#but he’s dead asleep and also deaf so he would be So Scared if i did

[im-still-watching-anime]

our cat looking absolutely decadent as she pins my legs in the MOST uncomfortable position

#maam pls #her head keeps falling backwards like she’s a middle aged man watching tv #everyone be quiet she’s going into WIDE mode #even got her little paws crossed all proper #not pictured: my dog curled up in the absolute sweetest way by my feet #bless our cat for preventing me from being able to reach him #because i want to pet him SO bad #but he’s dead asleep and also deaf so he would be So Scared if i did #we’re all having a girls night😌 #ignore me posting so much about our animals i have nothing else to do lately rip #life junk #not anime

[loverdrew]

Do It For Me | b.b

Synopsis: Y/N may never be able to forgive Bucky if he goes through with his decision. (pre-endgame with a twist, very inaccurate storyline and writing I know but it’s all fiction)

Warnings: a few cuss words here and there

Based off of Greys Anatomy (between Izzie and Denny)

My first ever Bucky Barnes fanfic! I’m getting more into writing for Marvel characters.

I had been sat up in my room at the Avengers compounds for the whole day at his point; harnessing my magic, drawing/reading to calm me down, and just enjoying a nice day off. Everything seemed quiet, a little too quiet for my taste. No one had come knocking on my door to talk or check up on me. After a few minutes I started to hear talking through my headphones and it was coming from outside my door. I slowly let my earbuds drop from my ears, silently opening up my door and creeping downstairs. It had seemed to more I got down the steps, I saw more people come into view. All backs were turned, some arms crossed, but voices were definitely raised. It felt like more than one person kept trying to speak and once at the bottom step, I saw the one person who was the center of it all.

Wanda was the first one to see me, cutting her sentence short, and soon everyone followed. Steve’s face dropped, biting his lower lip and looking at the floor. Bucky stood up, eyes almost bulging out of his head. I looked around stunned at everyones faces as they all made a collective sigh.

“W-what’s...what’s going on guys.” Wasn’t so much of a question, but more of a ‘tell me now or I’ll crush you guys with just a thought’. My powers were growing, everyone knew this. With one scream, a whole city could go deaf. With no swipe of my hand, I can send more than 10 men flying 100 feet. Most of the time they wouldn’t dare bother me in fear of my emotions becoming heightened and possibly destroying something. But something tells me right now might be the first time that happens.

“I said, what’s going on.” My hands glowed purple, the color of my powers. Wanda immediately rushed in front of me and looked me in the eyes, rubbing her hands over mine. When she found out I also harnessed powers from an infinity stone, Tony made it a point to have her help me maintain my magic. Her touch softened the glow, instantly calming down my heart rate. She repeated the same phrase to me; ‘don’t let it take control of you, take control of it’. The purple glow went away, as she guided me towards the group.

“Thanos is coming, Y/N.” Tony spoke up.

“And we’re trying to figure out how to stop him once and for all but...there was an idea brought up.” Bruce chimed in, and I followed his gaze right to Bucky. His head laying low. My mind went to the darkest of places. Bucky had never looked so ashamed. All I wanted to do was hug him and rub up and down his back, he always liked that. The last time I did that for him was a few nights ago when he had yet another nightmare and I found him downstairs watching TV even though I knew he was exhausted. He was too afraid to fall asleep. I remember that night, thinking about how badly I wanted to tell him how I felt. He had been my rock since coming into the compound, even if nobody else saw it. Our friendship consisted of late night snacks and conversations, training together making each other stronger, and always communicating and tell each other the truth no matter what. But oh, how I wanted that friendship to mean more to him as it does to me. But I would panic, thinking I wasn’t ever going to be good enough for one of the best people I’d ever met. He deserved a woman who was just as great as he was. 

“Tell her.” Natasha spoke, anger laced in her voice.

“Bucky...” I whispered. 

“My greatest wish in life is to take back every bad thing I did in this world. Every person I had killed, hurt, ruined their life.” He looks at Tony with deep regret. “And I can’t ever do that physically, but maybe in another way, I can.” He was rubbing his hands together avoiding my gaze.

“Okay? Bucky that’s great that you’ve figured out how you want to do that-” 

“You didn’t let him finish.” Sam said with a monotone voice.

“We need to be ready whenever Thanos decides to come. And the only way for me to get my wish is to...be the one that’s sacrificed during the battle.” My heart stopped and the ringing in my ears began to pick up. Wanda could see my hands glowing much brighter and more rapidly this time. I could feel her hands come up to the sides of my arms but within a flash my whole body shook the entire room like an earthquake.

“What!!” I walked over to him and slammed down on the table. “Are you out of your god damn mind Barnes!”

He tried to reach out but I raised my hand, stopped his movement and moving his arm to stay at his side, unable to move it.

“No, no, no you’re not doing this. You guys please tell him he is NOT sacrificing himself! You have no idea how much power those stones are! Just look at me! I have the same powers as a stone yet I can’t control shit Bucky! It’s out of control you’ll be dead before you can even use one stone to fight off Thanos!”

“I’ve been working with Tony and Shuri on a way to help me harness the power. They’ve been working on a suit for me that is stronger than Tony’s. Y/N you have to understand that this is my way of righting my wrongs, if I die then I die a hero who saved the whole world, not someone who use to kill hundreds of people with no remorse.” I turned towards Tony, his eyes becoming scared as he held his breath.

“You...” I throw my hands up and thrashed Tony into the wall, shattering it. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear at what I could do to him. Wanda yelled out to stop, but I couldn’t hear anything over my own boiling anger. “You knew about this. You knew he wanted to die and didn’t try to stop him!”

“I-I was just doing what I thought was the only option.” I slammed him again into the wall.

“There’s other options Tony!” I began to cry out, tears instantly springing from my eyes so quick it took me a second to realize I was even crying. With each puff of my chest my powers weakened as I wasn’t paying as much attention anymore, my brain becoming overstimulated with dark thoughts.

Bucky came up behind me and brought his arms around mine, his cheek pressed up against the back of my head.

“You’re not doing this Buck, we’ll find another way.” I said in between cries. I looked around seeing everyone else become emotional at my breakdown. Natasha was like a mother figure to me, this was the first time I was seeing her tear up. Wanda was my protector, but she didn’t know how to protect me from my own feelings. And everyone who surrounded me, who watched me grow from a 20 something year old uncontrollable witch to a grounded and a fantastic Avenger, wore heavy hearts and hooded eyes. I turned around quickly wiping my eyes of any tears and stood tall. My breathing coming back to normal. “It’s okay we’ll-we’ll find another way. There’s gotta be another way right?” 

“Y/N...” He said sadly, clutching my hair. I pushed him off and walked away giving some distance between us, actually, between the whole crew. I stood on one side of the room while the rest remained where they were.

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to make me okay with this. Alright, you did some shit in your past Bucky, so what we all don’t have the best track records as angels. And I’m sure you don’t feel like you deserve to live with all of the trauma you’ve endured but guess what? You do! You know how you get the fix things? You become a better person, a fighter and protector of the world! People change Bucky and I’ve seen it first hand in you! You deserve to live just as much as anyone else!” Everyone remained silent, so I assumed they agreed with me. “And if you tell me one more time about sacrificing yourself because that’ll right your wrongs in this world, so help me God, I will kill you myself right now!” And without thinking, my hand shot out a purple beam of light, latching onto a glass vase and chucking it around the room, creating a whole in the wall and the glass shattering everywhere.

He walked up to me peacefully with his hands held in the air.

“Y/N, please. I’m going to be alright, you don’t have to worry this much. You should be more concerned about protecting yourself. I definitely wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t do this and something worse happens to you.”

I laughed in sadness.

“What about me? What about me when you die!” I saw multiple people begin to shed the same tears I was. We had all grown fond of Bucky when he joined us. He really proved and showed deep down, behind the trauma HYDRA had left him, he was a great man. That’s why I fell so deeply in love with him. “That’s the worst thing that could ever happen to me Bucky! I will die inside if you don’t exist in this world!”

“Y/N-” more tears sprang from his eyes. His voice cracked and got lower. It’s like he couldn’t find the words to describe the pain in his heart at the thought of leaving you behind. Without having told you that he loved you too. 

“No I get it! You’ll be okay, you’ll be fine with it but what about me? Please, don’t do it for yourself, do it for me please!” I hunched over, the grief and pain overtaking my body. I felt too weak to even stand and continue yelling at him. “Please Bucky, please do this for me! Don’t leave me please don’t do this, I can’t take it please! You have to do this for me, because if you don’t I will never be able to forgive you!”

He stepped closer at a slower pace.

“For dying? For saving the world?”

“No for making me love you!” I began to cry out harder, the ring in my voice shaking the room once again, making everyone’s hands fly up to their ears as I got louder and louder. Natasha at this point was full on bawling, along with most people in the room. I think it was safe to say everyone knew of my affection towards the man at the center of attention, and maybe that’s why everyone had left me alone today. Afraid of this exact situation. The one person, the one thing in this world that can bring me to tears at my feet.

Bucky’s eyes filled with adoration as he ran up to me and held me on the floor in between his legs. I clutched at his arm crying into his shoulder. He looked back at Tony, who only gave him a nod. They had agreed together that one of them was bound to be the sacrifice when it came to defeating Thanos. Bucky of course still wanted it to be him, he felt it was the most right option. But when he looked back at Tony, clutching the love of his life in his arms, Tony took that as a final answer. Tony was okay with the decision he had come to long ago. He was ready to die for the good of everyone else, but nobody knew that yet. Bucky wasn’t giving up the fight, but now it only became that much harder to leave her behind. It was easier not knowing her feelings, but it had come to the light. Bucky wanted a life like Tony, the kids, the wife, everything. But at what cost? He was still going to fight to the death if he had to, but the decision to be the one to end it all was fading away.

“It’s okay Y/N, I promise we’ll talk more about it and find another way if we have to.”

“We have to Bucky, we have to.” My cries didn’t stop, but my voice lowered. My eyes caught everyone else’s, almost embarrassed at my sudden outburst of devoted love to Bucky, but everyone knew, they just never heard it from me. “Just hold onto me please.” I pleaded.

“I’m here Doll, I promise I’ll stay right here.”

#marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #the avengers #avengers imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes x reader

[ackermansupremacy]

Random Headcanons I have about the Marley kids if you parented them in a Modern au:

I love my kiddos 🥺

Gabi:

• A handful

• From her very babyhood you knew she would be a handful, but v fun!!

• The type of baby to try to stick forks and keys in electrical wall sockets when shes unsupervised for 0.2 seconds

• Also wildly strong??

• Picks up furniture n shit

• When she gets older she 100% would be addicted to a gaming console

• A roblox kid

• Spends all her allowance on robux

• On her schools soccer team and in band

• She gets a note sent home from school with her at least once a month

• Has a very messy room with multiple band posters strewn about

• You later find out all the posters are covering holes in the wall

• “...Gabi?” “Yes?” “Is that a hole in the wall?” *Throws another poster over it* “NO???”

• Super sporty

• The kid that all the other moms are like “I wish my kid was like that!”

• You just smile cuz they don’t know the chaos you deal with at home :’)

Zofia

• The quietist baby...never cries

• The only times she did cry were BLOOD CURDLING SCREAMS OF AGONY

• You took her to the doctor as a toddler cuz you thought she was deaf only for her to just be ignoring u lol

• Shes so quiet that you never hear her walking around so sometimes she’ll be right behind u and u have no idea and it scares the hell out of you everytime

• When she gets older shes a straight A student

• Starts ballet and is really committed to it

• Also joins a club at school, probably the debate club

• Reads a lot

• Practically lives at the library

• Really wants another sibling but won’t ask.

• Loves spending time with you (watching tv, doing puzzles, etc...)

• Watches a lot of reality tv but will never admit it

• Just a really good kid

Falco

• Dramatic baby

• Like,,,,

• Sits on the floor and starts crying cuz he thought he fell*

• Likes his big brother Colt more than he likes u

•Very mobile...He goes missing every ten seconds cuz hes always crawling or running away.

• When he gets older hes the most responsible kid ever

• Has a pet hamster with some dumbass name like gregory

• Absolutely distraught cuz he thought it died...soap opera style wailing

• Only for it to be hybernating cuz its cage was in front of a vent in his room

• “Why are you crying?” “Gregory is dead!” “...Falco honey hes asleep,”

• Joins the soccer team cuz Gabi did

• But hes p good at it!

