramble. I did not expect this many thoughts, but here we are.

-🌲

lmaoooo I straight up had the main clinic fic open in another tab the entire time while writing that so I could make sure I was keeping my own story straight. in clinic, the heroes are far more corrupt as a whole compared to world forgetting, so it was interesting to go back to that dynamic! dream knows full well he can get away with killing a villain now, and it's been so many years since he killed hbomb that he's convinced himself it's all for the greater good now. you can see a stark difference in his behavior compared to when he first killed hbomb and how horrified he was, and now he just... didn't seem to care that much about killing siren. he was proud of himself, more than anything.

wilbur at first was very suspicious of tommy, but once he realized this random kid was telling the truth and he genuinely just wanted to help? wilbur can't remember the last time he met someone that wholly good, so of course he doesn't wanna drag him into shit if he doesn't have to. he owes tommy and he recognizes that, and doesn't want to get some random kid involved in this shitfest if he can avoid it

lmao yeah wilbur definitely has downplayed his injuries before so techno is very suspicious the whole time. later on in the story when wilbur eventually tells phil and techno the truth of that night, they all have a long family talk about "hey wilbur why the fuck did you not tell us you almost died that's not healthy are you alright-" (for reference, wilbur didn't tell phil and techno until that night at the warehouse when phil got injured. they needed a healer so in a rush he just kind of told them "oh yeah haha that night i came back with a stab wound uh fun fact it was way worse and I literally was about to die but some kid healed me so since we need a healer-")

yup. wilbur knows what it's like to be hungry, even if tommy isn't on the streets and isn't fully starving, he's still not eating enough and wilbur knows how to recognize those signs

so glad you enjoyed spruce anon!!!

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (January 30/2021) - Bad's Visit, Ranboo’s Confrontation

The day has come. It’s time to visit Pandora’s Vault again.

The first visitor after Tommy is Badboyhalo, whose visit with Dream leaves him a bit uneasy, conflicted about how he feels about the living conditions of Dream’s cell. 

The second was Ranboo, though his visit wasn’t exactly what it seemed at first...

---

Here is the link to Badboyhalo’s VOD

(I’ve been a lot more specific with the details of what happened in this stream since the VOD is unlisted, but I figured I’d also just link the VOD here as well)

This post is pretty long, so I’ve only recapped the two very lore-heavy streams today to keep it from being even longer.

---

Also note (CW/TW):  Today’s streams had some heavy themes, including derealization. 

---

- Badboyhalo goes to visit Dream at the prison.

- Awesam asks him questions. This will be the first time that Bad has visited Dream at all. He resides at the Mansion. He hesitates a little at the question of whether Dream deserves to be locked up, saying an uncertain “yeeeeesss?”

His prior relationship with Dream is that they were friends. Were friends before he chose to destroy L’manburg. Maybe not 100% not friends, but...neutral.

- Sam directs him to the lectern with the waiver. Bad signs it. He places his valuables in the locker room.

- They start heading through the security measures of the prison. They make it to the lava wall and wait for it to drain. Bad is nervous.

- He turns to face Dream. Dream says he hasn’t had a visitor in a while.

- Dream starts spinning the clock.

Dream: “I used to write, but I...burnt a lot of my books.”

Bad checks the chest and sure enough, many of the books are missing.

Dream would try to get out, so Sam disallowed visitors for a few days.

Bad: “I bet you have a lot of time to think about what you did.”

Dream: “Yeah, I do...It’s a...think and think and think.”

- Dream asks Bad about how George and Sapnap are doing. He says they haven’t visited him...

Bad says he’s sure that George and Sapnap miss him.

Bad: “You’re telling me they haven’t come by at all?”

Dream goes over and starts spinning the clock again.

- Dream asks Bad about what’s been happening outside. Bad tells Dream about how Tommy is starting a hotel. 

Bad: “I’m sure a lot of people miss you!”

