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ms-scarletwings · 8 months

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A Messy, Sedulous Necropsy of Zib Membrane

That’s what we call him right? Not Invader Zib? Hell if I know, we’ll let the tags decide.

Whatever he is christened by his author, enemies, or fans, this titular villain of the Zimvoid is such a mind blaster to me. I wish we had more time with him within the comics. I wish he had been a concept explored in the show. I wish he had a movie. I am having fun with a little hyperbole here, but I truly do find him just as interesting and potentially pivotal of an antagonist as Tak was, if not even more.

Both, of course, were so badly underutilized for sake of the series status quo. To that, Zib was a much bigger threat than Tak, and especially to that of the comics’ own. He potentially changes everything, and somehow absolutely nothing by the end. The TV show always had a more overt tone of cruelty and the macabre floating about its themes. These print issues? I don’t dislike them. It’s still recognizably invader Zim, and the more the merrier, content-wise, but longtime fans can feel that there was this change of essence in the transition. More obviously, in the art, but more subtly, there was an audible softening of that bluntly darker, cynical tone the show was made iconic for. To put it very generally, they lean a little more into the whackiness of this world, there’s a lot more dark comedy to be found in what I’ve seen so far rather than in your face darkness, and in the absence of the ost and voice acting the show accustomed us to, the comics leave a lot more room to be read as you wile. To me, they’re goofier and more episodic in spirit.

This all is not a critique or rating on the comics.. It’s purely, I feel, why Zib stuck out to me all the more jarringly in his context. His reveal was a genuine twist that brought forth stakes higher than arguably any other threat in the entire franchise. He represents a plausible while horrifying prophecy of our main characters if only they made worse decisions. The most interesting of all, for every piece of amazing information he fed to us, he bred dozens more questions about everything than he answered, from Irken machinations, to his ambivalent backstory, to the secrets hidden by the sum of his parts.

Though he was left evidently alive at the end of his story, I don’t see any chance for him making a return, so he is memorialized as another defeated one-off the writers have brisked past and left behind for good. Therefore, I’m here today to take what we got and present it on the metaphorical autopsy table. I want to really pull apart why this character alone pulled me back into the TV series, really just flay open the bits I can’t get out of my own head and dig harder until we find something or we run out of threads to tug at. Starting with the one already hanging out of my mouth, but

• B.E.F

“Bad End Friend” is a term I learned the meaning of within the last 12 hours or so of writing this, and I’m exuberant over that discovery. It’s a niche trope i didn’t know ive been a giant fan of since I was a child. Summed up, fictional characters from beloved media, typically, animated child protagonists… given the worst case scenario treatment. Their “bad ending”, whether that means a corruption arc, demonic possession, a lovecraftIan tragedy… usually something that’s anywhere along the lines of a fate worse than death to a full villainous turnover. As a treat. The concept is strongly associated with fanworks and AUs of popular media, but just as often this is something that becomes explored in the source material as well. A couple great examples I know would probably be Ice Prince Finn from Adventure Time or what happens in Undertale when you decide you want to run the most depraved playthrough possible. From a more mature story, “Evil” Morty is another validly arguable sample.

Besides a bit of a fondness I got going for certain dark or spooky themes in general, what I REALLY love about canonical BEFs the most is their utility as characterization tools. They’re the “having your cake and eating it too” option! The perfect way for an author to explore certain things about any character without actually committing to well… a bad ending.

Almost always, they are necessarily hypothetical or reversible. If they’re not reversible, they go often hand-in-hand with a little universe tampering to make happen. Sometimes, this means the story goes the way of time travel and branching off butterfly effects. Sometimes it means confirming multiverse theory, which can be the same thing depending on your semantical position.

And Zib crossed off the BEF qualifications by far and away. His implications are extremely dark given any pause think about them, and he’s a living, disturbing tragedy in aftermath. If you want to view a rigamarole about that aspect of his characterization as he appeared in the comics, someone else long beat me to that and I’m enthusiastically recommending a peek at their own work. I’m thrilled to do so and build a little upon that with those extended what-if-wonders.

• Lessons From a Lost Episode

Elephant in the room I haven’t seen someone ask yet, uh..

By show rules, isn’t Zib supposed to be a clear case of the writers committing the sin of retcon? By show I’m including the unaired scripts, including “10 Minutes to Doom”. In that one we had what looked like the potential setup for a Zib case, and it was deconstructed across the whole episode.

In short recap, Dib learned the hard and reckless way about the true nature of what Irken PAKs actually are. This is not an inventory bag, it is not “gear”. It’s the actual Irken entity- at least, the primary component.

Detaching it from the organic shell essentially caused a temporary split into two instances of Zim, desperately trying to connect back together under threat of obliteration.

Like let me be very clear about this,

The PAK is an autonomous instance of Zim’s consciousness, and it’s the main one. We’ve seen it act to save his life when his body has been out cold or flatlined, and he doesn’t appear the least bit disoriented or confused once “he” wakes and jumps back into the action. There’s no known separate computer assistant AI or security autopilot in there. That code, that program, IS Zim. As Long as the PAK is active, he is capable of staying fully conscious and able to react to what’s happening around him, and that’s what we’ve been seeing, his own actions.

Zim proved me right when Virooz tried to replace him and detached the PAK. Take note of his phrasing after the chair event™.

“I” activated the protocol. Immediately after Virooz ran off with my shell.

“I” Voluntarily chose to do so.

I don’t remember it playing out like that in “10 Minutes to Doom”.

Attaching to a new host wasn’t the first reflex. Dib was not the least bit aware that that he has literally holding the actual Zim captive in sense, and the latter was fighting like a cornered animal to escape him. Failing that, alongside the distance between him and his original body growing fast, he made a last desperate gambit, and he willingly connected himself into Dib’s body.

I can see why he thought this was better than nothing, no matter how repulsive the notion might have been. If he couldn’t fend Dib off physically, he could incapacitate him in some fashion by trying to overtake his will. Maybe give the shell a better chance to catch up, maybe in the longshot hope of being able to pilot dib in order to become whole with the correct host again. And you can say he succeeded, at least in dominating bodily control away from Dib, but at the cost of his already tenuously held sanity. This could be because of the interference of Dib’s own mind still resisting to fully submit, or malfunctions because of the biological incompatibility; however, the thing that Dib mentally becomes is only the basic idea of what “Zim” is. Instead of remembering it needs to reunite with its shell ASAP, the PAK mistakes Dib’s body for its own and goes through the manic motions of following the Invader mission. And it does this, weirdly enough, with almost no regard for blowing its cover.

When things are set right again, Zim’s later words near the episode ending revealed that he knew that was an unsustainable state.

Such a risk was not just accounted for, he was actually banking on it if that clock had hit zero. If Zim had truly lost, if he was really doomed to meet his end on this nasty rock in the middle of Nowhere, Space, then by every damned circuit in his being, he was going to take down this insolent fool boy and as many other humans possible with him. A dying act of vengeful rage.

• The Exceptional… Exception

Now, wouldn’t all of this be the definitive reason for Zib’s existence to be an aberrant impossibility? Yes, but actually no. Fun thing about multiverses is if something doesn’t work in one setting, you can just tweak a few dials and suddenly you have a world where the impossible becomes possible. But that’s a pretty cheap answer, isn’t it? So, what exactly was that crucial difference?

What happened in Zib’s timeline that went down so, so divergently from the events of 10 Minutes to Doom?

Because the only one who was in any position to explain it for us was Zib himself, and he’s proven to be one of the most unreliable of narrators. It’s as @dana-chan-the-control-brain already spared no effort to demonstrate, when he does tell us something about his past, his story is pocked with contradicting half-truths or outright lies. Ergo it helps to break down each recount of events to pick out the real facts.

Version 1: This is an alternate version of dib who defeated his complementing Zim (logically sensible) and went on to achieve all of the success and respect he sought after in his timeline (absolute bullshit). He kind of gestures and only implies about what has happened to his body while explaining that he came to his current understanding of Irken technology by studying it through Zim’s lab (a partial truth). He lets slip in passing that he has in fact fused with the PAK in order to learn how to alter and reprogram its coding, lessons he has applied to Number 2 in order to have a brainwashed pawn (also apparently true).

Version 2, when cornered and red handed: This is an alternate version of Dib who managed to specifically stop Zim's mission (Again, makes sense) but somehow could not convince the world of his findings or his warnings about the Irken Armada (*VERY eyebrow raising). Frustrated with the people’s lack of cooperation, he decides he has no choice but to physically merge with Zim’s PAK post-mortem (concerning and evidently mostly accurate), dominate the Earth himself, and enslave humans to help him in his efforts (highly troubling and probably true). The construction of his EMP super-weapon is successful, but ultimately led to the creation of the Zimvoid when the device was field tested (self evident, absolutely horrifying).

You know what I noticed was missing from both of these accounts? Exactly how his Zim was defeated. Which honestly could have been some beyond useful wisdom to pass along to the main Dib??? More than anything else? I’m not going to fault our boy for not pressing that matter better under the awing circumstance; however, there’s an implication I’ve been reading between lines.

When Zib mentions “defeating” his own Zim, he’s talking about something different than ours.

When our Dib has always talked about “defeating” Zim, he’s meant incapacitation and capture. Throughout the show he explicitly wants to present Zim before an audience alive and whole. Yeah, he fantasizes about other people torturing or disassembling him for study, but HIS role was supposed to be reaping the fame for an undeniable, ground-breaking discovery. Conspiracies and cryptids are all this kid breathes and lives by! And as long as pop culture has always been fascinated with the paranormal, and he has to know this full well, people keep bringing forward hoax after hoax after scam. I mean there’s a freaking current one or few still going IRL about this exact topic. Dib would want no room left for being dismissed as another one of those con artists.

Nonetheless, I actually doubt this is the reason Zib couldn’t get through to the scientific community. A genuine alien lifeform, even a dead one, could still be confirmed by any basic medical examination. The world thinks Dib is too crazy to listen to, but his father is still Professor Membrane. In "10 Minutes to Doom" OUR Dib got as close as having Membrane literally analyzing a PAK, or at worst, preparing to. “Ultimate Dib” gets his hands on the same thing and pulls a move I’d expect from an HP Lovecraft Protagonist instead.

We’re assuming way too much to what these two Dibs have in common, because this ^^^ is really what made the Zimvoid an outlier in the multiverse. That world didn’t only have a very different, more threatening Zim from the main timeline, it had the Dib who proved even more formidable, cunning, and ruthless, even before the fusion.

He didn’t obtain that PAK ala the “10 minutes to Doom” accident, it’s a personal trophy. This is extra strange remembering that capturing an Irken is realistically more easy than killing one. They’re seriously more tenacious than kudzu and will even fight back in PAK form alone. I’m convinced that whatever sort of final showdown made the Ultimate Dib the victor, there are two optional endings on the table.

Option 1: There was not a body even left intact enough to bring in to research. Maybe Dib’s fault, maybe an accident, maybe even Zim’s own luck running out and his incompetent antics finally swallowed him (and possibly GIR). This theory assumes that the PAK was the only sort of remains to come into Dib’s recovery/possession.

Option 2: Curiosity Killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

Or, the one I personally headcanon. Dib… all Dibs, I assume, don’t just hate the Irken species. They are mesmerized by them, and all that they represent from his perspective. Firstly, the epic villain he gets to roleplay nemesis to in order to feel his own worth and importance. Secondly, an unknown wonder from beyond the boundaries of the cosmos. He’s not really a ghost buster or a Men In Black agent at heart, but a scientist, like his father. Underneath his contempt for Zim’s plans to destroy the world is a genuine and appropriately childish awe for alien presence, especially for Zim’s technology. His silent, dopey smile when Tak’s ship ended up in his backyard said more than words ever will..

Earlier in the show, a great deal of Dib’s time and effort was spent on trying to infiltrate the lower levels of Zim’s base. Sneaking into the house was hard enough, but the computer security can’t be bypassed like the gnomes. Not even by Zim himself unless he really is all himself. Perhaps you’re starting to sniff where I’m going with this one when I refer back to “Bolognius Maximus”. I’ve another reference that’s a little more on the nose, and a lot more… dark.

Were an expired Irken husk before you, you too might take your victory and cash in then. Still, who knows what sudden impulse may run through the head of a less humble version of yourself, one some could call greedier, obsessive to a fault, a screw or two loose, yet, a hell of a smart cookie. Smart enough to see it for what it actually was, the keys to a whole world of discovery that went so many layers deeper than they could ever imagine. It’s possible the Ultimate Dib already learned beforehand the same hard lessons about the PAKs that our own did, and took that understanding toward not repeating the same mistake this time. What happened to Zim? I think he was murdered in cold blood, body, and entity. “10 Minutes to Doom” showed us a fight between 2 brains clinging to one body, struggling until one overpowered another, but that’s not what this is. Through whatever means of science were available to him, this Dib has probably tried to “disarm” the technology by either erasing Zim’s consciousness out of it altogether, or by forcing the autonomous code into a kind of dormancy. His intentions were to render it back to its basic hardware without losing its precious knowledge and usefulness, something like the brain-filled tank that was wired into Skrang’s head. Zim’s PAK doesn’t cling onto his body like a parasitic teratoma this time; it’s merged in a literal sense with his nervous and circulatory system. As well, he has fooled the device’s ability to detect and reject a foreign host shell, the exact same way he deceived the the base’s security AI. If an Irken biology is what these measures authorize to command them and their secrets, then he had the tools on hand to give them just that- in an atrocity I like to call

the darker harvest.

Within this theory, there is not as much room to wonder exactly what became of Zim’s organic remains.

But where Dib fucked up was, for the second time, in his ignorance to the true nature of what he was even playing with. That was a mistake that even the mighty Elder Brains of Judgementia lost themselves to; How much more vulnerable was the weak, human mind? Though Zim can be devoured, he can never be digested. In that fact was born this aberration against nature, sanity, and humanity alike.

"Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects… don't have politics. They're very… brutal. No compassion, no compromise. We can't trust the insect. I'd like to become the first… insect politician. Y'see, I'd like to, but… I'm afraid, uh… I'm saying… I'm saying I - I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over… and the insect is awake." - Seth Brundle, The Fly, 1986

By fusing what is half-mad and what is utterly mad, neither being was cured, only assimilated into the birth of a new madness. The madness of the creature that snickers behind the curtain in the Zimvoid. I rightfully fear that lonesome thing, but not I think as much as I pity him.

• Dejavu, or Re:Plagarism

One more thing about the Zimvoid arc I find curious is the way it makes you question more and more just how much of the aberration is actually still Dib, and how much of it is Zim's infection haunting him. He does nothing with all of his intellect, his resources, and his time in the void doing anything but surrounding himself in everything he claims he despises. He decries alien tyranny in one breath while lording over a homemade, cruel dictatorship in another. He calls for eradication of the very race who's technology and physiology he has thoroughly appropriated. He laments feeling unable to protect the Earth from the Armada alone, yet sneers literally through Irken teeth to insult humans as inferior and of no value to him any longer. Our Dib spent the whole damn show longing for the support of other people, but Zib pushes away potential allies in his arrogance. His broken timeline never became a Dibvoid instead because while only half of his mind can't stand Irkens, both of the souls inside him remember that they loathe and look down upon a Dib, deep inside.

The corruption goes as far as even subverting his own creativity. None of Zib's plans are wholly original. His anti-Irken weapon was already a concept blueprinted inside of that PAK before the merge. Our Dib has several times shown a propensity for some DIY ingenuity, sometimes dipping a toe into the supernatural. Zib entirely calls upon, scavenges and regurgitates Irken designs with a few modifications or upgrades. The Dib Virus, I think is his most uninspired creation yet, for it's original form was always something inside of Zim, even if the latter himself was not aware of the fact. Like all else, it is a weapon he has plundered, customized, and turned around on everyone else for his own selfish ends. This brief point I will end on one more reflection. The one kind of help Zim ever allowed at his side were the likes of GIR and his own creations. Unable to connect and cooperate with his peers and own kind, his ego preferred to be around those defective machines he related to- drones to be owned by him and always loyally at his beck and call. A slave to admire him unconditionally is the only companionship he's ever been willing to admit to desiring.

