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thatbanditqueen · 2 years ago

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Against the Wall Chapter 3

Knock Me Down

A brief note: I need to go back and edit the previous chapters' posts, because this fic has taken on a life of its own. I envisioned it as this epic three-chapter story I would write over the winter holidays as a sort of sweet Christmas anti rom-com about Austin and an OC in the late 1980s/early 1990s. Then it took me twenty days to finish the third chapter. And it's pretty clear to me that I have more to write. At least one more chapter and an epilogue..... so whatever.....

I don't usually take requests, but I do appreciate input and feedback and suggestions, although I cannot guarantee how the writing process will work itself out, I will say that your feedback has kept me going and I included a few little scenes especially for @slowsweetlove although I probably didn't do him justice and completely defied his persona, I changed Keanu to suit my narrative needs and I hope it isn't too horrible to bear....

Catch up here:

Chapter 1: Bruised Bananas

Chapter 2: Red-Headed Woman

Summary: Picking up where we left off in chapter two, Hannah and Austin cope with the fallout from her arrest, and try to make the best of it, but fate gets in the way and they break up again, Austin begins to give in to some bad habits of his own while Hannah tries to forge a clean start but has some hard decisions to make on the way....

Rating: Explicit

Warning: smut, so 18+ only please, vaginal, oral, threesomes, sex with prostitutes, toxic, dark consensual sex, drugs, alcohol, pregnancy

Words: 15.4 K

IF YOU ENJOY PLEASE LIKE, REBLOG AND/OR LEAVE ME SOME FEEDBACK LETTING ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT.

so many typos sorry

Hannah's Rehab Playlist (basically grungey alt from late 80s/early 90s)

Hannah & Austin's Romantic Mixtape (get it on music from 70s - early 90s they would've liked... i don't know, it was part of my creative process...)

May 12, 1991, 7 am

Culver City Police Department

The wall greeted Hannah’s head with a thud, and she knocked her self back into it harder, wanting to absorb the cold concrete, it was awelcome relief to her warm, throbbing, anxious neck as she blocked the fluorescent glow of the overhead light with her hand. She sighed, head pounding, longing to sleep, but the adrenaline coursing through her blood made sleep impossible. That, and the general grey, dour, imprisoned atmosphere of the Los Angeles County holding cell where she found her self confined. That also made sleep impossible. So instead, she lay there, mentally flaying herself for being so stupid, so unlucky, and so utterly fucked. The severe, angry figure of Austin’s publicist Min greeted her at the discharge desk. Tall, slender, Black, with high cheekbones and an elegant, refined style, Hannah shuddered at Min’s terse smile as it led her to a white Mercedes.

“Thanks… for getting me … you didn’t have to….” Hannah looked down.

“I got a call from Austin’s agent, Brett, at 4:30 this morning informing me one of Hollywood’s hottest, highest paid actors is trying to leave an active, overseas production, one already running behind, and costing the studio hundreds of thousands of dollars a day, to rescue his girlfriend, so, um, yeah, I did have to….its going to take all my effort and connections to keep the damage to a minimum…”

Sighing as she looked out the window, Hannah realized they were going over the 101 to the valley, a direction that was decidedly not towards her apartment. About an hour later, after a shower and some coffee, Hannah sat on a bar stool in Min’s pristine kitchen trying her best to respond to a series of questions and rules.

“Let’s not beat around the bush. My job is to minimize the amount of people who know you were arrested last night. This is best for both your career and Austin’s.” Hannah nodded to Min, but reminded herself that Min gets 10% of Austin’s salary, and his career was her priority, not hers.

“Alright, Hannah. Have you ever been arrested before?” Hannah shook her head. “Good, that’s good… OK… now, be honest, has Austin been doing cocaine and heroin as much as you or Downey, or any of the other reprobates you have been running around with?”

“Um… Austin likes to party but uh … he doesn’t need to, you know? I… uh… he stopped partying when he’s working on a project … he, uh, never tried H. He doesn’t even know I’ve done it…”

“Well, he knows now. Right, ok, and how long have you had a drug problem ?”

Hannah looked down, her breathe caught in her throat before she murmured. “I don’t know if I would say I have a problem…

“Hannah, you were arrested for DRUGS, illegal ones, bad ones, coke and heroin ——”

“I’ve only done H a handful of times —”

“I wish you could hear yourself. Most people never utter those words…. If this gets connected to Austin, it can make him an insurance liability. Which is BAD. And, honestly the publicity is a career killer for you too, no director wants to hire a drug addict. So we need to contain this. And you need to sound contrite, apologetic, like you understand that all drugs are bad. Got it?” Hannah nodded again, accepting her role in this conversation: silent acquiescence.

“Right, last question - you’re on a film right now?”

“Yeah, uh … we finished the Point Break final mix Friday, that’s why I was out last night… the delivery party is next Friday …”

“You are one lucky girl.” Min put her coffee down, pointing at Hannah as she spoke. “You may actually get out of this with your reputation intact… if you do EXACTLY as I say. Rule one, no more dressing up like you’re auditioning for a Guns n’ Roses video. Think sleek, think simple, think modest. I want you to look like a PTA mom who is also an accountant. Got it?”

Hannah mumbled how she hated Guns n’ Roses, but her chin bobbed up and down with assent.

“Good. Ok, rule two, and hopefully this is obvious, but no more partying. I don’t care if you’re at the wrap party and Patrick Swayze offers you shots off his tight, perfect ass. You are now the paragon of sober, chaste behavior. I’m setting you up with an attorney, good one, Sheila, she specializes in these… sorts of…things… You need to prepare yourself. Sheila is going to tell you to start going to twelve step meetings, it will look good. She’ll ask for rehab in exchange for no jail time and a dismissal of charges.”

Hannah’s head fell into her hands, and her voice was shaking. “But I —“

“Possession of heroin, cocaine, unregistered guns, those are felonies here in California. Trust me babe, you don’t wanna fuck with prison. Rehab is the sensible choice, the choice that keeps this off your record, and then boom, clean slate…. ok, last rule: no more carbs.”

“Wait, why shouldn’t I eat carbs?”

“People always gain weight when they go to rehab, darling, and it would just make my life so much easier if you started saying no to carbs. And maybe yes to cigarettes? Now there’s a drug addiction I can get behind, keeps the appetite down, looks cool, might even help you get through all this.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Min, you make me feel horrible about myself.”

“Good, channel that when you think you want a doughnut. And smoke instead.”

Chewing sweet, glazed doughnuts in the passenger seat of her friend Robin’s car, Hannah let the gooey carbohydrates do their work comforting her as she prepared to call Austin. It was nighttime in London, and the cool, self control in his voice threw her off. Hannah could almost feel his abs tensing as he tightened up inward and put up a calm front. His timbre was steady, confident, unflappable. There was a slight British twinge to his voice, she could hear the Jagger in it, and he sounded like a bizarre version of himself. Hannah tried to lighten the mood, teasing him about his accent, but it was hard to combat every variation of his vague “the main thing is that you are ok, right Banana?” It betrayed how worried he was. Guilty for making him worry, guilty for ruining their travel plans, Hannah explained how she wouldn’t be flying over in two weeks and didn’t know when they would see each other.

“I totally get it if you want to take a break…” Hannah offered.

“What, from us?”

“Yeah,” she added, wiping her eyes, letting the word salad tossing around her mind tumble out. “I just… I … I’m a mess and its already been so long since we had sex and being with me is putting your career at risk, and I would never fuck with your money…. or your art … you are so talented … and I fucked up and I just… I would understand —if you need a break from the drama… ”

Austin paused, her comment about his talent was unnerving, raw praise was not something Hannah did, it usually was hidden in back handed mockery or laced with sarcasm. Watching Hannah struggle to admit he was good at anything made it so charming when she did, that, in those moments, he actually felt like he deserved her approval. She was perpetually the same to him since they met: brutally honesty and never obsequious, no matter his success. Or hers, for that matter. Hannah’s authenticity drove his need to have her in his life. That, and the way her feisty stubbornness provoked a subconscious desire to conquer her, she was a challenge he would surmount, and he secretly longed to marry her, fill her with children and make her his forever. But Austin never really entertained those inclinations. He couldn’t explain how he felt that, and then was also turned on by how ambitious and smart and talented Hannah was. He loved mentally sparring with her, exchanging witty barbs with each other was like foreplay. Then also, he loved catching her at work at the end of the day, still editing a scene. Her eyes lit up, biting her lip in concentration as if she was solving a complex puzzle. Then there was the way she never expected or demanded anything, never took it for granted that he would pay for dinner, concert tickets or trips, had refused to move in with him. Her plucky, unassuming self-reliance made him want to take care of her even more and give her the life she’d never had. There were moments when Hannah let down her walls and became vulnerable, moments when she let herself be raw, ask for help, or reach out to be touched, Austin lived for those moments. His favorite view of her was from between her legs, when she was completely naked, and his mouth was in her cunt, licking her, pleasing her, devouring her in ways she had always been wya too self conscious to let another man touch her. Austin lived to watch her face twist in tortured ecstasy as she writhed beneath him, moans begging him to continue, while her eyes betrayed her fear of the unbridled feelings she couldn’t control. It was sticking his tongue into a live current of lightening in the middle of velvet hurricane.

Austin had been in London for a month and he ached for Hannah’s companionship. Work was a useful distraction, his days started on the set at 6 am, and then he was often not back to the hotel, often, before 8 or 9 pm, sometimes grabbing a bite with the other cast members or crew. He told himself he was glad not to have Hannah there, it wouldn’t have been fair to leave her all day six days a week, and then giving her the worst version of himself in the evenings, exhausted and just wanting to recover and recharge. Acting demanded so much intense work, that being alone on an overseas shoot made it easier to stay in character. Which was the part of his job he loved, the magic of subsuming himself in a character that wasn’t plain, boring Austin from Anaheim.

Sundays were his only day off, and today, on this Sunday, listening to Hannah blabber on insecure and nice and completely vulnerable sparked something primal in Austin. He wanted to throw his phone down and run to Heathrow and fly too her immediately. He banged his hand on the table, frustrated at how stuck he was, and made a mental note to tell Min that money was no object for a lawyer or rehab or whatever else was needed to to take care of Hannah right now. Ashley, he needed to call his sister Ashley and ask if she could drive to LA and help out as well. Making this mental list, Austin roused himself from his reverie and returned to their conversation.

“HAN - NAH,” Austin’s voice growled in a low, husky rumble through the phone receiver slowly and surely. “Stop…. sshhhhh… baby…. you’re tired, you’re scared, it’s ok baby…. I get it… but….I. Love. You. Do you hear me Red? … I FUCKING BLOODY WELL LOVE YOU. I am not some sex crazed teen age boy. I’m a grown man. I’m not going to break up with you the day you get arrested for heroin because I need to fuck something… I would be there with you if I could, baby. It kills me that I can’t be there to take care of you -”

“But you shouldn’t have to take care of me, you should be with someone easier —”

“Banana! You were extremely easy …. that’s partly why I love you - you didn’t play hard to get, you opened up those legs the second I met you and then fucked me in an alley before you even knew my name —”

“That’s not what I meant. Plus, I knew your first name… and I could tell you were an ok guy, I saw your soul in the bathroom that night … But that’s not the kind of easy I’m talking about… I meant uncomplicated… simple… easy to live with…”

“Nothing worth having is easy, Red … look… you’re the only one I want… I don’t want anyone else. I love you. I love your messy, big beautiful…. brain… those two heaving sides of your cerebellum, working up new insults to hurl at me… I honestly don’t know how you do it… I love your big, beautiful tits…” his voice was low, husky now, slowly as he relished the mental image of Hannah the last time they’d been naked in bed together. “I love your big, beautiful Banana butt, and I really really love your sweet, little, tight —”

“Austin stop! I’m at Robin’s house, she is sitting ten feet from me —”

“MOUTH… what did you think I was gonna say? S’ides, she can’t hear what I am saying—“

“But she can see my reaction, even though she is on the couch, politely pretending to read a magazine and being very very cool about everything…”

“Wait, are you blushing? OH baby, you’re so fucKing cute when you blush…. Especially when your lips are around my—

“Austin!”

“Ok, ok. Look. I can’t help it, your voice is so sexy its distracting me… Look, I’m fine. I’m so busy with work, its probably good you aren’t flying to London, because we’re doing twelve hour shoots. I’ll just come home after we wrap, I need a break, you do too, so its good we aren’t gonna travel around Europe all summer. I need to recover…. I’ll be home in August, and until then, it’ll be just like any other long distance thing, and we’ll be fine. We’re already pretty banging at phone sex… and you can use all that free time in rehab to write me dirty love letters —”

A loud guffaw escaped from Hannah’s rough, cried-out throat.

“Oh baby, I love it when you snort. Loudly.”

“Shut up, Austin, you really are a dirty, little pervert. I swear, I can hear your hard on…. I can just tell from your goofy voice… how can snorting turn you on?”

“The world works in mystical ways, never question a hard on… just say thank you….”

Hannah chuckled, “I can’t decide if I want to punch you or make out…?’

“I wish we could do both, preferably, in that order… oh Banana, everything is gonna be ok. Maybe this is a good thing.”

Hannah paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sighing, Austin looked up and let his eyes wander, unfocus, following the rectangles of light bouncing off the crystal chandelier in his hotel room. He wondered if Hannah would be in this trouble if he had just been man enough to confront her before he left LA last month. If he really wallowed in self pity, his guilt spiraled back to their first break up, when he cheated on her. Because after getting back together, the biggest change he observed was Hannah’s new daily coke habit. It was a drug she used to hate it, and now she did it first thing in the morning. One evening before he left for England, SJP had cornered Austin at the Viper Room and confided that she was pretty sure Bob and Hannah were doing heroin with Johnny Depp, Winona Ryder and River Phoenix in the club’s back office. That Hannah had started experimenting with smack in Venice with Bob, behind her back. Austin had told her she was being paranoid, they were doing blow, like everyone else. Sure, Hannah enjoyed blow, maybe too much, but then again, coke was everywhere, e was everywhere, and everyone was doing it, including them. But heroin? No. Hannah was no junkie, she had no track marks, wasn’t passing out, or missing work, or stealing things. She was just going through a party girl phase, needed to let off steam now that she was getting better jobs, and needed to get it out of her system and find her rhythm. Now, after the arrest, he wasn’t so sure, and the prospect of Hannah being locked away in a rehab, getting rest, forced off drugs, was actually a salve comforting the overwhelming sense of powerlessness and fear running through him because he was so far away.