- There’s still a giant Crater where L’manburg used to be. Nobody’s tried to clean it up. 

- Bad also mentions the Egg. Dream remembers Bad showing him the Egg a while back. Bad says that it’s spreading Vines across the server.

Dream: “That’s interesting...”

- Bad asks if Dream’s named the clock yet. Dream says he has, but he doesn’t want to say what...

- Dream writes up a thank-you book to Bad for visiting him. Bad wouldn’t be able to take it with him on the way out, so he puts it in the chest.

- Bad asks how long his sentence is. Dream says forever. 

- Dream says he likes to watch the clock, and when it hits halfway...he’s happy. They watch the clock hit halfway. That was awesome.

- Dream asks Bad how long he’s been in there. Bad says...a couple weeks, he thinks? A week? Two weeks?

- Bad asks who else has visited. Dream says Tommy. The only one until Bad. Bad is shocked that no one else has visited, but Dream explains that there are limited visiting hours, and people have to schedule. He’s sure they will.

- Dream says he sometimes plays a prank on Sam by burning the clock so that he brings a new one, so that he can see Sam and say hi.

Dream: "He comes over." 

Bad: "I mean, you don’t get in trouble for doing that, do you?" 

Dream: "...Not yet...Sometimes he'll give me less potatoes, but--" 

 Bad: "Oh, so he starves you." 

Dream: "...No, I’m not saying -- I dunno, I wouldn’t say I’m starving."

Bad: “Do you have three square meals a day?”

Dream: “...”

Dream: “I have potatoes!”

Bad: “Yeah, potatoes are good!”

...

Dream: “He’ll do it later.” (chuckling) “Later he’ll come and he’ll say ‘why did you do it again?’ And then he’ll look at me and say ‘don’t be so dumb, Dream!’ And I’ll laugh at him, and I’ll say ‘oooooh, I -- I got you though!’”

- Dream tosses the clock into the lava and laughs. 

- Dream says Sam is making a system soon so that he can just drop the potatoes down so that he doesn’t have to visit Dream to give them. Bad doesn’t like the idea of this and says Dream should encourage Sam to continue visiting Dream in person.

- Dream sniffs a bit, but tells Bad he’s happy there.

- Bad will become a guard soon, and says he might be able to suggest giving Dream new things. He suggests a plant. Dream likes that idea. 

- Bad asks who Dream wants to visit. Dream says he wants George and Sapnap to visit him. Bad says he’ll go and talk to them about it. They probably already want to come and see him! Maybe they just need a little reminder.

Bad: “Yeah, and if you keep up -- I assume you’ve been maintaining good behavior, right?”

Dream: “...”

Dream: “...Yeah.”

Bad: “Okay, ‘cause like you gotta maintain good behavior, ‘cause if you. maintain good behavior --”

- Dream suddenly runs into the lava. Bad is freaked out, but Dream says he swims there sometimes. That’s just how it works. It’s a way to keep entertained.

Sometimes he likes to touch the lava and burn for some time, only extinguishing himself at the last second. He laughs a bit. Bad asks if this is another way to prank Sam? Dream just keeps laughing.

- Dream says Bad’s time is probably up. 

- Dream asks Bad if he knows how long each block would take to break? He says he’s sat for twenty minutes once trying to break the blocks. 

He helped design it, though, and knows that there’s an observer behind the blocks that will teleport the guards. Maybe if he wants to see Bad sometime, he can break it and teleport him over.

- Bad says maybe he’ll visit soon again, but with George and Sapnap. Dream says there’s only one visitor allowed at a time.

- Bad says his goodbye and exits the cell.

- Sam asks how his visit was. Bad says it was good, but Dream needs a new clock. Sam is exasperated -- this was the fourth/fifth (hard to hear) time already -- and says he might not get a new one this time...

He’ll give him a new clock, but Dream’s on thin ice.

- Bad tells Sam he needs a clock! Sam asks why he would need one. 