And what was Number 2's purpose again? What role exactly were the arena combatants auditioning for, when you think about it?

#iz #iz comics #zimvoid #dib membrane #iz zib #iz headcanons #invader zim headcanon #zib membrane #iz analysis #invader zim #iz comic spoilers #iz theory #scarlet talks about things #long post #absolute ramblings i mean holy crap #longass post

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musette22 · 2 years

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can i have a soft bucky-supporting-steve headcanon? ive had a tough couple weeks and today is no different (mad at everything, head hurts, waiting for the police to call me because i lost my wallet yesterday, my self-loathing is screaming right now, etc)

thanks. sorry. but thanks.

Hey, lovely! ❤️ I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been having such a rough time lately, that sounds like a lot. I hope things get better for you soon, and in the meantime, have this.

---

When Bucky came back, after he’d figured things out enough to be able to justify it to himself to come back to Steve, he noticed that Steve didn’t seem to draw much these days. Didn’t draw anymore at all. At first, Bucky thought that maybe Steve was just preoccupied. Too busy, too distracted, which would’ve been understandable, given everything they’d both been through recently.

But then, Bucky started to notice moments when Steve would get that expression on his face that meant he’d seen something particularly interesting or captivating, something he was itching to commit to paper (more than once, Bucky found that look directed at himself). The expression was usually accompanied by a twitch of Steve’s fingers, an unconscious spasm of his hand, as if he was reaching for a pencil that wasn’t there. The next time Steve was away on a mission, Bucky searched the entire house from top to bottom, but apart from a few ballpoint pens and the notebook they used to make their grocery lists, he’d found no art paraphernalia whatsoever. Nothing to indicate that Steve still drew, or had drawn anytime in the recent past.

That's not right, Bucky thought, frowning to himself.

He may not remember everything, but he sure as hell remembered the way their old tenement apartment had always been littered with sketchbooks and pencils, strewn around the living room and bedroom, even the bathroom on occasion. He remembered Steve’s hands, perpetually stained by charcoal, the smudges of paint on his cheeks. There were no stains or smudges on Steve anywhere, these days. Bucky would know. He'd checked. Thoroughly.

When Bucky had asked Steve about it the following night, Steve confirmed Bucky’s suspicions: he hadn't drawn in a long, long time.

“Why not?” Bucky had asked.

Steve had shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I stopped, after you- after you fell.” He swallowed, giving a single shake of his head. “I tried, later. God, I must've picked up my pencil a dozen times. But whenever I started drawing, no matter what I did, I’d always end up sketching your face. It just hurt too much. So I stopped.”

Bucky had held him for a long time, after that. Sitting side by side on the couch, just letting Steve lean into him, ear resting on Bucky’s chest, over his heart.

“I’m back now,” Bucky had said, after a while.

“You are,” Steve replied, his voice thick with suppressed emotion.

“So don’t you think it might be time you started drawing again? You used to love it, Stevie. I remember. I remember I used to love watching you.”

“I don’t know if I still can.”

Steve had sounded so lost, right then. So forlorn. Not for the first time, it had made Bucky want to fall to his knees and thank whoever was up there for allowing him to return to this man in his arms, to be here for Steve again, after everything. Steve had his team now, sure, but they didn’t know him like Bucky did. They didn’t always didn't notice when Steve's steady, solid exterior started to show cracks, or how to fix them. They didn't know how absorbed Steve used to get in his art, how it had brought color to his usually pale cheeks, allowed him to quieten his mind and shake off the worries that incessantly plagued him, even if only for a little while.

If Bucky hadn’t come back, would no one ever have remembered any of that? The thought alone was enough to break Bucky’s heart.

When Steve had told him that he wasn’t sure if he could still draw, Bucky had ached to tell him that he could do everything he set his mind to. He was ready to list every single thing Steve had achieved in his long life, to tell him over and over again that he’d never known anyone more talented, more capable, that he just needed to pick up a pencil and start, and the rest would follow. But he knew that Steve would just let the words roll off, too stubborn by half to be persuaded by something so trivial as mere words. From experience, Bucky knew that actions were far more effective in getting Steve to come around to a certain idea than words could ever be.

So Bucky took the long road. Over the weeks that followed, he started ordering art supplies online, to be delivered when Steve was out (Bucky still didn’t like to leave the house by himself, but thanks to the excellent invention of online shopping, he rarely needed to). A variety of pencils, sketchbooks, brushes and watercolors, even a small easel that Bucky hid behind their shared wardrobe – all delivered right to their doorstep. Then, Bucky started leaving items around the house, one at a time.

The first time Steve noticed the small sketchbook that Bucky had casually left on the coffee table that morning, he’d picked it up and looked at it for a long while, before putting it back down. Though Bucky could feel Steve’s eyes on him, he didn’t acknowledge his silent question. The next day, Bucky put a pencil next to the sketchbook. Steve noticed it mid-sentence, abruptly falling silent as he picked it up and held it in his hand, as if trying to get a feel for it. Eventually, he put it back down on top of the sketchbook, and headed for the kitchen to get started on dinner.

This continued for a couple of weeks. Sometimes, when Bucky saw Steve picking up and putting down the various items he’d left for him without using them, even though Bucky could see he wanted to, he just wanted grab Steve by his ridiculously broad shoulders and shake him. But he didn’t. If his time as the Winter Soldier had taught Bucky anything, it was the value of playing the long game; the virtue of patience.

And finally, his patience paid off.

One quiet day in early October, Bucky dozed off on the couch while reading his book. When he awoke, he found himself lying directly in a beam of late afternoon sun, its warmth enveloping him like the blanket his ma used to cover him with whenever he’d fallen asleep on the couch as a kid, making him feel safe and loved; cherished. It took Bucky a while to realize that it wasn’t just the sun that made him feel that way, today. Turning his head a fraction, he found Steve sitting opposite him in the ochre armchair they’d picked out together the other week, his eyes fixed on Bucky and his hand flying over the pages of his sketchbook where it was perched on his lap.

Bucky smiled, slow and pleased. Steve didn’t seem to have noticed that Bucky had woken up, engrossed as he was in what he was doing, so Bucky stayed put and just watched him work, letting Steve draw him for as long as he needed to.

When Steve finally closed his sketchbook with a deep sigh, blinking a few times as he slowly became aware of his surroundings again, Bucky got up off the couch. He stretched like a cat, walked over to Steve, and planted himself squarely in his lap.

“I’m proud of you,” he told Steve, draping his arms around Steve’s neck as Steve’s automatically wound around Bucky’s waist.

“I’m a little rusty,” Steve hedged, his voice husky with disuse and emotion, “but… I don’t think it’s gone altogether. It's still in there somewhere. Just gotta practice, I s’pose.”

Bucky hummed, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “I suppose you do. ‘S a good thing you’ve got such an excellent model, huh?”

Steve huffed a laugh, his arms tightening around Bucky’s waist. “Jerk.”

“Punk,” Bucky said, and pressed a soft kiss to Steve's lips.

#I hope this was more or less what you were looking for nonnie!#sending you lots of love #<333 #stucky #I wrote this in record time #then pressed the wrong button and lost it all #then rewrote it again in record time #word for word #idek how but hey it worked out #remind me to never write directly in my asks again though #minnie answers

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majesticwren · 3 months

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here we go with part III, this is 12k of unhinged feral energy; be advised, this entire project is done solely for my pleasure, I am indulging myself so much with this. I just needed to write will and fletch and had to create this stuff. the angst that it carries (because yes there will be more coming - I am very good very evil) it's the energy I crave please don't come for me and trust the process I'll feed you smut. I am planning shit loads of fluff too but it will be a rollercoaster overall. it is edited but not proofread. enjoy.

trigger warning/s: angst angst angst, poly relationship dynamics, reference to sex, reference to threesome, shit loads of misunderstandings and miscommunication, swearing, jealousy and mild possessiveness, OFC is unhinged and is her own trigger warning - she can't deal with her healthy relationship and leaps into self destruction, smut!, threesome, unprotected sex (kids, know your sexed! this is not an example is a fanfic use your condoms) daddy and praise kinks, chocking, dirty talk, binding, kyle is very dom and will likes to be called daddy but he is also a sub in here, don't come for me

<- part I | <- Part II prequel part I -> | part II -> | part III -> | part IV -> Masterlist

The party was proceeding. She couldn’t say it was going well, but it was going. The two-dozen people they invited were enjoying themselves at least. They were mostly Mark’s friends, which included old colleagues from RevPro and a few other people they got to know in the years they lived in the city, plus a handful of Erika and Kyle’s friends, just for variety. Food and drinks served. Music and chattering filled the room as people gathered and mingled. On the surface, everything seemed good.

It did feel like the longest time of her life though.

When Kyle and Mark arrived, she felt able to breathe for the first time. Grateful, mostly for the unaware support their arrival granted her, Erika leapt into her brother’s arms, clinging onto his solar, happy energy and protection to feel shielded.

Everything was fine, she kept reminding herself.

“I am so happy to see you,” she whispered into Mark’s ear as he lifted her, bear-hugging her.

“I missed you too, little menace,” he chuckled. “Let me look at you,” Mark handled her like she weighed nothing, lifting her so he could look at her face, “Yep, still the same little gremlin.”

Erika hugged him some more, finding refuge in his chest. “You gotta tell me all about the news from back home,”

“Ah, you know, always the usual. Mum misses you so much, she cried a lot. It’s kinda hard to watch sometimes. Dad on the other side is unaware as usual. He has finished building the shed though!”

“Are you joking!? You mean the shed?”

Mark nodded as a massive smile nested on his lips. “Oh, yes, baby. Fucking mental.”

“I knew early retirement would have done him good!”

“God,” Mark chuckled, “Brace yourself because now he needs a new project.”

“Oh, god,” she chuckled with him.

Erika knew seeing Mark was everything she needed to feel better. Saying she had missed him wasn’t enough. She could already feel herself healing inside. Her pain wasn’t disappearing, but there was a light that was shining in her now. Mark was always able to pick her up in a way not even Kyle could. Her brother had always been her biggest support system and best friend. But he was more than that. He saw her growing up. Helped her through her lowest and loved her regardless, even when others had given up on her. He was the part of her family she couldn’t bear to live apart.

“Listen, listen, I’ve got a good one for you.” Continued Mark, excitement glimmering through his eyes. He was equally happy to see her. “Auntie Janice has a thirty-two-year boyfriend. Which is weird. I’ve met him. Nice bloke. But he’s basically my age so, weird.”

“Ugh,” she shivered, trying to shake off the repulsive thought of her aunt in a relationship with a guy half her age. “She is mental.”

“Firecracker,” Mark chuckled, “Oh and Virna got married.”

“Virna? Your high school sweetheart and my babysitter Virna?”

“Yes.”

“The crazy Virna that still tries to hook up with you any time you are back home?”

“That’s the one!”

“Did you go break her heart?” Erika wondered pocking his cheek only causing Mark to melt in a loud burst of laughter.

“Of course I did, gotta keep up our family tradition of stealing hearts. Fucked her and then her husband-to-be,” Mark smiled all proud and unashamed, only causing her to shake her head.

“And you call me a menace, Mr?”

Mark was still laughing wholeheartedly as he put her down, to which point it was Kyle’s turn to pull her into a hug she didn’t refuse. She nuzzled into his chest, magnetically attracted to him. Erika inhaled his scent deep into her lungs, wishing she could travel in the future, to when everyone would be gone and she could find soothe in his arms.

“I am sorry for before,” he whispered to her ear before kissing her forehead.

Erika shook her head sliding her arms around his waist, looking for contact in a way that was more than habit, by now. It was natural. “Don’t be. I am sorry.”

Kyle looked down into her eyes, cupping her face into his palms. His touch was soft and warm. He didn’t only pick up her gaze, but her entire spirit too. He studied her features with a gentle smile curling his full lips, “I love you.” He reminded her, “And you look beautiful,”

“Thank you, you are not bad either” she melted into a smile looking him up and down, “I love you too.” She then said, popping up on her tippy toes to kiss him.

“Everything ok?” He wondered after, checking the place out.

Erika nodded, lying, pushing all that had happened in the back of her mind. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Kyle answered looking for Will, who was taking his time to welcome Mark with a big hug and heavy pats on the back. “Welcome home, bruv. ‘Was starting to miss you around here.”

“I’m so back, mate. How the hell are you?”

Erika did her best to ignore their conversation. It was so difficult for her to hate Will when he was so affectionate with her brother. Or with Kyle.

After that, Erika spent most of her time hanging around Mark but would leave anytime Will approached them, granting him the chance to spend time with his best friend. She did the same thing when it was about Kyle, leaving him to have some fun with Mark and Will and just mingling with the rest of their friends.

But she should have assumed she wouldn’t have been allowed to hide for long.

“What’s happening between you and Will?” Wondered suddenly Mark, surprising her while she was going for a refill on her wine. Surprisingly, she hadn’t given in to the booze. But she did sip on some wine to grant her some liquid courage to survive the evening.

Erika choked and cleared her voice, looking up at her brother. “What do you mean?” She tried to play coy, smiling at the catering attendant who served her.

Mark read right through her pretending and whipped a wise smile, taking the piss out of her. “What would I ever mean!?” He wondered jokingly, “Do you think I was born yesterday, little one?”

Erika huffed and, taking a sip of her wine, she looked through the room, directly searching for Will. He was chatting to Kyle and a couple of her friends about something. They laughed. Will grabbed Kyle by the nape of the neck and pulled him under his arm, showing him off. They both had such a big smile printed on their faces, glimmering eyes and blushed cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat.

It was so unfair.

I wish l never met you.

Her own terrible words echoed into her mind, making her cringe at the thought of what their reality had become.

She was the extra piece. She was the sore, exposed nerve that didn’t work. Will had no problem with either Kyle or Mark and if she dared to explain what was happening between them, she was terrified of the consequences for the trio.

“Nothing.” She looked back, shrugging, “We just didn’t see eye to eye on something.”

“And for that reason, you aren’t talking or sharing the same square meter of space?”

“Yep.”

Mark lowered himself to her height and studied her features closely. “Nah. Don’t believe you. What did you disagree about?”

“The canapés.” She lied, pulling a kiss-ass smile. Mark read right through her, might as well not even try to make up a good lie.

“Fuck off,” he chuckled, “I don’t believe you for a second.”

Erika pointed at herself and her big glass of white wine. “Do I look like someone who wants to talk about the only person I am avoiding at the party?”

“Oh, so you are avoiding him,” Mark looked back at Will, this time his curiosity was undeniable, whereas, for her, she had nothing but melancholy when she looked at him.

This time, as if she had called him, Will was looking in their direction. They made eye contact. Erika didn’t look back, she challenged him raising her chin. He was going to be the one looking down if he so despised her. Though Will didn’t.

Mark replied with something else but she wasn’t listening anymore.

Time slowed down while she was hooked on Will’s gaze and wasn’t able to let go. For only a moment, she thought she had seen the spark of interest in his eyes. But she was sure she was imagining things; it was gone in a heartbeat. Still, he didn’t look away either.

He smiled at one of the two girls. She had her hand on his bicep and was laughing at something he had said. Will leaned in, saying something into her ear. His gaze didn’t move from Erika's.

She had never been the jealous type. Never once in her life. But she was now.

“That sure looks like nothing, dude,” Mark poked her, though this time he wasn’t amused but puzzled. Erika quickly looked back up at him but he was busy scrutinising Will’s behaviour. “What’s going on, Erika?”