• very musical and plays a lot of instruments

• Super into marvel

• Plays fortnite

• Def helps his elderly neighbors with things and flexes it

• Makes you a really proud mama/papa :)

Udo (my fav :’))

• The biggest mamas boy from birth

• CLINGY

• The kind of baby that just...always cries

• But hes so cute you can’t help but feel bad :(

• A very curious toddler, wanders off a lot to look at random flowers, bugs etc

• Separation anxiety

• Probably has night terrors

• Sleeps in ur bed until hes like 11

• A minecraft kid

• Has the creeper backpack and everything unfortunately hes that kid

• A band kid, he plays the clarinet and is super passionate about it

• Lives with Zofia at the library

• Also knows random facts about like everything??

• But theyre cool to listen to :)

• You do everything together :( he loves helping you cook and showing you his band stuff

• All his friends hang out at your house cuz your the “cool mom”

• He’ll never be embarrassed about loving his mom as much as he does :’)

To numb the pain of some of my babies dying :(

#snk #snk season 4 #gabi braun #falco grice #aot udo #snk zofia #snk udo #aot zofia #aot headcanons #snk headcanons

[ohmyitsfaith]

Five Hargreeves, the sad and clingy drunk

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: “Hi, can I request a Five fic? One where Five gets drunk and the reader finds him. He's a mess so she takes care of him. But while he's drunk all his pent-up emotion, trauma and loneliness finally show (plus his feelings for her) and while she's taking care of him he's just a crying (and clingy) mess. The morning after he recalls some things but mostly how he accidentally confessed his feelings to her, and he's embarrassed until she tells him she feels the same, so he's just emotional again? <3“ -Requested by anonymous

Warnings: angst with a sad Five and really cute ending (in my opinion)

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: I really enjoyed writing this, despite the fact that I can’t write drunk people. Hope this was good enough though and you enjoy it!

When he started drinking, he already knew it was a bad idea. But he couldn’t help it. He felt awful and he somehow needed to let out steam. But since he was back in his teenage body, the amount he drank made him drunker than it would have when he was in his rightful body.

You however was scared. You couldn’t find the grumpy man anywhere. Not in his room, not in the library, not in the living room… nowhere. Like he vanished. You really hoped that wasn’t the case. You lost him once already and you weren’t ready to lose him again. You even asked around to see if his siblings saw him. But nothing. You were worried about him. Until you heard a crash upstairs. You ran up the stairs, searching for the sound. There came Five, out of the storage, mumbling and stumbling.

“Five?” you called out to the boy and he looked up.

“Y/n” he mumbled.

“Are you okay?” you asked going closer to the boy.

“Well… uh… t-the thing is…” he started, his mind clearly under the influence of the drinks he had.

“Five?” you asked, concerned.

He stumbled again and this time he lost his balance, falling into you. You caught him to the best of your ability, but the teenager was heavy.

“Okay, let’s get you to your bed…” you sighed.

You put an arm underneath his and holding him up, you started walking towards his room. He was clinging to you like a lifeline and you had a hard time trying to keep the both of you up while still trying to get to his room.

“Y/n” he whined.

“What?” you looked at the boy.

“It hurts” he said in a whiny voice.

“What, what hurts?” you asked, immediately scared for the boy’s well-being.

“Here” he put his hand on his chest.

“How does it hurt?”

“N-no! My heart” he said.

“Why? What happened?”

“Too… much.”

“I don’t understand you, Five. But hold on” you said, opening the door to his room. “Sit, sit.”

He fell to the bed and immediately he caught your hand, holding it close to him. You sighed, knowing you can’t leave the boy in this state. Not like you had a chance, he pulled you down.

“I need you” he whined.

“I’m here, Five. Tell me, what’s wrong?” you asked, putting your hand on his head.

“Everything” he said quietly.

“I need more than that, dear” you said softly.

“I hate it. Every time I close my eyes, I see it all again. I’m back there. In the apocalypse. And everyone I know is dead again” came the sad reply from the even sadder boy. “I see their body… It hurts so badly” a sob escapes his chest and your heart breaks for the troubled boy. “I don’t… I don’t want to go back there… I hate it… I hate being alone… Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, Five. I won’t” you held his small body close and he clings to you.

“It hurts” he sobs. “I hate it. Y/n, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. I hate being alone. I want my life back. I want to go back before I screwed everything up. I want my siblings back. I don’t want an apocalypse. I don’t want it…”

“We stopped it, remember?” you tried to soothe him. “We saved everyone. You saved everyone.”

“I don’t want it.”

You let the boy hug you and squeeze you as he cried, his whole body shaking. He sometimes mumbled about the apocalypse and his traumas, but mostly he just sobbed into your shoulder. He was truly traumatized and it broke your heart to hear how broken he was. You slowly lay down on the bed, pulling the crying boy with you. He was almost lying on top of you, but you didn’t mind. Sure, he was clingy, but you knew that he needed this more than anything at the moment. You were stroking his hair, trying to calm the still sobbing boy. His hands were clutching your shirt while one of your arm was around his middle and the other was in his hair.

“Everything is going to be alright, dear” you whispered. “I’m here. I’ll never leave you.”

His crying slowed down in time as you kept calming him softly. He tired himself out with the lot of crying and sleep was calling to him.

“I love you Y/n” he sniffled and your hand stopped in its path. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The boy was still drunk and still sad, but your heart filled with warmth. He loved you. He loved you back. Your arm tightened around his middle and you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your hand continuing its path in his hair.

“I love you too” you whispered, but it fell on deaf ears, since the boy in your arms already fell asleep.

You pulled the blanket next to you on both of you and continued stroking his hair until you fell asleep too. You dreamed about a better world, a world where Five wasn’t traumatized and you were a happy couple in their mid-twenties, possibly married.

The next day you woke up before Five and you carefully got out of the bed. He thankfully didn’t wake up, just whimpered in his sleep, his eyebrows furrowing, but when you kissed his hair, he sighed and his form relaxed. You pulled on the first hoodie you found and went out of the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. You put on a pot of coffee to brew and searched for medicine for Five, who would wake up with a headache. When you found it, you poured the coffee into two mugs, got a glass of water and put it all on a tray. You slowly made your way back up the stairs and carefully opened Five’s door. As you did that, he stirred awake from his weird dream.

“Good morning, dear. How was your sleep?” you ask softly, trying to be as quiet as you could.

Five was confused at first. He didn’t remember getting into bed and he didn’t understand why you were there. Then everything rushed back. Okay, not everything, but some memories made their way through his cloudy mind. His face heated up as he remembered his confession before falling asleep. He put his head in his hands, pulling his legs up to his chest, trying to become as small as he could.

“I made you coffee, just like you like it. Also brought medicine for your headache” you said softly and put the tray on his bedside table.

You sat down in front of him and put a hand on his head and he whined at the contact.

“You okay, dear?” you asked.

He didn’t say anything, completely embarrassed at himself for admitting his feelings. As you stroked his hair, he felt his heartbeat speed up, but didn’t have the heart to pull away. It felt nice and the affection made him feel better. It always did when it came from you.

“Five” you called his name, trying to get him to speak.

“I’m sorry” came the muffled apology.

“Why are you sorry?” you asked.

“Ididn’tmeantotellyouthatIloveyouorcryinfrontofyou” came the rushed explanation.

“Can you say that again? I didn’t understand” you said.

Five lifted his head up and with the blush still adorning his face, and his eyes never meeting yours, he repeated his last sentence.

“I didn’t mean to tell you that I love your or cry in front of you” he mumbled.

“You didn’t mean to? I mean I guess, I understand, you were very drunk. But do you take it back? Is it not true?” you asked softly.

“No…” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s true…”

“Take your medicine, love and we’ll talk” you smiled and gave him the medicine and his coffee.

You took your own coffee and drank a bit of the hot liquid. He still didn’t dare to look into your eyes as he drank almost all of his coffee, hoping to stretch the time before your rejection long enough for him to prepare. And when he finally put down his mug, he put his hands in his lap, playing with his fingers.

“Five, look at me, dear” you said softly.

There it is. The time has come. He’ll get rejected right now by the love of his life. It’ll all go to hell and he’ll be left alone again, forced to cope alone without your helping soul being there. He’ll-

“I love you too” came your answer as he finally looked into your eyes.

His eyes widened in shock, tears filling them. He didn’t understand his own reaction or why he was so emotional. But the tears fell down, rolling on his cheeks and your hands came up to wipe them before they reached his chin. He whimpered at your touch, still touch starved.

“I love you, Five Hargreeves. Never forget that” you whispered and slowly, after he gave his consent in the form of a soft whimper, you put your lips on his.

He couldn’t stop himself and his hands reached up to you, pulling you closer to him, feeling the need to feel your whole body close to his. His neediness caused him to fall back, pulling you with him. You giggled into the kiss and he finally relaxed. He never felt this relaxed, just now that he finally tasted your lips. And now that that happened, he knew he’ll never have enough of their taste. You slowly pushed away after a bit and he whined.

“Calm down lover boy. You just confessed. You haven’t even taken me out on a date yet” you giggled.

A soft smile finally made its way up his lips and you thought it was the best sight to see. You leaned down and kissed his soft lips for a second time and after that you sat back to the bed. He sat up too and looked at you.

“Shall we go out for breakfast?” you asked.

He smiled and grabbing your hand, pulled you up with him.

“We shall.”

You smiled as well and started walking out of the room.

“Did I mention that you look great in my hoodie?”

[Masterlist]

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x y/n #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy five #tua x reader #tua x you #tua x y/n #tua #tua five

[lionar0und]

Kings Roar - Part 2

Ok loves this one is VERY TRIGGERING for mentions of past child abuse to baby Leona and death? Ok? Also sickness and all the grossness that comes with it

A small child was dry heaving into a bucket, caged in a small room. “Mummy! Mummy please- mommy!”

The woman, a lioness with a crown on her brow, two lions ears, almost 6’2 in heels, scoffed at the sobbing child who couldn’t keep his food down. She was at the doorway and he was in the corner. Behind her, a sickly Lioness covered in scars was holding a even smaller baby girl behind her.

“Leona,” she snarled. “You are almost seven years old - Act like it! I am not ‘Mommy’, I am Mother. You - shut the door. I can’t have my sweet baby Farena getting sick now.”

A small protest of a small child. A loud backslap across the face. “Know your place, you nasty girl! You are a SERVANT,-“ a small pause before she turned to the mother. “What’s your little beasts name again?”

“Sanura, my queen.” The woman was trembling. Leona finally looked up, to see a very shaky mother with her hands over her mouth as little Sanura was laying on the ground, no doubt from the hit.

“Sanura, then. A gastly name for a gastly girl. Never defend that, that rat! Am I understood.”

Sanura stood, shaking. She was snarling. “NEVER! FARENA WILL NEVER BE AS GOOD AS LEO-“

An adult snarl. A claw coming down. The horrified scream of a mother and deafing scream of a little girl.

_________________________

Leona shot upward. Gasping for air. So vividly he dreamed. He hated it. So much. He hated how he remembered every feeling of that night. Fever of over 101, passing out every few minutes and unable to breathe correctly, unable to move without hurting.

Mother locked him in a room and took Farena for a walk in the gardens, just where Leona could see his mother kissing him and feeding him sweets. Making her coo’s loud enough for the young prince to hear every word.

Beside him, a sleeping bride. Breathing shakily; his gazed moved to her ear. Looking at the chunk missing out of it that his mother had stolen from her that night. Leona slowly touched her little ear, whispering. “Sanura.” Silence. “Sanura-“ Shaking her slightly she bolted up, growling at the window.

“No, no no no, nobody’s here. We’re safe.” Such a vicious protector she was. Sighing, the little lioness laid back down, coughing softly. Mother had hurt her lung when they were small, probably from the way Mother beat her for cooing out the prince’s praises.

“Yes, my king.” Leona oh so loved that word. King. Him. Nobody else. He let out a wicked laugh, which Sanura simply purred at it. She had always treated him like a king, almost like a God, the way she bowed every time she saw him, praising him immediately. The way she sent him letters to warn when Cheka was coming, the way she wasn’t against getting a fight in his honor. Complete and total devotion.

What a wonderful wife she would be.

“Well my dear, what now?” He chuckled. “We must take care of Cheka and I’ve decided he’s heir, but what next, hmm? Concurring kingdoms? Touring our new realm?” God he loved the way she giggled at the thought of him conquering kingdoms, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Suddenly, she was hugging him. And he was bawling. And he didn’t know how that happened. Gasping for breath and bawling like a child, when all she could do was hold him tight and hum so softly.

“I know, I know. My poor sweet king. You’re trying to focus on the Kingdom and not your pain. The way ” His claws were almost scratching her now, with how tight he was holding her. “They’ve made us all partly mad.” He stopped for a moment, “You knew?” “I was awake, love. I was never asleep. You only say my name twice when you’re hurting, and I didn’t want to startle you worse by waking you suddenly.”