“Banana... I’m just saying maybe some rest and relaxation will be good….”

May 17, 1991

Hannah tried to be good while her lawyer, Sheila, sorted out her case. She wore boring clothes. She clenched her fist and powered through the week totally clean until the Point Break wrap party, when she looked down to find herself sipping on a beer and couldn’t even remember picking it up. Fuck it, its just one, you deserve it with the week you’ve had. Three beers and two shots of tequila later Hannah was smoking a joint out back with a mix of actors and crew, including Keanu Reeves, Lori Petty and others. The night went on, the atmosphere was giddy with the thrill of completing such a large-scale action movie and Hannah chased her warm buzz into a drunken fuck-it cyclone. Staggering toward her car, wondering if she should drive, she was rescued from indecision by a bounding Keanu running into her, long hair flapping behind him as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a group heading to Sunset in a limo. Hannah couldn’t see straight leaving the The Standard at 2:30 a.m., and found herself sharing a cab alone with Keanu, and his hands, one of which found its way to her knee, a glint sparkling in his eyes, his brows arched in a question. In that moment, the sheer flattery of his proposition sent a of flock butterflies fluttering through Hannah’s belly, and she looked up at Keanu’s rugged jawline through blurry eyes, focusing her eyes on the rough stubble calling out for her fingers, imagining how sweet it would be to look up at him as he fucked her softly, slowly, tenderly. No one would know. She felt like she was dancing above a ravine, daring herself to tumble in to her own demise. Hearing his velvety, warm voice, Hannah almost propelled herself forward.

“You know, Rosenfeld, you’re the cutest editor I’ve ever met…”

Hannah let out a sardonic, “ha,” taking a deep breath. It took all her will power to remove Keanu’s hand from her knee.

“Not sure if that’s a compliment… most editors are gross, nerdy, old white dudes… kinda low bar there, K-Rock… but, thanks anyway… it’s just … I have a boyfriend…”

“Still with Austin?”

She nodded, leaving with a hug before wobbling out of the cab and into Robin’s house. The base of her head was still throbbing Monday morning when Austin’s sister, Ashley, showed up to take her to lunch and help her get ready for rehab.

August 17, 1991

Golden Key Treatment Center, Half Moon Bay, CA

Hannah stood in front of the mirror, tee shirt lifted up, moving her hand over her belly and hips, stopping at the top of her grey sweatpants and snapping the elastic in frustration.

“Ughhh, I think I’ve gained 10 pounds since I got here… what the fuck can I possibly wear tomorrow?” She whined to her roommate Sonal, who looked up as she flipped through Cosmo.

“Shut up Hannah, you look healthy, I would kill for your tits…..”

Hannah shifted from side to side. “And I would kill to be 18 again, like you, with your stupid metabolism and great genes … you could be a model… I would hate you if you weren’t the only other sane person here… but you need to tell your mom tomorrow, no more bringing tubs of Indian food for us to eat at family visitation … Ok, from now on, every time I want to eat, I’m gonna smoke… coming? ” Hannah slipped on her birks and grabbed her pack of Parliament methols. Sonal followed her downstairs and outside to the ring of metal chairs and benches in the designated smoking area. Golden Key was like a jail mixed with a posh psych ward housed in a Mediterranean style villa overlooking the Pacific Ocean above levels of manicured gardens punctuated with fountains, a pool and tennis courts. The most comfortable smoking section was a deck off to one side of the lobby at the entrance, hidden from the drive by a line of tall evergreen shrubbery, but convenient for those stressful moments Sundays during family time visiting with guests in the main building.

Today, Hannah and Sonal were alone on their walk through the grounds. Saturdays were the only day patients could get a day pass to leave campus with a buddy or approved guest. It was also one of two days they got to sleep in, and Hannah and Sonal had conspired to stay in, eat cookie dough and veg out watching television, for once not having to compromise with others on what they watched in the common room. Hannah had regressed back to habits from her freshman year at UCLA, spending the day in pajamas without make up, smoking menthols and watching TV.

Sonal exhaled her cigarette, “How long did you say it’s been since you saw your boyfriend?”

“Early April… it’s been over four months ago… he’s probably boarding his flight right now … today’s actually his birthday, but he couldn’t get over until tomorrow… I’ve been trying to think where we can sneak off during visitation tomorrow … though he probably won’t want to fuck me when he sees how fat and boring I’ve become here… ”

“Hannah… if its been four months, he won’t care what you look like. Why was he in London again?”

Hannah bit her lip, “Yeah, he, uh … his company transferred him, but he’s—”

Standing, Sonal looked through the shrubs out toward the circular driveway. “Shhh, Hannah, a black convertible just pulled up front, it looks expensive… ”

Hannah bounced up, moving to peep around the shrubs. “That’s a Lamborghini….” she murmured, watching a tall white guy with shoulder length blonde hair covering his face grab a bouquet of roses and step out of the car. A shot of electricity went through her stomach as she realized who it was, and, stabbing out her cigarette butt she became a woman possessed. She scurried around the deck’s stone balustrade columns and ran down the steps towards the car, the flop of her sandals falling off didn’t phase her. The force of her body knocked Austin back onto the hood of the car as she jumped onto him, legs around his waist, a high pitched squeal escaping her mouth before it smashed against his lips.

“Hey Red…happy to see me?” Austin looked up, through a sly grin in-between kisses, blue eyes bright and twinkling at Hannah. She slide off him, panting and giggling, then realizing she was barefoot in sweatpants, she punched Austin in the shoulder.

“Asshole - I did not want to look like like this the first time you saw me…..I fucking hate you!”

Austin smirked as he rubbed his mouth, raw from Hannah’s assault on it, his hands were now on her waist as he pulled her back into his embrace. “Shut up, you look fucking hot… I might have to ravish you right here on my new car…”

“NOPE…. I know how much you like public sex… ugh, actors… consistently looking for an audience… well, the joke’s on you, babe… now you have to wait for me to shower and get some clothes on.”

“What’s the point when I’m going spend the rest of the night tryin to get them off…?”

“Hmm, we’ll see if you have a chance with that British accent… where’s the man I said goodbye to in March? Did you leave my boyfriend back in London?”

“Yeah… I … uh…” Austin ran his hand through his long hair, pushing it behind his ear, embarrassed. “I’m working on that… I’ve been speaking like Mick Jagger for almost six months… longer if you count the dialogue coach I started with last fall… at this point… I don’t even know what my real voice sounds like, I mean, this feels like my real voice… certain things trigger it and other times as well it’s, I don’t know… I can’t help it, its like a part of the fiber of my being… fuck, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

Hannah caressed the side of his mouth, noticing how tired he looked. “No, it doesn’t sound stupid… that’s the nature of being an empty vessel… a beautiful, tall, sexy empty vessel… sometimes it takes a while for the contents to drain out, right?” She pulled Austin’s neck forward, and stood on her toes to kiss his check. “I love you Austin Jagler…”

A kiss to his other cheek, and Austin’s face melted into a lusty haze, beaming down on her with a broad, affectionate grin. Her witty barbs and insults were an aphrodisiac. Hannah could have asked him to drive his brand new Lamborghini into the ocean and he would have. Just watching Hannah’s boobs bounce up and down (had they gotten bigger since April?) as she ran toward him without a bra on, her hair bobbing out of a messy bun, shoes falling off as she pummeled him on to his new car, tits first, smooshing him down under a mountain of soft, billowy breasts, and he was transfixed. Knocked down, figuratively and literally, He could have stayed there, on the Lamborghini’s hood, fully clothed, watching her hover above him, the outline of her nipples visible through her shirt, and he would have been content for hours. Although now that she had steadied herself, and was once again demeaning, insecure, doting and violent all at once as she slapped him, called him an empty vessel and told him she loved him, he was even more bewitched then ever.

“Austin?” Hannah snapped her fingers in his face. “You must really be jet lagged… I said, you have to fill out some forms inside while I change, I’ll be real quick.”

An hour later, Austin’s left hand was pushing up the hem of Hannah’s knee length yellow and green flowered dress, finding its way to rest on her knee, slowing moving up higher, his left hand steering them out of the Golden Key’s gates and down the hill towards the coast. She leaned on his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her hair, lifting his arm to pull her in closer.

“You are such a bastard, showing up a day early … you’re lucky you’re so pretty… and that it’s your birthday…. and that I missed you …” she said, her voice becoming breathy, low, and Austin gasped at the way her hand moved to caress the top of his inner thigh. She chuckled as his cock twitched and he reached down to remove her hand.

“Mmmhmmm… you’re gonna make me crash, baby… I only just landed in San Francisco this morning, and this is a new car, and I’m not used to this windy road … so, where are we going?”

“You bought this car this morning on your way here?”

“No, Alex picked it up for me and drove it to meet me at the plane.”

“Fucking movie stars … don’t even buy your own cars… making your assistant drive nine hours from LA with a shiny new toy instead of just renting a car like a normal person… pathetic… “ Austin grinned, eyes remaining forward on the road, it made him feel powerful to hear Hannah recount his extravagance through mockery, the way her eyes widened told him she was secretly impressed.

“Ugh, Half Moon Bay is really a one horse town… there’s a fisherman’s wharf touristy area, some beaches, a square with a few shops… I just have to be back by 9, and, um, we’re not supposed to leave the town…”

“Right, but how would they know?”

“I would know… I um… I’m really trying to do this … I want to graduate sooner rather than later…”

“Graduate?”

“Yeah, remember? I wrote about it, in one of my very long, dumb rambly letters … it’s stupid, but the program length is variable here, three months to a year, based on how long it takes to complete their ‘three phases’ and ‘graduate’ from the program…”

“What phase are you on?”

“Two… I have a sponsor in NA and I’m plugging along … rah rah rah…”

“That’s good, though, I mean… right?”

Hannah squinted, looking ahead of her, and then looked down, fidgeting with her dress. “Yes.” Her voice was low, sincere. “Yes. I’m glad I’m here. I wasn’t at first….. but now I’ve been here for two months and… I … I have been able to admit that ….. the drugs were a problem for me… and… I don’t want to do them anymore … I want to be free… is that the lamest thing ever? Don’t worry, they haven’t totally brainwashed me … I’m still a devout atheist… I still like sex and rock ’n roll …but, I um… look…. we should talk tonight I guess, because if you need a girlfriend who you can get fucked up with and share that party lifestyle with I totally get it…but being clean, for me, means no booze… no recreational e and dancing at parties in the desert…”

Austin’s face grew pensive, and he drew Hannah in tighter, planting a long kiss again on the top of her head. “Shut up with that… First, we did that once because YOU wanted to… raves are not exactly my scene… and Second, You’re my girl, ok? I’m gonna take care of you. I want to….And, uh…I’m like, really proud of you, Hannah Banana, I really am… so let’s figure out more pressing issues… like,it’s 1:30, I gotta get you back by 9… that doesn’t give us much time, we should probably go straight to my hotel…”

Hannah guffawed, “Not even gonna buy me dinner first, huh?”

Austin’s heart swelled and he felt himself harden more, Hannah’s teasing lilt made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he rubbed her knee. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something to feed you,” he tried to play it straight, looking ahead, but unable to stop his deep chuckles as Hannah playfully slapped him. “I meant to talk…” he laughed, “like we should just go to my hotel, so we have somewhere private to talk… we have a lot to talk about… we don’t even have to have sex today… or even go to the super deluxe suite I got with a big, comfy king bed … we can just hang out on the hotel grounds, the lobby is nice, there’s like a path along some cliffs and an outdoor fire place, there’s a golf course somewhere…”

Hannah hummed, her hand sliding around his waist, “Ok, yeah, you know how much I love golf …”

“What the fuck, Austin… the Ritz? I didn’t even know this was here, leave it to you to find the most overpriced poncy, rich asshole place to stay.” Hannah exclaimed, as Austin led her through the lobby of the Half Moon Bay Ritz Carlton. He shrugged, walking towards the outdoor bar where a fire was indeed roaring from a large, stone pit, and you could see the Pacific Ocean churning beyond green cliffs. Hannah shook her head, and pulled him to her, standing on her toes to whisper into his ear, “I need to use the bathroom, can we go to room?” Her teeth grazing the bottom of Austin’s earlobe, and she grinned as his eye brows lifted and he nodded his chin, tapping his hand over his thigh during the elevator ride up.

Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Hannah’s confidence faded a bit, she pulled on the waddle that had expanded under her chin, and pushed it back to up, looking at herself with both hands pulling back the excess skin around her face. Stupid fucking cow, you were almost a size 8… now you can barely get into your size 12 clothes… But Hannah’s confidence surged back when she came out to find the eager, almost innocent look of awe in Austin’s eyes glued to her from the couch where he was untying his oxfords, camel hair jacket already off. He jumped up and sauntered over, pushing his long hair to the side. She shivered at his hands closing in around her waist, savoring how the back of his index finger lightly feathered up and down her sides. His blue eyes were dark and half lidded with lust above a dopey smile.

“Hey…” his voice was husky, slow, and Hannah’s pulse quickened, quivering at his touch, the fire building in her core swelled and her chin jolted down, embarrassed of how intense her desire felt. Her breath was uneven, nervous, and Austin’s right hand moved to her soothe her cheek, cupping it and turning it towards him.

“Hey… is this ok? You ok?” Hannah nodded, her fingers moving to play and tug at the belt loops on his hips, pushing into him. Now both of Austin’s hands were cupping her face, thumbs gliding over the tops of her cheeks, his lips soft on hers, then pausing to swallow anxiously. Her eyes widened, as she nuzzled the tip of his nose, and his head bent down, the warmth from his forehead meeting hers, eyes squeezed shut, shuddering as he mumbled, “Oh god baby, sweet baby, I missed you so much… so… so much….”

A warm tingling pricked at the sides of Hannah’s eyes, she thought she might cry, but she kept it at bay, nodded, her hands tightening around him as his nose grazed her cheek and his lips were on her earlobe, then kissing the nape of her neck softly. He drew her closer to him, taking her left hand in his right palm to sway around the room, half speaking/half singing the lyrics to the song “Lady in Red” softly in her ear. Austin’s slow, gravelly, semi-British inflection pulled her in and she followed his lead, moving in harmony, their bodies softening and relaxing as they remembered how they fit together.

I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you do tonight…

I've never seen you shine so bright

You’re amazing

I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side

And when you turned to me and smiled

It took my breath away

And I have never had such a feeling

Such a feeling of complete and utter love

As I do tonight

The lady in red is dancing with me

Cheek to cheek

There's nobody here

It's just you and me

It's where I want to be

Well, I hardly know this beauty by my side

I'll never forget the way you look tonight

Austin’s voice cracked, and Hannah heard it and felt it, with her head was resting on his chest. It sent a wave of electricity up her belly. Austin paused by the window, smoothing her hair, his fingers trailing down her back.