- Sam asks Bad what Dream said. Bad said they just talked about stuff, and that Dream jumped into the lava. Sam says he does that a lot, that “usually he just wants attention.”

- Bad exits the prison, thanking Sam. Sam says goodbye.

- Bad says he doesn’t know how he feels. It’s a lot to take in. On the one hand, Dream did plenty to land himself in the prison, but on the other hand, the conditions of the prison are horrible. 

- Bad says there’s no way he could ever be broken out, and he doesn’t even deserve to get broken out anyway. He was going to kidnap Skeppy! 

But at the same time, a part of Bad can’t help but feel a bit sorry. 

It’s not too much to feel a bit sympathetic about the conditions, and hope that they can be improved a tiny bit. Maybe giving him a plant! Or a pet!

- Bad plans to become a guard to incentivize better conditions.

- Bad thinks Dream deserves to be in there, and he doesn’t want to free him, just provide better conditions. He was spinning a clock just for entertainment! 

Even prisoners deserve good living conditions. 

(To paraphrase) He totally deserves to be in there! But the conditions are awful. There’s no reason why being there needs to be torture. And having more friends coming to visit him is good, providing a positive influence. 

- Bad was a little horrified. He didn’t know what to say when Dream started spinning the clock. He named the clock! Pretty soon he’ll be counting up the bricks in his cell and naming them, too. 

He thinks a pet, a potted plant, something like that would be a good start. Something for Dream to take care of.

- Bad was a little unnerved about how Sam was acting in the prison, like he didn’t care or was apathetic. 

- Dream belongs in the prison, but there’s a difference between torture and just locking someone up. Dream is in there because he’s a danger to others, but his stay there doesn’t have to be torture. 

What else could they get him?

Maybe...a jukebox and some music discs? Bad has music discs he could gift him. Maybe music can lift his spirits.

Or perhaps some paintings to lift the spirit of the room.

- Bad examines the growth of the Vines. He’s noticed that the Vines aren’t growing past the border of the Holy Land. 

- Bad speaks with Quackity. He asks about Dream being in prison -- question, would it be too much to ask about improving the living conditions in the prison?

Quackity says maybe they could “improve his living conditions” by building another wall or bullying him. 

- Bad says Quackity should go and visit him. Quackity is planning to. Maybe then they can discuss it. 

Quackity says that now he’s thinking about it...they do have quite a bit of leverage. Maybe he could reconsider it...a plan to provide him with more comfortable living, but any comfortable living comes with a price...people would owe him.

Bad doesn’t like that idea. It sounds manipulative. 

Quackity: “At what point has Dream given you anything? At all? Has he ever helped you? Exactly. So listen to me, okay? What we need to do is get something out of comfortable living. I’m sure he’d love comfortable living, Bad. So that is why we need to go to him and strike him a deal...”

Bad: “What can he give us? He’s imprisoned.”

Quackity: “I know exactly what he can give me.”

- Quackity leaves the call. 

- Bad wasn’t sure if he should’ve told Dream about the Eggpire so he didn’t, because he was worried it would make Dream more sad.

--- From here on, all of this takes place on an alternate server ---

- Ranboo starts off in the panic room, looking at his sign. Today’s the day.

“After today? He’s gonna know who I am. He’s gonna know exactly who I am.”

- Ranboo starts heading over. The construction sign at the hotel site is completely blacked out.

“Dream’s not the one in danger here...so I could get rid of him if I wanted to...I could get rid of him if I wanted to. But then other people couldn’t come back...No, I couldn’t do that.”

- Ranboo goes in through the portal. He comes out into the Nether in an area not within the prison’s Nether chamber. Ranboo comes through and gets teleported to Sam for a moment.

- Sam asks him the questions. Ranboo says this is the first time he’s visited and Sam accepts his answer with no hesitation. He’s talking with a very cheerful tone of voice.