“I’m scared.” He mumbled, “I’m horrified. All I’ve seen is Mother in my dreams; telling me I can’t do anything.”

“Please, my love. You’re a king. A king can do whatever he wants,” A soft peck on his cheek. “Even marry a common rat.”

My love. What an odd choice of words. He didn’t know what love was. His heart was dead. Oh well, this was as close as it would get, probably.

“You need sleep, Darling. The baby’s stirred so much I’m beginning to wonder if we should cancel everything tomorrow.”

“B-Baby!? Wait-“ “CHEKA, darling. Cheka. He’s been in here four times already. Look,” she gestured to a small bundle of blankets and stuffed animals in a cradle MUCH too large for a baby. “He’s asleep over there.”

Great seven, when did he get in there!? Little rat. Leona was so conflicted. He both cared and hated Cheka....It was a maddening feeling. She must have noticed the way he looked at the cradle - eyes dead and knuckles tapping his leg, because she changed the subject quickly. “What happened this time?”

A loud sigh. “It....it was when I was sick. And we were kids.....I don’t wanna talk about it. I’d rather talk about the wedding-“ He stopped, his own words stunning him and his Bride.

God, he hated that wedding. All stuffy nobles sneering at Sanura and Him, some even glaring at Cheka. Someone even ripped her veil, they had held her down and tried to attack her for being a servant. They had even almost broken her glasses.

“Daddy.....?” A soft whimper from the little prince made Sanura’s heart snap in half. She truly was a gentle woman, but had a lot of guard up to prevent anyone from hurting her. Or him. Poor thing was always trying to defend him....she was one of the only ones to ever care.

Poor, Sweet thing. She never was good with hiding her emotions, like a raging storm that could go from content to being angry enough to start beating someone to a pulp to defend Leona’s honor.

He watched her purr over cheka, holding him tightly, humming softly as Cheka laied his head on her shoulder, clinging to her.

“Daddy.....I want Daddy....” “I know baby, I know. I’m sorry.” Leona watched, almost numbly, as she sat down on the bed with Cheka, singing so softly that it was almost a whisper. Both males were glad it wasn’t humming, they loved her voice. She would sing for Cheka in the garden if she asked and Leona, being Leona, slept nearby where he could hear.

Her voice was as gentle as a true princess, and it was amazing that she’d never had a single voice lesson. As she sang, Cheka reached out and grabbed Leona’s hand.

What....What was he supposed to feel? Love? Care? Hatred? Envy? He wasn’t sure about the little cub, but his body seemed to subconsciously choose for him as he held Cheka’s hand and softly rubbed his head.

“I love you, ojitan....” Cheka whispered, causing Sanura to beam and Leona to tear up slightly.

“Love you too.....?” It was almost a question, but he felt something stir in his chest. It wasn’t a heart attack right?? Probably not, but The new King wasn’t sure. That scared him a little.

Sanura purred, nuzzling into the little prince. “You still have us Cheka, We won’t go anywhere, ok my little prince?” A soft yawn with a little mew laced in it seemed to awnsers as Cheka smiled slightly.

“Lay down, we can hold him tonight.” She was stunned, slowly grinning as she laid down while holding the baby, slowly rubbing his back. The hem on his striped Red and White was ripped, it looked like Cheka had ripped it in a frenzy. Leona knew the little prince had always cling to this shirt when scared, so this must’ve been bad.

He rolled over, slowly pressing his head into Sanura’s neck. “What do we do now?” Leona’s voice was shaky as he slowly met his now wife’s eyes.

“We start to heal now.” She purred softly, holding him tightly. “You and Cheka will learn to process and then you’ll heal.”

In the morning, the “old man” walked into something truly surprising, a king and queen holding onto their nephew and each other, a quiet, tender moment before they had to go bury King Farena.

#twst fanfic #cheka kingscholar #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twst cheka #twst leona #twst oc #twst #family time #kinda angsty #ramble? #i’m sick #sorry about that #Kings Roar

[khaleesiofalicante]

Ok imma be honest, this chapter moved me to tears and not the sad sobbing but the more inspiring kind. This chapter means the world.

She had told them her dreams were about ducks – since there were the only equally horrible thing she could think of.

Uncle Magnus had given her an odd look then, as if he knew she was bullshitting them. But he hadn’t said anything.

DUCKS AREN'T THAT BAD! HAVE Y'ALL EVER BEEN CHASED BY A GOAT?? I WAS CONVINCED I WAS GONNA DIE

Lexi would be royally pissed if this turned out to be some stupid pointless dream.

YUP

Even though she was only 7 minutes older than Lexi, Selena always acted like she was 7 years older.

That's so cute though

People looked at her pastel-coloured aesthetic immediately assumed she was the soft and sweet Fairchild twin. People saw Selena in her red leather jacket and thigh high boots and assumed she was in the infamous troublesome Herondale twin.

SMH THE DAMN STEREOTYPES

Why Selena hadn’t killed her in her sleep yet, Lexi doesn’t know.

BYE THAT'S EVERY SIBLING RELATIONSHIP EVER

The meals at the Academy were to die for – quite literally. Last week two students from the warlock fraction had almost killed each other over a blueberry muffin.

Oh how times change...they will never know the dreaded soup

NO ANJALI HAS BEEN GONE FOR OVER A YEAR???

IS JAIME OK?? PLEASE BE OK! HE CAN LIVE WITH TREATMENT SO I REALLY HOPE HE'S OK

Selena’s was Idris of course. She was kind of obsessed with it.

Max loved the shadow markets. Lexi thought they were very cool too.

Rafael loved his father’s office – which was weird. There was nothing to do in that room other than ponder about shadow world problems. Besides, the place still weirdly smelled like the tangerine perfume Anjali wore, even though the girl had left New York almost a year ago.

David loved the New York Institute – especially the library.

Gigi of course loved the dining halls.

Dining halls, kitchens, food trucks, vending machines - if a place had food with it, Gigi loved it.

It's so amazing how they all have their favorite places...(same David same)

“You’re supposed to pour the syrup on the pancakes not into your mouth,” Lexi chuckled as she sat down next to her.

“It ends up in my mouth anyway,” Gigi shrugged.

True enough.

AWW ROMAN MAKING GIGI PLAYLISTS!!

Someone make me a playlist.

“His parents fell in love in Rome when they were in Rome,” Gigi pointed out even though Lexi already knew. “I think it’s actually romantic.”

I had forgotten that-

Roman was nice. But not nice enough for Georgia. Lexi didn’t think there was anyone good enough for her parabatai – who was the most perfect person in the world.

Me @ anyone who tries to make a move at my best friend.

AWW GEORGIA LIKES HIM TOO!!

When's the wedding?

(you're telling me you didn't believe you were gonna marry your childhood crush? Liar)

“I like being his friend,” Georgia said. “I like spending time with him and all of that. But I don’t know if I like him…in that way. I feel like I need more time.”

Demiromantic??? YES GIVE US THE REP

Lexi sometimes thought life would be so much simpler if the world was full of women and everyone was a lesbian.

Ikr?? Life would be so much easier.

Lexi says Roman is too-nice-sus

Well well well

The kind of love that cheated death.

The kind of love that sustained memory spells put by princes of hell.

The kind of love that changed the world.

Trust me all of our standards are very high

Lexi successfully survived the class without falling asleep.

Me during English.

Ok who's the blond?

Lexi I thought we weren't gonna fall this soon-

Oh the girl's straight...sigh we've all been there.

which meant they had to hold hands. Kinda.

Lexi was a little scared of that.

Me.

Goddamnit, Alexandra. Get your gay together!

THAT'S SO RELATABLE LIKE?? YES

OH MY GOD IT'S EMMA AND JULIAN'S DAUGHTER GEIDIDHDOHDJSKSJSKGXJDHSODHKDGDDGDJHDJDGDJDGJDHD

Lexi knew Olivia liked boys. She hadn’t dated anyone officially of course. All the boys were kind of terrified of her father.

She could be bi or pan or omni. WE GOTTA HAVE HOPE

vegetable loaf... David I'm so sorry you had to go through this.

Lexi then decided not to do any of her homework over the weekend because she was not coming back to the academy. She was not going to survive the sleepover and whatever else Olivia had in mind.

Bestie...why is this me when I make eye contact with my crush.

“Good stuff?” Max snorted. “Rafe literally ran away from home cause shit got too intense.”

“I didn’t run away!” Rafael rolled his eyes. “Stop telling people that!”

“But you have rumours and shadowhunters getting thrown into silent city and cohort drama and all that exciting stuff!” Liv pointed out.

I-

Liv-

True though.

“Wasn’t there a serial killer when your parents were young?” David asked.

“And didn’t your uncle do necromancy?” Max said biting into a chicken wing.

True and true

“Sorry, Chouchou!” Lexi winced. “I, uh, sensed a mosquitoe on your leg.”

“Girl, your angel powers are weird as fuck,” Max laughed.

MAX LANGUAGE

“I don’t know,” the girl shrugged and threw her a wink. “I wouldn’t put anything past Lexi.”

Lexi looked at Gigi. She was one more compliment away from screaming.

But Gigi of course knew her struggle and therefore quickly stuffed a bread roll into Lexi’s mouth.

I need someone to stuff bread into my mouth when things get like this

There were rumours about David – and how Daddy had an affair. Lexi was yet to find those asshats and shove a witch light down their throats.

When you find them lemme know too.

“Or maybe it’s because you don’t need rumours be interesting,” David pointed out.

Max turned around, looking surprised at that. His cheeks turned purple. Lexi didn’t know why he was surprised. David only ever spoke fondly of Max.

JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY OH MY GOD

“Oh. Oh! I did hear something a long time ago!” Gigi said suddenly. “Olly, is it true you were conceived at the beach?”

“Georgia, you can’t just ask people where they were conceived!” David sounded horrified.

That is very much possible.

“I heard you were conceived in hell?”

“Oh my god,” Selena looked horrified. “That’s not true! It must have been about Max!”

“Y’all I am adopted!” Max was shaking with laughter and then stopped. “Although our dads could have definitely had sex in hell. I wouldn’t put it past them.”

Oh yes. Both clace and malec.

Then they had of course continued to discuss that cursed topic until Rafael had threatened to tell the Consul about it.

LMAO

Lexi turned around and saw Liv waiting for her. Nope. She wasn’t going to talk a walk – a fucking stroll! – with Olivia all on her own.

“You are coming back to the institute with me or I will un-parabatai you.”

You know there being an un-parabatai ceremony would solve a lot of shit

What if their hands accidentally grazed or something? That shit was lethal.

RIGHT????

She is just trying to be nice. That’s what friends do. They are nice. And they give each other pretty dresses and say they would like to see them in it.

Honey that's gay.

EVERYONE ASKING HER OUT IM DEAD

Selena: Ugh boys

Selena: When I win back Idris, we are leaving all the men behind.

Lexi: Except Magnus? Lol.

Selena: Obviously.

Is that even a question Lexi? Duh.

ALEC LIGHTWOOD THOUGHT SHE WAS STRAIGHT? THE SHAME!

OH MY GOD IM CACKLING

Not everyone can kiss their partner in the Accords Hall. Some people didn’t have access to the Accords Hall.

And most important, some people didn’t have partners!

We're getting a lexi and Alec talk someone hold me

“I’m going to tell you something,” Uncle Alec said. “It might sound simple. It might sound ridiculous. But it’s the truth. So, you must believe me. Can you do that?”

Lexi gave him a small nod.

“It doesn’t matter what other people think,” Uncle Alec said. “Not when it comes to your future. Not when it comes to your identity. They don’t get to have a say in who you are and why you are the way you are.”

Lexi bit her lip.

“Alexandra, people will always tell what to do. But you shouldn’t let them. Never let anyone tell you what to do with your heart or your body. Neither belongs them. It only belongs to you.”

THIS RIGHT HERE MADE ME START CRYING BECAUSE DAMN YES!

“Yep,” she groaned and then hesitated for a moment. “Uncle Alec…Can I ask you something stupid?”

“Can I say no?”

“No.”

“Then go ahead.”

I love her so much

“I feel…I feel it’s something we have to bear, Alexandra. The fear of rejection. It’s something we have to accept as an inevitable part of our lives. Because no matter how much love we have around us, we will always be afraid of people not loving us – simply because of who we are.”

Yeah...

“Besides, they named you after me,” he pointed out. “I don’t know what else they expected.”

EXACTLY! Did they really expect a straight child after naming them after Alec?

“I do like shouting,” Lexi wondered out loud. “That’s good advice.”

“I didn’t mean it literally!” Uncle Alec looked alarmed.