“I love you, Red, forever and always..,”

“I love you too, Austin, always and forever.” He gripped her closer as he felt her voice reverberating through his chest.

Austin pulled back to look into Hannah’s big brown eyes, wide and vulnerable, her pupils blown with longing, and he answered it with a kiss, stroked her back with his thumb. The kisses became deeper, his mouth enclosing her upper lip, softly, then pulling on it, before their tongues collided, each beckoning the other to consume them completely. Hannah fingers worked their way down the buttons of his black, flower patterned dress shirt, slowly, biting her lip as it finally fell to the floor and her hands moved, shakily, over his smooth, firm skin. Austin grabbed her right hand, kissing the back of her palm. Her other hand brushed a lock of his long hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

“I like the long hair, by the way… you look like a handsome, rock star surfer.” Hannah whispered, grasping a handful and pushing it behind his right ear.

“Thanks…” Austin muttered distractedly as he pulled at her dress, exhaling with awe as he slowly raised it up over her head, shaking his head and popping his lips at the sight of Hannah’s heaving pale breasts. He bent down in reverence to kiss the line of freckles above them, grinning like a school boy at the sound of his fingers successfully pulling off the last hook of her bra clasp. Now his hands were moving slowly down her back, playing with the elastic of her panties as his lips forged a trail from her décolletage to her mouth. Feeling her tense, he looked down to see Hannah sucking in her stomach, using her arms to cover the slope of her belly and hips, and he stepped back, as if reading her mind, he pulled her hands away so her could admire her whole figure.

“You’re gorgeous, Red… really… I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Stop…”

“No, really…” Austin lowered himself on his quads to grab Hannah by her ass cheeks, lifting her up and carrying her under her knees and back over to the bed, then laying her down gently. Hovering over her, Austin’s eyes smoldered. “I need to tell you something baby…. you look better, you look healthy, you look like you did when we met… this is how your body is supposed to look…” his hand stroked the roundness of her hips, grabbing and rolling her soft, supple flesh, as he leaned in to kiss Hannah’s shoulder, smirking as she whimpered in response to the soft touch of his fingers tracing a line up her belly to her breasts to flick her nipple. A bolt of lightening ran down Hannah’s spine and sparked at her core, a fire building as Austin mumbled on, the arousal in his voice shuddering through. “These curves just kill me… I’ve seen you naked hundreds of times now, and every time it’s still …. a fucking revelation, I just want to sink in, explore every contour, feel every bounce, taste every inch of you…” as he said this, Austin pushed himself lower, until he was on his knees at the base of the bed, looking into Hannah’s eyes as he slowly slide her panties off, eyebrow arched in a question, then hastening to rip them off once Hannah nodded her chin in assent. Austin dragged her legs towards him until they were over his shoulder and Hannah’s rosy pink pussy met his face with a wet slap at the edge of the bed. He held her still when she twitched, responding to the intense flick of his tongue over the center her clit. Austin spoke into Hannah’s sex, his hands soothing the top of her thighs.

“Shhhh… s’ok… don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you baby…”

“Mhmmmm I know, I’m ok,” Hannah’s eyes met Austin’s, looking up at her between her legs. “ I just… I don’t think I’ve ever done this sober, not really, not like this where I’ve been clean for months…”

Austin leaned forward to lav at Hannah’s core, maintaining eye contact, and then pausing to rub her clit with his thumb, savoring the pitter patter of his finger against her slick flesh.

“I’m into it, I want to see you, the real you, I can’t wait to watch you come undone, unfiltered, knowing that I am making you feel pleasure, and not some chemicals…”

Throwing her head back, Hannah cried out when Austin returned his tongue to her nub, her fingers seizing the duvet cover to steady her through the intense waves of pleasure washing over her as the tip of his tongue rolled on her, up and down in a syncopated trance, then shifting to circle around her core, bringing his thumb to messaged her entrance and gently open it up, his tongue back home on her clit, fingers gliding inside her, calling out to her center as his rhythm intensified, responding to the thrust of Hannah’s hips now fucking into his mouth was she chased the sensation building in her belly until she screamed out a refrain of “oh gods,” her face contorting in agony through her release, hips bucking slowly as the waves crashed outward and the heat of her orgasm rippled out across her body. The sparks flew up through her nose and tingled down to the skin at the base of her feet.

“Oh god Austin… I FUCKING love you…” she cried out, her head flinging back as she panted. Austin grinned up at her, his thumb riding her through her climax over her clit, before she pulled him off by his wrist, unable to take the over stimulation. Hannah perched up on her elbows and caught her breathe, her fingers aimlessly twirliing Austin’s long hair. He smirked a self-satisfied smirk, wiping his mouth on the duvet, then lifting himself up effortlessly from his shins.

Hannah admired his bare abs, rising in a V shape to broad, muscular hard shoulders, he spoke while looking down to unbuckle his pants. “I honestly don’t know how long I’ll last today baby…. It’s been a while… unless you count jerking off to the sound of your voice…” Still panting, Hannah’s mouth turned into a bright gleam, and she sat up, making him trip over the edge of the bed as she pulled him down toward her, kicking off the last leg of his trousers and jostling to land over her with a burst of laughter. Pushing the blonde hair out of his face, Hannah looked up into his eyes with an affectionate grin, the reverence she found there made her gasp.

“I still can’t get over the fact that you’re really here with me, that it’s really you,” she whispered, pinching his arm. “I’m afraid any moment I’m going to wake up in my bed at GK and this will all be some sort of wet dream.”

Austin leaned in, meeting his lips with hers, his tip grazing her entrance as he met her eyes.

“If this is a dream, I don’t wanna wake up, I just wanna be here with you.” He started to push into her, slowly, grunting low as a he watched Hannah’s eyes widen and her breath hitch in her throat with a gasp, exhaling through the snug fit of her cunt and the way she involuntary clenched around him.

“Hey, you ok?” His eyes darted up to search hers.

“Mhmmmmm…uh huh…” she answered, moaning out, “I just… may be out of practice…”

“S’ok…” Austin slowly thrust out, and then, rocking back into her, he grabbed her hips and swiveled onto his back so that Hannah was now on top. “Take the wheel, baby, let’s go at your pace.”

Pausing to reposition her knees on either side of his hips, Hannah pushed her hands onto his chest to steady herself, her breath sharp as she lifted off of him and then slid back down, a glint in her eyes.

“I like ... uhhhh… how I tell you… I’m …ummff….. out of practice and… ahhhhh…. out of shape and that I don’t know what I’m doing…. And …o f fuck…..you put me in charge…” She grunted, her voice was playful as she began to bob up and down on Austin’s cock, biting her lips as she found the angle that made a spark jolting up through her core with each forward movement.

“Oh god, fuck I missed you so much….” Austin groaned, his hands digging into her hips as she rode him deeper and he rose to meet each thrust, his hands tightening to slow her down. “Whoo, wait, hold on…” Hannah paused, as Austin pushed himself up, his legs folding under her as he pulled her knees up on either side of him. Hannah felt his cock push deeper, as she met his body, straddling him at eye level as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and she lowered her legs on either side of his, her arms now hooked around his shoulders. Their bodies were twisted together upright in an embrace as Hannah began to grind against Austin slowly in lotus position, feeling his length glide up and down within her, the muscles in his arms tensing as they moved with her hips to support each push up and down. Face-to-face in the middle of the bed, their mouths hovered across from each other as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Austin’s breath synced with Hannah’s and she grasped the back of his neck, twirling his hair into a rope away from his face as she kissed him deeply, passionately, heaving back and forth as her pussy opened up further for him with each thrust.

“I missed you too…” Hannah murmured between low gasps, her hips dipping up and down deliberately, a loud moan escaping her mouth.

Austin’s fingers drew her in closer. “Let’s just live here in this bed and… never… uhhhh … leave… ok?” Amused, Hannah nodded, as Austin pulled her in for another kiss, his lips wet, tongue furtive, bodies pressed tightly together, Austin savored the swell of Hannah’s breasts against his heart as they fucked into each other in a slow, soulful rhythm. Austin’s hands began to move Hannah’s hips more energetically.

“I love you… Hannah Banana”

“I love you too pretty boy…” her fingers slide down to his chest and began to tweak his nipples, and Hannah bit her lip as his blue eyes met hers with an intense heat, plunging down onto him, hips rippling as he worked them with her and she felt a tension building in her core. “Fuck Austin, I think I’m gonna cum again…”

He bit his lip, nodding his forehead against hers. “Hey, that’s my girl… just relax… don’t fight it…. Uhhhh god….you feel so soft when you cum… ride me through it… FUCK I fucking love you….”

Letting loose Hannah cried out, trembling as she continued to rock back and forth over Austin until he jerked harder up into her, his abdomen tightening, her name on his lips as he convulsed and exploded deep inside her.

“Oh god...” Austin muttered, his brow bending into hers as he stilled her hips and Hannah pushed down, squeezing her arms around him until they fell sideways. She landed on his chest as they exhaled, a heaving pile of spent limbs.

The sun set over the ocean, and Hannah and Austin spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, crawling to the phone to order room service, sitting on the bed lazily drinking Pellegrino and feeding each other French fries, finding new ways for their bodies to fit together when splayed across each other. Austin murmured in her ear how he wanted Hannah to move in with him when she graduated, and she nodded, all the pride and snark and insecure stubbornness fucked out of her.

“Ok. If you mean it.”

“Let me take care of you Hannah.”

“We can take care of each other, ok? I’m not some helpless patient… I’m just… trying to get better… but… I am so, so SO grateful, lucky? For your support… it makes it so much easier to be here now that I an escape with you….” She answered, and he kissed her forehead.

“You’re right… we take care of each other… and I’ll be back next weekend, cuz I need you…. Being here with you, it’s like you fill up this empty, Hannah shaped hole in my life….”

She giggled, and slapped his shoulder. “I feel like you fill up an empty Austin-shaped hole deep inside me…”

Austin rolled his eyes. “I meant figuratively… like a part of my soul is incomplete without you.”

Hannah turned to look at him, as he spooned her from behind, their eyes met and Hannah waggled her eyebrows, leaning up to kiss Austin’s lips and then moving around so that they were once again tangled in an embrace, kissing deeply as their bodies softly heaved into one another, and before he knew it, Austin was above Hannah again, hard, looking for her nod as he spread her legs and guided himself into her once more.

“Oh gawd, baby, when I’m inside you I just feel like I’m home….”

Hannah’s big brown eyes, widened, a deep laugh burst out of her throat, followed by the sharp gasp she exhaled as Austin’s cock lunged into her.

“Austin, that is so corny, that’s like the Hallmark card for vaginas… CUM home Austin…”

“Shhh, Hannah…ughhhh” he smiled down at her, hovering above as he continued to thrust into her. “Don’t ruin the romantic mood——”

“Ok..baby… you’re right…. It’s so… ughhhh.. romantic when you tell me how my pussy is like …ahhh” their conversation was punctuated by groans of pleasure. “House….”

“Like home, like it is so comforting to be inside a familiar pussy, a homey pussy…ughhhh”

She laughed and shook her head, and then gripped his sides as Austin began to pump into her harder, and Hannah could no longer form full sentences, her whole body buzzed from the electricity generated by each pound against her g spot. Within a few more minutes, she was coming unraveled, and Austen soon followed.

Dozing off in a post coital nap, it was 8:15 when Hannah eventually rose and began to dress, looking over her shoulder with a heavy heart. Austin followed, hand through his hair, retrieving his own clothes and dropping her back at her rehab with the promise that he would be at family visitation the next day. Before she got out of the car, Hannah handed him a small jewelry box with a bow wrapped around it.

“Happy birthday, pretty boy…”

He opened the box, finding a cassette tape labeled with Hannah’s handwriting, Songs that Make Me Think of You.

“ I was planning to give it to you tomorrow… there are no cool shops in Half Moon Bay… and you have so much money and stupid things anyway…. so I thought I’d make you something… there some Cure, REM, Pixies, Elvis Costello…. some love songs… ugh, it’s stupid… I mean, you just bought yourself a Lamborghini…”

Austin grinned, shaking his head, as he cupped her face and drew her to him. “Shut up. This is perfect because you made it for me… I can’t wait to listen to it…”

Mid August though Mid September, 1991

The next few weekends would follow much the same, as Austin drove up from LA to visit and September came to call, bringing with it a cooler bite to the coastal California sea air. The mood at rehab changed perceptibly, and Hannah waltzed through her days on a pink cloud, scribbling daily journal entries, speaking openly and positively in groups, meetings, sessions with her counselor and her NA sponsor. As she started to make plans to move home, phrase three was in her sights, all she had to do was connect with a temporary NA sponsor in LA and set up a meeting, and she could start planning to graduate the first week of October.

It was a balmy, early Tuesday morning when Hannah bounded down the staircase from her dorms to the foyer, whistling REM’s “Shiny Happy People,” when a note stuck in her throat at the sight of Min waiting for her on a bench. Austin had been up to visit the previous weekend, and had said nothing about his publicist visiting her before he departed Sunday. She started to open her mouth, and Min motioned for her to follow as she led Hannah back to what was usually her counselor’s office.

“James, is it? Said I could use his office.” Hannah nodded, and watched with horror as Min unfurled several tabloids in front of Hannah with the previous days’ date on them. There, on the front, were photos of her and Austin: kissing, walking, holding hands, at the hotel and then saying goodbye at the front of the Golden Key’s main building. The headline read “Butler’s Romance with Downey’s Junkie Jailbird.”

“Fuckkkk… what the fuck Min?”

“Someone tipped off the paparazzi. Either someone who saw you at the hotel, or walking around this charming institution. Doesn’t matter who, at this point, it’s out there. And they have the whole story, your name, the details of the arrest, everything.”

Hannah gulped, flipping through the pages and gasping in horror as she found the double-page spread with photos someone had taken driving by the arrest with her and Downey, next to her mug shot and a photo of her and Austin walking down the red carpet at US premiere of his last film, David Lynch’s Crazy at Heart. Min straightened her glasses, her deep Black skin somehow radiant even first thing in the morning, when Hannah imagined she must have woken up very early in order to drive or fly up from LA.