“Everyone’s favourite question,” she smiled sarcastically behind the rim of her glass, taking a sip of wine. “We argued. End of story. Let it go, Mark.”

She should have known Mark wouldn’t have let it go, for the life of her. He was only able to fix things. Especially when it involved her. He was the protector, and knowing something was wrong wasn’t something he could ignore, ever. But he at least accepted her request momentarily.

“Wanna do shots and then dig into those mini sausage rolls?” He offered instead.

“Hell yeah, let’s see if I can still beat you at not making faces as I down straight vodka.”

“You are on, I’ve trained for this moment,” Mark rubbed his hands together.

“C’mon old man,” she giggled.

It was nice. Pleasant. For a little while, she allowed herself to celebrate her brother without thinking about the rest.

They took two shots of vodka each and then proceeded to down countless tiny sausage rolls each, all the while Mark was ready to fill her up with stories from home.

Maybe, if the evening had continued that way, she thought she’d be able to make it, after all. Sounded nice. Not the win she wanted but a win all the same.

“You should consider popping back home as soon as your schedule clears,”

“I wish,” she huffed, “I’ve got back-to-back events from now to September with AEW, RevPro and Japan. Summer season is always busy.”

“Ok,” Mark nodded, “you do not have to take a month-long break like I did. Japan is an awful close home if you want to pop down for a couple of days. Everyone would love to see you.”

She felt slightly uncomfortable with the idea. She loved her family, there were many reasons why she was grateful to them. But she was also a very different person now from the girl she was at nineteen when she left Australia. She didn’t like going back because it often reminded her about all the wrong she had done and everything she had messed up and missed because she was a difficult teenager.

Just like he could read her mind, Mark patted her back affectionately, “I know, I am sorry. I had to say it. Mum would love to see you.”

“I know, I know. I don’t know how to carry myself with pride around there. Here or while I work it’s different. But back home?”

“Back home you are one of the most famous people they’d know! Your name has been published, and the pictures you take are in magazines and on many companies’ socials and promos. There’s nothing you need to be ashamed of anymore.”

“Ah, on that I disagree.” Erika leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder, releasing a small huff, “But you are right. Maybe as soon as Kyle can take a couple of days off too.”

“Sure you want to bring him home with you?”

“Yeah? Why?” She suspiciously looked up at her brother, “They’ve known and loved Kyle for ages! What do you know I don’t?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he tapped his fingers on his chin. “Although mum wants grandchildren so expect the conversation from her.”

Erika chuckled and threw a soft punch at his shoulder, shaking her head. “You are unbelievable! Why do I have to have this conversation? I’m only a little girl! Look at you, thirty-two, strong, handsome, famous and still a scoundrel.”

“Which is why the pressure is on you. You and Kyle have been together what? Four years now?”

“And we love our childless life, thank you.”

Mark raised his hands in the air, trying his best to appear as innocent as possible. “Hey, I am just the messenger. Talk to your mother. When she started this conversation with me, I yanked out of that place as fast as I could.”

“Fuck me,” she chuckled, pinching the bridge of her nose, “that woman never changes.”

She hadn’t felt as light-hearted in a long time. Mark brought peace to her even then when she thought she was going to drown. Which was the main reason why, when they got interrupted, she wasn’t all that happy. She wished she could have just spent the rest of the event just chatting to her brother, but she was aware that it would have been selfish and defeated the purpose of a social event.

Erika had felt her friend’s attention even before she said anything to her and immediately turned to her, pushing out a forced smile. The fact that she was the one who was standing a little too close to Will some time ago didn’t have anything to do with her sudden change of mood, of course.

“Hey bestie,” Beth’s smile was wide and full of promises and expectations. Her cheeks were blushed, she looked like she just come from a day at the beach. She was a pretty girl, talented too, they had met at the gym some months ago and took the habit of going out for a meal every now and then when Erika was back in London. Erika had always liked her enough, up to that very moment. “Hey Mark,” Beth chirped, “good to see you, how was Australia?”

“Good, thank you, but I am glad to be back.” Mark’s attention slid back on Erika, “I’ll leave you to it,” he said leaning to kiss her forehead fondly, “Just see not to cause trouble.”

“I’ll do my best,” when he slipped away, Erika turned to Beth doing everything in her power to appear as friendly as possible.

She wasn’t even mad at her. She couldn’t be. She understood Will attracted people, he had a talent like that, once you were in his orbit you couldn’t get out, he was a true star. If anything, she was even more upset at him because he had so much power over her to make her childish and jealous.

“Hey,” Erika pushed her thought in the back of her mind, “you ok?”

“Yes, thank you. Just wanted to say this is such a nice party, you always manage to get the best atmosphere!”

“Thanks, I think the people we invite are the ones who are the best at that,”

“Amen,” Beth chuckled. “So, uh, this is a little embarrassing but I have a very quick question for you.”

“Shoot,” Erika nodded.

“So, you know how I just recently got back being single, yeah?” Erika was already rolling her eyes before Beth could finish her sentence. “And I mean, he looks like a very good saddle to hop back on,” Beth giggled, looking back at Will.

Erika bit her tongue.

She didn’t want to be mean. She had no right to be. Not one bit. But at the same time, there was a prime need taking over her that made her wish she could tackle the girl and slam her right through the little coffee table by their side. But then again, Erika put herself back into perspective and found herself being more aggressively angry at Will than anything else. He had no right to destabilising her that much and then just leave here there able to do nothing but just look at him from afar.

It wasn’t Beth's fault, again, she understood. She was the first who fell into Will’s charm. And still, even when she had all the tools to make the right, thought-through decision, Erika opted for confrontation.

“So?”

“Well, he’s your friend, right?”

“He is. And if you expect me to put a good word in for you, you are a bit out of the way after you called him a saddle to ride.”

Beth frowned, “I was obviously joking.” Erika knew that was bullshit. Beth paused and took a sip of her wine, immediately forgetting any reason to possibly be upset, “Anyways, is he single?”

Even though she didn’t want to, Erika felt obliged to tell the truth. She had no right even thinking she could do otherwise. “Yes.”

Beth purred, “Great,”

“I mean, are you going to make a move on him?” Erika wondered damning herself for caring.

“I think he might. It looked like he was flirting earlier. God, I hope so,” Beth sighed, clearly getting lost in a fantasy. They both looked back at Will, “he looks so pretty and dumb, and at the same time like someone who would unapologetically fuck you stupid.”

Erika wondered when it happened that Beth thought she had all that freedom with her. Maybe she thought that because they were both girls and Erika was in a stable relationship with someone like Kyle then she was free to say the worse and still have her support. How wrong she was.

Though, before Erika could say anything, she got lost watching Will interact with Kyle and Mark, and she forgot all about the problem at hand. They were talking to each other all holding a bottle of beer. Kyle was the tallest and stood in the middle of the group as his gaze hopped from one to the other of his friends standing at his sides. The seriousness of their faces only made her crave to know what had just been said.

Mark raised a hand, explaining something and Will disagreed, shaking his head, so Kyle moved, and brushed a hand on Will’s chest, trying to reassure the Brit.

Erika frowned. What were they saying? She wished she could be a lip reader.

Will gaze traced back to her and caught her watching him. Again, she raised her chin. He looked crossed, like he was ready to have a confrontation, thought she would bet money she had a bigger pride than his. If he had a problem with her looking at him, he could have just left her house.

Kyle and Mark too looked back at her. Mark kept being puzzled, he was studying the situation more than anything, trying to get an idea of what was happening, all the while Kyle just seemed defeated.

Will said something that prompted Kyle to take his arm, calling his attention back to him. They exchanged a few words, and by then Erika could only see the intensity of Kyle’s gaze pouring right into Will’s. Kyle placed a hand on Will’s chest and the other on his face, still looking at him, talking and nodding. It seemed like he was trying to reassure him.

Erika damned herself. And damned Will.

Everything could have been easy. No one needed to get hurt if only he hadn’t decided to go and be an asshole. And now, hell, how did it get to be that bad?

She didn’t even care about herself and her disappointment and broken heart. She knew she could suffer and handle it. Kinda. But Kyle? She would have ripped her arms off before letting anything happen to him. And she knew that sooner or later whatever was corroding her from the inside, splitting her and Will up, would have surfaced and impacted Kyle too.

It was only a matter of time.

If she kept lying and not talking to him, he would have only got hurt worse by her hand. And for what? For her to try and prioritize his friendship with Will and protect the Brit!? But her alternative was much worse. She couldn’t, for the life of her, even think about the possibility of giving him any reason to lose trust in his dearest friend.

Kyle had only one family and it was her and the two men standing by him. He was too precious to be let down in any way by any of them.

Beth was still blubbering about Will, but Erika wasn’t listening anymore by then.

Erika cleared her voice, trying to put her thoughts in order. She crossed her arms, trying to find a way to feel secure when the floor underneath her feet seemed to suddenly disappear. Erika downed her wine, having an interior battle about how wise it would have been to go and get herself another glass. She was already feeling the effects of the booze warming her nerves and slightly slowing up her thought process. Was she considering drinking more?

Yes. Maybe the answer was getting blackout drunk.

“Sorry,” Erika murmured, stepping back and away from Beth, “I’ll be back.” That being said, she turned over and left her empty wine glass on the kitchen countertop on her way to the door.

She needed to get out of there. She needed some fresh air. To clear her head.

Erika patiently waited at the till as her order was being processed. On the counter, already stuck in an anonymous white plastic bag, there was a bottle of whiskey she didn’t need and a Snickers bar. Although her attention wasn’t on those items, she yarned at the tobacco and cigarettes dispenser behind the cashier.

Never like that evening, she had craved a cigarette since she quit smoking and yet that was the sole reason why she entered into the off-licence corner shop. She won on her craving though, opting for booze and chocolate.

She didn’t even want the whiskey. She only bought it to pretend to have an excuse to leave the party.

“There we go Miss Erika,” the cashier politely smiled, offering her the plastic bag of goodies. He was a sweet, little man just over middle age. She liked him and it sure wasn’t the first time she or Kyle ran to the corner shop for emergency supplies like booze, snacks, ice cream or cigarettes, when she used to smoke. “You look very pretty tonight, Miss.”

“Thank you, Mr Salim,” Erika smiled politely. She appreciated the compliment, but she also felt slightly uncomfortable. She did look completely out of place in her outfit there. But outside on the street, the air was too chilli for how short her dress was or how much of her skin it revealed.

“You are going to have to invite me to one of your parties one of these days,”

“I will when you decide to take a vacation day!”

“Oh,” he chuckled softly, shaking his head, “then, who’s gonna look after my shop?”

Erika picked up her bag, offering the man a small smile. “Then no party for you, Mr Salim.”

He chuckled some more and then shook a finger at her. “Don’t have too much fun, Miss. And give my best to Mr Kyle,”

“I will. Don’t work too hard Mr Salim, have a good night,” she said as she left.

The time she had spent outside her apartment wasn’t remotely enough for her to feel any better. But she had run out of ideas. She wasn’t ready to go back though, but her options were slim. She could have walked up and down the street a couple of times, freezing to death and looking like she just left a club too drunk to realise she wasn’t wearing a coat. Or, she could have gone back into her building complex and waited patiently on the stairs for some time to go buy. Having her sneakers.

“Erika!”

She gasped and turned over, startled. Her heart missed a beat, as she looked in the direction the voice came from. She recognised him immediately and wished to be strong enough not to react to him, and yet, she wasn’t.

“Jesus,” Will bent catching his breath, stopping a moment, before approaching her. He looked concerned. “Where did you go!? We got worried.”

“I-” Erika vaguely pointed at the corner shop, rattling the bag in her hand, as if that could be explanation enough. Then she sent him an inquisitive look. “Did you follow me?”

“Well, yes. You just walked out.”

Erika looked up into his eyes, confronting him. “I thought you were damning the day you met me. Funny that you also run after me.”

“I needed to talk to you.”

“Well?” She wondered opening her arms, “I’m right here, go on then. Bet this one can’t be any better than anything you had to say before.”

Will hesitated. He looked at her for a long second, studying her face and the longer he looked, the more puzzled his expression became. “Why are you this mad at me?” He wondered, dropping whatever reason he seemed to have to confront her. His tone was now just sad and soft. “What did I ever do to you to deserve what you are doing?”

Erika scoffed in his face, shaking her head. “What the fuck?” She was smiling dangerously, hovering so close to losing every drop of patience and maturity she had in her, “What am I doing? Let’s hear it.” She didn’t drop anything and went under him as if she was ready to physically take him on. “This better be good Ospreay. Enlighten me.”

“What did you say to your brother?” Will too was quick to heat back up. “For a start.”

“Nothing. What the fuck are you talking about!?”

“Why do I have to justify anything to Mark?” Will pressed on.

“He’s my brother. I tell him whatever the fuck I want.”

“I have done nothing wrong.” Will plead. “If you dare to put Mark or Kyle against me on a whim of yours, then,”

“Then what, Will?” She snapped, “Are you threatening me?”

He seemed more confused than her. As if her words just made him realise what kind of boundaries he was breaking, Will took a step back, rubbing his hands on his face. “Fuck’s sake,” he murmured, “Just-” when he turned back to her, he looked desperate. His hurt hit her right in the stomach. “Don’t do this. Don’t put them against me. Mark is like a brother. And Kyle-” he choked, “I love Kyle, you know that.”

He was hurting. She shouldn’t have cared. After everything, she should have ignored him or worse, she should have kept being enraged by his behaviour. And yet, something in her gut stopped her. It was impossible to her the idea of willingly hurting him.

“Will,” she whispered, hesitating a second before taking a step closer to him. “I would never do that. Don’t you think I know what you guys mean to each other?

“You tell me,”

“Don’t you know me?”

“I don’t know what I know anymore,”

His words hit her deeper than she expected and showed on her face. Her eyes mirrored her pain as she looked right into him, unable to hide it any longer.

“Why?” She wondered, her voice trembling, “What changed?”

“What do you mean what changed?” His gaze hardened.

Erika was on the verge of tears by then and she had decided she wasn’t going to hide anymore. Fuck it. Fuck him. Fuck her pride.

“Why did you have sex with me and Kyle if you had to go and make it so awkward after?”

It was like she spoke another language. Will looked at her like she had just stubbed him right in the heart. “I don’t know. At this point, I don’t know why I did it.”

Equally, he hit her right back.

She felt her chest squeeze, constricted by the cold disappointment of realising she had been mistaken all along. There was no saving anything. No fixing.

“Do you regret it?” She wondered, turning away and catching a tear as soon as she started crying as if that was enough to hide away from him. She didn’t even care to appear pathetic anymore.

“I think I do,” he admitted.

“So, that’s it.” Erika looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. She let him see her and ignored how hesitation and doubt kicked in him. “Don’t worry,” she waved her hand, taking a step back, “I was wrong. I made a mistake. I won’t say anything to Mark or Kyle about this.”

It was over.

Now she had to find a way to keep that little amount of pride she had left up high and do everything in her power to find a way to not ruin her relationship with Kyle trying to protect him.

Before she could slip away, Will grabbed her by her shoulders and made her look at him. “Do you know why I regret it?”

She tried to escape him, “Please, Will, I said I’m done. I’ll leave you alone. Why do you have to be so cruel?”

Instead of letting her go, he cupped her face, making her look directly at him.

Erika wished not to with every inch of her being but his touch was warm and she melted into it.

“I’m going mad. Why are you crying like this?”

“Because you are a damn bastard,” she didn’t yell, she didn’t fight anymore, “You never noticed how much I liked you before? Do you think I’d invite any random guy to share a bed with me and Kyle?” She shook her head, “This is entirely on me, I understand my mistake. And I am not even upset about hooking up. I am upset because you just shut me out after. I understand why Kyle is more important to you, but seeing how nothing changed between you two and how everything changed with me-”

“You left.” Will simply said. “That morning, you left. I felt awkward with Kyle too as we woke up. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say or do. I wasn’t even sure if I could look at him. We had always been close but never that close. It was a new circumstance for the both of us and you weren’t there,” he cleared his voice, his cheeks blushing, “but it’s pretty easy to sort out stuff between boys.”