“No, it makes total sense!” Lexi grinned. “Some of these people can be tone deaf. Gotta shout it out. Loud and clear. Awesome advice! Thanks, Uncle Alec!”

DO IT

“Hey, Lexi. I was wonderin-”

“MOVE, I’M GAY!” she yelled as she shoved him aside and kept on running.

ABSOLUTELY ICONIC

“I prefer she/her,” Lexi answered. "But sometimes I prefer she/they. But you can use she/her because some of y'all already shit at grammar."

That's exactly what I tell people when they ask for my pronouns. Istg people are shit at grammar.

alright girl im here to give you a lecture on how someone's dressing doesn't describe their sexuality

OH MY MY GOD THERE WAS A GENDER AND SEXUALITY CLASS IN THE ACADEMY ARE THEY RECRUITING???

One of the boys who had complimented cleared his throat. “So, uh, you don’t like boys?”

“That’s literally what I said,” Lexi rolled her eyes. “I’m gay. I’m very gay. I’m gayer than the Consul. Okay fine, that’s not true. No one gayer than the Consul. But I’m still pretty gay.”

Does the boy have hearing problems?

ALSO YES NO ONE'S GAYER THAN THE CONSUL

“Sexual orientation and gender expression are two different things,” she explained now, remember what Uncle Magnus had taught them. “Sexual orientation refers to who I am sexually and romantically attracted to. Gender expression is how I want to express my gender identity. Those two are not connected. Just because a woman wears feminine clothes it doesn’t mean she is straight. Just because a man embraces femininity, it doesn’t make him gay either. Does that make sense?”

“Ohhh,” the girl nodded. “Yes, it does. Thank you!”

“What I wear does not reflect who I like. It reflects who I am and what I like to wear,” Lexi explained. “And regardless of my sexuality, I like pretty things.”

Exactly.

“This doesn’t change anything. I hope you know that,” he told her. “I mean I have to change the pronouns in my shovel talk. But that’s not a big deal.”

Awwww

Also – my good friend Raziel told me that homophobia is a sin.”

“You mean homosexuality is a sin?” an older man asked.

“No, homophobia is a sin,” Lexi repeated. “That’s what Raziel said.”

“But that’s not-”

Someone cleared their throat. When he spoke, it was in the Consul Voice.

“Are you saying know better than Raziel?” the Consul asked.

Listen to Raziel you dumb shit

“Sure. Let me just call the Lesbian Alliance,” Lexi rolled her eyes.

Ugh I wish

OH NO NO NO NOT THE FAKE DATING. JUST CONFESS AND DATE FOR REAL

“Alexandra, I have a fucking undercut and I have pink highlights and I cuff my jeans and I literally walk around with a sword and I can quote Lady Gaga to perfection! Why would you ever think I was straight??”

Lexi your gaydar is broken bestie.

Don't do this omg this is gonna be a mess

Gigi: THIS IS A BAD IDEA. ABORT! ABORT!

Lexi: Relaaaax. It’s going to be fine!

Gigi: I’ve read enough fanfiction to know the fake dating trope never ends well!

Lexi: I’ve told you to include the ‘angst with happy ending’ tag!

LMAO

Also Gigi which fanfiction do you read?

Jace omg...

That's so him though.

“How about my peeps? It sounds very hip.”

“It does not,” Lexi replied. “Please don’t refer to us as your peeps under any circumstance."

IM SCREAMING ASHSKHSIDBSHSHDH

Her father chuckled at that. “Sweetheart, you’re a Herondale. Being problematic is what we do.”

EXACTLY

Daddy opened the notebook again. “I need names.”

Grabs flamethrower names

“Besides, the Lightwoods and Blackthorns have been hogging the gay genes for too long. Now it’s our turn. I say you gay it up.”

“Gay it up?” Lexi laughed.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Go for the highest possible level of gay.”

DO IT

He blinked for a second and then it hit him. “OH MY GOD YES! DOES EMMA KNOW??”

Lexi laughed. Yeah, he can never find out it was a fake dating situation.

Hopefully he won't have to because it won't be fake :D

“To love is a privilege and to be loved is a blessing.”

THE GROWTH OH MY GOD

This chapter literally means so much to me. I don't even know what to say. I hope I too can one day have the courage to shout it in front of everyone and not be scared. See ya on Tuesday!

It means so much to me that this chapter meant a lot to you. I hope you find all the courage, strength and support you need. You are amazing.

And here. I made you a playlist.

You can find it here on YouTube. I hope you like it :)

#lbaf

[no-whump-on-main]

Apartment 307-9 (Fingore)

TWs: This is a heavy chapter. Fingore, obviously. Nothing with the nails but fingers are broken pretty badly. Proceed with caution, you’re welcome to DM me for a summary instead of reading if gore isn’t your cup of tea :) Head wounds and death threats are also present.

~

The man made a mistake.

Two days after he showed Elora that awful news report, he made a mistake.

He’d cleared his pockets out earlier while looking for his pocket knife, leaving behind a pen, a keyring, a wallet, a pack of cigarettes, and some lint on the lid of the toilet. And when he left after slashing her shoulders for disobeying him, he forgot to put everything back. It all laid within her reach. And while most of it was junk, one thing was her saving grace. The keys. They were so close she could grab them. A small, silver key she’d seen before and knew unlocked the handcuffs around her wrists was visible on the ring.

It felt like it was a trap; it was just too easy. But something in her gut told her it wasn’t. Something told her that he genuinely just forgot. A simple mistake, yet one that was so crucial for her.

It was almost night time. He had gone to work for the day, spent a few hours with her, and cooked a meal. It was the end of his routine. He would go to bed soon. He’d fall asleep and she could simply grab the keys, get out of the handcuffs and leave. It felt surreal, unimaginable that it was just that simple. It had been nearly a week, and still, no one had come for her. Maybe she was just meant to save herself. And she would.

Waiting around for the lights in the apartment to dim, signifying that he had finally gone off to bed felt like eternity. Her heart was racing with anxiety as she sat there, feeling useless; what if he remembered, and she lost her chance? But it would be too dangerous to try to escape while he was awake. She’d only consider it as a last ditch effort, if all else went wrong. For now, she had to be safe. She had to wait.

After thirty minutes that felt much more like several hours, the lights were off. The small bit of light that streamed underneath the crack between the ground and the door disappeared. Elora waited even longer still, just to make sure that he was really asleep. Only after she had nearly fallen asleep herself with boredom did she carefully reach over to her side in the dark, feeling around for the keys the best she could in the darkness. The chain attached to her handcuffs was just barely long enough for her to reach the keyring. She sighed with relief when her fingers finally found the keys in the blackness, clutching them tightly before bringing them over into the bathtub with her. She had been able to make out the small handcuff key from the bit of light that came in through the gap earlier while the man was still awake and the lights were on, but now she couldn’t see a thing, and had to resort to feeling around for the smallest key. After painstakingly surveying them all, she felt it-a small key with a rounded top. What she had seen earlier. Maneuvering it into the lock with her hands bound was another hardship, but she grinned as she figured it out after a few tries, disbelief still clouding her mind. Wow. She was doing this.

She was hasty to turn the key, removing the handcuffs from her red, achy wrists. But in her rush, she dropped the keys as she wiggled her hand loose from the right cuff.

There was a loud CLANG! as they hit the metal plug of the tub, reverberating so loudly it sounded like a huge, ringing bell in the dead silent room. Elora’s heart began to pound all over again. She sat completely still for a moment, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, petrified that she had woken the man up.

And her worst fear was confirmed as she heard stirring in the room down the hall. Shit! Abandoning all caution, she stood as fast as she could, climbed out of the bathtub, and dashed to the bathroom door. Agony lit up along her leg as several of the sloppy stitches in the large gash on her thigh split with the sudden movement. She suppressed a scream as she slapped a hand over her mouth and applied pressure to the wound with her other, costing valuable time. Just get out the door. You just have to get out of the door. She hurriedly swung open the bathroom door, running into the hallway.

She made it all but a step until a heavy figure slammed into her in the dark, tackling her to the ground. She hit the old carpet with a thud, groaning as she cried. What had been her only chance was completely foiled. She knew he’d never mess up like this again. “NO!” She shouted, wriggling desperately as she sobbed. “NO, GET OFF OF ME!” Her voice was shrill as she screamed.

“Oh, you bitch,” the man’s voice grumbled. All of the sudden, Elora felt a cold blade at her throat and she panicked, going limp in an instant.

The lights in the hallway turned on after his hand felt around the wall for the switch, revealing an enraged face she knew she’d have nightmares of for a long time staring down at her.

He was almost bright red, scowling as he held the knife to her throat.

“Do you want to die?” he asked, pressing the blade in just enough to form a small line of blood. Elora shook her head just slightly, her eyes wide as she was too scared even to speak.

“Then stay right here.”

The man eased off of her slowly, leaving her on the floor. For a moment, she considered getting up and continuing to run, but a second glare stifled that thought quickly. He had a knife. He had the upper hand. She laid on the floor, dejected, shaking in fear and anticipation of what was going to come next as the man stomped off into the living room. He was unpredictable when he was angry. All she knew was that pain would come.

She heard him rifling through one of the old boxes. He pulled something out-she could hear the displacement of the other items, clanking into each other-and then there was a click, more rifling, and another click. The noise stopped and his footsteps pounded back towards her.

A mallet rested in his hands. The wooden handle and metal head looked impossibly massive from where she laid on the ground. She knew what was happening the moment she saw it, yet still, she was in disbelief, denying the inevitable. She shook her head rapidly, sitting up, even scooting backwards until she hit the wall at the end of the hallway.

“Which hand did you grab them with?”

Elora looked up at him, her eyes watery and confused. Her voice was a tiny, crackled whisper when she replied. “What?”

“The keys. Which hand did you grab them with? Tell me or I’ll break them both.” His voice was firmer, rougher this time. She had a feeling that refusing to answer might end her up with her head smashed in rather than her fingers. And she’d grabbed the keys with her right, purely based on how she was positioned. Had the faucet she was chained to been on the opposite wall, it would’ve been her left. Her dominant hand, crushed to bits. It was a bit of mercy, perhaps, from the universe.

Still, she found it hard to answer. Her shoulders shook and she inhaled sharply twice before forcing the word right out, then dissolving into sobs.

The man was scarily unemotional, showing no anger, no fury towards her. He was the calmest she’d ever seen him, standing there with the mallet in his hands. He abandoned all his rage when he dug out the toolkit and retrieved the mallet from it.

“You stole the keys. I have to do this. You have to learn.”

In a way, it sounded more like he was rationalizing with himself rather than her, excusing his actions like he felt bad about them. Like he had to reassure himself. It was sickening.

And with that he descended upon her, shoving her down the wall with a heavy foot on her shoulder. She screamed as she slid down until her head was back on the carpet, and then he dropped, kneeling on her stomach with one leg to pin her down, the other balancing himself. A rough hand wrapped around her right wrist and pinned her hand flat to the ground while the other held the mallet high, above his head, and brought it down.

The first wave of pain was nauseating. There was a sharp cracking that worsened by the second before turning to a deep throb. She screamed until she was coughing and the man held the mallet above her, staring into her eyes. He paused, hesitating until she looked back at him. There was a spacey look in his eyes.

Then he brought it down on her fingers again, then up, then down, rapidly, again and again and again until Elora lost count. She was screaming so loudly her ears were ringing, thrashing and groaning as the pain intensified each time he hit her fingers. They were done for, wholly broken after the second hit, but the man just kept going. It was like he was entranced, no rhyme or reason to his actions other than pain. Any time she wiggled he simply increased the pressure on her torso until it was hard to breathe, deaf to her screams as he kept striking with the mallet.

He didn’t snap out of it until twenty or thirty strikes later when her screams died out and turned to choked, gasping inhales with each hit, which apparently was concerning enough for him to ease off of her chest and let the mallet drop to the floor. He exhaled heavily and wiped his hand across his forehead, genuinely extenuated from the effort.

Elora immediately gasped for air and curled onto her side, closing her eyes and clutching her right hand tightly to her chest. She wailed loudly, throbbing pain shooting through her hand, pulsating every second with no relief. she wasn’t looking at it, only focusing on protecting herself, but her hand was a sorry sight. The fragile bones of her fingers were pulverized practically to dust, and while he hadn’t been aiming for her hand, just the fingers, it still took quite a beating from slipped strikes, several bones cracked or fractured. Her fingers were bent in several unnatural directions, and had an almost flattened appearance, crushed beyond anything easily repairable. She refused to look, but the pain, the intense, throbbing agony, told her enough.

She opened her squeezed-shut eyes for a moment and saw the man stand up and dust himself off, leaving the mallet behind on the floor, just beside her. His back was to her, about to walk off, when she had a revelation.