- Ranboo tells him he lives near Techno and Phil, and that he thinks Dream definitely deserves to be locked up. With regards to prior relations, he actually hasn’t spoken to Dream before...

- Ranboo needs the Memory Book with him. He gives it to Sam to inspect. Sam says he can allow it in, but Sam will have to transport it for him.

- As they go through, Sam notices that Ranboo is nervous and reassures him that everything’s fine. He is also always holding a clock in his offhand.

- Ranboo signs the waivers, the first as “Ranboo” and the second with “Ranboo2.”

- They make it to the lava wall and Sam gives Ranboo his Memory Book.

- Dream’s surprised Ranboo didn’t come sooner. They’re best friends, right? Ranboo says they’ve barely spoken. Dream says he’s probably talked to Ranboo more than anyone else on the entire server!

- Dream asks why Ranboo’s acting different? He then realizes. But he’s still glad to see Ranboo. He’s been a good helping hand, after all.

“You did do those things. After Dream told you to do them.”

- Ranboo points out the clock. Dream says he doesn’t really like it.

- Dream asks if Ranboo would like to see what he’s been writing, and hands him a book labelled

Do not read.

- Ranboo looks through the chest. Not only is the chest completely filled with books that weren’t there earlier, but every single one of them is labelled “Do not read.” They are all unsigned and unfinished, and there are no anvils in Dream’s cell.

Every single one of them is the same, 17 pages long unlike the 4-page book in Ranboo’s hand. 

“I know what I went through because I’m you!”

“Look, you’ve been helping Dream! The only reason you haven’t been talking to me recently is because you can’t picture what he sounds like...he would tell you thinks to do, you were like his little...servant!”

- Ranboo asks how it’s possible that he could help Dream so much and not remember any of it. 

“You do! You do because I’m you.”

 “I’m...I’m not even real.”

Dream disappears. The screen goes black. The white smile appears without the crown. The crown flashes in code:

“Not free yet.”

---

Upcoming Events:

- The next Tales From the SMP episode

- Tommy’s next visit with Dream

- Bad wants to visit Dream again in the future

- Tubbo’s possible visit with Dream

- Quackity’s possible visit with Dream

- Puffy’s visit with Dream

- Ponk’s visit with Dream

- Punz’s visit with Dream

- Jack Manifold’s visit with Dream

- The Eggpire possibly speaking with Technoblade

[c-r-ash-crash]

New Life Chapter 4

Etho pushed himself to his feet, using the cave wall to steady himself. He rubbed at his face groggily. God, he hated moving to new servers. Especially if that server included permadeath. He slipped his mask on, and clipped his sword and makeshift scabbard onto his waist. He pulled on his gloves and rubbed the sleep from his eyes one last time. Up and at ‘em.

He marched out into the main room of the little shelter he and Bdubs had constructed the night before. He slipped silently into the small tunnel connecting the shelter to Bdubs’ tiny closet of a room. He stepped into the room and saw Bdubs passed out on the bed, sprawled out awkwardly. Etho couldn’t help a small smile at the sight. Then his hand brushed against his sword.

It would be so easy to kill Bdubs right now. His abdomen was completely unguarded, and there were no weapons within sight other than his own. It would be smart too. If what everyone else said was true, Bdubs was also on four lives. Taking one and knocking him down to his lime green life wouldn’t be a bad idea. He wouldn’t go red just yet, but he’d also be easier to take out if need be.

Etho shook his head, letting his hand fall back to the side. What was he thinking? He and Bdubs were allies. He couldn’t kill his fellow hermit. He wouldn’t kill him. Besides he wasn’t a red life yet. He wouldn’t be allowed to kill him. Not yet, at least.

Gently, Etho reached out his hand and shook Bdubs awake.

Grian rode through the forest, reins draped through his fingers. The horse he had found was a beautiful steed, snow white and muzzle speckled with spots of black and dark gray. His search for caves last night had been fruitless. But when he had found the horse, he had found a set of diamond armor tied to the creature's side. Part of Grian wondered if it was a gift from the universe. Most of him really, really hoped it wasn’t.