“You think I left you!?” Erika paused, looking into his eyes. Something clicked in her mind and she felt like the ground had opened underneath her feet. Now everything that had happened, everything that had been said, suddenly assumed a different light.

“I assumed,”

“You fucking dumb son of a bitch,” Erika punched his chest with no real intention of hurting him, “You assumed wrong. I thought you left me! I only went for a run because I woke up buzzing with energy and didn’t know where to put it. I felt awkward and scared and I needed time to think.”

“Think about what?”

“Why it meant so much to be with you, for one. And what it could mean for me and Kyle. It doesn’t happen every fucking day I fuck two guys.”

“I-” Will choked through his words, still looking at her like she spoke another language. “It doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why wouldn’t Kyle say anything?”

“Kyle didn’t know!” She gave Will another push but she was ready to fight him if he tried to get away from her, “I haven’t spoken to Kyle in a week. I couldn’t. Anytime he asked questions I’d shush him and fuck him. I knew that if I had told him how I was hurt he’d be crossed at you. I thought it was better this way.”

“Why you didn’t try to reach out?”

“Why didn’t you?” Erika’s words seemed to bring him some sense, to which point she nodded, “Can you blame me?”

“No.”

“And then tonight,” she started, shaking her head, “I thought I’d use the occasion to understand what the fuck happened but we just kept saying more horrible things to each other.”

“I hated to see how happy you looked like nothing mattered. Doing your thing in your little party with all your little friends,” Will bent his lips.

“You were my exact mirror. It looked like you didn’t care,”

“God,” Will pulled her to his chest in a hug she didn’t refuse. Maybe she should have fought a little longer, only to make him understand how much he hurt her, but she couldn’t, she was too tired for that and feeling his welcoming chest under her head, and his warmth surrounding her, was everything she needed.

Her pain was gone. She was still shaken and her pride was still bruised in a way she wasn’t sure she could fix because she now felt like the most stupid person in the world who created a problem and basked in her own grave after she dug it happily. But her chest was free.

Erika slid an arm around Will’s waist, holding him solidly and pressed her face into his shoulder, letting him hold her tight. He pushed a hand into her hair, cradling her softly. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by what I’ve said. I didn’t mean it.”

“I mean it when I say you are a dumb son of a bitch,” she sniffled, looking up at him. She pulled a timid smile, while drying her tears off her face, hoping her make-up wasn’t completely ruined.

There was a small pause and then Will finally smiled, chuckling at her words. To her, it looked like seeing the sun shining bright in the sky after a long, long time of bad weather.

“I am an idiot.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

Will cupped her face in his hands, taking a moment to enjoy feeling her in his grasp, his smile softened. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

“You better, Billy Goat, or I won’t speak to you ever again.”

He didn’t even let her finish her sentence before he pulled her into a kiss. At first, he only pressed his lips on hers, still slightly uncertain, but as soon as Erika slid her hand up his chest and around his neck, he warmed up completely, closing her in between his arms and deepening their kiss.

Erika purred when their tongues crossed and pushed her hand into his hair, feeling the need to cross her fingers into his curls.

“Never again,” Erika whispered against his lips, “you do not keep secrets from me. When something is wrong, you must talk about it.”

He nodded, pecking at her lips. “Yes, ma’am. I think you need to talk to Kyle now.”

“Yes,” she released a sad huff, “I feel so sorry. I didn’t mean to shut him out. Neither of you.”

“He’ll understand. He’s Kyle.” Will pulled a confident smile Erika couldn’t keep herself from kissing.

“Will you stay tonight?”

“If you want me to.”

“Please,” she pulled him into another heated kiss. Only the thought of having both him and Kyle to herself was enough to make her brain stop working completely.

Will let go of her only to press his forehead on hers, inhaling a deep, peaceful breath.

“What’s in the bag?” He wondered sliding his hand over her arm and hooking his fingers onto the plastic bag.

“Just a snicker bar and some whiskey. I needed an excuse to leave. And I needed an excuse not to get a packet of cigarettes.”

Will took the bag off her hold as if it was something that weighed too much for her and then slid a heavy arm around her shoulders, pulling her under his side, and rubbing his hand over her. “Let’s get you inside.” Will softly kissed her temple.

“Okay,” Erika smiled, leaning against him and resting her hand on his chest, unable to let go.

They rode the elevator in silence, just hugging, enjoying that moment of peace and then walked hand in hand back to the flat, although Erika stopped him a moment before he could go back in.

She giggled as she pushed him against the wall.

“Someone could see us,” he whispered not at all refusing her.

Erika tapped her fingers on his chest, tracing them up his neck and chin. “I don’t care.” She whispered pulling him into a kiss. “Did you know you made a conquest at the party?”

“Did I?” Will closed his arms around her waist, pulling her against him, widening his strong thighs so she could stand in between his legs.

“Mh,” she did to kiss him and then moved away last minute, making him want it. “My friend Beth said you have the look of a pretty, dumb guy who’d fuck you stupid.”

“Well,” he chuckled, “she isn’t wrong.”

Erika pulled him by the chin, brushing her lips against his. Tasting his breath on her tongue made her stomach vibrate and melt into a warm feeling that slid down into her abdomen. “I’ve never been so jealous in my life.” She teased. “I wanted to put her through a table.”

“I would have paid money to see that.” Will switched position, pushing her against the wall, trapping her lips into a kiss and pressing his body against hers. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Just saying,” she smiled, “that’s the expectation around here.”

“Yours?”

Erika purred, answering to him with another kiss. Will smiled against her lips, nodding. “Noted.” He then pushed his face into her neck, assaulting her sensitive skin. “I could start now,” Will rested the plastic bag on the floor and then his hands ran quickly to her naked legs, reaching for the hem of her dress, “would you like that, love?”

His coarse voice vibrated low right through her skin sending a shiver down her spine. It was inebriating. They had been together only once and yet she had missed him like it had been a lifetime.

Erika stretched and bent underneath him, her hands trailing across his chest and shoulders, avidly feeling the edge of his muscles under her palms. She was eager to feel him move under her touch, craving to have him naked only so she could watch him move for her. She bit her lips shut, trying her hardest to suffocate a whimper, already struggling to keep quiet and he was barely stroking her legs.

“This,” Will pointed out as his fingers followed the edge of her dress, “is a very tiny dress, love,” he pressed his smile just under her chin. “It was so hard being around you all night, it was.” Just like he had a point to make, Will’s hands traced up her body, following the edges of her dress cutting a low neckline across her stomach. He toyed with the thin golden chains that kept it together. “wanted me and Kyle to become madmen, didn’t you?” he teased looking down at her.

“I wore it for you,” she looked at him only pretending to be all innocent, biting her lower lip.

“You are such a cheeky little tease, you are,” Will leaned in for a kiss.

She would have lied if she said she cared in the slightest about being in her very public floor corridor, where everyone could walk by and see she was unashamedly making out with someone who wasn’t her boyfriend. But, besides her pressing desire to forget everything about their misunderstanding and just get lost in Will’s arms, Erika still pressed a hand on his chest.

She huffed, trying to get a hold of her thoughts. “Hold on,” she pushed in the middle of his chest with more conviction, not because she didn’t think that he would stop at her words, but because she needed something to hold onto. And she needed air. She couldn’t think straight when her senses were so overwhelmed by him. “We need to talk to Kyle.”

Will’s gaze was soft as he crossed her face. He leaned his head to the side and raised a hand to her jaw, tracing it to her chin. “Yes.”

Erika raised her chin, looking at him right in the eye. “I know we have lots more to talk about to understand what this thing is,” she pointed between them, “but I do not want only sex from you.” She felt her cheeks blush and her heart pitter-patter in her chest as emotions flew across her. She wasn’t the shy type, never was. And hell, if she would have let misunderstanding get in the way of her and her happiness again. “Just so we are clear.”

“No?” Will pecked her lips softly, not hiding a big dumb smile curling on his lips. “And what is it that you’d like? Tell me, love.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still want you to fuck me stupid.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled.

“But I think I’d like to try and date you.”

“I am pretty sure I can clear my schedule a little and find some space to take you out.”

Erika nodded, pulling a timid smile. “Do you think Kyle will be on board?”

“Considering he’d jump off a building for you and the fact that you Australians are fucking mental, I think it’s safe to say he would. Plus,”

The way Will blushed and his eyes trailed off, as he shied away, made her attention pop. A big, teasing smile grew on her lips as Erika poked his chest. “What was that? What aren’t you telling me, Ospreay?”

“I mean,” he was still avoiding eye contact, hiding behind his stupid smile that made her go insane, “I think I won’t have a problem dating either of you.”

“What are you saying?” She wondered feeling his words sliding right through her and into her stomach, making her feel warm and comforted. She did understand what he meant already but wanted so badly to hear it coming from him.

“I mean, you know, Kyle is very special to me.”

“Is he?” She purred.

“He’s very talented, very kind and very beautiful,” Will pointed out, “Why would I have a problem with that?”

“Are you saying you have a crush on my boyfriend?” She smiled proudly, somehow feeling that information weight right in her belly, making her tremble under her skin.

There was something forbidden and tremendously beautiful to the idea that not only Will and Kyle liked her but they could also like each other. She was shaken by the need to know, of seeing it happen.

She had known them both a very long time and witnessed years of flirting, but always assumed it was innocent playing around. She would lie if she said she never fantasised about it. That was at the very core of her threesome fantasies, honestly, but never before she had found a reason to bring it up. Erika settled thinking that was just how things were between them. They all did it with each other. And both Kyle and Will had the same behaviour as Mark. But now she was starting to wonder if something may have been different all along.

“Maybe I do,” Will proceeded, glimmering eyes and rose cheeks popping up under his smile. He tapped his index softly on the tip of her nose, “but you sure are nosy, aren’t you?”

“I am not!” She chuckled, “But I am intrigued.”

“Ah, yeah?” He wondered leaning in for a kiss, “You like the idea that I might like your boy, uh?” he brushed his lips against hers, “does it turn you on, love?”

“God,” Erika exhaled, nodding even before words could come out. She felt her throat seal shut and needed desperately a breath of fresh air just to clear her head because what she was picturing in her thoughts wasn’t only improper, but extremely out of place considering they were supposed to be locked in a room full of people for the rest of the evening.

Will puffed up his chest with pride and smiled. “You are so very bad, you are.”

Erika pulled him into another kiss with a smile on her lips and then forced herself to push him off herself with a chuckle. She wasn’t ready to go back to the party just yet, especially when she couldn’t be all over him and her boyfriend, but the voice of reason reminded her they both had been gone a while.

“C’mon handsome, let’s go back before they’ll send a search squad.”

Will nodded, “As you wish, love.”

As soon as they went through the door, most eyes moved on them. Most were puzzled as the flow of the party slowed. Erika wasn’t bothered by anyone else’s reaction; her attention was only for one person.

She smiled as soon as she made eye contact with Kyle, who looked over to them from the other side of the room, easily peeking above everyone else’s head. He was quick to assert the situation, studying her and Will and then a soft, large smile popped on his lips too as he deduced everything that needed to be said by their respective body language.

Before she could go to him, Erika slipped by the catering people, leaving her miserable bag of excuses on the open kitchen counter. “Don’t worry about this one, ok?” She instructed the girl standing the closest to her, who nodded willingly. “Thank you. You are smashing it,” she then added, showing her appreciation for their job. More would have come into the fat tip they would have left them at the end of the evening.

The girl pulled a large smile nodding gratefully. “Thank you, ma’am, glad you are enjoying it.”

As Erika turned, she found Will waiting for her. She wished she could have better control over herself, but she still blushed under his eyes, unable to hide her interest. She brushed her hand on his abdomen as she passed him over. “You should mingle, now.”

“Or I could just look at you,” he whispered to her ear, “and think about all the things I will do to you once we’re alone.”

Erika was crossed by a shiver. “I hate you so much, Billy.”

“No, you don’t.”

She shook her head and had to gather all her strength and control to slip off him. It didn’t matter what she did, he had planted a seed into her mind and now she wasn’t able to think about anything else but what he had said. Her stomach was already trembling in anticipation. God, she was ready to kick everyone out, even her brother, just to be able to have the rest of the night with him and Kyle already.

Erika managed to leave Will and cross the room, reaching for Kyle’s side. He was talking to a couple of the guys he and Mark met training. As soon as she was close, Kyle pulled her under his arm, dragging her naturally to his side, not losing the flow of his conversation.

“Hey,” she greeted them wrapping her arms around Kyle’s waist.

She didn’t care too much about their conversation, it was loads of opinions about wrestling technicalities and she didn’t have the focus to get into it.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” She wondered popping her chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“Of course,” Kyle kissed her forehead and then looked over to the other two, “Sorry boys, I’ll get back to you.”

Erika grabbed his hand and pulled him with her to the bedroom, seeking some privacy. As they crossed the room, she briefly looked back finding Will sitting with Mark on the sofa, they were having a lively conversation with some other people. When she noticed that Beth was standing there between everyone, listening to whatever Will was saying with interest. Erika couldn’t help herself from whipping out a victorious smile. She was being extremely childish, but knowing what the other girl wanted was ultimately hers fed right into her pride.

Erika found soothe into shutting everyone else behind her back, as she closed the door. The bedroom was nice and quiet, bringing her to release a relieved huff. “God, I feel like this party is going on forever.”

“Do you?” Kyle’s propped her chin up just so he could lean in for a kiss.

Erika immediately melted in his hold. Her hands raced up his arms and around his shoulders, as she took a long moment to enjoy being in his arms. As soon as their tongues crossed, Erika was crossed by another, powerful, hot shiver sliding down her spine and nesting into her abdomen, making her tremble. Kyle’s arms caged her. His hands slid on her body, feeling her curves.

“You,” she started, breaking her kiss, trying to catch her breath, “need to stop right now,”

“Or what, baby?” He backed her up against the wall, a confident smile printed on his lips and laser-focused eyes glimmering at her like the ones of a hungry wolf.

Erika tried to keep her hands planted in the centre of his chest, keeping him steady, but she wasn’t truly fighting him off as Kyle leaned in looking for her lips again.

“We have guests,” she panted, trying to maintain some sense, unsure what strength was driving her, especially after she had been turned on so much by Will just a moment ago. “We can’t just disappear,”

“I am sure everyone who noticed we slipped away is thinking we are fucking.”

Erika chuckled, sliding her hands through Kyle’s hair as he traced the line of her jaw. “Believe it or not I didn’t drag you here for a quickie.”

“No?” He sounded genuinely sad about it, “That is not very nice, babe.”

“Pretty please? I need to tell you something and it’s really hard for me to focus when you are all over me.”

“Seems I am still not doing a good job at it,”

“Shut up Fletcher,” she playfully pushed him off her, shaking her head. “When everyone is gone, and especially my brother. You can toy with me as you please.”

“I’ll keep you up on that.” Kyle looked down at her offering a cheeky smile. Then, he backed off, going and sitting on the edge of the bed. “So,” he started looking at her with interest, “you and Will made up?”

“About that,” she started stepping closer, “yes, we did. But before we talk about that I need to apologise.”

“For what, baby?” Kyle pulled her closer to him, making her stand in between his long legs. When he was sat, they were almost the same height.

Erika rested her arms on his shoulders and tenderly stroked his hair, offering a small, soft but ashamed smile. “I didn’t mean to keep you out.”

“You never have to apologise to me.”

“No,” she pressed on, “I do. Please, be mad at me for once,”

“You want me to be mad?”

“No, I mean, take my apologies like you were.”

“Ok,” Kyle paused to process her words, “so tell me, now,” he looked up into her eyes, “tell me what it is you didn’t tell me all week.”