It doesn’t have to be over yet.

She was still unchained. The front door was still right there. She had the upper hand.

And she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try to save herself while she still had a fighting chance.

She rolled over onto her back, seconding guessing herself for a moment before shaking the thought off. She grabbed the mallet with her good hand, sat herself up, then stood quietly behind him.

Then, she hit him as hard as she could in the back of the head.

He crumbled to the ground immediately, falling to his hands and knees as he groaned, shouting a few swears and rubbing futilely at the wound.

But Elora didn’t stay to watch him. She didn’t even see him fall as she turned and sprinted for the door, the mallet still in her hand.

She was doing it. She’d be free.

But something was odd. She didn’t hear footsteps chasing behind her. She only heard him get up. And as she reached the front door after dashing through the apartment, she heard laughing. Loud, throaty cackling.

She turned her head and saw the man standing there, staring at her, laughing. She turned back to the door, and she saw the reason for laughter.

Two padlocks held the door closed, one with a keyhole and the other with a numerical keypad. Additionally, across the middle was a huge bar she was far too weak to lift up, especially with one hand. No. No no no no nonononononono she was right here, she did it, she had to get out, she needed to get out now-

There was no getting out. He’d told her that, hadn’t he?

She screamed as the man started to walk forward, towards her. She pressed her back to the door, extended her good hand and tried to keep him back, but there was nowhere else to go.

He was still laughing. “You really fucked up, didn’t you?”

Her eyes were shut tightly in fear and defeat as he reached her, pried the mallet from her hand, and seized her by the neck before smashing her head into the wall until her body fell limply to the floor.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas @all-whumped-out

#apartment 307 #elora #elora larkin #clyde anderson #my writing #my ocs #oc writing #whump writing #physical whump #psychological whump #whump #lady whump #tw: fingore #whump fic #creepy whumper #whump blog

[stoney-siren]

Just A Bad Dream (Marco x Reader)

Authors Note: This is gonna be the first fanfiction I’ve posted in a while, I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Marco takes notice in the reader and their tired behavior, and suspects they haven’t been sleeping. The reader is suffering from PTSD and relives the events of Shiganshina in their dreams whenever they try to sleep.

TW: Mentions of death, PTSD, sleep deprivation, possibly swearing idk.

I’ll admit that sleep has been getting harder to achieve lately, since I had joined the Training Corps, my memories of Shiganshina had begun to resurface as other survivors from that day shared their stories. When they asked me, I stayed silent, never was I the most social person there, but I wasn’t as anti-social as Annie or anything, I had a group of people to hang around. One of my close friends, Marco, had approached me our first day with his other friend, Jean, stating I looked lonely and that I could use a bit of company, I was too nice to turn them down. Ever since that day I had developed some feelings for the freckled sweetie, it had been a while since I had opened up to anyone, and he was able to win me over within the snap of his fingers.

“(Y/N), you’ve been awfully quiet lately.” Although his voice was quiet, it reached me clearer than freshly cleaned glass.

“I’m sorry, Marco. I’m just a little tired.” My response was just as quiet as his comment, I could feel his eyes trained on me while mine gazed at the wooden table I sat in front of. 

“Yeah, no shit. Honestly you look terrible, and you’ve been moping around for the past few weeks as if you were a sick horse.” Jean commented, taking a bite out of his bread shortly after, only to almost choke on it as Marco gave him a quick elbow to the waist.

“You’re one to talk, horse face.” Despite how tired I was, my comebacks were always quick and always something I was proud of. Jean only gave me the stink eye before turning his attention back to his dinner.

“Jean is right though, not that you look bad! It’s just we’re expressing our worry for you.. Not only have you been unlike yourself, the Instructor has been giving you earfuls of lectures almost every day now! And honestly it doesn’t even look like you’re listening to him anymore!” His rambling continued on, but his voice got more and more faint as he tried to get through to me. My gaze also began to turn upward to the ceiling, all I could think about was getting a nice full time of peaceful sleep for once.

“Listen, Marco, Jean,” I began, taking a long pause as I slowly looked back down towards them. “I’m fine, really, everyone goes through little rough patches now and then.” There was a long silence between us after that, until Marco sighed and stood up from his seat.

“Fine, just.. Try to get some sleep tonight, for me?” Those last few words stuck to me, I knows how much I truly care for him, and I’d do anything to make him happy. His eyes didn’t leave mine, not even when Jean followed his lead and stood up.

“Alright, I’ll try.” Soon after, we exchanged goodnights and headed towards our baracks, mine was a bit far from where Jean and Marco slept with their roommates, I on the other hand did not have any due to complaints of my ever so often ‘sleep talking.’ When really I’d wake in the night, a sobbing and screaming mess.

                                                - Time Skip -

There were screamings ringing from all around me, as I scrambled to seak safety, so scared and desperate for the safety in my mothers arms again, something I knew I’d never have again as I watched her get violently crushed under the weight of our home as it collapsed. Being shoved around constantly by fleeing civilians as my cries fell upon deaf ears, I soon met myself at my knees where I could feel those cold, dead eyes staring down at me. Looking up, I saw that strange facial expression most titans held, always similar but different, it had crouched down to get a good look at me before one of its massive hands reached for my small body. I felt hopeless, I couldn’t scream or move, all I could do was watch my end slowly creep closer.

“NO!” My entire upper half shot out of bed, I couldn’t even register my shouting as my own voice for a second as hot tears streamed down my face, my nightwear was wet with my own tears, implicating that I had been crying for quite a while in my sleep. It was only safe to assume that it was late at night, although my nightmare had not lasted long, it felt like an eternity, anticipating the feeling of that hand on me, and lifting me from the floor.

Attempting to compose myself, I reached for my face and frantically began to wipe my tears before bending my legs close to my chest and hugging them tightly. It was always the same thing over and over, but this time it just seemed more realistic for some reason. I continued to sob into my knees, confident that nobody could hear me, and of course I was wrong when I heard my door creak open.

“(Y/N)?” There was a sense of urgancy in Marco’s voice this time as he peaked his head into the room, still hesitant though, as if he was worried of being shouted at. “Is everything okay?” 

“What the hell does it look like!?” I snapped back without thought, I watched him flinch as he put a hand up in defense. I could only feel more guilty for my sudden actions, returning to my ball of tears.

“I- I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to-” Quickly I interrupted through my soft cries.

“No- I- I’m sorry.. You didn’t deserve that..” Using my sleeve to wipe away the new set of tears I had produced, I heard Marco’s boots tap against the floor as he made his way closer to my bed. He was also in his pajamas, but he put on his boots to come to my room. 

“Can I sit?” He questioned softly, motioning to the spot next to me in my bed, I only responded with a small nod of my head. Soon I could feel the bed dip under his weight next to me as he slid his boots off.

“Why are you here..” I cringed at how shaky my voice sounded, it was strange how fast I felt myself calm down as the warmth of his arm met with my back as he pulled me closer.

“I had a bad feeling, I was worried that you weren’t sleeping again, guess I was right.. But there’s something else too, isn’t there?” He looked at me with a caring gaze as his other hand gently wiped away the tears that continued to roll down my face. His skin was soft, everything about him was so welcoming and kind. The tension between us grew thick as I struggled to talk about my struggle to sleep.

“Lately, I- I’ve been struggling to sleep.. I keep having nightmares about wh- what happened in.. Shiganshina.” It was hard to get the last word out of my mouth, I hated thinking about that place, after all that has happened there.

“You know, sometimes talking about it makes people feel better. I completely understand if you don’t want to, it’s a heavy subject..” Marco made me feel like I could do anything, when I look at him I feel like my whole world is in my hands, and mine to bend. He made me want to try.

“I- I want to talk about it..” There was a long pause, as Marco gave a quiet nod, watching me patiently. “I.. I was just a kid. Sh- She.. My mom.. We were making dinner together, I always wanted to be a cook when I was younger, a- and she asked me to get some ingredients that we were missing..” I stopped for a moment, visualizing my mother and that day she sent me away from our home, how I wish I had stayed there with her.

“It’s okay, take your time.” The hand on my shoulder began to gently rub its thumb in circles, soothing me just a bit more.

“So I went.. I.. I didn’t even have time to get to the shop wh- when I heard that god awful explosion. T- The floor shook and next thing I knew.. Screams were heard all around me, a- and I didn’t know what was happening.” My voice grew shakier, my eyes welled with more tears as Marco rushed to brush them away.

“You can stop if you want to, I’m so proud of you, (Y/N). I know this is something you struggle to talk about..” Never had I met somebody so caring and understanding like Marco Bodt, he made me feel safe, protected, I wanted to make him feel the same way.

“Marco,” I shakily reached for his hand and took it, holding it rather tight but not enough to hurt. “Stay, please.” His expression changed to slight shock as he lightly squeezed my hand.

“O- Okay.. I’ll stay.” He smiled a little as he held me closer, I didn’t realize how much I craved affection until I actually recieved it. My head rested against his chest as he rested his chin on the top of my head, we were cuddling.

“Thank you, Marco..” My voice trailed off as sleep began to overcome my mind again.

“I’m going to stay here, (Y/N).. I’m always gonna be here when you need me.” He continued to quietly assure me as I felt his lips press against my forehead, my face heated up as his chin returned to the top of my head. Slowly I could feel his heartbeat slow as he fell asleep, and soon I did too.

I didn’t have anymore nightmares for the rest of the night, and for the first time in forever, I felt like I could take one step closer to overcoming my past, now that I knew Marco would be by my side.

#marco bodt #attack on titan #marco bodt x reader #snk #fanfiction #jean kirschtein #marco deserved better

[a-singleboat]

Virtual Reality

Word Count: 2.4k

Request: hi! if your taking requests, i was wondering if you could write a damien x reader, where they meet through Twitch? add anything else you want i always love everything you write, thanks so much!! - anon

Warning(s): like, one swear

It was a Thursday night when you first met him, or rather, heard of him. You had been streaming for five hours heading into your sixth when you decided it might be time for you to log off for the night. As per usual, you took at least thirty minutes at the end of your stream just to talk with your viewers, usually about how their lives were going in exchange for a story from your own day. 

Tonight, however, there was an influx of people asking if you’d ever heard of a streamer by the name of Damien Haas, which you hadn’t, and if you would do a collaboration with the man anytime soon. Apparently, your content was eerily similar and you were, and I quote, “Practically the female version of him, looks aside.” 

“Damien Haas…” you rolled yourself back closer to your desk, hands settled on your keyboard. You typed his name into the search bar, patiently waiting for Twitch to pull up his account. You clicked into the first one, making an impressed face at the purple checkmark next to his name. You squinted at the screen. “Is this him? In the profile picture with the LEDs in the background?” 

You glanced at your chat, chuckling as the viewers started spamming ‘yes’ and ‘oh my god it’s happening,’ and your personal favorite, ‘mom come pick me up the best crossover of 2020 is happening and im SCARED.’

“He plays a lot of Animal Crossing,” you observed, clicking on one of his videos and dragging the tab onto your main monitor so the stream could see it. You skipped through the beginning part, biting into a pretzel as you watched. 

“He’s kinda cute,” you commented, laughing as your stream freaked out once more. There were a few people commenting what looked like it could be a ship name though you ignored it. “Shame I’d never meet him, though.”

You paused his video, taking note of the time, before rolling out your shoulders. “I think it’s time for me to head out so I’m gonna end this stream with a huge thank you to you all for sticking with me through this entire stream and if you didn’t stay the entire time, I’m glad you decided to join in on the ride even halfway through. I’ll see you guys next time.”

You ended the stream, waving goodbye to your viewers before the light went out and you could relax the smile off your face. Don’t get it twisted, you loved streaming and you loved your viewers but just like any other job, it could get exhausting at times. You shut down your monitors, the screens turning blue before fading to black. You stretched, taking your phone up from its charger and launching yourself into bed, opening your phone and clicking on Twitter. 

Much like staying thirty minutes after you were done streaming to talk to viewers, you usually went on Twitter right after to answer questions and respond to DMs. This time, however, instead of opening the app to see a bunch of post-stream questions, your mentions were filled with the video clip of you saying, “He’s kinda cute,” as well as maybe a million people tagging both you and Damien in them. 

Well, shit. 

Soon enough, that was all that filled your timeline. You couldn’t move in one direction without running into another screencap of you admiring the man. God, you knew the consequences but something in the back of your mind was urging you to reach out to him.

After a few moments of contemplation, the lonely side of you won out, forcing you to message him against your better judgment. Without even thinking about it, you found his Twitter and sent this message:

Hey, I’m sorry about your mentions blowing up because of me tonight. My viewers recommended your Twitch to me and I spoke without thinking about it on Live. 