Suddenly, he heard two voices drifting through the trees. One was male, one was female. He recognized Scar’s voice instantly, and after a moment, he also recognized Lizzie’s. Quietly, he dismounted and wrapped the horse’s reins around a tree. “I’ll be back in a minute, buddy,” he murmured. Then he set off.

After a moment, the trees cleared to reveal a small river side beach and a cave plunging into the side of a small hill. Scar was sitting on the edge of the hill, and Grian could see a bright pink and blue smudge just inside the cave that must have been Lizzie. “You know, I’m actually the boogeyman,” Scar was saying. “So you should definitely give me a life.” Grian froze.

“Scar, don't joke about that!” he blurted out before he could stop himself. Scar leapt to his feet and Lizzie scrambled to see over the hill. “Oh, hey, Grian,” Scar said, grin growing wider. “Didn’t see you! Did you hear what I was telling Lizzie?” “About how you’re actually the boogeyman?” Grian said, eyebrow raised. “Do you even know what the boogeyman does?” “Well of course!” Scar said. “Then you know that if the boogeyman doesn’t kill someone in nine days then they become a red life?”

Scar’s face fell momentarily, horrified. But then his eyes lit up with mischief. Grian swore under his breath. “Of course I knew that,” Scar said, turning back to Lizzie. “Which is exactly why you should give me a life, Lizzie. If you do that then I won’t kill you this round.” “But why’s that such a big deal?” Lizzie asked. “I have plenty of lives to spare. It doesn’t really matter if you take one. Besides, this is just a game right?”

Grian flinched back, and Scar’s jaw tightened. “No, Lizzie,” he said quietly. “This is not ‘just a game.’” “Lizzie,” Grian explained, voice slightly pained. “If you lose all your lives, then you're dead. Like, permanently. It was a miracle we survived last time. I don’t know if the universe will let us come back this time.” The mood sombered. Lizzie simply stared as she processed what Grian had just said.

Then, suddenly, Scar clapped his hands together, startling the others out of their thoughts. “That’s exactly why you don’t want me to kill you, Lizzie,” he said. Suddenly, Grian had his arm caught in his grip and was pulling Scar into the trees. Scar stumbled along behind him, spluttering indignantly. Once they had reached the spot where Grian had left his horse, he shoved Scar up against a tree.

“This isn’t a game, Scar,” he growled. “Lizzie is a friend. And if she dies, she could die permanently. Don’t ever threaten people like that again. Our actions have actual consequences. This isn’t just some harmless scam you’re pulling. This is people’s lives, Scar. Do you not see how messed up that is?” Scar’s gaze hardened. “Grian, let me go. Now.” Grian didn’t move. “Grian,” Scar warned, much more firmly this time.

“Promise me,” Grian said, voice small and almost defeated. “Please, Scar. Promise you won’t pull a stunt like that.” “I promise,” Scar said. Grian didn’t notice the way he crossed his fingers as he spoke. Grian released his hold on Scar. Suddenly, Scar sprinted away and began untying Grian's horse from the tree. “What are you-” Grian said, but before he could finish the sentence, Scar was already galloping away.

Bdubs pressed his ear closer to the wall, listening for the tell-tale sound of lava. His brow furrowed, but then he pulled back. “This wall should be clear,” Bdubs said. “Who knows, maybe we’ll even get lucky and it’ll open into a cave.” Etho nodded silently, then gestured for Bdubs to move.

Bdubs stepped back as Etho raised his pick and brought it down on the rock face. A minute later, he had broken through the wall. He brushed away a few stray pieces of stone, and Bdubs tucked the item drops into his pocket. “Well, shall we see what’s on the other side?” Etho asked. Bdubs nodded, and slipped through the opening.