“Austin doesn’t know I’m here. And I think we both know that boy is like a Labrador retriever. He will not do the smart thing, he will be loyal, he will not break up with you. But he must. You are a liability to his career. I cannot stress that enough. I’m sorry, I have to say it as it is. Bob is not getting any offers, and he was nominated for an Oscar, because he can not get insurance coverage until he finishes treatment and stays out of trouble for at least a year, I not more. His career may very well be over… I begged Austin, BEGGED him, not to have you walk down the carpet last year, to keep his private life private, but did he listen? No. And I, foolishly, didn’t put my foot down, because it didn’t really matter, did it? Who cares if an actor dates a random normal person, it’s not as fun to read about as two celebrities dating, so the gossip mongers have pretty much left you two alone. No one ever saw this photo from then red carpet before, it was all they cared about were pictures of him with Laura Dern or Lynch. Even with the arrest, all eyes were on Downey. You were literally cut out of the photos so the papers could get a better close up framing Downer with the cops. And with your plea deal, we managed to keep you under the radar. But now, the only way to make this go away is to stop providing them fodder and distract them with something new.”

Hannah met Min’s eyes, confused, as she sat down, and Min followed suit, perching on the edge of the chair across from Hannah.

“Just tell me what to do. Like a statement that we aren’t involved.”

“What? Actually comment on this? God no. No. It just needs to stop. You need to break it off, and then I will set him up with some very public dates. Maybe with some of his costars from Jagger, like Halle Berry, Rosie Perez, Christie Brinkley, they played his main love interests….” Hannah nodded, and then Min reached over and put her hand over Hannah’s and squeezed it. “You know, Hannah, if you want to be truly happy, though, you should just pull off the band aid and really break up with him today. While you’re in here, safe from temptation, and cared for, where you can heal. Actors should date other famous people, who know what this lifestyle is. This thing, its never going to work long term. Look at you, dear, are you better or worse off after doing this tango with Austin on and off for four years? Dating someone famous, its extremely difficult…. its like a swan dating a rat, he should be with another swan…”

Hannah pulled her hand back, brow furrowed.

“So I’m a rat now?”

Min breathed deeply.

“I was trying to emphasize difference. He’s above-the-line talent, you’re below-the-line crew. He grew up with money, you didn’t and you are always going to worry whether you are enough, no matter what he says, or how much you trust him. You and Austin different species, that’s all I’m saying. If you are honest with yourself, you already know in your heart I’m right.” Min patted her own heart. “Look, you can do whatever you want. But dear, no one was interested in a story about a young woman going to rehab after getting arrested, not until they saw Austin up here, then someone told the paps and they started poking around. You need to look out for yourself. What is going to happen to you? And your career? If you stay together, I guarantee this is not the last time you’ll be in the tabloids. It’s the first. Of many. Either way, you need to convince him to stop coming up here to visit. To have public dates with a few famous women. The paps will loose interest and it will all blow over….. Unless you keep adding fuel to the fire. If this stops, you may still be able to salvage your reputation, there will be people who didn’t read this tabloid. But if the coverage continues, week after week as he visits, or when you come back, or if you relapse… at some point, things that normal people get to keep private will come out, and it’s possible Variety or the LA Times will do a story on you guys.”

Hannah nodded, starting at her fingers in concentration. She knew what she had to do.

October 15, 1991

The drive back down to Los Angeles was long, and Avi was silent, giving his daughter the room she needed to be with her thoughts as she mentally prepared for her new life, her clean life, life after rehab. Hannah sighed. Ugh, its worse than being 18…. I’m a single, unemployed 28 year old loser. She pulled in one of Austin’s hoodies she had kept after a visit, wallowing in the melancholy that washed over her.

Austin had become irate when she broke up with him over the phone in her counselor’s office the day Min visited her three weeks ago…

“Are you fucking serious? Because of some tabloid bull shit? You know I don’t care. Fame doesn’t fucking interest me, I just want to be with you, work with great people and make art. ”

“But, Austin, being famous gives you the profile do that —“

“Sure, but so you take the good with the bad. You know that, you grew up in this business.”

“And look at how fucked up I am. Plus, its not like the paparazzi chase after editors, Austin, that is definitely a bonus from dating you …”

“You think I like them? Those people are parasites… they are the SCUM of the earth, I cannot believe you are letting them control your life—”

“Austin, I am not LETTING them do anything, I am just trying to live life on life’s terms, one day at a day—“

“Don’t you dare start throwing those AA cliches at ME, Hannah. At least be real. We love each other. Nothing else matters. You’re just hurt and scared and you’re reacting like a baby…”

“NA cliches, please, if you are gonna insult me at least be accurate… look it doesn’t matter…. You re not being fair… I AM trying to be real. You know what’s real? I don’t have a job lined up. In this business, you are only as good as your next job, and this type of stuff might make it impossible—”

“So what? You don’t need a job, Just come live with me. I’ll take care of you …”

“Do you know how demoralizing it is for you to talk to me like that? As if I haven’t been working like a dog for the last seven years to get where I am? Let alone how bad just sitting around your house waiting for you to come home and fuck me would be for my recovery? The tabloids, the paparazzi, they aren’t the problem. They’re a symptom of the real problem, which is how incompatible we are. You’re a swan, and I am a rat, we are defying the laws of nature—”

Austin growled. “Are you high right now? They should give you a drug test. You sound ridiculous. I literally don’t even know what that means with the swan and the rat. Ugh! You are being so stupid. You always do this, you get stuck on how I’m a ‘movie star,’ and then you blow it out of proportion because you are insecure and stubborn. Most woman would be overjoyed to have someone offer to support them while they figure out their shit. And work through this together.”

“Austin, you don’t get it, and I can’t do this, we’re talking in circles… look, my sponsor told me not to date anyone for my first year sober, and I completely ignored her. But clearly I was wrong, because this whole thing is a trigger for me, you are a trigger. We have too much baggage, from before, from now. I love you, I love you so much…” tears started to well up in Hannah’s eyes, and her voice wavered. “But love isn’t enough and I have to put myself first.”

The sound of her sobs made Austin even angrier. “No. The answer is NO. I’m not letting you do this. We are not breaking up, you are being hysterical.” Her sobs got louder, and Austin sighed, running his hand through his hair and tried to calm down. He could almost see Hannah’s pale face becoming blotchy and red and wet as she cried. It was beautiful and ugly and he couldn’t bear it. “Oh Banana, look, you’re upset. We can’t have this conversation over the phone. I’m gonna get in my car and drive up right now.”

“NO! No, Austin, no, don’t come up here - they took those photos of you coming here, it might even be another resident here. Please, please, don’t come up.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes, breathing deeply to steady her voice. “Look, this isn’t up to you. You don’t get to let me do anything. It’s over. Do not come up here, do not call, do not try to see me. I’m taking you off the guest list. Can’t you understand? I need to do this for…. my recovery. I just need to be single and focus on staying clean.”

“I canNOT fucking believe you are doing this, after everything. I have done nothing but support you getting sober. You can’t take me off the guest list, I PAID for that fucking rehab, did you know that? And now what do I get in return? Gratitude? NO. You’re fucking punishing me for staying with you. For getting ‘caught’ on camera being the good guy. Ugh!!!!” Austin had slammed down the phone and then paced the living room, punching the wall.

Hannah collapsed on the desk sobbing, and when she calmed down and tried to look up, she would see the corny twelve step slogans framed on the wall and start crying again. Because part of her knew he was right, that it was unfair to use recovery as an excuse. But she was also convinced this was the best thing for both of them. Definitely for him. The fact that he had ended up paying for her rehab only solidified how wrong she was for him, how he deserved better. She’d had no idea, her lawyer Sheila had told her that her health insurance had covered it, but she had left all the details to Sheila. Who Austin had probably subsidized as well, once she started to think about it, realizing how little the legal invoice had been. She hadn’t even questioned that at the time. You’re a fucking idiot. And so is he, I wish he had kept his fucking money to himself and let me go to whatever shit hole the Motion Picture Health & Welfare insurance would have covered.

Sitting n her father’s Honda, Hannah pulled the collar of Austin’s hoody tight, letting the faint smell of his cologne comfort her. The break up conversation felt so fresh it could have been yesterday instead of three weeks ago, probably because she replayed it over and over again in her head. The intervening days had gone by in a blur, going through the motions of putting on a brave face, finishing her phrase three preparations, doing whatever she had to do and saying whatever she had to say so she could leave. She’d have to be careful, she knew now that because Austin had paid for her stay, he probably knew he was out, and his house was only 15 minutes down the coast from her father’s mobile home community. That is the first thing, figure out a new place to live.

Avi gave her a soft, sweet look as he unloaded her luggage. “You look like you could use a cup of tea, Noodle. And perhaps a meeting.” Hannah smiled weakly, her heart breaking as she considered how much it probably hurt her father to see her like this, how worried he probably had been after the arrest.

“Yeah pop.” She jumped out of the car, and took the other suitcases out of the trunk, following Avi into the trailer.

October 31, 1991

Playboy Mansion Halloween Party

The sound of the waterfall broke up the cocktail chatter as Austin felt the ice cube in his glass hit his teeth, the smooth whiskey warming his throat as he gulped it down. He pulled on his white silk tie, straightening it over his pink dress shirt. He ran his fingers through his long blonde hair, and looked over at Emilio chatting with a Latinx bunny in a cute Kelly green corset with matching bunny ears. He rolled his eyes as Emilio asked her flirty questions, using is had to wave her over to him and pointing in his empty glass.

“Alma, is it? Keep ‘em coming, okay sweetheart?”

Emilio shook his head in mock disgust. They’d met on the set of Austin’s first movie in 1988, he’d played a the main villain, a frat boy that Estevez’s character was investigating for murder. The Playboy Mansion wasn’t really Austin’s scene, but Emilio and Rick, a producer they both knew, had invited him and he pushed himself to get out of his house and come mingle. It was hard to distinguish the bunnies from the starlets and aspiring actresses dressed up for the Playboy Halloween Party in some sort of costume that involved a corset with heels. There was corset Wonder Woman, corset black cat, corset witches, was that a corset cow girl?

An hour or so later, he was mindlessly nodding in conversation with his friend Rick, Rosie Perez, who had played the role of Jagger’s first wife, and a few bunnies whose names he didn’t really catch when he felt a strong hand slap his back, and turned to see Keanu Reeves behind him.

“Butler,” he said, softly, and Austin turned to shake his hand as Keanu’s arm lingered around his shoulder. His smile was open, vulnerable, but there was a mystery in his stoic eyes. “So, still knee deep in the editing bay?” Keanu grinned, then stepped aside to grab a glass of champagne from a waiter walking by.

“What?” Austin sipped his own drink, watching as Keanu lit a cigarette.

“You’re girl, I met her on Point Break, she here with you?”

“Oh right,” Austin emptied his glass and slammed it down, looking around for a waiter or bunny, suddenly very very thirsty. He had only met Keanu in passing at aa few events, and had been so preoccupied with his own film project he hadn’t really paid much thought to Hannah’s work over the last year. “Yeah, we actually just split last month…”

Keanu blew cigarette smoke up into the air, shaking his head. “There was something about her, man, those tits, am I right?”

Austin frowned, then pushed Keanu lightly in the chest. “Hey man.”

Keanu’s eyes narrowed, and a dry smirk formed across his lips. “Yeah, no I get it. Must have been some good snatch if you’re still hung up on her. Tell me, did the curtains match the drapes?” Waggling his eyebrows, his voice was dry, sincere and earnest, Keanu’s grin widened as Austin pulled back his fist and jabbed him in the face, his dark hair flopping as he staggered back, laughing, as he lunged forward and landed an uppercut in Austin’s chest. Seconds later Austin was pulling him down on the ground, and they rolled on top of each other needing, kicking each other until Austin landed over him, and was about to pummel him again when the strong arms of security guards pulled him off and escorted them both out of the party.

Standing at the front of the mansion’s gothic Tudor front building, Austin rubbed his chest as he waited for the valet to bring his car around, he looked to his side as Keanu stood there, wiping the blood from his cracked lip. Keanu laughed, and went toward a black Porsche that was being brought around.

“Hey Austin, I’m sorry man, I was just fucking with you. I’m in a weird head space tonight, c’mon, let me make it up to you. I know just what you need.”

“What about my car?”

“Leave it, it’ll be here in the morning. “

Still buzzed, even though the fight had sobered him up, Austin shrugged and thought to himself, why the fuck not, as he leaned to sit passenger seat next to Keanu and they roared off down the hills toward Sunset.

Keanu lit another cigarette, and tapped a speed dial on his car phone.

“Hey, Polly? Hey it’s Josey Wells,” he winked at Austin, and whispered, “code name,” grinning at Austin’s confusion. “Yeah, hey, yeah, I’m wondering if its too late to put in an order for the night? Yeah. Something red, and thick. Mhmmm. Yeah, that’s the one. Send it to my house.”

Austin sat back, and rolled down the window, watching as they winded down Sunset toward the ocean.

Walking towards Keanu’s front door, Austin took in the collection of motorcycles in his garage. They were in a canyon in Malibu, up above the Pacific Coast with a view of the ocean.

“You know I live just down the road, I shoulda followed you…. So, you gonna keep me in suspense or what?”

Turning on lights, Keanu walked to his bar and poured them both drinks.

“You know, I’ve been in love. I know what it is to have your heart broken. Bad. Like where it hurts just to think about her. I can see it in your eyes, amigo.”

Austin drained his glass, tilting his head back he closed his eyes as he breathed deeply, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, loosening his tie. He took his white sport’s jacket off and draped it over a chair. Turning to Keanu, he pursed his lips, jaw tensing. “OK, so?”

“Well, the best way to get over someone is to —”

“Start seeing someone else. Yeah, I’ve heard from all my friends. Problem is, I don’t want to date anyone else.”

Keanu walked to his fridge, and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, which he placed over his face as after he lay down on his couch. Austin followed, listening to Keanu’s dry voice emanate through the peas.

“Exactly. Which is why the best way, the actual best way to get over someone, is to find a hooker who looks just like ‘em, work out all your issues through sex. It’s very cathartic, trust me.”

Austin’s sullen face transformed to a bright beaming grin, his cheeks squeezing up as he exploded in laughter.

“You cannot be serious.” Austin’s bottom lip hung down in disbelief.

Keanu looked up from the bag of peas at Austin, who was now sitting in a leather chair across from him

“Hmmm… just wait, she’ll be here any minute. Trust me, Polly Fleissman is the best madam in this town. First one’s on me.”

Austin stroked his chin with his right thumb and forefinger. “How much is it?”

Keanu grinned like a giddy school boy, “S’ $1500 a night… and worth every penny.”