“I didn’t want to be an inconvenience. I didn’t want my problem to taint your relationship with Will. So, I couldn’t tell you how hurt I was when I found out he just left that morning and then didn’t reach out to me. I realise that if I had said something to you, this situation would have been easily resolved, but I didn’t, so I managed to convince myself Will was ignoring me just as much as he convinced himself about the same thing,”

“First, you will never be an inconvenience to me. Second, you convinced me too. I knew something was off, but because you didn’t say a word about Will, I understood it the other way around.”

“Like?”

“Like you wanted to forget that night. Which is why I didn’t bring it up ever again. Until today. I started to suspect I misunderstood just today.”

“I am sorry,” Erika shook her head, “I feel so stupid. This could have ended so badly.” Her breath was suddenly shaken as she looked away. “I know how much Will means to you and I couldn’t bear to be the sore nerve in the middle of your beautiful relationship so,”

Before she could continue, Kyle pulled her into a kiss, silencing her. “Don’t say it,” he whispered, “do not say what you almost did. Which, by the way, I wouldn’t let you do. I would never let you leave me. Not like this. Not until I am certain that’d be the only way to make you happy. But not like this.”

“See? You would have fought.”

“Hell yeah,”

“Why would you fight for me when I thought about leaving you,” Erika paused again, “I am so sorry.”

“Erika, baby,” Kyle made her look at him, “You aren’t thinking of leaving me because you are selfish or mean. I can see that everything you did, even if it may have been a degree wrong, you did it to protect my interest to the best of your abilities.” Kyle slid his hands around her face, stroking her cheeks. “I appreciate you. I love you. But don’t ever think I’d be happier without you.”

“I promise I won’t keep anything from you,” Erika pushed a hand on his chest, just above where his heart was, “No more secrets.”

“That would be wise,” Kyle chuckled. His smile was as fresh as a breeze, making her feel reassured, “Especially since I seem to be the voice of reason around here.”

“Then, coming to the most pressing matter.” Erika started, looking down again. Her cheeks were slowly blushing, “I want to date Will.”

“Are you leaving me for Billy Goat!?” Kyle placed a hand on his chest, pretending to look shocked. “I knew he was bad business,”

“C’mon, mate,” Erika gave him a playful push, “Be serious you idiot,”

“Right,” Kyle nodded, “Am I invited to join this dating party? Or is it an exclusive?”

“No. I mean yeah, yes you are invited. I mean, you must be there.” Erika cleared her voice, just saying it out loud brought images into her mind making her thoughts all foggy and her stomach twist. “I would like to welcome Will in the couple, that’s it. Because I like him. I’ve been liking him a while,” she talked fast as if pushing out the words as quickly as possible could somehow hide her from Kyle’s reaction.

“Yeah, I know that babe,”

“So, what do you think?”

She didn’t even think about the possibility of his refusal. What if he was only interested in a one-night stand and didn’t care to indulge her? What if he didn’t like the idea of sharing all of that with Will?

Kyle shrugged, “I mean I am down for it. What did Will say?”

“He’s totally smitten by you. Called you beautiful, quoting.”

“I mean, I am beautiful, but that’s beside the point.”

Erika chuckled, “You are such a dumb prick sometimes,”

Kyle still blushed, even though he had just been cocky, “I’d like that. I mean it’s not a secret how much I feel for Will so,”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between close friendship and romance,”

“Is there?” Kyle wondered, “Or maybe I just never openly admitted that I like him and that’s why we are so close. I mean, not that I have thought about it enough to put a label on it, but I wouldn’t oppose having him around more often. Equally, I have no problem getting on with the both of you.”

“Oh,” Erika chuckled, nodding, “that I know.”

In her belly, Erika felt a warm feeling distending and sliding across her body, under her skin, lulling her into a new relaxed state. It wasn’t only finding relief after days of intense, nerve-wracking anxiety and dreadful sadness, it was also joy, deep and pure.

She hadn’t planned anything to go the way it went in the past few days and certainly, she wasn’t expecting it to end up like a bloody fairytale happy ending. She had convinced herself of the opposite. But now she couldn’t think about anything but being grateful.

If only she had known earlier things would have turned out that way.

She then pulled him into a hug, pushing her face into the crook of his neck. Erika cradled him gently, soaking up the feeling of the consistency of his solid body in her arms. “Whatever, you know? I love you.”

“I love you too, always.”

Erika was completely taken by pleasure. She felt like she was floating. Her body didn’t feel hers anymore. She didn’t have weight or consistency. No thoughts, only emotions. She was only her pleasure, wrapped and moulded under heavy bodies, hot hands and hungry mouths.

Kyle kept her solidly pressed against his chest. He had one hand wrapped around her throat as his other arm twisted around her waist, just so he could have easy access to her clit, only intensifying her pleasure as she took both of them in. She was riding Will’s cock, as Kyle fucked her ass.

“You are doing so good, pet,” he lulled at her ear.

They were taking it extremely slow now, especially for the standards they were getting her used to, but it wasn’t certainly the pace of their night. The boys had been relentless and merciless, making her come countless times already and still keeping her pleasure rolling.

Erika thought she could snap and go insane. She had never cried because of pleasure before. She had heard of the event. Maybe even see it when watching dirty, hardcore porno but never experienced it herself. Up to tonight.

The first time tears had started streaming down her face, both Will and Kyle froze, thinking they were hurting her somehow, only making her go more feral. Erika had to threaten them not to stop, ever. Unless she told them so. And they hadn’t ever since.

She had never experienced anything like what she was feeling that night. Not even the first time they were together the pleasure was quite so high. But that night was somehow hotter, and dirtier, the things they did and said to each other were more prohibited and inebriating. And none of the trio seemed to have enough of the other two.

Erika whimpered, too exhausted even to moan louder. Erika sat down on Will’s cock, slowly, accompanied by Kyle’s hand guiding her movements as the Aussie proceeded to slide back into her. It was like a synchronised dance between them, supposed to cyclically fill her up as much as possible. She had begged for it but could never be ready for the real feeling. She had experience with anal and even double penetration, as she and Kyle liked to play with toys, but her toys weren’t as big as both those boys fucking her. She felt like she was getting split in two, and loved every second of it.

Their skin was a sticky mess of sweat, bodily fluids and lube.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Kyle’s pure satisfaction vibrated through his voice, making her purr.

Words escaped her mind just as easily as thoughts did, she was abandoned in between their arms, body and soul, Erika only managed to slowly nod at him.

She felt Kyle's sharp smile pressed on her shoulder as he looked down at Will and invited her to a holt. In her stillness, Erika took a second to catch her breath, relaxing her lower abdomen and adjusting to both men's sizes.

She wasn’t at all mad at Kyle’s chosen pace. It gave her a chance to catch her breath – as much as still being fucked and held by the throat, hands tied behind her back could do. But she knew that Kyle’s slow torture wasn’t targeted at her, for once. She knew the Aussie's bright eyes were pointed at Will just as much as she was aware his sharp, challenging smile was for the Brit too, as Kyle had taken control over the both of them.

And she was in with Kyle’s game. Hearing Will whimpering underneath her, begging for pleasure, made her go insane.

He too had his hands bound. He was trapped by handcuffs locked to the bedboard and she loved to see how he moved and stretched underneath her. His muscles twitched and contracted. His big arms looked so good bent above his head.

She had taken a mental note of how much she liked it and thought next time she would have tied down both boys, planning to take her time to play with both.

However, that wasn’t quite the only thing that sent her completely feral. The desperate insanity of her attraction to the two men she was sharing the bed with pivoted when Kyle silenced Will, staffing her panties into his mouth and gagging him.

“Do you want to fuck this pretty boy, pet?” Kyle wondered. His words were enough to make both her and Will tremble. Kyle had his large hand opened wide on her lower abdomen and pressed on her, making her move her hips ever so slowly, causing Will to twitch and huff.

Erika smiled, turning her head to Kyle as much as his hold on her allowed movement, looking for a kiss. “Please,” she whispered against his lips. “I do.”

“Of course, you do, pet,” he cooed, “that’s what you like doing best, isn’t it?”

“Yes,”

Kyle dangerously purred in her ear, “No, no, pretty one, don’t disappoint me now,” he pushed her chin up and head back just to make her stretch in his hold. “Say it. Let me hear it,”

Erika moulded under his control, “Please, let me fuck him,” she whined, “I am such a slut for you,” she continued and the more she said, the more she wanted to say just to please the Aussie. “I want you both to cum all over me.”

“That bad, uh?” Kyle pushed her head back so she could watch Will, controlling her hips to move in another painfully slow thrust. And then another, quicker this time. They all moaned. “Shall we milk every drop of what he has to give?” Before she could even think about responding, Kyle's soft chuckle in her ear gave her a shiver. “Or, I could fuck you some more myself and make him watch.”

Will grunted, impatiently twitching underneath them, trying to buck his hips into her to find some form of satisfaction, trying to lift himself and fight the firm hold of his handcuffs.

That only caused Kyle to chuckle, “What was that baby? Daddy’s angry?” He guided another slow thrust. “Daddy should learn to be patient, don’t you think, pet?”

She nodded, rolling her head on his shoulder and letting a small moan out, not entirely sure she could think straight anymore. Almost out of habit, without thinking, she moved her hips, taking the initiative to thrust on them. Kyle let her. Her body was stretched like an elastic band ready to snap, pressed under her ever-grown hunger for pleasure that wouldn’t come. Kyle’s torture was making her go mad.

“Please, Kyle,” she huffed, exchanging a desperate look with Will. They both begged to be satisfied.

“Yes, pet? What is it?”

“I need-”

Kyle suffocated her words and ripped a moan out of her as he made her slide up and down Will’s cock pushing himself back into her. Erika opened her mouth wide, rolling her eyes to the back of her head. The pleasure of feeling them both inside of her was too much even for her to voice it.

“What do you need, baby?” his tone was now softer, more attentive, “Tell me, I will give it to you.”

“J-just fuck me,” she exhaled, “and let me fuck him.”

Kyle was ready to give her what she wanted. He exchanged a nod with Will, only so he would be ready and received a suffocated moan in return, as Will still tried to fight the handcuffs off. “Nah, big boy,” Kyle patted Will on the belly, “you are staying exactly like that.”

A shiver crossed Erika as she nodded, supporting the Aussie. “Daddy’s so pretty tied up.” She purred pressing a smile into Kyle’s jaw.

Will let his head fall on the pillow and bit down on the fabric in his mouth, suffocating a grunt, but the second he stopped resisting, Kyle rewarded him with what everyone wanted.

“C’mon, baby, be a good girl and take what you need from us,” he instructed, letting Erika move freely as she wished on Will’s cock, and respecting her rhythm with his thrusts.

She stretched against him and rode the Brit. Now it was her turn to be merciless, but Erika had very little patience too. She had been toyed with enough and felt like she was going to implode if she hadn’t found release. She whined, her body already shaking as the wildest wave of pleasure started to grow inside her tummy.

Her fingers extended to Kyle’s abdomen, touching as much of Kyle’s skin as she could, even though her hands were tied up.

He kissed her neck, ear and side of her head, only for his hold to become stronger around her throat. “Inhale, pet. Take a deep breath and hold it in those pretty lungs.”

Erika whimpered. A shiver crossed her spine, shaking her. She would have done anything for him but that command, somehow, was groundbreaking. Made her want to drop on her knees and have a collar put around her neck. It made her stomach twist. Her thoughts dissipated; nothing was left but letting herself go in his arms.

She did as instructed, inhaling deeply, just so Kyle could squeeze her throat and choke her. His hold was hot but firm, suffocating her breath and voice into submission as their rhythm only quickened. With every thrust shaking her and her lungs constricting into her chest, Erika felt her caged self spiral towards an undiscovered level of pleasure.

Kyle lulled sweet words to her ear, encouraging her to take it all. He softly kissed her neck and bit down on her shoulder, suffocating his moans on her skin. The hand he had around her abdomen quickly moved down between her legs, where he could massage her clit only making her pleasure grow exponentially.

Will arched under her, growling like a rabid animal and grabbing on the bedboard, making the entire bed creak under the pressure of his hold. Erika quivered, feeling the mindless need to feel that same strength on her own body, bending her and holding her down.

She so desperately wanted to scream. She wasn’t thinking any longer.

When pleasure hit her, rolling into her lower belly and exploding through her, making her shake uncontrollably, Kyle caught her and held her, releasing his hold on her throat and letting her breathe. “Good girl,” he praised, cradling her, not stopping for one second fucking her and not allowing her to slow on Will either. “Give it to us, baby,”

Erika cried their names as pleasure muffled all her other senses. Her quivering body squeezed on the boys as she abandoned herself against Kyle’s chest, letting him guide her movements.

Will came first, right after her, following the waves of her pleasure. Kyle moaned too, feeling Will’s dick release inside of her. “That’s it, big boy,” he praised, “fill her pretty pussy up.”

Will filled her up with his hot seed and, whining and groaning, pulled on his handcuffs leaving marks on his wrists. Feeling his pleasure pump inside of her made her feral. Erika was ready to howl like a dog, feeling pure satisfaction in the idea he had just branded her.

As soon as he was done, Kyle propped her up and continued fucking her, following Will and doing exactly the same thing. He pushed her head up just so he could trap her lips in a famished kiss, suffocating her whimpers as he fucked her mercilessly until he reached his pleasure, filling her up a second time. Rode his orgasm suffocating his moans in the crook of her neck, hands grabbing on her body like he was trying his best to hold onto something, not to get washed away in his own orgasm.

Erika was a quivering mess. Her mind was completely fogged up and disconnected, to the point she wasn’t entirely aware of the sweet things Kyle chanted in her ear as he untied her wrists and laid her down.

The first thing she felt other than the hot waves of deep pleasure sex just gave her, was the cold air tickling her sweaty skin as she felt completely uncovered for the first time. She had been naked a long time by now, but she always had one boy or the other, or both on her at all times, up to that moment.

Kyle climbed above Will’s chest, full of praising words for him too as he pulled her panties out of his mouth. “You are a good, pretty boy, you know that?” he wondered softly, sliding a hand across Will’s jaw fondly.

Will smiled, not hiding the pink blushing his cheeks. “Thanks, darlin,” he patiently waited for Kyle to unlock his handcuffs, only to sit up with the Aussie in his lap and grab him by the neck as soon as he was free. “Next time you’ll be the one begging for Daddy,”

Kyle looked into his eyes for a long time and then, as he slid his arms on Will’s shoulder, they both smiled at each other.

Erika rolled to her side, looking at them with a warm feeling spreading in her belly. She wasn’t only smitten by them. It was stronger than that. She needed to touch them so bad it hurt.

“Just kiss already,” she hinted, stretching in the bedsheets, trying to find some comfort for her tired body. She was exhausted and yet had enough strength left in her to still offer a cheeky smile to the both of them as they looked down at her. “I know you want to,” she purred, looking at Will.

Kyle and Will looked back at each other. The Aussie cupped Will’s face, caressing his cheeks, making him look up at him. “Do you, baby?”

“Call me baby one more time and I’ll lick the floor for you, pretty boy.”

Kyle pressed his smile on Will’s lips. Just like it had been for her, Will took a moment to melt into that new embrace, but when he did, she slid his arms around Kyle, pulling him into a hug. Their kiss was quick to heat up. When she saw their tongues flick as they made out, she was sure she felt it in her lower abdomen. Hearing their breath quicken only made Erika quiver under her skin. Pure lust flooded through her, lighting her body up once again.

She pushed herself up and slid close to them, kissing Will on the shoulder and then leaning on Kyle’s. “You’ll drive me insane guys.”

Both Kyle and Will looked back at her, welcoming her in their hug. “Good,” Will kissed her forehead and Kyle her cheek, making her feel their affection.

She felt so grateful and lucky.

“You know what’s the funniest part of this entire thing, mate?”