And with no expectation of his response, you fell asleep right there with your phone on your chest and the DM still open. 

You woke up the next morning with a sore neck and a dead phone, which was a terrible way to start your day. You rolled over, plugging your device into an outlet before crawling out of bed to start your day. When you weren’t streaming, you worked as a freelance editor for different YouTubers, helping their editors with their workload or even staying on as a Temp for different companies. Occasionally you edited the odd commercial here and there, but those gigs were rare. 

Most recently, you had received some material from a group of YouTubers, Smosh. This job was different, however, because if you did well on this you could be looking at a permanent place of employment through their parent company, Mythical Entertainment. 

You knew Mythical Entertainment, it was hard not to, especially since your aunt was one of the producers within the company, but tended to ignore everything the company did. The last you’d heard, they’d onboarded another YouTube group (which you did later find out to be Smosh, the same YouTubers whose video you were hired to edit). 

 After a quick shower and a half-assed attempt at a proper breakfast, you were ready to start your day. You situated yourself behind your monitors, opening the video clips that had been sent to you. The first was a sample video, something that gave you insight on what their editing style was actually like. 

But imagine your surprise when you’re staring down the same man you have called cute the night before, his approximately five-eleven stance taking up one-sixth of the space. He was standing next to a blond, who had been marked as “Shayne Topp.”

Despite there being five other people in frame, your eyes kept moving back to Damien’s figure, watching his mannerisms through the screen and laughing along to his jokes when they fell upon deaf ears. 

Your eyes slid over to your phone, now decently charged after sitting for so long. On your screen were dozens of notifications. There were maybe two from your mom, asking if you’d be coming home for dinner sometime that week but the majority came from Twitter. You picked up the device, unlocking and responding to your mom with a, “yes,” before opening Twitter. 

Nothing much had changed from the night prior. Your mentions were still being flooded with the video from last night but newer content had been ushered in, namely fan edits using footage from your streams and, you assumed, his. 

The only major difference, however, was the fact that Damien had responded to your DM from the night prior. The first message read: 

It’s really no problem! My stream had mentioned your name before, too.

Followed by the second:

P.S. I think you’re cute, too.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Mr. Damien Haas, the man that you had made a thoughtless comment on stream about, also thought that you were cute. Suddenly, the fact that you had been staring at him for the past hour seemed less stalkerish and more like a blooming crush. You wrote back:

Aw, thanks! Have you seen the newer fan edits? They’re all so talented.

You cringed at yourself. A cute boy started talking to you and you’ve suddenly forgotten how to be suave, not that you really were in the first place. But still, you liked to think you had some tact when talking to people that you found attractive. 

Not even a moment later, there came a response. 

Yes, I have, he responded. And I agree! They are all very talented individuals. 

You looked from the monitor in front of you. You had about a quarter of the footage left to go through before you could start editing but this technically wasn’t due until the following night. Feeling emboldened by the fact that he had actually responded, you replied:

Are you going to TwitchCon on Friday? We should meet up or something. 

Anxiously you awaited his response, taking his silence as an opportunity to watch a bit more of the footage and take down notes according to the sample they’d given you. Roughly thirty minutes later is when the next response came in, reading as an affirmative to both questions. 

You didn’t respond, choosing to leave your social media for after you’d finished editing the video. Your heart still pounded, however. Just the thought that there was a possibility for the two of you to meet was, simply put, insane. You’d just heard of the guy the night before and decided that he was going to be your latest hyperfixation. 

But who could blame you? He was a nice, funny guy that showed the slightest bit of attraction towards you. It didn’t help that you were a sucker for guys that were nice to you. 

Fast forward to the Friday of TwitchCon, also known as the first day of TwitchCon. You and Damien had been talking steadily over Twitter DMs and just last night you had gained his phone number, giving you even more access to the man than you had before. But of course, who were you if you didn’t tease your fans with the prospect of you meeting. 

The night before, at the end of your stream, you’d given your fans the little tidbit of information that you and Damien were, in fact, planning on meeting up sometime during TwitchCon and would be greeting fans together for an hour at your booth. 

That sent Twitter into a frenzy, both of your combined fans getting your ship name to trend within the hour, which confused the hell out of a bunch of locals. 

It was nearing the time you and Damien had set to meet up. The plan was you’d meet around twelve for lunch, take an hour for yourselves, before going back to your booth and meeting with fans for an hour or so as promised. 

You had never been more nervous than you were in that moment. Not only were you about to meet your three-day-old crush but apparently a very popular YouTuber. You tried not to let the thought mess with your head. One of your friends, Wilbur Soot (who you played Minecraft with from time to time) was poking fun at you for being nervous about meeting a popular YouTuber. 

After three years of streaming and gaining a solid following, you’d think you’d be used to meeting other popular content creators. But because it was him, you found yourself unable to think straight. 

“What if I fuck up?” you asked Wilbur anxiously. He’d flown in from London for this event at your insistence and because you’d offered to pay half his airfare to get there and back. He didn’t have his own booth as his arrival was very last minute, but he didn’t mind. He signed the occasional poster though his main purpose was to provide you mental and emotional support. 

“You won’t fuck up,” he comforted, leafing through one of the comics a fan had given you. The entire thing was hand-drawn, which was an insane fact in itself. It looked professional, which was what blew you away when you’d received it. “Well, you won’t fuck up as badly as you did when you first met Schlatt.”

You groaned in embarrassment. “Don’t remind me.”

Long story short, you’d dumped a red in color slushy on the man accidentally after tripping over an unmarked cable. It really wasn’t your fault but the boys hadn’t let you live it down since then. 

Half a moment later, Wilbur was poking your side. “Is that him?” he asked, jabbing his pointer finger into your side while looking in the opposite direction. He was looking at a familiar figure walking down the hallway toward your booth. He stopped for a moment to take a photo with a fan, talking to them about something, before continuing on his way toward you. 

Your eyes locked and you gave him a smile while trying to beat Wilbur into no longer poking you. He stopped when you slapped his arm the first time, sticking his tongue at you before going on his phone. You rolled your eyes at his half-assed attempt of pretending he wasn’t about to start listening in on your conversation. 

“Hey, Y/n, right?” Damien asked as he approached. You nodded, reaching out for a handshake but becoming pleasantly surprised when he instead pulled you in for a hug. 

“You ready for lunch?” you asked glaring slightly at Wilbur as he made kissy faces over Damien’s shoulder. Luckily, Damien hadn’t noticed your moron of a best friend. 

“Yeah, I saw this sushi place on the way in if you wanted to try that?”

“I’d be down,” you agreed, reaching behind your table to grab your bag. Wilbur was set to meet with a few other Minecraft streamers, meaning you didn’t have to worry about him while you had lunch. You looked over your shoulder, making sure everything was set for you to leave before saying goodbye to Wilbur. 

Over the course of lunch, you and Damien had gotten to know each other pretty well. Once the conversation moved away from your fans and, well, work, and more into personal details, you found that you actually weren’t all that similar. For starters, Damien loved watching anime while your guilty pleasure was Gilmore Girls. The one show you both had a love for, however, was Avatar the Last Airbender, which made sense. 

Another thing was that he actually enjoyed being in front of the camera while you tolerated it on most days, really only putting on your face cam for the last thirty minutes on most days. Despite that, he still classified himself as an introvert. 

You returned back to your booth much later than you anticipated, thoroughly shocked at the line that had formed with Wilbur at the front of it, entertaining the fans that had shown up early to meet both you and Damien. 

“Y/n!” one fan called, pointing in your direction. Immediately, the entire line turned and gaped at the sight of you and Damien walking together. You greeted them happily, stopping for pictures and verbally promising that you’d stay until you got to meet everyone personally. 

“You really love your fans,” Damien observed as you put your things back down behind the table. Wilbur had set up shop on your right side, chatting with a few people at the front of the line. 

“I wouldn’t be anywhere without them,” you admitted, pulling a silver sharpie from your bag. You handed a gold one to Damien. “I also wouldn’t have gotten to meet you without them, which I’m still sorry about, by the way. Your feed must have been chaotic.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. “But everything happens for a reason.”

You nodded, grinning up at him. “Yes, they do.” 

Permanent

@beautiful-holland @toms-order @starlightfound @grandmascottlang @positiveparker @bippity-boppity-boopa @caswinchester2000 @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch​

#damien haas #damien haas imagine #damien haas x reader #damien haas x fem!reader #damien haas x you #you #reader #readerinsert #fem!reader #smosh #twitch #shayne topp #wilbur soot #minecraft #gaming #smosh games #mythical entertainment #reader-insert #twitter #y/n

[darknessofbnha]

I’m coming

Requested by @todogirl707​ “ Hi! I just stumbled across your blog and I already love it 💞💕uhm the bio said requests were open so if it’s not too much to ask could you please do a scenario fic with todoroki shoto where the reader gets kidnapped ? And then he has to save her? Or something like that ? Again if this is too much feel free to ignore it

Thank you so much for the request and I’m glad you like my works! I hope I won’t disappoint you! 💞💕 

I’ll take the chance to tell you guys that I’m working on the requests. Don’t worry. I just had finals, and still have them, which is why it’s taking time ^^; I don’t think I’ll be refusing requests (unless I’m inexperienced on the topic or extra uncomfortable) so don’t be afraid to go wild haha~ 

Word Count: 2247 Warnings: kidnapping; blood; gore Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Feedback is deeply appreciated~!

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He would never forget when it happened. The memories wouldn’t even leave him to dream peacefully. They would come crawling and wake him in cold sweat with a shout stuck in his throat.

You were someone he held dear. You had been there for him when he needed support. Never mind how many times he refused, how cold he used to be, you never left his side and stubbornly clung to him. You had overheard his story during his confrontation with Midoriya at the Sports Festival and you weren’t afraid to tell him after it was all over and to once again offer him your support and friendship. He was grateful and before long, his feelings manifested into love. He loved you unconditionally. He didn’t know how to express himself though.

When you got burnt by Dabi while your little group was trying to save Bakugou and Tokoyami during the Training Camp incident, he got so angry with both the villain and himself for not confessing his feelings earlier. The thought of something happening to you and him not being able to tell you that he loved you scared him. So during that night, at the hospital, he held your hand, as you struggled to not fall asleep due to exhaustion, and confessed. It was awkward but also cute and it made you smile and laugh which was more than enough for him. He was happy that he made you happy. And that’s how you started dating.

Everything was so perfect when you moved into the dorms and you two got to spend every minute together.

But the Universe always has to put people through challenges. To test them. And it happened so suddenly that it took your breath away and swept you off your feet.

The news had been blasting about a dangerous villain who managed to kidnap people easily. Nobody knew how or what Quirk he had and it was causing big trouble. What was even more troublesome was that his victims were very young girls, obviously virgins. Rumors were that he was a crazy Satanist using virgin blood to summon demons. Perhaps a bit farfetched but it wouldn’t be surprising if it was the truth considering that the world was full with insane psychopaths.

Your Quirk was powerful – very powerful. It allowed you to manipulate earth and Kirishima often joked and compared you to Toph. Speaking of Kirishima, you were very good friends. Your quirks were compatible as well. He was the best defense and you were the best offense. That’s why the two of you decided to intern together, choosing Fatgum.

“Hey kiddos, what do you say we go out tonight and eat some takoyaki?” grinned the hero and you and Kirishima nodded vigorously while Tamaki only smiled softly in agreement. And the four of you ended up walking and chatting while eating, inhaling the aroma of the street food and absorbing the lively atmosphere. Even though it was night time there were many people out.

“Oh, I’ll go buy some ice cream!” you exclaimed when your eyes landed on the colorful, creamy texture of the ice cream and the boys nodded, telling you their favorite flavors.

“Why don’t you guys go buy some waffles and other sweet things while I get your ice creams? I’m dying for sweets tonight,” you offered and they laughed before walking away. And that’s when you heard it – the most melodic, soothing and beautiful voice.

“Beautiful, sweet girl, come to me,” it swayed on the wind and tickled your ears, beckoning you to follow it. And you did.

“Hey, little lady, where are you going? I’m still not finished with your ice cream!” exclaimed the seller but his voice got drowned. Everything got drowned, fading in the background in the shape of a dull lull as your brain concentrated only on the man calling you.

“There you are. I knew you would come,” came in the voice from your right and you slowly turned your head to look at the man. He was young, tall, very handsome with his sun-kissed skin and light blue hair tied in a low ponytail. Even under the fancy suit the muscles were visible.

Your legs moved on their own. You weren’t sure if you even felt your body at this point. You were completely entranced. You came to stand right in front of him, leaning your head on his chest and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into him when his arms encircled you.