It was midnight when Keanu ushered in a white, red headed woman with curly hair, about the same height as Hannah, plump and voluptuous. It distinctly was not Hannah, but he would have done a double take passing her on the street. The tell was how clean cut she looked in a simple, expensive beige drape halter dress, and her sexy, confident voice, greeting them, introducing herself as “Jacqueline, but you can call me whatever you like.” Welcomed her in, offered her a drink, and the pulled out a small bag of white pills from his pocket, and held it up, jiggling the pills.

“I got some mitsubishis, what do you guys say, wanna party?”

Jacqui smiled, and stuck out her tongue. 30 minutes later, they were rolling, Austin’s skin was tingling, sweat lined his brow, and he kept swallowing. Keanu had put some low house music on, and Jacqui came to perch on Austin’s lap, her hands caressing his face, wiping the sweat from his brow, as his hands moved down her body and under her skirt, just the touch of her skin made the blood rush to his cock, he pulled on her red curls with his other hand, telling her how she was the most beautiful girl in the world, how he loved her, as she giggled, and kissed his neck, her hand moving to his pants and finding the outline of his erection. Stroking it, she whispered, “Does that feel good baby?” Austin nodded, looking into her eyes, then looking up as Keanu joined them, his own hands settling over Jacqui’s neck. He winked at Austin.

“I think we’d be more comfortable in the bed room, eh?”

Jacqui stood up, taking Austin by the hand, they followed Keanu together into a dimly lit master bedroom, the walls were a light grey, and the bed was a dark metal, very modern, with black sheets, pillows, blankets. Shirt off, Keanu stalked to Austin, and put his bar arm around Austin’s shoulder, messaging his neck was they watched Jacqui undress. Keanu’s hands stroked the back of Austin’s neck, and he leaned into, groaning, he felt like Keanu fingers were drawing out all the negative energy in his body, in his brain, replacing it with golden light that was making his skin glow. Looking over at Keanu, it looked like his pale, white body was gleaming with an otherworldly iridescence.

“Keanu, fuck, I love you man, I think you’re my best friend.”

Keanu’s hands moved from Austin’s neck and snaked around his chest as his chin pushed into the top of Austin’s shoulder, a low chuckle on Austin’s ear as he pulled into him.

“I think the e has kicked in… so, AB, ever been to a Hawaiian pig roast?”

Austin turned to Keanu’s cheek, shaking his head.

“No? Well I’m gonna show you how to skewer a live one from both sides.” Keanu winked, and kissed Austin roughly on the cheek, thens stepping back towards the bed. Jacqui giggled as Keanu beckoned her to him, his long nose dipped down to nuzzle her bare heaving breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, just beige lacy panties, and her alabaster skin shone in the dim light. Completely uninhibited, Austin couldn’t get his clothes off soon enough. He watched with an open mouth was Keanu dipped down, slowly removing Jacqui’s underwear, then looking over at him as he unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants to reveal his thick, stiff manhood, then jumping on the bed, scooting back towards the headboard and beckoning Jacqui to follow with his finger. She turned to look at Austin, smiling, her breasts bouncing as she climbed on the bed with Keanu.

“Coming?” She giggled.

Austin’s long, blonde hair swayed as he nodded, watching as Jacqui’s ass lifted up in the air while she leaned down to suck Keanu’s cock. In that moment, Austin eagerly followed, watching as Keanu’s raven hair hit the bed frame when the actor leaned back, eyes squeezed shut, uncontrollably biting his lower lip as Jacqui’s head bobbed up and down on his length. Austin rested his hands over the roundness of Jacqui’s bottom, kissing her right cheek as his left hand took hold of the other.

“You sure this is ok with you?” His voice wavered, his blue eyes met Keanu’s as he grinned, pulling on the mess of curls above Jacqui’s head for her to pause.

“It ok with you if my friend there roasts you from the other end?”

Jacqui grinned, and turned her head over her shoulder.

“Such a gentleman… hmmmhmmm… I think I can take it, big boy. Let me make you feel good.” Austin laughed, it was cliche, but high, every word was a sweet sensation and he went for it. Her skin was electric, and he bent his lips down below her cheeks to find her entrance, kissing at her lips, which he noted were waxed, bare, silky smooth, unlike Hannah’s wild mane, and his tongue sought out her clit easily between the soft, manicured folds, moving up and down as her body rocked with the rhythm of her mouth gliding up and down Keanu’s dick. The breathy sound of a feminine groan joined Keanu’s murmurs of “fuck” and “take it” and “oh my god this feels amazing….” Austin moved one finger, and then another inside of Jacqui, messaging her open and searching for her pleasure point as his tongue flicked over her nub, smiling into her and pulling her ass up as he felt her twitch under him. It was not long before Jacqui cried out, and Austin was pulling his lips off her, and straddling her from behind, thrusting in and out of her pussy, slowly at first, the sensation heightened by the ecstasy, the excitement of the threesome, and the way her body and the bouncing mess of red hair conjured up his intense longing to be with Hannah again.

Keanu looked at him over Jacqui’s writhing body between them, Austin’s lips puckered in an growl as he rolled in and out of her.

“Who ever whips his cream first has to pay for the pizza,” Keanu grinned, his eyes narrowing, and Austin chuckled, happy for the distraction because he was just on the edge, and Keanu’s conversation jarred his attention. He slowed down his pacing, and looked at Keanu, shaking his head.

“Man, you are crazy.” That night Keanu paid for the hooker, Austin paid for the pizza. But Polly Fleissman, the Hollywood Madam, would soon begin to get a steady stream of revenue for her services from Austin.

The next time Austin fucked Jacqui they were alone in a suite at the Chateau Marmont during what would become regular Thursday night consensual role playing sessions. Calling her Red, he would take out his frustrations with Hannah as he pummeled into the prostitute from behind, talking in a low, gravelly voice as he thrust into her, slapping her ass, pulling her shoulders, holding her head down into the pillow.

“Do you feel that? You fucking bitch. That’s how much I fucking love you… how could you do this to me. To us.” Austin groaned. The release as he came inside Jacqui was immediate. Addictive. And never fulfilling as it was with Hannah. Austin missed her brown eyes, innocently looking up at him, her voice teasing but her body and movements untrained, completely charming in how awkward or stilted she was. He missed that moment, with Hannah, when he could see her expression change, from being guarded to the moment she gave up her pretenses and opened up for him, her eyes filled with pure adoration. Austin couldn’t bare to look Jacqui in her eyes, at least not while her fucked her, especially with the degrading way he usually spoke to her. Jacqui was not shy, and she never blushed when she undressed, making sounds of approval whether Austin railed her aggressively until the sound of him slapping into her cracked through the suite, or whether he licked her soft and tenderly.

He paid double to have her visit him on Thanksgiving, having her suck his dick, and then, for a change, Austin motioned for her to get on top. Was their rocking motion increased, he put his hands around her neck, lightly choking her, calling her a selfish bitch, and then ordering Jacqui to punch him and tell him what a bastard he was.

“Tell me.” His right squeezed tighter around her neck, and his left hand pulling on her red curls and then tracing down her back to slap her ass, his biceps flexing as he grasped her up and down faster towards his chisled abdomen. “Tell me, tell me I am a spoiled, mediocre yuppie, a hack, a fraud, an empty vessel with no. creative. talent. TELL ME. Tell me you hate me!”

Jacqui’s face darkened, and then she repeated the list back to him in a condescending lilt, her performance somewhat contrived, a watered down rendition of a melodramatic scene from Dallas or Dynasty. Then she punched him, soundly smashing her right fist into his left eye socket and Austin came shortly after, groaning out like a man possessed being exorcized from his demons. As soon as he was sated, he was pushing her off him, looking ahead as he stalked off to the bathroom and dismissing Jacqui with a “You can go now,” without looking back. Sitting on the toilet, head in his hands, he wept and swore he was done with this. No more. But then the next Thursday, he would find himself back in his regular suite, fucking Jacqui into the wall from behind while he whispered all of Hannah’s character defects in her ear.

Austin spent November and December distracting himself from his the gnawing need to find Hannah, throw her over his shoulder and head for a secluded cabin somewhere remote where he could have the space and quiet and solitude to make her understand that they could be happy and good and healthy together. They needed to be together He knew it would be different if he could just talk with her in person, but he felt guilty for the way he had acted when they broke up. The way he belittled her recovery. Her career. The way he threw his payment for her rehab in her face. The only person he trusted to talk about this stuff with was his sister, Ashley, and she convinced him to leave Hannah alone for a few months, give her some space to get back on her feet, and possibly forget the way he had hurt her over the phone to retaliate for the way her decision had pierced him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and to Austin, making no sense.

So, inside of kidnapping his ex girlfriend, Austin fucked a high-end prostitute that looked like Hannah and focused on work. He met with his agent Brett to look over scripts for his next project, finished up final voice over for Jagger and mapped out his promotion schedule for the film with his assistant, Alex. Humoring Min, Austin went out to several parties and events with dates she arranged for him, taking Halle Berry to the premiere of Cape Fear, Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford’s wedding, and planning to take her to the premiere of their film the week before it was released nationwide on Christmas.

Alex was also under a strict Hannah assignment to update Austin on her whereabouts, to the extent that he was able to. Sometimes, late at night, relaxed driving home from a meeting at the Chateau, Austin would drive by the trailer park at Point Dume, circle around the nearby grocery stores and coffee shops on the off chance that he might catch a glimpse of Hannah from afar, but he never did. So, he bided his time, checking in with Alex daily for any news.

December 26, 1991

Westwood Beach, Malibu, CA

Tide was out, and the slow rhythm of the small waves lapped up Hannah’s shins, leaving her legs cool and wet and sinking into the sand below them. She sat at the shore, hands under her thighs, looking out at the infinite expanse of the sea. The waves grew in size, and she sat there, waiting for one large enough to knock her down so her head was under the water, the salt water enveloping her. She willed the waves to wash her away into the night, staying under water until she couldn’t take it anymore, before finally jumping up and screaming at the moon. As a teenager, she would sneak down here at night to smoke pot, fantasizing that the golden reflection of the moon on the silvery waves was a faery path that would take her up into the sky, away from the dismal mortal life she inhabited on earth. Back then, the worst thing in her life was AP Bio and her unrequited crush on Rick Schlessinger, the object of much angst-ridden poetry written while sitting on the beach, smoking cloves and summoning all the pain her sixteen year old self could muster. That seemed like a cake walk compared to today.

She had quit smoking when she got home, Avi hated it. Her father was a quiet man, when he wasn’t working as a sound editor in town, she would find him on the sofa in their small trailer overlooking the bluffs, reading science fiction next to a pot of tea and a stack of chocolate dipped biscuits. However, he did turn to her two days after she moved in and explain that he would rather see her doing heroin again than smoking cigarettes. Hurt, indignant, but also humbled by the very real need to save her money and live back at home, Hannah kept her mouth shut and quit smoking. Avi’s quiet British sarcasm was all it took. Apart from that, they got along, and her father reverted to his den mothering ways, cooking dinner most nights and queuing up classic movies on the VCR for them to watch and analyze as they ate. Their love language was film criticism, it was the main vehicle for most of their meaningful conversations.

Hannah spent her days pounding the pavement, and looking for work. She visited some of her friends from college, reached out to a few directors she had worked with, saw her uncle Abe, the executive at Paramount, and the reoccurring feedback she got was to lay low for a few months, let the tabloid story recede, and then she would get some traction. In the meantime, she found a job in Vancouver, a Canadian friend from college had started a company editing for the new booming television industry up there that took advantage of those sweet sweet Canuck media tax breaks. She was set to leave for Vancouver in three days.

Hannah had flown up to Vancouver in early November, got the job, and started making her arrangements to leave. Then, a week later, she noticed that her breasts were more sensitive than usual, and gasped when she realized she hadn’t had her period in a while. Like, a while a while. Hannah was not one for tracking her cycle, she didn’t keep a calendar, she was on the pill so she didn’t worry too much. But the minute the thought crossed her mind she knew, she knew before she drove to the drug store and bought the test. She knew before she handed the test to Robin a waited for her friend to read her the result. She knew because she hadn’t bought tampons since she got home from rehab. According to her gynecologist, she was eight weeks pregnant when she found out in mid-November. Since then, Hannah had been in a holding pattern, avoiding dealing with this new reality in any meaningful way. Her sponsor had lectured her to tell Austin, no matter what her decision was, she was supposed to be living a new, honest life, and she shouldn’t try to manage his emotions or reality by keeping it from him. But she couldn’t bare to call him. The OB went over her choices with her, it was 1991, not 1961, but cautioning her that she really needed to make her decision before the end of her third trimester. Just like she had known she was pregnant, Hannah had already known what her decision was.

“So,” Robin asked, at brunch with Hannah and their other friend, Sarah the Sunday before Thanksgiving. “ I thought you were pro-choice… we just signed up to campaign for Bill Clinton….”

Theoretically, Hannah had always thought that if she got pregnant before she was ready, or not in a committed relationship, she would just have an abortion. But theory didn’t take into account how she actually felt when it actually happened in actual real life. What Hannah really wanted was a time machine to go back and not get pregnant at all. She knew she couldn’t go through with an abortion, and but she was terrified of having a baby.

“I am pro-choice. Emphasis on choice, Robin. Fuck…. You know I promised Avi when I was 15…”

Robin gasped.

“What do you mean you promised your dad when you were 15? That you would never have an abortion?”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah, it was the only sex talk we ever had. Driving a long PCH one day, he turned to me and told me if I ever got pregnant, he would raise the baby. I guess Georgie had two secret abortions when she was a teenager. The women in my family ….we are pretty fertile, I guess… I managed to somehow get knocked up on birth control…”

Robin shivered.

“Anyway,” Hannah continued. “My mom didn’t tell him until years later. She always regretted it. He always regretted it. Also, apparently a psychic once told my father she saw more children in his future…”

Sarah chimed in, “Well of course we’ll support—”

“Wait, you feel like because some psychic told your father —” Sarah slapped Robin. “I mean, yes, of course we will support you. And if you want to keep working, well, Austin just gonna have to shell out some of that movie star money for a nanny…”

Hannah sighed, picking apart the paper straw wrapper on the table. “I don’t know if that is exactly the approach I want to take when I tell him… I don’t want him to think I’m using this to get something from him… I need to be able to support myself, no matter what. I mean, obviously I need to tell him…”

But she hadn’t, and now she was at 14 weeks, and moving to Canada for work. In three days. But it was only for four months on a new TV series based on the Highlander movie. So, in theory, she could go work this job, come back at seven months pregnant and then have the baby here in LA. Maybe even pick up another job before the baby came. How hard could it be, she was already sitting down all day anyway? And what about after that? Where is your theory then? Fuck fuck fuck a duck.