“What, bruv?”

“You will have to tell Mark you are fucking his sister.”

“Ah, fuck,” Will let himself fall backwards into the pillows, only pretending defeat, as both Kyle and Erika laughed.

#kyle fletcher #will ospreay #kyle fletcher fanfic #kyle fletcher x reader #will ospreay fanfic #will ospreay x reader #kyle fletcher smut #will ospreay smut #aew fanfiction #aew

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princesssmars · 1 year

Text

cuffing season

a jim hopper x reader fic

el has been begging hopper to go see a concert of some new up and coming artist. hopper doesnt get the hype until he finally hears you sing.

wc : 1.266

contains: reader is famous and kind of. an 80s sza i guess ??? idk u perform cuffin season and hopper is whipped.

- s/n : stage name -

a/n: as soon as i heard this song i think we all thought of him. confirmed byt the dozens of edits ive seen and shared so yall saw this coming. enjoy.

hopper loved jane with all his heart. her entrance into his life gave a new meaning to his world; a new sense of purpose (even if he sometimes likes to act like an all-tough macho man, almost everyone he was close to saw him for the big softie at heart he was.)

but god damn was raising a teenage daughter hard.

he gave it his all and he could tell that she knew it, remembering to say thank you after every nice gesture. she often liked to throw in a little hug as well. he was lucky she was a sweetheart.

but of course given her upbringing in a government lab and being suddenly thrust into the modern world, she wanted more. she wanted to fit in.

so hop wasnt surprised when she asked to go to her first concert.

she had seen a commercial on the television for it at mikes house while hanging with the party, the artist being a woman called s/n who was going to perform some of her songs that had become very popular recently. hopper only listened to his favorite stations, so hes never heard of her songs on the radio.

but, it was the middle of fall nearing winter, and there wasnt much to do in hawkins this time of year, so he reluctantly agreed to drive jane and the party to indianapolis to go see the concert.

(hes barely able to survive the drive. he loves these kids but jeez could they talk about everything but nothing for hours.)

eventually they check in at their overnight hotel before heading to the outdoor venue, their seats being more near the stage.

(this trip cost quite a pretty penny but only the best he could get for them of course.)

its chilly and even snowing a bit but none of the people here even seem to mind, most on the edge of their seats while waiting for the show to start.

jane and max are excitedly whispering amongst themselves while the boys watch on and occasionally join in.

as the lights start to dim in preparation for the show, hopper catches dustin bouncing on the balls of his feet with a big smile on his face.

"what are you so giddy about? probably just gonna be some regurgitated pop songs..." hopper mumbles, confused at the boys excitement.

"no way! you obviously havent heard her most recent song. ever since it came out girls have been all over me. im dedicated to susie but its super cool."

hopper is about to ask him to elaborate when the screams of hundreds suddenly rings out, the lights on stage coming back up to officially start the performance.

when the lights turn on and the music starts, hopper can feel his breath get caught in his throat at the sight of you.

you, probably the most gorgeous woman hes ever seen, looking like an angel in a red fur coat ready to bless the masses. hes too busy staring straight at you that he barely registers your greeting to the audience, and only starts to pay attention when you start singing.

its cuffing season

and all the girls are leavin

to get a big boy

i need a big boy

give me a big boy

your lyrics and the confidence you give while saying them makes his face flush like a damn teenager. he cant remember the last time (or any time for that matter) where he heard a song targeting someone built like him, most songs in the radio desiring someone younger, thinner, and more muscular.

there are other woman singing/rapping along with you saying little jokes about bigger guys that granted do make him chuckle a bit. but even though your part in the song is small, he mostly keeps his eyes on you.

near what hes sure is the closing of the song, as you sing your repeated chorus and move along to the music, your eyes lock on his and his heart damn near stops when your smile widens after looking him up and down, singing while directing the lyrics to him.

its cuffin season

and now weve got a reason

to get a big boy

i want a big boy

give me a big, big, big boy

you wink at him before turning your attention back to the audience, wrapping up the song before continuing the rest. hopper feels a tugging on his arm, looking down at his beaming daughter who looks happier than hes ever seen her.

"shes so pretty! and i love her voice! isnt this so cool?!" she shouts over the music, slightly jumping up and down in excitement.

hopper smiles at her enjoyment, slightly chuckling along with her. "yeah, yeah shes cool, hon."

throughout the rest of the concert hopper finds himself enjoying it more and more, his eyes staying on you nearly the whole time. you make eye contact a few more times, and each time you send a flirtatious smile in his direction.

eventually the performance comes to a close, the kids still hyped and buzzing talking about their favorite parts. just as they're about to head out a security guard stops them.

"is there a problem? one of these kids didnt so something, did they?" jim asks, sending a pointed look in the kids direction, all of them standing still as statues.

"no, nothing wrong at all sir." the guard assures. "s/n is having a vip meet and greet backstage and invited your party to say hello and get some autographs."

hopper doent think hes ever seen the kids get so excited so quickly, but then again they were going to meet their first celebrity.

when its finally their time to meet you, you give them a great big smile and "hello!". you act so well with the kids, answering any question they have and taking a multitude of pictures. he stares on in fondness until you turn your attention to him.

"hi, your daughter told me your name is jim, right?"

"everyone just calls me hopper." he responds, trying to hide how hes slightly nervous in your presence. it was t everyday he met someone equally talented and drop dead gorgeous. "i uh...liked your song. the first one."

"mmm, pretty sure you more than liked it." you tease him, laughing when he looks away from you. "im glad you enjoyed it. me and my friends just wanted to show more love to guys of our type."

"your type huh? and im guessing by how you kept looking at me id fit in to your criteria?" he asks you bluntly, feeling proud when he sees you slightly flustered.

"youd more than fit, trust me-" youre blatant innuendo is cut off by your manager tapping you on the shoulder, whispering in your ear that you should start wrapping things up.

a deep sigh leaves you, sharing just another little moment with him before moving back to your table, writing something on a note and giving it to him with a smile.

he doesnt have time to look at it until later on during the drive home, most of the kids having tuckered themselves out from talking about the show and falling asleep one by one. he carefully pulls the note out of his jacket pocket, holding it in one hand while he drives with the harder.

its your name and number, with just a sentence of writing below them.

call me whenever youd like, big boy.

and in that moment, hopper has never been more grateful for his daughter.

a/n: i dont have anything to say need him bad. bigger boys girls nd everyone in between we love yall. thanks for reading <3

#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #chief hopper #chief hopper x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things #jane hopper #max mayfield #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #will byers

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thelustybraavosimaid · 2 years

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I don't really know of anyone who ever said that Elia would be jealous of Lyanna. To be quite honest, I've never, ever seen that before, but then again I do not look for anything Elia related.

George said that he pictured the Dornish as more Mediterranean rather than African:

So Elia is not PoC in George's eyes. Feel free to debate that, I suppose, but it is pointless to argue with the literal author.

Where was it said that Rhaegar allowed any of them to suffer? He put Jaime in charge of protecting Elia and their children, Jaime dreams this:

Prince Rhaegar burned with a cold light, now white, now red, now dark. "I left my wife and children in your hands." (Jaime VI, ASoS)

It is very clear that he did not want any of them hurt. Elsewise he wouldn't have told Jaime to watch over and protect them.

We know *something* about his relationship with Elia and it was that he was fond of her. In love with, maybe not, as it was a relationship that was borne out of politics.

The old knight hesitated. "Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her." (Daenerys IV, ADwD)

It is the "she smells Dornish" line that has Rhaegar feeling even more distant to his father. Even before then, when he married Elia, they moved to Dragonstone rather than the Red Keep.

Your other point about not doing anything because he didn't care can easily be refuted by certain passages in the series:

Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "When this battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but...well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return." (Jaime I, AFfC)

This is known: The tourney was first announced by Walter Whent, Lord of Harrenhal, late in the year 280 AC, not long after a visit from his younger brother, Ser Oswell Whent, a knight of the Kingsguard. That this would be an event of unrivaled magnificence was clear from the first, for Lord Whent was offering prizes thrice as large as those given at the great Lannisport tourney of 272 AC, hosted by Lord Tywin Lannister in celebration of Aerys II's tenth year upon the Iron Throne.

Most took this simply as an attempt by Whent to outdo the former Hand and demonstrate the wealth and splendor of his house. There were those, however, who believed this no more than a ruse, and Lord Whent no more than a catspaw. His lordship lacked the funds to pay such munificent prizes, they argued; someone else must surely have stood behind him, someone who did not lack for gold but preferred to remain in the shadows whilst allowing the Lord of Harrenhal to claim the glory for hosting this magnificent event. We have no shred of evidence that such a "shadow host" ever existed, but the notion was widely believed at the time and remains so today.

But if indeed there was a shadow, who was he, and why did he choose to keep his role a secret? A dozen names have been put forward over the years, but only one seems truly compelling: Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone.

If this tale be believed, 'twas Prince Rhaegar who urged Lord Walter to hold the tourney, using his lordship's brother Ser Oswell as a gobetween. Rhaegar provided Whent with gold sufficient for splendid prizes in order to bring as many lords and knights to Harrenhal as possible. The prince, it is said, had no interest in the tourney as a tourney; his intent was to gather the great lords of the realm together in what amounted to an informal Great Council, in order to discuss ways and means of dealing with the madness of his father, King Aerys II, possibly by means of a regency or a forced abdication. (The Fall of the Dragons—The Year of the False Spring, The World of Ice and Fire)

It is unfortunate that you are weaving a large amount of headcanons and obvious bias in your post here.

We know what kind of man Rhaegar was like through Daenerys, and these are remarks by people who knew Rhaegar.

This particular passage is after Dany said that *she did not want any rapes*.

"I will not have her harmed," Dany said. "I claim her. Do as I command you, or Khal Drogo will know the reason why."

"Ai, Khaleesi," Jhogo replied, kicking his horse. Quaro and the others followed his lead, the bells in their hair chiming.

"Go with them," she commanded Ser Jorah.

"As you command." The Knight gave her a curious look. "You are your brother's sister in truth."

"Viserys?" She did not understand.

"No," he answered. "Rhaegar." He galloped off. (Daenerys VII, AGoT)

If Daenerys wanted to protect a woman from being raped and Jorah mentioned that she was like Rhaegar in that moment, exactly *why* would Rhaegar harm his own wife by assaulting her?

"Just so," she agreed. "I think we should attack from three sides. Grey Worm, your Unsullied shall strike at them from right and left, while my kos lead my horse in wedge for a thrust through their center. Slave soldiers will never stand before mounted Dothraki." She smiled. "To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?"

"I think you are Rhaegar Targaryen's sister," Ser Jorah said with a rueful half smile.

"Aye," said Arstan Whitebeard, "and a queen as well." (Daenerys IV, ASoS)

Moreover, Ser Barristan mentions this:

"Some truths are hard to hear. Robert was a...a good knight...chivalrous, brave...he spared my life, and the lives of many others...Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and...forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth...even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did."

"His father's son?" Dany frowned. "What does that mean?"

The old knight did not blink. "Your father is called 'the Mad King' in Westeros. Has no one ever told you?" (Daenerys VI, ASoS)

No one, literally no one, thinks that he was mad. No one except for Robert.

There is also nothing to suggest that Rhaegar lived for himself, that he thought he was the most important person in the world, or that nothing else mattered to him. Again, he made Jaime watch after his wife and children.

Moreover, about the Prince that was Promised prophecy, it is very obvious that said topic was what he read of in the scrolls that made him decide to become a warrior. Now that we know the Targaryens knew of the Long Night and the disastrous events that were to come as a result, perhaps he thought that the hero to defend against the Others would be of the Targaryen bloodline. So his very action, his thought, would have been to protect the realm and to fight on the side of the living, to ensure all live another day.

Which...would in turn make it a very selfless act.

I dispute the part about Lyanna here, and for very obvious reasons:

The reason why Jon was told the story of Bael the Bard and the Winterfell flower he had plucked was to tell him the story of his parents. Lyanna is very much so tied to blue winter roses:

Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. "Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood. (Eddard XIII, AGoT)

Promise me, Ned, his sister had whispered from her bed of blood. She had loved the scent of winter roses. (Eddard XV, AGoT)

...and Rhaegar to being a bard:

"Prince Rhaegar's prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance." (Daenerys VI, ASoS)

The tale says this:

"No. They had been in Winterfell all the time, hiding with the dead beneath the castle. The maid loved Bael so dearly she bore him a son, the song says...though if truth be told, all the maids love Bael in them songs he wrote. Be that as it may, what's certain is that Bael left the child in payment for the rose he'd plucked unasked, and that the boy grew to be the next Lord Stark. So there it is—you have Bael's blood in you, same as me." (Jon VI, ACoK)

The son in this story is analogous to Jon, though Jon will not be a Lord Stark, but the next King in the North, for a time, at least, legitimised by Robb through his will.

But beside that, there are a lot of deliberate blank spots in regards to the true story of Rhaegar and Lyanna, but it seems to me that George intends to make it a tragic love story.

We actually have a relatively good idea of what kind of woman Lyanna was like by being inside Arya's head, as they are often compared. There is nothing to suggest that either Arya or Lyanna wouldn't be (in Arya's case)/were not attracted to men. Again, this is your headcanon speaking and has little basis in the books.

Wanting to fight and be a knight does not make one less feminine or make one unattracted to men. Brienne is a very feminine character and is brilliant with a sword. Arya does not actively dislike dresses, she doesn't really complain about wearing them, and the only time she wouldn't wear one was when it wouldn't be practical to do so.

They don't know me, Arya realized. They don't even know I'm a girl. Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don't wear skirts and silks when you're catching cats. (Arya III, AGoT)

Arya absolutely does not like being called a boy and corrects anyone who mistakes her for one. Here is one example:

"The steel must be part of your arm," the bald man told her. "Can you drop part of your arm? No. Nine years Syrio Forel was first sword to the Sealord of Braavos, he knows these things. Listen to him, boy."

It was the third time he had called her "boy." "I'm a girl," Arya objected. (Arya II, AGoT)

Not fitting the gender norms does not make one more or less feminine or likely to be lesbian/gay/etc, it just makes one refuse to be put in a box that society makes for them.

Well, that's quite literally the thing. We *don't* know the nature of Rhaegar and Lyanna's story, or why he did what he did. Lyanna, it appears, was the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

*My* particular headcanon is this:

On the ground the sleeper sat up beneath his furs. Jon slid his dirk free, grabbing the man by the hair and jamming the point of the knife up under his chin as he reached for his—no, her—

His hand froze. "A girl."

"A watcher," said Stonesnake. "A wildling. Finish her." (Jon VI, ACoK)

In a similar way that Jon was hesitant to kill Ygritte after discovering that she was a woman, perhaps Rhaegar felt the same after discovering Lyanna was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. And admired her for it.

There isn't anything in the books to suggest Rhaegar was "a monster," to Lyanna or to Elia.

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bismuthburnsblue · 7 months

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pre project write up: the coat!

ill keep this short (for me) because i worked through most the details with the wearable mockup from last year, but i wanted to reintroduce this project & the fabrics ill be using :)

This is the final version of my winter coat project, which i am starting at a great time (ill probably finish this well after its gotten cold!) Ive started with a base of McCalls M6800, because im not super confident in my ability to draft a pattern with the correct ease for this type of garment. Ive made some minor fittings (far too much room in one of the front seams for me, and i took some volume out of the skirt area. the shoulders were. weird. i honestly wouldnt rate this pattern super highly it had some grading issues that should have been caught, but it serves my purposes) and now i should be ready to go! i wont be following the instructions very much but theyre pretty basic anyway, so ill just go my own way and see where i end up!

this is kind of the inspo if you want a visual!

the main body of the coat will be made out of this gorgeous, velvet like wool (i think its a blend?). In true Nyx fashion, its black and absolutely impossible to photograph. its probably one of the most expensive fabrics ive ever bought but i looked through dozens of options and this was by far the best one i found. im really particular about textures and this one is just, so nice, and its quite thin for a wool (not in a bad way, its just compact rather than fluffy) which is something im going to appreciate with the amount of fabric in this coat.