There was indeed a cave. Quickly, Bdubs propped a torch up against the wall, and scanned the area. He saw a few veins of iron and coal, but otherwise, nothing truly useful. “No diamonds in here,” he called back to Etho. “There’s some iron though if you want that.” “I think we’ve got bigger problems,” Etho said from right beside Bdubs. Bdubs jumped. “Geez,” he muttered. “How long were you standing there?” Then he noticed Etho was staring intently at a darkened corner of the cave.

Bdubs followed his gaze to see Tango and Skizz standing in the corner, hands on the hilts of their swords. “Oh, hey guys,” he greeted. “How long have you been in here?” “Couple hours,” Tango said evenly. “Stayed here once we heard you guys coming though. You might want to consider being more careful. After all, we only have so many lives.” Bdubs’ hand strayed towards his sword. “We do,” he said, a hint of threat creeping into his voice. “I would be pretty careful if I was you.”

Suddenly Etho broke in, trying to diffuse the tension. “So, how’s the resource gathering been going, gentlemen?” “Pretty good,” Skizz, still slightly cautious. “We found a couple of diamonds.” “Oh, really?” Etho said. Bdubs could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. “How many?” “Four,” Skizz said with a shrug. “That means two each.”

Before anyone could blink, Tango was entangled in spider webs, another cobweb item floating in Etho’s hand. “Well, gentlemen, it’s wonderful that you’ve found some diamonds. But let me explain how this is gonna go,” the ninja said, calmly, tossing the cobweb from hand to hand. “One of us is the boogeyman. If you want to escape with your lives, you’ll hand over those diamonds.” “We don’t even know what the boogeyman is supposed to be,” Tango scoffed. “That’s hardly a threat.”

“Oh, I’m happy to explain,” Etho said. “You see, the boogeyman is someone randomly chosen by the server every nine days. And guess what? They get to kill people regardless of how many lives they have.” Bdubs felt sick. Etho was literally threatening to kill their friends. Did Etho know Bdubs was the boogeyman. If Bdubs really thought about it, his strategy was a good one. Someone on the server was allowed to kill, and no one knew who it was. Using that fact to get better resources was a good move. Bdubs tried desperately to ignore how vulnerable Tango was right now, how close at hand his sword was.

Skizz’s hand crept towards his sword. “Ah ah ah,” Etho warned. “There are two of us. One of you is trapped, and one of us is allowed to kill. I wouldn’t try anything Skizz.” Bdubs’ stomach began to turn. It would be so, so easy to kill Tango right now. He shoved the thought down.

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” Etho said. Bdubs’ hand brushed over the hilt of his sword. Suddenly, he drew it, and Skizz and Tango flinched back. He cut the webs away from Tango. “Get out of here,” he ordered. Tango and Skizz didn’t protest, sprinting out of the cave. Bdubs watched them go. The headache from yesterday was returning. He ignored how feverish his skin felt, ignored the growing nausea in his stomach. He should have killed Tango.

Pearl added another layer of stone to the small platform she and Scott had made. He was a few blocks above her, scanning the nearby forest for any signs of other players. She glanced up, ready to ask him what he was seeing, but stopped when she saw his expression.

He was sitting despondent on the edge of the platform, twisting his crown between his hands, rubbing his thumb over the rim. The poppy he had picked earlier was sitting by his side, seemingly forgotten. What had happened between him and Jimmy earlier. Clearly they had been friends, at least once upon a time. But it was clear that wasn’t the case anymore, or at least Jimmy hadn’t wanted that to be the case. She watched as Scott’s fists curled around the crown. He looked as if he wanted to fling it away. But after a moment, he relaxed. Pearl sighed affectionately, and began clambering up the tower.

Before she reached the tower however, she heard the sound of horse hooves, and glanced down to see Scar riding a beautiful white horse. “Hey, Scar!” she called down. Scar startled, but then he too called down to Scar. “Hey guys!” Scar called up. “What’re you up too?” “Just a quick break,” Pearl said, dropping back down to the lower half of the platform. “Nice, nice,” Scar said. “Say, Pearl, I can’t help but notice you’re on your dark green life.”