“What a good girl. No resisting whatsoever,” he chuckled and it sent pleasant shivers down your spine.

“Let’s go home.”

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“What do you mean gone?” whispered Shouto and Kirishima sniffed, looking at the ground. “What do you mean gone, Kirishima!?” shouted the boy this time and the redhead grit his teeth, letting the tears fall.

“I-I don’t know! She was with us a-and a few seconds later s-she was just gone!”

When they had returned to the ice cream parlor, you were gone. They had asked the seller but he had been able to only point at the direction you had gone towards. They had run immediately but there had been no sight or sound from you. Nothing.  They had immediately contacted the police. By now it was obvious that you had been kidnapped by the same villain that was terrorizing the town.

Shouto was numb. He stared at his classmate before his eyes moved to the floor, hands clenching so hard that his nails dug into his skin, forming crescents that bled. He was both freezing with fear and burning with anger.

“I have to find her,” he muttered but when he tried to pass through Kirishima, the boy stopped him.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t do anything! Nobody can! Because no one knows anything about this villain!” cried out the redhead and Todoroki grit his teeth.

“Move,” he grit out as he attempted to pass but Kirishima held him again.

“Todoroki!” before he could say anything else, Shouto threw him the iciest glare. Kirishima and the others, who had been watching the display with tears in their eyes and shaking forms, didn’t even have time to be shocked when Todoroki encased all of their feet in ice.

“That’s not cool, man!”

“Don’t do that, Todoroki-san! It’s dangerous to go out!”

Their shouts fell on deaf ears because at the moment, Shouto’s mind was clouded with the thoughts of finding you and killing the bastard who took you.

He barely got past Aizawa and the Hound, leaving UA grounds and going to the place where everything happened. He narrowed his eyes as he rattled his brain about the possibilities of this villain’s quirk.

“What do you have so far?” he asked himself quietly as his brain brought up all the news he had read so far. Many of the cases were mysterious because nobody was there to see what happened. But there were a few cases when there were witnesses and all reports stated that the girls were going on about their day when all of the sudden they stopped and switched directions, walking towards something or someone as if in a trance. From what the ice cream man had told Kirishima, you had reacted the same way.

“Walking towards the source as if in a trance, huh? Is it like Shinsou’s Quirk then? Mind control?” he mused, rubbing his chin. “But if it was mind control there should’ve been some form of contact. She was surrounded by crowd. What kind of contact can one create in a crowded area. Even if his quirk doesn’t require an answer like Shinsou’s, or eye contact like Aizawa-sensei’s, there still should be some sort of cont-“ he gasped lightly. But of course. It has to be his voice. His right side grew colder and colder, frost seeping from his feet, covering the ground gently and baring footprints.

“Hold on a bit more, Y/N. I’m coming,” he vowed quietly, cold, smoky breath sipping through his lips.

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You hissed, the stinging pain causing you discomfort. It was one thing getting hurt while fighting because the adrenaline was not letting you experience the pain, at least at the beginning, and completely another when someone was slicing at your body with a blade.

“That’s right, princess. Bleed some more for daddy,” he smirked, licking his lips impatiently as he squeezed your wrist, causing the blood to flow harder and making you feel dizzy. How much did he bleed you? Two, three, five times? You didn’t know. But he made sure to do it often because you couldn’t use your quirk in such condition. That and it gave him immense pleasure. You couldn’t understand him. Did he enjoy drinking blood? Was he offering it as a sacrifice? Was it part of his quirk or something? At this point you didn’t care. You knew that you were going to die. Nobody knew anything about this villain. There were only speculations about his quirk. No one would walk through these enormous mahogany doors and put an end to this.

“We’ll continue later. I have something else to do now,” he grinned at you as he left the golden goblet on the cabinet next to you before he moved to the bed and laid down next to what you assumed was a girl. You willed your vision to clear. Yes, it was a girl – probably his previous victim – and she was dead, chest torn open as if the bloody eagle was performed on her, drenching the sheets in red.

“Isn’t blood beautiful? Don’t you want to be surrounded by it all the time?” he asked you and you barely managed to shake your head, a scream of horror trapped in your vocal cords. “Don’t worry your pretty little Y/H/C head. You’ll be joining her soon,” he laughed and a tear slid down your cheek.

And at this moment, the doors burst open, getting completely shattered by sharp shards of ice. Splinters showered the occupants of the room, causing the man to shout enraged.

“Who has the audacity-“ he didn’t get to finish because more ice came towards him. The man evaded gracefully to the left, only to be engulfed in flames, making him scream. Before he could get serious burns, the flames were extinguished and he was quickly encased in ice from head to toe.

“Shouto,” you whimpered and smiled shakily. The boy’s head snapped, eyes widening. He had been so insanely worried but thankfully you seemed to be alright. When he actually reached you and took a good look at you, he realized that, no, you weren’t really ok. You were covered in slices and bleeding. He saw red. He twirled sharply, fully ready to shatter the ice alongside the person trapped in it when your voice stopped him.

“Please, Shouto! It’s not worth it! Don’t put a bad name for yourself before your career has even started!” you pleaded and he gulped, lowering his hand and turning to look back at you. You shot him an encouraging smile, trying to signal him that you were alright. He didn’t say anything as he burned the ropes and scooped you up in his arms. The police and other pro heroes were swarming the place for investigation and arresting the villain. Shouto was angry with himself for taking so long to notify the police of what he found and to formulate a plan. And you could see that he was blaming himself, that he was angry and disappointed with himself. You wouldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me,” you whispered as you cupped his cheek. That made him stop. The two of you were far from the beeping sirens and the bustling cops. “I’m ok. Nothing happened to me. Just a couple of cuts that Recovery Girl can heal. You did well, Shouto. You saved me. You are my hero,” you told him gently as you snuggled into his chest, hearing his rapid heartbeat that was slowly beginning to calm down. He pressed a kiss to your temple and tightened his hold on you.

“I’ll never let anything happen to you again. I promise,” he murmured and you encircled your arms around his neck, bringing him closer and kissing him on the cheek.

“I’ve no doubt.”

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You were accepted with happy cheers and a cake from your classmates. They literally threw you a party and it made you so happy. They were truly a blessing. Poor Kirishima blamed himself and you had to smack him over the head a few times to get it through his thick skull that he was not to blame.

It was the first few nights that were the problem. The very first night, you had a nightmare and you snuck into Shouto’s room. He had had a nightmare too and gladly accepted you into his embrace.

“I can’t get this girl out of my head. That was… the most horrifying scene I’ve seen. I dream of myself in her stead,” you sniffed and Shouto hugged you tightly as if imagining you melting into his embrace so he could protect you from the world.

“I dream the same,” he admitted quietly and you looked him deeply in the eyes.

“We are going to be ok. As long as we are together, it’s going to be ok,” you whispered hopefully and he gave you a smile – that little pretty smile he had reserved only for you.

“Together then.”

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha todoroki #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero x reader #mha #mha x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shōto #todoroki

[bwingus]

Siri meets melody (ft @qualityfunnyscenariosfire 's oc melody)

Siri was out on her walk, looking for a deer for ammit. Since it was their favorite food.

She was currently in a deeper part of the woods, with her and ammits house being about 2 miles away. However, there was this strange research lab nearby, that supposedly makes animal human hybrids, but she didnt really beleive that.

"Dammit. There are way to many scents out here for me sniff out a deer." She said

Melody was running through the forest, gasping and whimpering. She walks over this fallen dead tree that was like a bridge over a small lake.

"They're gone. Finally." She says, walking through some bushes. She sees a lady in the distance, who was sniffing around in some bushes.

Melody slowly ventures in the bushes, her scent getting strong. She pops out of one, being eye to eye with the lady

"Ep! W-Wrong bush" she squeaks, quickly moving back into bush

Siri is surprised to see a pair of eyes look at her from the bush, and then disappear. She then hears a startled squeak, and she says, "ummm, is anyone there?" She doesnt get a response, so she decides she just gonna look inside the bush.

She finds a young usagi girl (a usagi is basically a human with rabbit ears) sitting in the bush. The girl looks very scared, and let's out a startled squeak, and raises her hands defensively. "P-p-please dont hurt me ma'am!" She says

"I'm not going to hurt you little one! could you come out of that bush for me?" Siri says.

"B-but how do I know I can trust you not to hurt me?" the girl said.

"Well, I havent hurt you yet, and if I was going to hurt you, I would have done so by now."

"O-ok" the girl says and she gets up. She was a young usagi girl, with long white hair,and wearing a adorable dress. "My-my name is melody by the way."

"Well, that's a rather cute name! My name is sirius, but you can call me siri!" Siri says

In the distance siri hears a stick snap, and so does melody.

"Did you hear that?" Melody says worriedly

"Mhm. Just stay with me. I dont think were alone out here...."

Just then siri hears something running at them from behind, but before she could react she was flung into a nearby tree.

She looks up, and sees that its a wendigo. And its grabbed melody, and has started to lift her up

"H-HELP!!!" Melody screams as the wendigo bites her leg, presumably to taste her.

"Dont touch her you bastard!" siri yells as she runs towards the wendigo, and punches it in the face, sending it flying, making the wendigo drop melody.

"Melody, are you ok!" Siri says

"N-no. It bit my leg, and now its hurt pretty bad."

"Ok. I'm gonna go deal with that beast!" She says, just as the wendigo gets up.

She runs forward yet again, unsheathed one of her swords, and then prepares to fight it.

The wendigo tries to strike her but she slides under its hand, springs up and hits a horizontal slice from its right shoulder to its heart, killing it instantly. She then lights it on fire.

She walks back over to melody, and examines her wound. "Man, it damaged you pretty bad. The wound goes deep enough to were I can see your bone." Siri says worriedly. She knows what she has to do, but she doesnt want to lose her trust.

"Melody. I have to ask you something. Do you trust me?" Siri says very sternly.

"I-I guess so? W-w-what are you gonna do?"

"Well...." she touches melody on the shoulder, and she starts to shrink, and eventually end up at 1 foot tall.

"H-h-hey, why did you do that miss siri?" Melody says, slightly getting scared.

Siri doesnt answer, but instead picks melody up, opens her mouth, and then brings melody into it.

"H-H-HEY!!!! S-s-stop!!!" Melody screams. But, her screams fell upon deaf ears since siri started swallowing her, and with on swallow little mel was swallowed up to her waist, and by a second swallow she was brought all the way into siri's throat. And eventually, she ended up in her stomach.

"M-m-miss siri! P-p-p-please let me out! Why did you eat me!!!" She says whimpering, on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey, hey! It ok, its ok. I ate you so I could heal you. My stomach can produce a healing liquid, and I put you in there to heal your leg." Siri said.

"O-ok. Thank you. Wh-why didnt you tell me that in the first place?" Melody asked.

"I didnt want you to bleed out, or pass out from shock. So, I ate you in the heat of the moment." Siri explained.

"Ok." Melody said

"So, why were you out here anyway? Your parents must be worried sick!"

"I-I-I dont have parents, or atleast ones that I know of. When you found me, I had just been running from a research facility where they did experiments on me." She says while shaking, and tearing up. "I-I-I do not wanna go back there."

"Its ok honey. I wont take you back there. What If I took you back to me and my husbands house? Would that be ok?" Siri says

"Mhm" melody says as she cuddles up into the stomach, getting comfy.

"Also, our house is pretty far away, so you may wanna get some rest while your in there."

"Ok. Goodnight ms siri." Melody says

"Goodnight mel" siri said

Time skip to when siri gets to da house

"Hey, melody! Melodyyyy!" She says, while jostling her stomach so that she can wake melody up.

"Hmmm?" Melody says, just walking up.

"I got to my house." Siri says.

"Oh, ok. I cant wait to meet your husband." Melody says.

"Honey I'm home!" Siri says as she enters the house.

"Oh, welcome home darling." Ammit said from the kitchen. "Did you bring me the venison I wanted?"

"No, but I brought something better. I found a usagi girl named melody out there. I saved her from a wendigo." Siri says

"Oh? Could we adopt her?" Ammit asks. As he walks up and starts to rub siris slightly distended belly, causing sirius to purr.

"I would like that." Melody says as she cuddles up to the belly rubs.

"That sounds like wonderful idea." Siri says joyfully. "But I'm very tired and I think we should probably go to bed." Siri says. "Mel, would you like to sleep in my belly, or would you like to come out"

"I wanna come out." Melody says.

"I'm gonna go eat something" ammit says.

Siri walks into the bathroom in their bedroom, and then regurgitates melody into her hand, and then ushrinks her. Siri hands melody a pair of her pajamas, and allows her to change her clothes.

Once shes finished, she joins siri in the bed.