Next: the lining! given that i was going to all this effort to make my own coat, i wanted this to be a completely unique garment, in every aspect, including the lining. I knew i wanted something with a design on it, and something that was a dramatic contrast to the outside, so when i saw this gorgeous 'chinese brocade' fabric i knew it was the perfect thing. Its very much. not a lining fabric and was past the budget i had in mind for my lining but i didnt see anything that came even remotely close to this in my mind so i caved and bought it. Even a year on im still enamoured with it and hope i have some left over to use for other things! I did get extra of the slippery black satin i used to line the mock up coat and i plan to use that to line the sleeves just for the extra glide, but ill use this for the main body.

one last fabric! one of the changes i wanted to make from the red version was to add a fur collar so i tracked down the softest faux fur you have ever touched! again awful to photograph, but its perfect, and it was by weight, so now i have a huge piece of this :D

i do also want to make note of the buttons i picked! theyre absolutely gorgeous and i, once again, hunted for ages to find the perfect option and here they are! they photograph a lovely colour but irl the gold is a little pink toned so my extra ass has bought some rub n buff to tone them into a better shade. yes. the buttons. for my coat. listen.

im generally happy with my mock up, but there are a few changes i want to make. the obvious one was one that was in the plans from before i even started the red one, which was changing the collar. i wasnt super sold on it in the first place and the further in i got, the more i wanted a fur collar! since i have so much of my fur, im also planning on adding it around the cuffs and i do keep tossing up doing the whole hem but i think that might be a little much.

The other major change i want to make is to how i finished the coat. im actually pretty happy with the hemming method i chose for the reasons i chose it, but for this version i want to do something different. the plan this time is to do a facing in the outer fabric on the lining pieces and have that completely attached through the inside, removing any opportunities for the lining to show unintentionally.

Theres also a couple of minor fit things i want to change, i want to add more width to the back in case this fabric is tougher than my mockup, i want to rethink how i did my buttons because that made me miserable last time, and i want to add a little length to the hem. oh and better pockets! i need to give it my mega pockets. but overall im pretty much ready to go straight into it! im so nervous

#fabrics and long notes under the cut!#welcome back to another edition of nyx writes too much about their sewing projects #think i said everything i wanted to though #the coat #thats just the project tag i mean. its The Coat #sewing

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frstcorinthians · 3 months

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fic writer ask !

thank youuu @almost-a-class-act !!

How many works do you have on AO3? just six! i haven't been posting for long

What's your total AO3 word count? roughly 48.6k

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. graveyard shift - which still surprises me lmfao it's the oldest one i have so i guess it makes sense?? the people are clamoring for fun retail worker content 2. cowboy cassanova - i still dont think i spelled that correctly. alas. jake seresin nation rise up 3. rest your head one more time - and here comes rooster with the steel chair! 4. maybe everything that dies someday comes back - i Will get this to the number one spot its literally the best thing ive ever written and ive barely started 5. angels that have no place - coming in clutch, my most recent fic

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? YESSS i love them i always reply they make my heart very full

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? i think the answer has to be the half-dozen ive left fully unfinished. nothing more depressing than that

What the fic you've written with the happiest ending? probably angels, given that it's the only one i actually finished. winning by default, it would seem

Do you write crossovers? i don't currently but there's still time. i'm not opposed to it!! i just havent gotten around to it yet

Have you ever received hate on a fic? nope! there's still time

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i do lmfao i don't think its very good?? but its usually surrounded by at least a semblance of plot

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not yet. there'd better not be time for this one.

Have you ever had a fic translated? no, unfortunately!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? also no but....if anyone's out there......

What's your all-time favorite ship? OH MANNNN i don't even know

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? rosary-strung, my weird nonsensical self-indulgent sandman fic. maybe once season 2 comes out i'll get sucked back into it? it needs some serious reshaping and revision to make it make sense at all, though

What are your writing strengths? i think i'm good at describing feelings! i think i tend to use weirdly specific metaphors and sensations when i describe them, so i think it sticks in the mind well.

What are your writing weaknesses? i'm bad at getting everything i'm thinking/picturing out onto the page, as in i'll make some jumps that make sense to me because i can see the whole picture in my head, but i forget to put them down onto paper, so the reader is like "what..just happened"

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i wouldn't dare, unless it's like a canonical thing a character does? like if its a term of endearment or something, that's a thing real people i know in real life do sometimes, so it wouldn't seem so out of place i think.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? wayyyy back when in elementary school i wrote REAMS of h*rr* p*tt*r fanfiction. in my defense i was in north carolina and ten.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? the pacific! i'm finally watching it now and there's a lot more to chew on and wrestle with, which is...maybe not a thing for fic to do; or maybe it's the thing only fic can do. we'll see. also mota because some ocs have wandered into my mind and won't leave. they also won't pay rent help

What's your favorite fic you've written? my nebraska fic, hands down. its my baby my everything my darling my firstborn. i love her and she loves me.

i will humbly tag @venus-haze @blood-mocha-latte @shoshiwrites and @latibvles !! if you've already been tagged my apologies it's late late late in north carolina

#aleks.txt #whew this one was a doozy and also a fun trip down memory lane #aleks.chat

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cognitohazardous · 28 days

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🔥 anarchism

honestly im not well versed in theory really cause ive been too busy stuffing my brain with ecology stuff for the past few years so i dont have a strong opinion on anarchists. I used to claim to be one and was like the kind to hate tankies or whatever but i grew out of that. I dont really know where I sit rn. But ik a lot of anarchists are really cringe and annoying online cause a lot of the time they dont know anything practical other than "state=bad therefore no state=good" and end up sandbagging a lot of attempts at organization and discussion because of it.

And like anarchist communes are neat in the rare occurrences where they arent cults and id live on one given like, a lot of standards are met (ie not being a cult) but I think, generally, they only work on a small scale and as exceptions to society as a whole. Im kind of talking out my ass here maybe but i feel like at some point people will try to organize and certain people will take leadership roles (given willingly or otherwise), especially if the community is larger than say, a few dozen people or whatever.

and like the production of modern goods (thinking of like pharmaceuticals and tech and stuff primarily) i cant really imagine that being a viable thing under an anarchist society, especially if theres nothing to regulate consistency. Of course there are like anti-civs who are kinda weird but im not really sure what to feel about them other than im not sure i trust that.

Like in part i hold this fantastical wish that i was born a caveperson just hunting and gathering and all that then id die at like 27 years old cause of some infection, but realistically its not something people should be striving towards, we are too far past that point, unless society is annihilated or whatever. Technology has done a immeasurable good for quality of life of so many countless people, and if used properly, can increase the quality of life of everyone with debatably minimal downsides, which sounds like a better deal than erasing it all and returning to the stone age.

I guess like, i can only really see anarchism potentially working while a majority of the world isnt anarchist. not necessarily capitalist hell obviously but something outside of the commune to produce the goods (even just metals) they use with actual regulations besides honor system. but like i said, Im not well versed in theory. These are my general beliefs currently, but im not gonna die on this hill if someone much more well-read has any contradictions

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genuinehc · 1 year

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Doing @mediwhumpmay because I fell out of the swing of writing and massively self indulgent whump is about my speed right now.

Fandom: Six of Crows, Modern AU, same universe as Modern Business

Prompt: Day 1: IV/Cannula

Tags/Warnings: medical whump, needles, IVs, haphephobia, surgery pre-op

“Your veins suck.”

Kaz bites back a tart retort as the nurse pokes up and down his arms and hands, looking for a likely candidate. Two other nurses tried and failed to sink a line and now this absolute *child* with blue hair and tattoos has come to give it a go.

Pre-op is bad enough without being insulted, but she’s not wrong.

At least she’s wearing gloves, a thin layer of nitrile between his skin and hers. And once someone manages to get the damn IV in, he’s been assured that he will be given medication to make this entire, awful affair marginally less stressful.

Half an hour ago, a pre-op nurse had smiled reassuringly and told him, “it will be like having a glass of whisky on an empty stomach.” Kaz shot back that he’d rather have the whisky, earning a wry chuckle.

Now, his eyes are screwed shut and he’s running through every breathing exercise Inej ever taught him just to push past the unexpected touches.

He can do this. He can absolutely do this. Can’t he?

He promised Inej, though, that he’d go through with it this time. And he’ll be damned if he goes back on his word. If it means being repeatedly stabbed, being rendered unconscious, having someone he’s barely met cut into him, and enduring months of recovery, so be it.

Even if it means being stabbed by a child who crows with satisfaction as she finally, *finally* finds a viable vein halfway up his right forearm, just below the place where his crow tattoo perches on the cup.

The needle slides in after a pinch and Kaz sighs with relief even as a smattering of applause around his bed forces him to look up and find they’ve attracted an audience. Kaz scowls as the girl cedes her spot to a nurse who takes over the rest of the IV insertion and the audience dissipates.

“I didn’t come here to be a sideshow attraction,” he snarls to an entirely unperturbed nurse who is hanging a bag of saline somewhere behind Kaz’s head.

“I should apologize- if we have to call in the professional, she comes with a fan club.”

“Professional? She looks like she’s fourteen,” Kaz leans back in the bed against flat pillows in papery covers and picks at the hospital gown.

Inej isn’t here to point out what he and Jesper and their whole little gang of misfits and criminals were doing when they were fourteen. Kaz resolutely ignores his imagination supplying her disapproving moue while the pre-op nurse chuckles.

“I don’t think she’s that much younger than you are. You should be feeling a little less on edge by now, although it will take another few minutes to really feel the effects. How do you feel?”

Kaz nearly snaps that he doesn’t feel at all different, then realizes that the nurse must have taken off his gloves and is touching Kaz’s bare wrist with fingers dry from dozens of washes every day. The papery skin doesn’t invoke the rising water.

He stares at the nurse’s hand for a moment, jaw working, before nodding curtly.

“I’m fine. Let’s get on with it.”

#mediwhumpmay #mediwhumpmay2023 #IV #cannula #medical whump #six of crows #kaz brekker #whump

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avaritia-apotheosis · 10 months

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Phantom Children: Redux | IV. No Rest for the Weary

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3} or [FFN.net]

← Previous Chapter // MASTERPOST // Next Chapter →

Present Day…

Batman made plans to visit Belle Reve Penitentiary before the week was over. The entire facility was made out of thick, gray, stone dotted by uniform windows. It stood above the waters of a murky swamp, the edges of the property enclosed by high wire fences.

There were about half a dozen security protocols that needed to be done to gain access to Belle Reve’s inner sanctum. Each layer and set of equipment installed and updated by various construction teams to insure that no single entity could compromise the Penitentiary’s—and thus Task Force X’s—security.

Batman, as he was wont to do, bypassed all of it.

He deposited himself in Amanda Waller’s office. It would have been a spacious room had it not been crowded with rows of filing cabinets. A healthy dose of paranoia made Waller careful to store any truly critical information in digital form, where it can be hacked by some malicious force or given access to by some particularly helpful person. The sorting system, from what Batman could see at first glance, forwent the standard A-Z categories for something else. Probably something that only Waller could understand.

A desk sat in the middle with a comfortable rolling chair behind it and a dual-monitor on top. Behind it was a wide window that overlooked the midnight Terrebonne Parish skyline.

He did not, however, have the time to appreciate the view as Amanda Waller finally stepped into her office.

She was a stout woman with a stern expression, dressed sensibly in a dark, mauve blazer, a white blouse, pearls, and a long, black skirt. A file-folder was tucked beneath one arm. The second she saw him, Waller paused, cocking her hip to one side and free hand tucked into her blazer pocket.

“Batman,” she said, nonplussed. “What brings you here?”

“Information…On a prisoner of yours.”

Waller took a seat behind her desk, setting her folder aside. “As far as I recall, Belle Reve isn’t currently housing any of your rogues. The last one was transferred over to Arkham a few months ago.”

He threw a printed article onto her desk. A small little piece from the Terrebonne Times, more a notice than actual news with what little information it held. The headline was emblazoned on the top:

DEATH AT BELLE REVE

Inmate Dies Under Mysterious Circumstances;Foul Play Suspected

Waller glanced at the article then looked back up at Batman, brow raised. “A little late to be investigating this, don’t you think? The event in question happened six months ago.”

“I need access to Frederick Isaak Showenhower’s cell.”

“Hm. I’m surprised you’re actually asking.”

Batman remained silent.

“Well.” Waller steepled her fingers together. “I suppose we could come to an arrangement.”

“An arrangement?” Batman snorts. “Sure. You give me access to the cell and I won’t tell your superiors that Showenhower—a regular human kept in a meta prison—didn’t die from some dispute between inmates, but from some outside force breaching Belle Reve’s ‘impenetrable’ security. You don’t hold any cards here, Waller.”

“Oh really? If I didn’t, I would have expected you to just waltz into the cell yourself without telling anyone.”

“I hold some respect for you, Waller. That’s the only reason why I’m asking.”

Waller made a pinched, sour face. With a huff, she got up from her desk and led Batman through the winding corridors of Belle Reve to Showenhower’s cell.

“What do you know about Freakshow, Batman?”

“Thirty years old, male, Caucasian, and possibly born with albinism. A bank and jewelry store robber who disguises his hits with a traveling circus show. He has connections with the occult and used it to commit his robberies. APISA apprehended him in St. Augustine, Florida, a little over a year ago.”

Waller laughed. “The GIW’s first and last hurrah.”

The Ghost Investigation Ward—or the Guys in White as it was jokingly referred to—was a fairly new and now defunct branch of the Agency of Paranormal Investigation and Spectral Affairs, focused on the research and apprehension of ectoplasmic entities known as ‘ghosts’. Their less than stellar track record made them the joke of not only APISA but the entirety of Task Force X, instilling within the ward’s few members a tight-knit camaraderie and an almost terrifying level of dedication towards their mission. They were more zealots than government agents. Coupled with their incompetence and their high collateral damage, the group was forced to disband.

“Occultism aside,” Batman said, “small time human thieves aren’t usually the kind of criminals Task Force X would be interested in.”

“You’d be right. APISA and the GIW’s interest lay not with Freakshow, specifically, but with his family. The Showenhowers’ research in the occult and supernatural go back centuries. They’re a veritable treasure trove of information, and as of three years ago, they’re also the only expert on ghosts left.”

He blinked. “Ghosts.”

“Ghosts.” Waller echoed. “Though not exactly the kind that you’re thinking of, but that is what these creatures have been calling themselves. As far as our researchers can tell, these ‘ghosts’ are inhabitants of a dimension tied very closely with our own.”

Suddenly, a spark. A memory. Information clicked into place.. “You learned of Freakshow in Amity Park.”

Waller neither confirmed or denied it.

It made sense, in a way. Though thought of as little more than a tourist trap, Amity Park had gained the reputation of being the most haunted city in America. Though no substantial proof ever made it outside of the city besides extremely blurry shots of light and grainy footage of streaks in the sky, the Justice League knew better than to dismiss the threats, if only because JL-Dark marked the city in the League’s main database with a heavy ‘ DO NOT INTERACT ’ warning for humans and metas alike. The exact situation in Amity Park was never explicitly laid out for the League other than that it was contained and handled and that the League should not, under any circumstances, interfere.

Though for good measure, Constantine saw it fit to bold, underline, italicize, and capitalize the DNI. Most heroes since then have taken to simply going around the city—even going so far as to avoid its air space.

“Well, here we are.”

Showenhower’s cell was located on the highest floor of the penitentiary, at the very end of the hallway and isolated from every other prisoner. Despite it being six months since the incident, all of the cells in this particular hallway were left unoccupied.