“Stop being a pussy and just bite the bullet.” She said out loud. “Just call Austin.”

Wet and shivering in the cold (for California) January air, Hannah felt the nervousness in her chest tingle and move to the top of her shoulders. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Walking back up the hill from the beach to Avi’s mobile home, Hannah looked down at her waist, her swimsuit under an oversized Les Mis shirt Austin bought her in London. She didn’t really look pregnant yet, the bottom of her belly hadn’t started to bend upward and expand. Her ankles looked thicker, but if you didn’t look at them every day, you probably wouldn’t know.

The longer Hannah put off calling Austin, the more awkward the prospect came, and she found herself flying off to Vancouver without calling him.

taglist @powerofelvis @woundmetender @slowsweetlove @xstrengthxinxtragedyx @cryingabtab @whositmcwhatsit @artlover8992 @crash-and-cure @daffieapple @eliseinmemphis

#austin butler #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler 1980s fic #austin butler 1990s fic #austin buter x OC #banditqueenwrites

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icarusthelunarguard · 1 year ago

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This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter. Better yet! Check out “Heart of the Game, Fredonia” and see if they can sell you those D12’s with the symbols on them. Tell them “Shujin Tribble” sentcha. And “Hail, Hail, Fredonia!” Home of the Blue Devil!

With the release of new Atari 2600 game consoles that will accept and play the old game cartridges, we’re randomly selecting the old games for you. From COMBAT to KLAX let’s see what 8-Bit Monster you get to play this week.

Aries

You get Shrodinger’s Game: it’s both alive and not at the same time. The game is “Motorcycle” - Game Code CX26141, and it was never released. Which is, of course, totally On Brand for you. You’re on the list, but almost never seen. This week… don’t be late to your job’s staff meeting… YOU WORK FROM HOME!

Taurus

Now we’re talking! Your game is “Breakout” - Game Code CX2622. This isn’t the most fun game in the world, seeing as how you have to trade out the joystick for the paddle controller. But it’s still fun… or it WAS fun. We’re about to ruin it and all other clones of the game by telling you that This Week… “Breakout” is just Single-Player Video Ping-Pong. Just accept that you can’t beat it.

Gemini

Your game doesn’t have very high stakes. Matter of fact there’s nothing except Trial and Error to… Well, “win” sounds like the wrong word for it. Game Code CX2627 brings us to “Human Cannonball”. A premise so simple it’s a wonder the game sold at all after we learned what it was. Big gun… tilt up… set power… launch your little dude into a water tank. Easy, right? Yup. Easy and boring. This week… find a way to make all your mind-numbing activities more fun..

Cancer Moon-Child

He’s been in an Arcade Video Game, a cartoon, and now he’s on your home television screen! It’s Game Code CX26123 - “Jr. Pac-Man”. Let’s be clear here, it’s not “Pac-Man Junior”, it’s “Junior Pac-Man”. Likely this had something to do with marketing or licensing, but the game was still there. And the best thing we can say about it is… It Wasn’t the 2600 version of Pac-Man! This week… you’ll exceed expectations by just being YOU. Don’t try to win harder!

Leo

Making its way from the Arcade to your home, it’s one of the most challenging vector graphics game ever. Game Code CX2685 is “Gravitar”! Not only do you have to battle enemy spaceships as you try to select the level you want to enter, but you get to clear asteroids of gun placements while picking up fuel from the surface. It’s a tough game, no lie. But it’s a fun premise! This week… there’s going to be Black ice on the road. Don’t slam into the ground!

Virgo

Oh, now this gets to be more fun. Game Code CX26176 is called “Radar Lock”. Released in 1989, over a DECADE after the console was originally released, it’s all the grit and air-flight dogfighting of Top Gun without the F-14’s sexy profile. And any suggestion that it’s simply a clone of the Sega game “Afterburner” are not to be believed. This week… make your work easier by using something you worked on before. Assuming you’re a programmer, otherwise that’s just not helpful at all.

Libra

This one hurts a lot. Your game earned the ominous distinction of being 'the arcade game with the most ways to die'. Atari Game Code CX26147 is the unreleased hit game “Frogger”. And before anyone does the, “Uhm, But, Aktually…” thing, Yes! There WAS an Atari2600 game cartridge released by Parker Brothers, but NOT by Atari itself. Over the years there have been clones, spin-offs, re-issues, a cartoon series, mentions in popular culture, and even an ad campaign encouraging people to use safe transportation in cities. This week… you’re a classic, you’re adored, and you’re special. Don’t worry that you haven’t done enough.

Scorpio

Imagine you’re stuck in an almost round race track with three sections you can drive on to pick up points like you’re Pac-Man. Now imagine there’s another car trying to do the exact same thing, only in the opposite direction, trying to crash into your car to stop you. Welcome to “Dodge 'Em”, Game Code CX2637. You can play against the computer or another player, but you have to plan ahead and remember which way to tap the joystick to change lanes. This week… you are NOT a NASCAR driver. Stop trying to only make Left Turns.

Sagittarius

You are Secret Agent 17, trying to make your way through a 30-story building alive. Doors will open, letting out enemy agents to shoot you dead… BUT! You can avoid them by using some tricky door work. Welcome to the world of “Elevator Action”, Game Code CX26126. The sad part about this Arcade to Console port was that it was killed before it could be sold. Which might be all for the best. We didn’t need another Pac-Man sprite horror on our TVs. This Week… Look up why pressing the elevator door close button doesn’t work.

Capricorn

Your game is one of absolute LEGEND! Game Code CX2671 has a very special place in the history of video games. “Swordquest: Waterworld” was only available via Mail Order and like its sibling games came with a comic book and a contest! Beat the game, send in the codes, and you could win the "Crown of Life"! A solid gold crown decorated with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and aquamarines valued at $25,000 USD in 1984, meaning almost $75,000 today! This week… your value is not something to be trifled with. Stand up for yourself, damnit!

Aquarius

Not much to say about your game. Code CX26158 is the unreleased “Surround II”. It’s the precursor to “Snake” on the Nokia. Not much to explain, really. So this week… buy a new Nokia 3310… YES, they’ve brought it back! And just to be kind, buy the safety case for it so when you drop it you don’t break any concrete floors.

Pisces

You get both a great game and a disappointing one. Game Code CX2650 is the home console port of the amazingly fun arcade game “Berzerk”; a game you play with two joysticks in the arcade but only one at home. And the smiling yellow ball, “Otto”? Yeah, it looks like crap on the TV. And there’s no voice taunting. So this week… Look up what Otto looks like, and imagine that it’s the Evil Twin of Wilson from “Cast Away”.

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Discord and BLUESKY.

#parody #horrorscope #funny #horoscope #humor #comedy #atari #atari 2600 #atari2600 #have you played atari today #console #video games #retro gaming

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ultraericthered · 3 months ago

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So is it a comedy or a tragedy to you???

If you ask me, I think there are five things that could've improved it:

- Evan needed to come off just a little bit worse in the first act. The intent for his character seemed to be that he's a decent man who nonetheless still harbors some flawed thinking, ugly emotional urges, and general selfishness that makes him not close to the ideal family man he wants to believe and make others believe he is (the amount of family photos in the house scream "insecure overcompensation"), and that the events of the film tear down his illusion for all to see. But that isn't made too clear in the limited time we spend with Evan before Genesis and Bel come to his door, and even when they're in the house with him, he doesn't showcase any signs of wanting to take advantage of them, so him giving in and having a threesome with them comes out of left field. Eli Roth needed to make us believe Evan was a person who could do that in order for this to really land.

- We should've gotten a little bit more clarity as to what Genesis and Bel's motivations were. The way Eli Roth and the actors talk about them suggests that they both came from horrible backgrounds with broken families (Gen's father was likely a philandering abuser who primarily failed as a husband to his wife, while Bel's father was likely an abuser who failed as a parent by cheating on his wife with his daughter), have found love and solace in each other, and are both lashing out and venting their frustration about what they both went through via this twisted game they play with married men, a way to reassure themselves "Our dads and what they put us through are nothing special: most men are like that! Even the seemingly best of them will succumb to their urges and commit infidelity to their families, so all we're doing is exposing that!". But in the movie itself, too often they seem to just be doing things for kicks. The hints at anything deeper were too subtle, so I think we could've afforded to see a bit more signs of the girls trauma through troubled or even conflicted reactions, and maybe some extra lines to infer shit from.

- The characters should've acted smarter. When you get down to it, this movie's an Idiot Plot. Genesis and Bel are dumbasses who do things seemingly on whims without having thought it through prior, and their success rate is owed purely to Evan being even stupider than the two of them put together, as he plays right into their hands and reacts in ways that actively make it harder for him to get out of predicaments that should be fairly easy for someone to get out of. Even when Louis shows up and finally seems to be a smart person, he does the absolute dumbfuck thing of leaving his friend tied up while running to freak out about an inanimate work of art getting trashed, as though that mattered more than another human's life! After a while, there's only so much idiocy that the viewer can take, and I think Gen and Bel coming out on top would sit better with people had they actually earned their one upmanship of those men.

- That bedroom scene needed heavy alteration. 'Cause what appears to happen there is Bel raping Evan on Gen's orders. On its own I'd not be too opposed to this since Gen and Bel are the villains and they're doing a villainous thing. The problem is that this moment, this action and Evan's status as the victim of it, comes back to be the punchline of the film. It's played like a black comedy moment. We're clearly meant to laugh at Evan's reaction to it. But it's just not so funny when you stop and remember that it was rape. Rape jokes can be funny, but rape as a punchline seldom is. I think they should've omitted the "fuck him" talk from Genesis and shown very clearly that Bel was just pantomiming sex on top of a still pants-in-tact Evan rather than actually penetrating Evan's body, but to the camera from its angle it would look like sex was taking place, so Evan gets framed for fucking a girl who's passing herself off as his underage daughter. - The alternate ending should've been inserted as a mid-credits stinger scene. Not only does it tie into the whole theme of karma for your misdeeds coming back around to you in ways you may not be expecting or prepared for (in this case it's Gen and Bel who are now on the recieving end), but it fulfills another Joker-esque aspect to the film - the villain origin story. It'd display the darkly comic tragedy of how in ruining another man's life the way they intended to, Gen and Bel push this man too far and twist him in a way they'd not intended, so he ends up just as damaged and corrupted as them, right down to breaking and entering. Also, when Evan knocks at the door and the girls respond with a nervous "Who's there?", Evan should answer in a cold, harsh, menacing tone "Monster is here." Pay that joke off perfectly.

Knock Knock

So uh, honestly there’s a lot to unpack in this movie socially and politically speaking, but uh

I’m gonna ignore all that because it was the funniest fucking movie I’ve ever seen.

I just am not sure what to even say here it was a bad movie. I recommend it highly. It was the most absurd piece I’ve ever seen and the things that came out of Keanu Reeves’ mouth in this movie were frankly unbelievable.

Keanu plays an Architect/DJ whose wife and kids are on vacation without him for the weekend and then two girls show up and force themselves onto him and then try to kill him afterwards. At the end of the movie they post video of him being raped on Facebook then bury him up to his necking the backyard while Where is My Mind by the Pixies plays over the credits.

I was wondering if Eli Roth knew that they already used Where is My Mind at the end of Fight Club but Eli Roth has definitely seen Fight Club more times than I have. You can’t use Where is My Mind at the end of your movie anymore, it’s taken.

I thought I was gonna be snarky about this movie but the more I sit here and think about it the more it bums me out. God damn it I laughed so hard at this movie but then I was really sad and I felt bad for Keanu in real life.

#Knock Knock #horror #movie #opinion #criticism #review #narm #Keanu Reeves #bad writing #stupidity #they wasted a perfectly good plot

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not-your-fucking-kacchan · 2 years ago

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Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Aizawa x Reader (quirkless s/o) with a Flipping octo plush where it has an angry side thats pink and the happy side is red and its on its angry side. Or aizawa x reader (quirkless s/o) who paints theyres and aizawas nails with a cat face

-shuu

100% im putting both of these into one because uugghhh 😩😩

Masterlist<3

Aizawa x Reader - Pink Plushies

Fuck. The plushie is pink. What did he do now?

Shouta sighs, walking into your shared flat and sighing tiredly as he's met with the love of his life sitting on the bed and sulking. There's an obvious pout on your lips as you pointedly make a scene out of ignoring him, causing another ragged sigh to cue from the tired looking man before you.

This had all started earlier on the same day when you'd made a joke about getting matching nails and proposing to paint cats on his. He immediately declined of course, but he really didn't think you would ignore him for the whole day.

But here you are, staring at the wall stubbornly as he asks you what's wrong. He's too old for this.

Despite the fact that he is literally 25, but anyway.

You pout and your eyebrow twitches as he sits on the bed next to you, staring at you with a neutral expression and waiting for you to finish your tantrum. It's not fair that he was blessed with so much more patience than you.

You give in easily and sigh quietly, giving your lover a forlorn look and making his heart almost stop for a second. You look genuinely upset now, and he doesn't know what's wrong or if it's his fault or not, and the thought haas anxiety pooling in the pits of his stomach.

He could never forgive himself if he was the reason you look so sad right now, and he always tried his best to be active in this relationship and spend valuable time with you because he doesn't know what he'd do with himself if he ever lost you.

That is until you come out with your next words.

"Why didn't you let me paint your nails, Shouta?! I thought it would be cute- a-and we could match and everything-! Was the thought really that horrible to you?..."

He deadpans harder than ever before, looking at you as if he'd just been turned to stone while you rant at him and whine like a kicked puppy, crocodile tears pooling down your face and catching the light.

"... I-... I love you, honey, but im not letting you paint my nails, no."

The next fifteen minutes saw him staring down at prettily painted black nails with little white kitten chibis drawn on carefully. You really are talented, he muses, looking down at one of the finished nails and silently giving them starry eyes, encapsulated with them and absolutely charmed.

His head is adorned with a pair of cat ears that you had slipped on him as a joke, having yet to have taken them off yet as he stares at your masterpieces. Pretty, and soft hair falls in front of your face while you continue your hard, honest work, sat hunched over Shouta's other hand and just finishing up so that you can get started on yours.