“I am,” Pearl said, not missing the way Scott’s hand drifted to the bow slung across his back. “Well, that means you have a few lives to spare,” Scar said. “You know, we have a give life command now, so you can just transfer lives to each other.” “Oh, really?” Pearl said. “And I assume you want me to transfer you a life?”

“Well, of course,” Scar said. “But if you need some extra incentive, I’m also the boogeyman.” “What does that mean?” Scott asked warily. “It means I’m allowed to kill you.” Pearl froze. Casually, Scott unslung his bow. “Lot of good that does you,” he said. “It’s two versus one. Besides we’re up here and I have a bow.” Scar’s face fell. Then, they heard the sound of soft humming drifting across the clearing. A few minutes later, Jimmy appeared at the edge of the little field. Scar’s face lit up. “You may be safe but Jimmy’s not,” he said. “What?” Jimmy asked, startled by the sudden acknowledgement of his presence.

“Hey, Jimmy,” Scar greeted. “Have you heard of the wonderful give life command?” “I have actually,” Jimmy said, pleased. “I bumped into Grian earlier. He told me about it.” “Well, then, surely you already know how to use it,” Scar said. “I’m not giving you my life Scar,” Jimmy said. “Would it convince you if I told you that I’m the boogeyman?” Scar said, a bit of menace creeping into his voice. “I could just kill you if I wanted too.”

Pearl didn’t miss the way Scott instantly loaded an arrow and aimed it at Scar’s head. “I’m not giving you a life, Scar,” Jimmy said again, a bit more nervously this time. “‘Cause then I’ll be on my red life, and I really don’t think anyone wants that. I have a spyglass, though.” There was silence for a moment, but then Scar shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll accept that.” Jimmy tossed it to Scar, and scampered off as quickly as he could.

Pearl didn’t miss how Scott waited until both Jimmy and Scar were out of sight before he let himself relax.

Grian clambered up the hill to the enchanting table that marked spawn. He opened the book that lay in the center of the table, and smeared lapis dust across his sword. He began to speak the enchantment, but suddenly, he heard something hit the ground behind him. He whirled around, brandishing the sword but relaxed when he saw Etho.

“Man, Etho, we really need to put a bell on you,” he joked. “Please don’t” Etho said lightly. “That sounds like it’d be a nuisance.” “Yeah, but you couldn’t scare the rest of us half to death all the time.”

Etho rolled his eyes, and tossed a crafting table to the ground. “Bdubs, where are you?” he called down the hill. “I’m here, I’m here,” Bdubs complained, appearing as he spoke. “Cool,” Etho said. “You can get our stuff enchanted after Grian.” Bdubs nodded. “Tables free,” Grian said, resheathing his sword. “I see your resource gathering has been going well.” “Yeah,” Bdubs said, rubbing lapis across his and Etho’s swords. “Took us a while to find diamonds, but eventually we did.” “Nice,” Grian said. “What are you making, Etho?” “Jukebox,” Etho said, tossing the item to the ground as he did so. “Yeah, we found this really cool music disc earlier.”

Etho slipped the disc into the jukebox and eerie music began to echo throughout the night. “You know,” Etho said. “Whenever you hear this, someone’s about to die.” Grian burst out laughing. “Oh man,” Grian said. “Please tell me one of you is the boogeyman so we can make this happen.” “You’re correct,” Bdubs said.

Suddenly, a sword was slashing across Grian’s chest. “Wait what?” Grian said stumbling, fumbling to draw his own sword. Before he could do anything though, Bdubs made another thrust at him, piercing his shoulder. Grian turned tail and spirited away. He reached the edge of the river, and was about to jump into the water when a sword plunged into his back and through his chest.

Grian was slain by Bdoubleo100.