The inside of Showenhower’s cell, however, was far from empty. Frost covered the room from floor to ceiling, dropping the temperature by a few degrees. Large stalactites of ice hung down from the ceiling, patches of ice covered every corner and crept up the walls like vines.

“This is where he died,” Batman stated, breath coming out in white mists.

“Right over there.” Waller pointed at the single bed pushed towards the right side of the room. A frozen mattress on top of a rectangular dias that jutted out of the wall and had no space beneath it. “It was a strange thing. One moment Freakshow was sitting on the bed and staring at the wall. The next? He slammed his hand against the wall, froze the whole damn room over, and dropped dead.”

◆◆◆

Pause. Rewind. Play.

The door to the cell slid open and Freakshow walked in. He stood in the middle, surveyed the entire room, before his gaze stopped at the camera discreetly placed in the corner of the ceiling. He blinked, lowered his head, then went to sit down on his bed. Directly across from him was a mirror.

Ten minutes passed in relative silence. Freakshow just sits, tapping his foot. Tilted his head here and there. Scratched the back of his neck. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then— He froze, shoulders stiffened. For a brief moment, a wide grin stretched across his face before it’s pushed back into a stony expression. Freakshow slammed his hand against the wall, ice burst from his palms, and he dropped dead.

Pause.

Rewind.

It had been days since Batman visited Belle Reve. Bruce made little progress in solving the case. It did not help, of course, that there were other things that demanded his attention: a JL founders meeting concerning the admission of new heroes; the rumored reappearance of some stolen tech from Task Force X circulating the black market; his presentation for an upcoming fundraiser for the Wayne Foundation; his regular duties as batman and as CEO of Wayne Enterprises…The list was endless.

Play.

Thank goodness for Tim. His son had a good head on his shoulders and amazing intuition. Though as much as Tim had been arguing with Damian as to who got to accompany him on certain excursions, Bruce could see that Tim was just itching to go off on his own. To spread his own wings.

Reluctant as Bruce was to let any of his Robins fly out from under him…at this point, he’d like to think he had enough experience to know that his children would grow up with or without his consent. Bruce had spent the last year easing up on Tim’s restrictions—much to Damian’s envy. More solo patrols, more casework, a greater degree of decision in his own missions, etcetera. Bruce even let Tim take the lead in the stolen tech case, only stating that he reports any and all findings to Batman and to not engage dangerous enemies alone if able.

Bruce tapped a sharp rhythm on the desk, willing his attention back to the task at hand.

Ice covered the room. Freakshow slumped down, dead. Pause.

Rewind.

He played the video from the beginning once more, fingers steepled as he watched the proceedings.

An ordinary man with no powers at all walks into a heavily fortified prison cell, sits down on his bed, shoots ice from his hands, and dies. No one entered the room with him, and the door remained locked up until security came barreling through the doors a few minutes after he died.

Freakshow sat down, foot tapping loudly—

Pause.

Freakshow’s character profile described him as someone who was very deliberate with his movements. A trait possibly learned from years as a showman. What few footage Bruce managed to scrounge up from Circus Gothica’s shows displayed a ringmaster with a mastery over his own body, each gesture practiced and perfected for maximum effect. What videos there were of Freakshow when he was not addressing the audience—or the dozens of recordings of his stay in Belle Reve— saw a man who stood with uncanny stillness. Hands clasped behind his back, head tilted to the side just so.

Certainly not a man prone to fidgeting and tapping his foot.

Rewind.

Play.

Freakshow sat down across from the mirror, back to the camera, foot tapping loudly. The sound of it reverberating loudly in his tiny cell. He tilted his head, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. How did he miss it before? He zoomed in on the mirror, enhancing as much of the image quality as possible. Freakshow was talking . The words were too inaudible for the camera to pick-up, and his mouth’s movement was too subtle, too quick to be read.

“He knew his murderer was in the room with him,” Bruce mumbled.

“Father?”

Bruce looked over his shoulder. “Ah, Damian.” He rotated his chair to face his son. “What can I do for you?”

“Pennyworth asked me to inform you that dinner would be ready soon.” Damian’s eyes flicked over to the video footage. “Any progress with the assassin?”

“Perhaps.” He beckoned Damian closer to the monitor, replaying the video for him and explaining his own thought process. “Here, pay special attention to the mirror. It’s subtle, but you can clearly see Freakshow speaking— presumably to someone else in the room. Notes on his file indicate that he’s not prone to talking to himself or mumbling his thoughts aloud. Coupled with the uncharacteristic fidgeting—an action that causes enough noise that it masks his mumbling—we can also presume that this conversation contains sensitive topics, ones he wants to hide

“I briefly considered some kind of magic to be at work because of his connections with the occult but disregarded it quickly. Not only is a suicide spell out of character for Freakshow—and also shown no prior attempts to it or any signs of thinking about suicide—but the display of cryokinesis doesn’t fit into the larger picture. And while Freakshow was noted to use magic, he does not possess an innate talent for it like Zatanna. According to Waller, Freakshow’s magic is more in line with alchemy, and his cell was swept every time he leaves it for any contraband or suspicious items.”

He paused the footage and rewound it to when Freakshow sat down in front of the mirror. “So, we can presume that he was talking to the culprit meaning three things.” He held up his index finger. “The first is that his murderer was in the cell with him but managed to remain unseen, perhaps because of some new cloaking technology, though it’s more likely that invisibility of some sort is part of their meta-ability.” He raised another finger. “The second is that Freakshow could sense the presence of the culprit and has enough of a relationship with them to hold a seemingly civil conversation. And the third—” he held up a third finger then curled his hand into a fist— “Freakshow was unable to call for help. Why?

“He was overshadowed.”

Bruce snapped his head to Damian. The words were quiet, so quiet in fact he nearly missed them.

“What did you say?”

Damian clamped his mouth shut, eyes widening imperceptibly as if he, too, was shocked to have said it out loud. Quickly he smoothed his face, features receding into an impassive stare as he took a step back from the monitor.

Bruce decided to press further. “Damian.”

Damian pursed his lips, eyebrows pinched in such a way to indicate that he was deliberating something. “It’s…” He trailed. “How much do you believe in ghosts?”

If someone had asked that question to Bruce when he was sixteen, ten, or even seven years old, he would have answered with a resounding no. Ghosts—restless spirits, monsters, things that go bump in the night—were all mere figments of imagination. Now, however, having lived in the time of gods and superheroes, intergalactic politics, and magic …

“I believe enough.” He tilted his head, a piece of some unknown puzzle slowly making itself known. “You are referring to Amity Park’s breed of ghosts.”

Damian gave a curt nod. “Grandfather was always trying to learn more about the Lazarus Pit. He had some assets—scientists—within Amity Park tasked to do just that. Of course once these ghosts began to appear, grandfather was immediately informed,” he explained. “From what I’ve learned, overshadowing is some kind of possession, it’s an ability that all of Amity’s ghosts can utilize.”

“So you believe Freakshow was overshadowed by one of these ghosts.” The explanation, for lack of another, worked. The lack of any physical evidence, no forced entry or exit—all evidence that could be explained away by ‘the ghost was invisible,’ as much as it irked Bruce to say. Freakshow’s connections with the occult only strengthened the theory.

According to the penitentiary’s blueprints, Freakshow’s cell was lined with a special type of metal composed of ectoranium—a rare mineral with anti-ghost properties. A preventative measure in case Freakshow’s partner, Lydia, or any other ghost tried to help him escape. It should have been impossible for any ghost to phase their way into the prison.

Unless the ghost walked in with Freakshow.

“The eyes give it a way. Look—” Damian reached over to rewind the footage, pausing it at a specific moment. “—His eyes are normal here.” He points at Freakshow’s irises, dark gray due to the grayscale footage of the CCTV, plays the video, and then pauses it again a few seconds later. “But if you look at his eyes now, you can see the faint indication of a glow around his eyes. The color value of the irises are lighter, too. One of the biggest tells if someone is being overshadowed by a ghost is the glow and the change in eye color. “

Another review through the footage revealed that Freakshow’s eyes changed multiple times, often reverting back to his original eye color when he was speaking, and then changing when he was silent.

Bruce grunted, fingers drumming a steady staccato on the arm of his chair, head leaning on his knuckles. Their culprit was a ghost. That information certainly changed things. Not only was Bruce’s suspect list now wiped clean and placed Freakshow’s murder as the lynchpin of their case, there was also the worrying implication that the League of Shadows held command over an extradimensional being whose powerset he was not familiar with.

He glanced up at Damian. “What else do you know about ghosts?”

Damian shrugged. “Not as much as I’d like. Grandfather didn’t share much with me.”

“Hm.” He rose from his seat and set a hand on Damian’s shoulders with a light smile. “You head up first. I’m sure Alfred needs help setting the table.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll head up after you. There’s still one last thing I need to do.”

Damian raised an imperious eyebrow before ducking his head and heading to the elevator. Bruce watched his son’s retreating back, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. His eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth downturned.

Damian was hiding something.

◆◆◆

Beneath the eerie, grim torchlight, Plasmius observed the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. It stood, looming above a raised dais where a throne might have been, once. Beneath it on each side were two pedestals encased in glass, protecting the two most powerful artifacts of the Infinite Realms.

The glass cases were a mere formality, however. No one would steal either of the artifacts. To take only one of them would render the artifact useless as only with the ring and crown combined could the awesome power of the Infinite Realms be harnessed. Taking both would be an even riskier gamble. The crown and ring would only deign to bestow its powers on those it deems worthy. Strong. If the wearer did not suit, then the artifacts would eviscerate them before they could even blink.

It was strange to think that Pariah Dark’s awakening would be the felix culpa that saved Plasmius from his own demise.

Plasmius was prideful and vain in nature, but even he was self-aware enough to realize that the artifacts would only accept those equal or greater in power to Pariah Dark— and Vlad was simply not that. Even the Ancients, powerful as they were and the original victors against the old king, were not considered worthy. The only one who might have come close was young Daniel.

‘Close’ being the key word here.

It was unfortunate that the boy never stayed long enough to grow into his powers. If he did, he might have become someone powerful. Someone worthy. A king. (Only if it was under Vlad’s terms after all. A child monarch was never without an older and wiser regent at their shoulder. Taking Phantom under his own tutelage would be a worthless endeavor if Vlad could not come out on top).

Instead Daniel ran away, squirreled himself into a hovel so deep that neither of Vlad’s ghostly nor mortal resources could dig him up. (Yes, Daniel ran away. Was missing. No matter what forensics or the police or his own private investigators tried to say, that mauled and burned body placed beside the Fenton memorial was not Daniel James Fenton. The boy was still alive. It was only a matter of where.)

The sarcophagus shuddered.

Plasmius lifted his gaze to the death mask of Pariah Dark. “It is weakening,” he said, voice reverberating across the near empty throne room. He pivoted on his heel, a sardonic grin on his face as he faced Fright Knight. “Should we prepare for His Majesty to awaken any time soon?

Fright Knight cut an imposing figure in the torch light. “No.” Plasmius could not tell if the ghost was disappointed or relieved. “The sarcophagus holds strong still. In a year or in a decade, my king may wake once more, but that time is not today. For now, he rests in a fitful sleep.”

“A year or ten…how comforting.” Plasmius rolled his eyes. “What brings you here, then?”

“It is the duty of a knight to protect his liege lord against all things.”

“Oh don’t go pretending you’re a loyal knight now. Not when you betrayed your lord the last time.”

Fright Knight narrowed his eyes, then gave a derisive snort. “No, I suppose not. If you must know, half-breed, I was summoned by my creator, and regardless of my own desires I am obliged to answer the call.”

“Your creator— Pariah?”

Fright Knight shook his head.

“Then who—?” He turned to look at the dais again. At the sarcophagus. At the crown of fire and the ring of rage emitting a preternatural glow.

Ah. That explained it.

Of the many paradoxes there were in the world, Vlad’s favorite one concerned the nature of Omnipotence. There were many versions of the Omnipotence Paradox, but the most well known one went like this: could god create a stone so heavy that he could not lift it? While there were many answers to the question and many conflicting ideas, Vlad favored the notion that an omnipotent being could do absolutely anything it desires except that which compromises its own omnipotence. If god is essentially omnipotent, then he cannot make a stone that he cannot lift, for that would mean making a stone that is equal in power to god.

Vlad often wondered why Fright Knight never attempted to seize the sovereign’s artifacts for himself, what with his predilection for ruling. Though bestowed with the title of knight , anyone could see that Fright Knight's true desire was rulership. Dominion . A desire that he could never satiate. The closest he could ever come to it was to serve and stand close to power.

Apparently it was not because Fright Knight didn’t want the artifacts, but because he was, by nature, incapable of wielding them. The artifacts cannot create something stronger than themselves, and they refuse to be worn by anything it perceived as lesser than them.

“My, my,” Plasmius laughed. “It must have absolutely burned you to bend the knee to Pariah Dark.”

The fiery plume on his helmet flared dangerously bright as Fright Knight let out an inhuman growl. “Watch your tongue before I relieve you of it.”

Plasmius held up his hands in mock-surrender. “So, why did your creator call you to Pariah’s Keep?”

Fright Knight paused, intrigued. “Can you not hear it?" He asked. "They are singing.”

Vlad strained his ears, but he heard nothing. Just the echoey silence of the throne room and the flickering of torchlights and Fright Knight’s armor.

If Fright Knight had a mouth, he would smirk. “No, you cannot, can you? Someone of your ilk is not privileged enough to hear their song. But I suppose there’s enough of a ghost in you that you can feel the artifacts’ call even if you cannot hear it.” He quiets, head inclined just so as if he were listening to the song right now. As if the artifacts were speaking to him. “They are in mourning.”

“What would they even be mourning about?”

“A lack of purpose,” he said. “For what is the worth of a tool if nobody uses it?”

Vlad frowned. So they are the reason why the Ghost Zone has been so agitated recently. Like Eris and the golden apple of discord, the artifacts have thrown their song all across the Infinite Realms, proclaiming to everyone to prove their worth, to prove their strength. Even Pariah Dark, trapped in his slumber, cannot resist the call.

Even Plasmius, who was deaf to its song, was drawn to this place.

Plasmius rubbed his hand across his face. “It will tear the Infinite Realms apart just to find someone strong enough to wield it.”

“Perhaps,” said Fright Knight. “You cannot hide your portal forever. It will be found, mark my words.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning, Plasmius. If you wish to preserve what modicum of peace you have in the material world, then you would do well to close the portal and destroy it.”

Plasmius’ face curled into a snarl. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then you invite your own folly.” With a dramatic flourish of his cloak, violet flames licking at the cobbled floor, Fright Knight leveled the Soul Shredder between Plasmius’ eyes. “Challengers will seek out the Uncrowned to prove their mettle, collateral damage be damned. They will find him, or he will find them."

“Will you be one of them, then? A challenger?”

Fright Knight stilled, anger simmering just above his armor. “Mocking me, are you? No, a challenger I am not. My grand purpose in this world is to guard my creators, bestow them to and swear my oaths to my future liege lord, whoever that may be.”

With those parting words, Fright Knight flew off, taking his post at the entrance of the keep, leaving Plasmius alone in the presence of the ring and crown. To bear their heavy gaze.

(Something within him, something that he once thought controlled, thought leashed to his will, reared its head. Want , it said. Want-have-mine. It gnawed at the back of his mind like a starving rat chewing on the bars of its cage. Want-have-mine-want-prove-prove-worthy.)

Vlad squashed that voice with a grimace. He was the one in control, not his ghost. He was stronger than such baser instincts.

(Prove-worthy-power)

Danielle had been working far too hard lately, and as a result she’s been in and out of the portal more times than Plasmius would prefer. It was attracting too much attention. Perhaps a quick vacation was in order.

Besides, it wouldn’t do to reject an invitation from Bruce Wayne himself now, would it?

#dpxdc #phantom children: redux #my writing

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