"Do the base white on yours. Make them opposites." he proposes as you finish glossing them over, giving you a suggestion, and you just can't help but puff your cheeks out like a hamster as you attempt to contain your laughter only to fail miserably. You can't help it- he's just given you a suggestion like that with the most unexpressive face you've seen on him, and once you calm down and recover a little you're quick to press a gentle kiss to his lips while he's still confused.

The two of you have fun painting your nails and there's absolutely no way that you could let him even breathe before you got a picture of the masterpieces before you, and as Shouta watches you fawn over how cute he is with the cat ears he still has on he cant help but smirk and pull you closer.

Soft lips meet yours as he holds you in the kiss by the back of your head, nipping at your lip and when you pull back your face is flushed bright red and you're practically dizzy from the kiss, giving him a woozy but sly smile as you grab your plush, turning it back to red as the little smiley face has your boyfriend smirking wider and raising an eyebrow at you, crawling closer to you and making you blush bright red again.

His eyes are half lidded and he looks up at you mischievously, crawling up over you and nipping at your neck cheekily just to tease you. And boy, does it work well...

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha fluff #mha #aizawa x reader #bnha #aizawa drabble #aizawa x you #aizawa headcanons #mha aizawa #aizawa imagine #aizawa fluff #soft aizawa #aizawa x y/n #quirkless reader

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theveryworstthing · 4 years ago

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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qqueenofhades · 2 years ago

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I’ve spent the past few years laughing at conservatives whine about people living on unemployment because they do know that unemployment, right before the pandemic back in January/February 2019, (when most people were employed) averaged a little less than $400 a week, right? Less than $20,000 a year is not great™️ to live off of, and very, very VERY few people actually try and actively live like that lol. Do conservatives just… not know that you can barely get by on that amount of money?

I mean, you're assuming that conservatives have any coherent strategy here apart from "fuck poor people, I shouldn't have to contribute anything to help anyone apart from myself and DEFINITELY NOT BLACK PEOPLE." We saw it on full display with their arrant disregard of any and all Covid precautions that might cause them to endure the horrible inconvenience of wearing a mask in a public place, so (as ever, since Reagonomics is an equal amount of straight-up magical thinking), I don't think realistic fiscal analysis or even a measurable baseline of compassion for other people is high up their priority list.

They're like that anon I had the other day, who wanted to claim that universal basic income would be "handouts" for "freeloaders." They don't think that they have any obligation to contribute toward the welfare of other people, and deeply resent any effort of the government to make them do so, because their mindset is a zero-sum "all for me none for you, and if there is any for you, there will be none for me." It fits, as I said before, with American conservatives' view of poverty as a personal moral failure to work hard enough, rather than any kind of systemic, structural, or generational disadvantage that has been deliberately made harder and harder to overcome. This is overtly linked to white Protestant evangelicalism, the animating spirit of much of the right wing, and its adoption of the "Protestant Ethic" of always working hard in the capitalist system, as I also described in another post. Therefore, ipso facto, if you don't work hard in capitalism, you are a Bad Person both religiously and morally. I DON'T WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE WELFARE OF ANYONE ELSE!, scream these so-called Christians. You think they have ever even read the Sermon on the Mount, or nah?

Anyway, it’s always deeply depressing that after literally six thousand years of recorded human attempts to figure out how to best live with each other, for each other, and in a society, such a large segment of people have decided irrevocably on "fuck 'em all, the only thing that matters is what I want." Which is, frankly, barely qualifiable as a higher-intelligence philosophy, and is likewise an insult to the number of highly intelligent, group-minded animal species who are often better people than people. So. Yeah. That kind of sums it up.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.

#hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x reader #villain!au #bnha fanfiction #tw blood #tw dubcon #hawks angst #hawks smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bee.writes

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shirophantomvox · 4 years ago

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How Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo would react to their S/O in the hospital

Hi, anon! You are welcome to join my Discord Server if you are a fan of Hxh, Voltron, or both! I promise this is a safe environment! This is an interesting topic for sure! To the other anon(s), I am working on your request! This will contain both fluff and angst. I forgot to include Leorio in this, so I’ll include him in the next HxH post. You’ll have to forgive me, I have 2 more requests in my inbox and I am not feeling the best. I just got my second Covid shot and it is hurting like hell. Nevertheless, I encourage you all to get your shot if you can. I will be on this site one and off and I should be on it for real next week. I have run out of ideas to write and I began to think I was annoying people with my HxH content (no one said this I just assumed). This post has 1974 words. After these requests are finished, I plan on doing a character analysis for Leorio.

Anyway, let’s get into the post!

We’ll start with Hisoka this time.

Hisoka

In all honesty, this man has heard of a hospital (since he sends a lot of people to it after fights) but has never been in one.

The signs, floors, staircase numbers, and elevators all confuse him. He has only been in one once when he was a kid and has never been again.

He isn’t a social butterfly in this setting because this is a professional establishment and not a college party. Asking for directions takes quite a toll on him because of his established pride. You know guys act when they want to find a destination on their own and will go miles out of the way instead of just asking for direction.

He doesn’t talk to anyone; all he wants to do is find you and make sure you are alright.

He is the tallest person in the freight elevator. So tall that everyone at turns to look at him at once for at least 10 seconds and turn back around surprised.

“How tall is he,” one of the nurses ask.

“Tall enough to be my house!”

This annoys him. He takes out the Joker card and lays it against his thigh but realizes he cannot make any hasty decisions. His bloodlust was activated merely out of irritation and not by threat. You were on his mind and destroying these worthless humans wasn’t an option for today.

He approached the guest desk and waited for about 2 minutes before he was acknowledged.

“May I help you,” a smug receptionist asked. Wow, these people do not know who they’re talking to.

“I’m here to see y/n.”

“Y/n is in room 345. Go down the hall and to the right all the way down.”

This man nearly ran with a quickness! His jester shoes somehow made the floor shake as he ran.

You were awake, eating the horrible food the hospital provided and watching TV. It seemed like you were doing ok, but you had just been in a car accident. Your arms and right leg were still sore. It was so bad that you’d be fine with Hisoka carrying you everywhere.

When you two are alone in serious public places, he doesn’t play games or tricks. He is often portrayed as a ruthless man, but in settings like this, he places the jokes and games aside for later. When he enters your room, he is silent for 30 seconds. Much too long. He was shocked; he walked around your hospital bed, pulled up a chair, and stared at your cast. It had many names written on it.

“Yes, I am ok.”

“I apologize for not being there for you,” he began to say.

“Shh… it’s ok. This is life. It hurts like hell, but I’m a trooper!”

Admiring your cast and its multiple fonts of handwriting and messages, he grabbed a sharpie marker, wrote his name, with a heart and spade next to it. Surprisingly, his cursive was very neat and legible.

“I didn’t know you knew how to write in cursive! Why don’t you write me letters?”

“I see you every day and it hurts my hand.”

The doctor wouldn’t be in for another 1 ½ hours, so Hisoka used your thigh as a pillow as he took a nap. He had been up for countless nights thinking about you. He was screwing up so bad, Chrollo let him leave early.

“As soon as your better, we will fight again. I won’t go easy on you. You won’t be in the hospital but you get the jest.”

Illumi

Illumi isn’t the type of man to overreact in these types of situations. When you both agreed to date each other, you knew you all were tough cookies. You were aware of the dangers of dating an assassin and he knew about the dangers of dating a bounty hunter. People hated you both and you targeted.

One night you both were caught in a vulnerable state. While you both enjoyed chocolate milkshakes at a laid-back 1950’s styled diner, two men were previously thrown out for fighting. While your back was turned one of those men shot your arm, causing you to carelessly throw your body to the ground due to impact.

While everyone else was screaming, Illumi jumped to the ground and tied his hair tie around your arm to temporarily stop the bleeding.

“Illu, why does it feel cold in here,” you managed to breathe out.

His heart dropped to his stomach for the first time in history.

“Don’t say things like that!”

Illumi is already horrible at displaying emotions, but all he could do is frown in fear. Once the EMS came barling in, he demanded that he ride with you.

Illumi hadn’t experienced anything like this since Killua had been injured when he fell from a tree.

You and he were separated when you were rushed into surgery leaving him alone in the waiting room.

When Illumi is stressed and cannot properly display how he feels, he tends to act in “odd” ways.

He begins to furiously turn pages in magazines or bother the receptions every 2 minutes about the status of your surgery. When the woman finally says that you’re still alive, he tones it down a little.

Illumi is open to conforming advice from strangers; he has been receiving it secretly from strangers. Since Silva was busy abusing him, he often found comfort from “the streets”.

He has a bad habit of pacing back and forth and fidgeting in his seat while horrific images fill his mind. All he has seen is pain and even though he was used to it, he didn’t want you to go through it as well.

While sitting in his seat (finally!) and head in his lap, doubled over indescribable sorrow, a little girl walks up to him with her hands folded and a doll under her arms. Illumi feels her presence and looks up. The girl’s curly hair covered her endearing eyes and her smile is wide.

“They’ll be alright. I just know they will,” turning around returning to her mother, the girl said with confidence.

On cue, Illumi placed his hand over his heart, smiling just a little.

He walked quickly to your room once you were out of surgery.

His speed walk mimics one of a soldier; his left arm in since with his right leg. His shoes echoed throughout the hall.

As soon as he enters the room, he shuts the door harder than usual and gives you a tight embrace. This surprises you! You’re lucky if he lays his head on your shoulder!

Illumi had been working out lately. He wanted to beat you in the “squish the melon” contest. He is very competitive and even if he lost, that doesn’t hurt his ego. Not in the slightest. Since it was just the both of you alone, he bends down to hug you tight, so tight that your face is squished against his.

This behavior is only surprising because he usually doesn’t coddle you even when you get hurt, but this time he realized that you could have died from the gunshot wound.

After that he kissed your forehead and almost simultaneously the doctor barreled in just missing the sweet moment between you and your beau.

Chrollo

When Chrollo is holding meetings with the Phantom Troupe, he always appears to be neutral. That is very important. A leader has to show strength even through the worst/hurtful times of their lives.

Chrollo had gotten a call from Nobunaga that you had gotten hurt on a mission and had actually gotten captured by the enemy. Phinks was able to get you back but you suffered horrible injuries.

This is protocol; they do this for any of the members. The troupe was oblivious to the fact that you and Chrollo were dating. They thought you were here to replace Uvo.

In situations like this, he is calm on the outside but screaming on the inside. Common sense will tell you if you are startled by the news you’ve just received and you begin to drive, you could cause more harm on the way to your destination.

Chrollo is very silent; he doesn’t call to check on your status or anything; he would rather see it for himself.

You were a trooper! After all, you are dating a dangerous robber.

Chrollo already knew what room you were in so he just went.

“I knew I should have kept y/n by my side. Y/n insisted on doing my dirty work that they almost died! How foolish could I have been?” He constantly cursed himself for letting his guard down with you.

He always gave you room to think and complete your own tasks but he can’t help his protective nature; one he has for the troupe but times 10.

His childhood friends had been shot by law enforcers, his home was horrific, and the last thing he needed was for you to be gone. You were keeping him afloat in society.

When he opened the door, Phinks was sitting in a chair, one leg over the other, laughing at a TikTok video.

Nobunaga on the other hand was watching the world news and seemed invested that he didn’t hear Chrollo enter the room. Once they both saw, they stood to their feet.

“Y/n is ok boss. They suffered a few cuts and burns, but they're breathing.”

Chrollo’s straight face remained as he stared at you.

Chrollo’s silence is something the troupe has internalized as a sign of anger, rage, or both. When he didn’t speak and just stared, everyone knew that their next mission was going to be a brutal one.

Chrollo is a man that isn’t afraid to express how he feels. He could cry right now if he wanted to and no one would dare laugh at him or insult him. After all, Nobunaga cried when he realized Uvo was dead.

Nobunaga and Phinks excused themselves as they saw him place his hand over his mouth.

Once the door closed, He pulled up the chair, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. His warmth woke you up instantly and you turned your head. You winced in pain causing Chrollo to jump from his seat, moving to your right side so you wouldn’t turn your head too much.

“I’m glad you're alive, darling. What were you doing putting yourself in danger? Feitan could have handled the beast!”

He isn’t trying to doubt your ability to fight, he’s just concerned for your safety. Even so, why would he insist that you join the spiders?

A tear dropped from his face as he silently kissed your hand three times. You smiled warmly and placed your right left hand on top of his.

“I am fine, boss. You need not worry. I’m a trooper, remember?”

He placed your hand against his dry cheek and continued to kiss it. You were his lifeline and he wanted to spend every moment with you.

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hard--mode · 3 years ago

Text

Here's the notes for everything that would happen up until the end of the story.... as far as I had it figured out. You'll notice things are a lot less fleshed out the later things go. That's a big reason why this never got finished. the longer I tried to keep the thing running, the more I realized I never had any idea what I wanted to actually DO with this story which made it pretty hard for me to keep up. it's hard to write a story you're trying to take seriously if all you really have are jokes, it turns out.

I haven't reread any of this or edited it at all so who knows what kind of notes I might have written in between things haha

P: so as i was saying about undyne-

C: who’s undyne?

Everyone freezes. Chara just walked right up to papyrus without being noticed. Paps freaks out for a sec before he pulls sans into a huddle. Chara frowns and tries to peek around.

~Montage of papyrus’s excitement and harder puzzles, death montage

~Junior jumble: its sudoku now

Chara’s doing puzzles and sees flowey spying. They shout him over

C: HEY! still following me, loser? Don’t you have anything better to do? (but they smile)

F: somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t get killed too much out here

Flowey pops up closer to them

C: nah, I’m fine! I’ve got that reset power!

F: not for long considering how much you use it (mumbles. Rolls eyes??) (some depiction of chara dying a lot in the bg)

C: by the way…. In the ruins you were telling me to use it… care to tell me more about it since you seem to know so much?

F: I-... uh… well you already know the most of it. It just resets you back to your last SAVE point like nothing happened. Only beings with a powerful SOUL can use it, so monsters with their weak souls can’t.

Chara stops their puzzle work and sits to even the heights: Can flowers?

F: what the heck are you-... oh, no no no. I’m different.

C: so you have the power too.

F: No! I mean-, i used to before you came around. Yeah.

C: so you’ve done resets. (urging him on)

F: yep.

Chara waits a while: ...thats all you have to say?

F: yep

Travel scenes from here on out depict chara and flowey together

Gauntlet:

Flowey remarks that he doesn't remember a save point being before it. Chara goes along and gets paps’ bit. He does to activate it

C: wait this isn't for real right? U can't be srs!!!

P: yeah I am, this is hard mode!

Just show chara repeatedly spawning at the save and running back in with flowey watching them

Then cut to the end chara on the other side of it panting and exhausted, papyrus shocked but also beaming

P: wow you did it!! I'm so proud of u human! I didn’t think you would actually be able to get through it--- I mean- drat! Foiled again! I'll get u one of these times!

Papyrus runs off and Chara watches him with a look of wonder in their eyes.

F: don’t get too excited. his pride is cheap, he’s proud of everyone and every thing

Chara grumbles and marches forward: whatever. I don’t hear you saying you’re proud of me, so why do I have to listen to what you have to say

F: You know, you’re gonna have to fight him soon. Didn’t sans say so? What are you going to do then, die over and over until you give up or are you going to try to murder him just like you did with Toriel? :)

C: I am not! I’m gonna talk him out of it and go right past him like everyone else. Who knows! Maybe he won’t even fight me because he’s that cool. Even if he does, he’s probably a wimp anyways.

F: I wouldn’t be so sure! I bet you don’t stand a chance.

C: shut up! Quit following me if you’re gonna be this useless.

Paps fight

As papyrus carries their body to the shed to rest. Opens on their vision returning and they see their hands hanging toward the ground.

C: why didn’t you kill me? You’re stronger than everyone else, you could easily do it. Why dont you finish me off so everyone can leave or whatever it is you need me to do? Why did you hold back?

P: OH! YOU’RE AWAKE!

C: you held back…

P: OF COURSE i DID! I COULD NEVER KILL YOU, YOU’RE MY-- I HOPE I’M NOT BEING TOO FORWARD, BUT I LIKE TO THINK OF YOU AS MY FRIEND! AND EVEN THOUGH WE DO NEED YOUR SOUL, YOU DESERVE A FIGHTING CHANCE TO DO… WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE TRYING TO DO.

Chara is too shocked and confused by the sentiment: I don’t… I don’t understand?

P: WHAT’S SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT A FRIEND NOT KILLING YOU? HUMANS ARE SO STRANGE ...OH! I SEE NOW! THE REASON WHY YOU CARRY YOUR KNIFE LIKE THAT. IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE MORE AFRAID OF US MONSTERS THAN WE COULD EVER BE OF YOU!

He sets them down in the shed on the dog bed.

P: I’M SORRY, HUMAN! I WOULD HAVE GIVEN YOU MORE WARNING IF I HAD KNOWN HOW YOU FELT.

C: then… does that mean you’re going to let me go?

P: ABSOLUTELY NOT! I ALREADY CALLED UNDYNE TO MEET ME SO SHE CAN TAKE YOU! AND YOU NEED TO REST NOW AFTER ALL THAT!

C: !! I-I don’t know who Undyne is, but I can’t do that. I’m in a hurry to get out of here.

P: HMM… IF YOU’RE IN A HURRY THEN… NO, NO YOU CAN’T! WE NEED YOUR SOUL, I CAN’T JUST LET YOU LEAVE. UNDYNE’S REALLY COOL TOO, YOU’LL LIKE HER!

C: No, I have to go.

P: AGH, WELL… I SUPPOSE IF YOU CAN GET PAST ME BEFORE I CAN CATCH YOU, THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO. BUT I WON’T GO EASY ON YOU!

Cut to chara walking toward waterfall, papyrus calling after them to come back and hang out sometime. They keep walking and mutter to themself: Sorry, but I’ll get out of here before that ever happens.

WATERFALL

They see monster kid and side eye sans as they charge in, hurriedly.

Chara keeps flowey around and asks him to read the words for him. FLowey says it’s not important at all to anything they’re doing. It’s just monster history junk that means nothing if chara’s trying to leave. Chara’s like shut up cmon help me out maybe there's clues. FLowey reads some history stuff in waterfall treating it like shit they already know

F: why do you care about all this garbage anyway?

C: I dunno, I guess it just sounds familiar. Like a story I heard a long time ago.

Chara stops suddenly and checks their phone. Flowey asks what’s up

C: i thought it rang… you didn’t hear-

The phone starts ringing. Papyrus is cheerfully on the other end and they walk and talk.

He tells them about how he heard so many horrible things about humans and the surface but chara was much nicer than he ever expected. Chara asks where he heard that and he says a flower told him. Chara covers the receiver and looks around for flowey, suspicions of him raised.

Montage w monster kid and umbrella

Chara falls from undyne’s spear attack and wakes up in the trash with flowey over them.

F: hey, wake up. I can tell you’re not dead so hurry up and get moving.

Chara’s kind of bummed: she killed me four times back there. And it wasn’t even a fight. I couldn’t talk her down or… i couldn’t even talk to her, I could barely see her.

F: what, are you giving up or something? You know she can kill you as much as she wants and you aren’t gonna die.

C: I know that! I know this is just like a game where you can keep on going but… it hurts. And it’s exhausting.

F: what will you do then? Sit here in this trash and do nothing?

C: *sigh* no. I’m just feeling down in the dumps.

They smile and get up.

As they’re walking out, they hear a click and someone to tell them to “hold it”

Mad dummys behind them and she just has a gun. Pointed directly at chara. She starts on her thing about the cousin and then blook saves the day.

Chara meets up with blook again. They go to where the snail races used to be. It’s all busted and unused

C: what’s this supposed to be…?

B: oh…. this used to be a snail farm…. And this was a race course…. For snails…. But a long time ago people started to call the races “insensitive” so we had to close them…. Sorry you can’t have any fun racing snails…

C: why was it insensitive…?

B: ...i’d… rather not talk about it………..

Timeskip

C: hey flowey! What’s up with this place and snails?

F:...i wouldnt know.

montage

After waterfall where undyne says how many souls they have

C: flowey… if they have 6 human souls, that means 6 others fell down and died here, so…

F: what?

C: i just- i mean you were the first one i met-

F: no, no, no, ive never killed anyone. You’re the only human i’ve seen since i woke up

Chara relaxes: ok. So you dont know anything about them.

F: no. i heard some things from toriel, not much. It’s too late to try asking her, but she’s seen all of them. She was there at the beginning even.

C: the beginning?

F: you know…. When humans started falling down here and monsters started killing them.

Chara goes silent in thought: wait… how… long has this been going on? How old is toriel?

F: dunno

Chara after having a rough time: it’s hard, but no matter what happens i can just keep trying. I’ll make it out of this! You believe in me right, flowey?

F: no i think you should give up.

Page/chapter ends there. Next is chara going up to fight undyne.

Open on a riff on the “long ago” cutscene that chara cuts off by saying they already know this story

Undyne screams SHUT UP!!! I’m doing my HEROIC MONOLOGUE!! Whatever, I bet you haven’t heard the part about the King and Queen’s human child who died of illness and their other son who was killed by the humans when he tried to return their body to the surface?!

C: No I think I heard that one too? Why are you telling me all this anyways??

U: because this is an UNSKIPPABLE CUTSCENE!! NYAAAGGGHHHH!!!!!

Chara’s getting their ass beat and on low hp: I’ll die in a hit or two. But that’s fine because I’ll just start this over. I’ll start from… where was the last save point…

A vision of them with flowey. Their eyes go red and the flashback cuts in between shots of them running from undyne

F: I think you should give up

Ch: what… give up?? I thought you were on my side with all the telling me to keep going and-and the hanging out with me?!

F: as if you had any other choice but to keep going! We both know you don’t.

C: so you’ve just been following this whole time waiting for me to give up and die, huh?! Why, are you trying to steal my soul just like everybody else?!?

F: it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you’re going to die! And die and die and die! You can reset as much as you want, it won’t change that! So what if I am waiting for you to give up? You’re the last thing keeping monsters trapped down here. If you give up, you’ll give everyone what they want!

C: I thought you wanted to help me?! I thought you were my friend!

F: I would never be friends with a human! You’re all nothing but killing machines!

C: I haven’t killed anyone!

F: You killed Toriel! No number of resets can change what you did! You’re a horrible, disgusting human just like all the others and everyone would be happier if you were dead!

Flowey could say something about dying down here is better than their inevitable death on the surface. Their death would at least be worth something. Mean something

Chara escapes the fight, undyne collapses, and they walk away. they tell themselves they won’t give up. They don’t need help, especially not from that dumb flower. They’ll live to spite him and everyone else who tries to kill them

Chara goes in and meets alphys and overall is p meh abt it bc bad mood. Alphys helping them through the underground makes them talk to themselves about how they dont need flowey, they can do this themself. Friends are no good.

hotland is as normal. probably figure out some indication of things not right. make the game seem broken bc they arent supposed to get so far like this

Chara meets with sans at mtt resort for food reluctantly. Lets him say his piece. After he’s done threatening to kill them chara says to his face that they really don’t like him.

Need some hubbub about them having to kill asgore to get out. Theyll be like yeah I know that (somehow)... oh but I need a plan… how will i come up with a plan..

Flowey finally appears to chara again just before they get to new home and tries to talk them out of leaving. Disparaging the surface and telling them they could live happily down here. Chara says no, it’s too hard because people are constantly hunting them down and being the last soul, no ones going to stop that. He says that he’s sorry for the way he was before

Chara smiles back, and then looks away: What you said before… about.. My inevitable death on the surface…

F: that was… don’t worry about that.

C: are you afraid of it?

F: well- yeah, it’s a dangerous place. Everyone knows that.

C: I’ve died a lot more times down here than I ever did up there.

A beat

C: you go back and forth a lot between talking about how I should stay down here because it’s better… but also if I die down here… everyone gets to go free… to the horrible, awful surface.

F: uh,, did I say all that…? I may have contradicted myself a little… I guess… in the end I just wanted an excuse for you to stay around. I really don’t want you to die.

C: so you did see me as a friend after all?

F: well…you reminded me of someone who was my friend. I wish we could have been friends.

C: Do you think… If I reset back to the beginning and did this again, if I said the right things… we could have been?

F: No… You could be as nice to me or as mean to me as you want. No matter how many times you reset, some things never change.

C: ...Did you ever… have to reset because you killed someone?

F: ……….once… and then I never reset ever again. The power to reset… makes you do bad things. It’s wrong. I had to stop because i knew… I’d make someone really upset if I kept messing around.

C: well, in that case… I guess I’ll just have to get the rest of the way out of here without any resets!

Flowey smiles: I dunno, keep one or two under your belt. You’re a pretty big klutz.

C: Thanks for helping me out of here, flowey. Even if you just did it because you were begged.

Can you imagine a more paranoid flowey who is less interested in attacking you and regaining the reset ability, but is pleased af that you have the reset ability because that means you can't die, and instead he spends the entire game trying to convince you that humanity is hopeless. That there is nothing on the surface world returning to. That it's safer, down here.

he's part of the reason why things are so much harder

he's the one that starts the rumors about the dangers of teh surface world

there's a definite sense of paranoia all across the board

When they approach new home, flowey appears one last time and grabs chara by the hand, telling them not to go. They can live in the underground, they’ve made a lot of friends here. Chara says that they have to go, they’ll find a way to get out without killing asgore. Flowey says that he tried to stop them, this is as far as he’ll go. This is goodbye. They bid their farewells and chara goes along, but flowey secretly follows them, much less detectable than ever before. It’s revealed when he’s hiding with the flowers.

Chara walks up to new home, regarding it as a vaguely familiar sight. They walk down the many halls knowing exactly where to go. The monsters speak as they go through the motions. They find a cookbook in the kitchen with a page for snail pie missing. Chara mumbles about already knowing the story and that they should all shut up. They walk more quickly to stay ahead of them. Then one mentions the snail pie and chara stops dead in their tracks. No that’s not how it happened- they stop, and take back off.

They are stopped by sans in the judgement hall, glaring at him.

S: well I had a whole speech to give ya, but you look like you’re in a hurry. You’re a weird kid, but you’re fine. The king’s up ahead.

OTHER alternative: chara realizes something’s wrong and runs back to get everyone, probably threatening to kill asgore to convince them to come quickly. Sans is avoided due to the mob approaching behind them “I heard the word that you’re on your way to kill the king.” c: are you here to stop me? “Nah. But you’d better have a good plan to back yourself up, kid. King’s up ahead”

They run up to asgore, no nonsense. Some time is taken to progress things. As they leave the throne room, flowey watches from the flowers, chara looks back to confirm he’s there.

Asgore draws up the souls, the fight is about to engage, before he can smash “MERCY” chara yells: ASRIEL. Get the souls.

Everything stops. Flowey is behind them, stunned and confused. Chara turns and asks him what he’s waiting for. Hurry up and take the souls before everyone else gets here. Nearly every last monster is coming, if he can become godlike and absorb them, it will be enough strength to break the barrier.

Flowey is confused, how do they know that? Chara tells him he did it before. Doesn’t he remember? Doesn’t he remember them?

Either flowey does it and something happens, or flowey waits too long and chaos erupts which gets them killed, and then chara and flowey have to meet up and workshop.

Final fight:

He probably says some shit about frisk and how he cant lose frisk again, chara must insist that theyre not frisk. When they say their name is chara, he hesitates for only a moment. Finally, when chara’s pinned and about to seriously die…

C: you remember it now too, don’t you? It took me a while, I couldn’t remember a thing until i started hearing your name around. You’re an all powerful god now, you should be able to remember it all better than me

A: shut up.

C: would frisk want us to fight like this?! Would frisk want you to kill your own sibling?!

A: c-.... You’re… you’re really chara?

He lets them go

They reach the conclusion that frisk messed with everything and put them here with no memories so they could do something frisk could never do. Frisk thinks they deserve to live, no matter how much the two may disagree. They have to play along. Asriel is a god and can use his powers to break the barrier and bring EVERYONE back to life so they can live together happily.

go to final fight and everyones already there, things are very confused, flowey takes the souls and things glitch out (screen phases between bosses) and chara realizes this isnt how things are supposed to be, tells asriel theyre sorry for their baggage but he doesnt understand bc he isnt theirs, and then they gotta find frisk somehow

OR... they realize things in the speech and don't go to fight asgore bc theyre finding flowey... they feign fighting asgore and then suddenly tell flowey to take the souls("Asriel! get the souls!" and thats the first time they call him by name)...? i like that a bit better. they start going on about crazy shit that makes roided out flowey kind of lose it at them which leads to them apologizing to their own asriel but then realizing they need to find frisk

but HOW do they find frisk

The end shows chara asriel and frisk hugging eachother, all alive and well. Then the two are “processing…” and remember that oh, theyve done some dark messed up stuff.

#unsure what to tag this as lol #sorry if the readmore doesnt work for any reason

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