"Wow, this bed is super big!" Melody says "and it's super comfy too!"

"Mhm." Siri says. "Oi! Ammit! Do you wanna sleep on the bed or on the couch?"

"Bed dear." Ammit says as he walks into the room. "Just remember that we have to start packing, since were moving into the mansion. This weekend."

"Oh shit-i mean shoot! I forgot about that!" Siris says

"It's ok honey, we can just do it tommorow. But for now I think we should rest." Ammit says as he joins the two in the bed. He immediately sniffs melody and starts nuzzling her.

"Hes very cuddly." Melody says softly as ammit massages her bunny ears, causing her to purr slightly.

"He is." Siri says while blushing. "I think he just likes physical affection."

"Alright, goodnight you two!" Ammit says

"Goodnight honey" siri says.

"Goodnight." Melody says.

Both sirius and ammit fall asleep almost instantly, but melody has a bit of trouble sleeping.

As shes sitting there, trying to fall asleep, she feels something wet touching her ears.

She looks up to find that ammit is sucking on her ears gently, and purring slightly.

She tries to pull her ears out of his mouth, but as shes trying, she gets sucked into his maw up to her shoulders.

"U-ummm, mister ammit? Your eating me!" She says, getting slightly worried.

Soon, ammit got to her legs, and wasn't stopping, so she starts struggling, but is swallowed all the way

Melody ended up in ammits stomach, and found that she landed in a small pool of glowing liquid.

She squeaks as she sees the liquid rising, fearing she was going to be digested, but soon felt a calming feeling

"Mmmmm, maybe mister ammit isnt trying to hurt me." Melody says to herself, and just decides to fall asleep.

Siri soon wakes up, and doesnt see melody, so she starts to freak out "melody! Melodyyyy! Where are you sweetie?" she says as she gets up and walks around the room, finds nothing, then walks out of the room.

Soft squeaks could be heard from inside Ammit's gut as melody snored inside

Ammit purrs loudly as the fullness in his gut felt good.

siri walks back in the room, after finding nothing, and is freaking out even more. w-w-where could she have gone!?!? I mean why would sheeee...." she then notices ammit is purring, and knows that can only mean one thing. She looks at his belly, and sees a slight bulge. "* sigh* I should have known." Siri says. "Melody? You ok in there?" She says as she pokes the bulge.

Mel purrs as she slowly awakes

"Mmmmh...yea... " I say softly, feeling safe.

Ammit stirs as he's poked.

"That's good. Dont worry about being digested in there, he does this all the time to me."

"Ok." Melody says.

Ammit yawns, sitting up. "Mmmh.. " He mutters, licking Siri. "Ah!" He opens his maw wide.

"Well shit" siri says with a sigh.

Ammit chuckles and shoves her into his maw, purring as he slurps her up.

Siri slides down his throat and eventually ends up in his belly, with melody. "Well, I guess we're sleeping in his belly tonight." Siri says to melody

Mel nods and rests by Siri

"Yea." Melody says

"Goodnight mel."

"Goodnight siri" she says as she starts to purr and they both fall back to sleep.

The end

#safe vore #qualityfunnyscenariosfire

[lu-undy]

Chapter 22 - SBT

Here it is!

"I have no intention to kill you but any sudden movement and I will not think twice." 

The man in the mask held his gun against the Aussie's temple. Mundy raised his hands left and right, slowly.

"Weren't your hands tied?" He asked. 

"You freed me with a swing of your… What the hell is even that sword?" 

"It's a kukri, you genius. Never seen any before? Oh I guess you don't need those while ya teach business people how to ski, eh?"

The man in the mask pressed the barrel harder. 

"Play with my nerves and you will find out how far I am from being a ski instructor." His voice was confident, with a foreign accent.

"Right, okay, easy now…"

"You are the sharpshooter who took them all down, aren't you?" 

"Y-yeah." Mundy's back was hunched. He had faced danger a lot of times through his career, but mostly from animals, not from men.

"What are you doing here?" 

"Same as you I guess, I'm after the alligators."

"Why?" 

"I want to take them back to where they belong. I know the bloke who owns them, just want to give him back his property."

"Why send a sharpshooter? This should be a job for the police."

"Yeah, well, you don't look like a policeman either, eh?" Mundy put a hand on his chest. "I'm a hunter. And you, what are you, a fancy ski teacher?" 

"What I am is none of your concern." The man in the suit lowered his gun and put it inside his jacket. "You can take your precious alligators. They are in the other truck. Didn't you see them swap them?"

Lucien took the blade that was hidden on his belt, behind, and finished cutting off the last bits of the cloth that had him tied. He sighed in relief when his wrists got freed.

"I came a bit too late for that, but not too late to save your arse." Mundy took a step towards the other man and towered him. "And you're welcome by the way." He pointed his finger and tapped the suit. 

The other winced and dusted it off immediately with the back of his gloved hand. He walked to the bodies of the fallen thugs and knelt down next to one. He realised that there were no bullet holes on any of them, only darts on their heads, or their necks. But there was some blood. How did that happen…?

"Interesting." He removed one dart and smelt it. No distinctive odour. He raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, the hunter had gone to the other truck and opened it at the back. 

"Hello, beauties…" He saw the crates marked fragile with holes for the poor alligators to breathe. He looked through one and a green eye with a dark slit blinked at him. "Thank God, you're still alive…" He ran his fingers on the crate and the crocodile purred in a low growl. "Sshhh… It's alright now, I'm takin' you back home."

The alligators around started answering the growls, waking up slowly.

"There, there, ladies and gents', let me just count you. One, two, three, four…" 

The man in the suit came to the truck with one of the darts in his hand. He inhaled to start speaking but then decided to not interrupt. When Mundy finished counting the alligators, his index finger stopped hopping from one crate to the next and Lucien  finally spoke. 

"Are you also going to check their names, passports and tickets?" He ironically asked, tilting his head on the side.

"Twenty-six…" Mundy repeated to himself. 

"Oh, you know how to count till twenty-six, bravo, I am impressed." His accent sang the irony. 

"Wait, hold on, let me count again. One, two, three, four…"

"Or maybe you do not know how to count to twenty-six…" Lucien rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Twenty-six again. Mate, I expected twenty-one…"

"Well, consider it a bonus for your trouble. You could give back twenty-one and keep the others for target practise." 

"Target practice?" Mundy turned and hopped off the truck. He landed on the ground such that his face was a few inches away from Lucien's, unfazed. "Target practice?" He repeated, disgusted by the words. 

"Well, you said it yourself, you are a hunter. By definition, you hunt these things, this is your trade." 

Mundy locked the truck shut again.

"No, you idiot, I don't. Look at them. They're scared, uncomfortable and lonely, all boxed up like it's their casket. Ugh!" Mundy winced. 

"What are your preys then, if not animals?" 

"Poachers." 

"Poachers?" Lucien repeated. 

"Yeah." 

"Then you are doubly unique. But that does not tell me what I want to know."

"Doubly?" Mundy asked.

"What did you put in the darts?"

"Drop your weapons!" 

The voice split their conversation sharp. Lucien and Mundy realised they were surrounded by more of Duchemin's men. 

"Bugger…" 

"Merde…"

[Shit.]

"I said: drop your weapons or we'll shoot!" It was a dozen of them, surrounding them and taking aim with their rifles. 

Lucien took his gun delicately from his inner pocket on his jacket and dropped it to the floor. Mundy let his whole backpack and his rifle fall at his feet. Two of the thugs came close and took them away. Both Lucien and Mundy gritted their teeth. 

"Who are you?" Duchemin's henchman continued shouting at them. 

"Not deaf is what we are, can you speak normally?" Mundy answered as he raised his hands. 

"Who are you?!"

"Ouch!" 

One of the thugs knocked Mundy with his rifle's butt behind his knees and he fell on them. 

"I'm a hunter, bloody hell!"

"And you?!" They turned their attention to Lucien. 

"His apprentice." 

Mundy raised an eyebrow. 

"Aïe!"

[Ouch!]

Lucien received the same blow and knelt down. They both got handcuffed with ropes and taken a few metres away. 

"Tie them to that post."

They found themselves back to back, sitting on the concrete floor of the old hangar. 

"How did you get there?" The leader of Duchemin's squad asked.

"Just following a butterfly." Lucien said and he received another knock from a rifle's butt, this time, across the face. "Aïe!"

[Ouch!]

"Mate, he's tellin' the truth. We were looking for game, we followed a trail through here. It wasn't a butterfly though. Don't mind my uh… apprentice. He's cocky and can't keep his tongue in his mouth."

Lucien spat some blood away and gritted his teeth. 

"Cocky? Me?!" 

"Yeah, you, cocky. Can't you answer the bloke so that we get outta there?" 

The leader of the small group took a walkie-talkie from his belt and started speaking to it. 

"Beta? This is Delta, we have two intruders. Our blokes were shot dead it seems."

"What intruders?" The voice on the walkie-talkie answered. 

"Two hunters, they were following some beast when they arrived here."

"Do they know who killed our men?" 

"Do you?" The leader turned to Lucien and Mundy. 

"Not him, he can't aim with his rifle. I should have paid a better hunting teacher, I knew the low price had to hide something…" Lucien said.

"What?!" Mundy roared. "Excuse me? I'm sure as hell better than you!"

"How would you know? You never let me shoot anything!" Lucien continued. 

"Yeah, cause I'm better!" Mundy slid in the comedy effortlessly and hoped that his fellow hostage had an idea behind all that…

"Enough!" The leader of the thugs said. "Who killed my men? Do you know, yes or no?"

"No!" They both answered and Mundy thanked the Lord that Lucien lied, and convincingly at that. 

"The trail to the animal we were following led here. They must have been attracted by the blood." Mundy said. 

"Keep the intruders with you and the convoy, Delta, we're sending reinforcements. It might take a few hours, all units are busy." The walkie-talkie said. 

"Roger, we'll stay here." 

It turned out that the walkie-talkie man hadn't lied. It took forever for the promised reinforcements to come. Mundy and Lucien saw the sky darken as they sat there and they could feel their behind get sore. 

The guards on the other hand didn't seem too bothered by the wait. Some were playing cards on the floor and smoking, others were having a chat. They took turns in looking after their hostages, one at a time. 

Mundy eventually closed his eyes and dosed off. As he did so, he weighed more on Lucien's back, the post not being wide enough to carry his weight and the Frenchman headbutted him from behind, waking him up in a startle. 

"Ouch! What was that for?!" 

"You were crushing me! Didn't you realise it?"

"I was fallin' asleep, you mongrel! Ugh…" Mundy sighed and shook his head. He wished he could rub that place that Lucien hit on his head with his hand. It did hurt quite a bit! He rubbed it against the post.

"Couldn't you have done it a bit more delicately?" He hissed. 

"My apologies, Sleeping Beauty, next time, I shall try to think of it, hm?" 

"Ugh…" Mundy rolled his eyes and looked up in front of him. The guard in charge of looking after them looked quite young. The others were quite far away. "Hm?"

He felt something odd against his wrists, where the ropes were. Something was moving there… He tried getting his fingers closer but-

"Ouch!"

Lucien froze when he realised that Mundy got hurt on his fingers. 

"What's wrong?" The guard asked.

"N-nothin', just a cramp, mate." Mundy winced at the sting on his fingers. "Bloody tiring to sit on concrete for hours…"

"Maybe you could go for a break?" Lucien suggested and Mundy took it for irony. 

"Yeah, I'll ask them to just let me walk away, right?" 

"No, I meant that you might want a break to… You know… We drank quite a lot of water through the afternoon…" Lucien was trying to make him understand and wished Mundy would take the bait. The Aussie thought fast. If his fellow prisoner reckoned it might be a good idea, why not? 

"Yeah actually… Uh, 'scuse me, mate? D'you mind if I take a quick piss?" Mundy asked and Lucien rolled his eyes. 

"Such a poet you are." 

"What did you want me to say?! I'm just callin' it what it is!" 

The guard seemed hesitant. 

"Look, you can come and search me, I don't have anything on me, and you got one hell of a rifle. If I move, you shoot me. But I won't move. I just need a damn piss!" 

"Fine." The guard came closer and freed Mundy. He pointed his rifle in his back and pushed, just so that Mundy could feel the barrel, and the threat. As he stood up, something shiny caught his eye. Mundy looked at the base of the post, where Lucien's gloved hands were, and saw the glint of a blade. He felt a sweat break but didn't let it show. 

That's what cut my fingers… He thought.

"You mind if I take one of my jars from my backpack?" The Aussie asked. 

"What?" 

"Piss is a great tool for us hunters. Would hate for it to go to waste. You can give them to me, I won't get near the backpack. Just bring me two of them, I've been holdin' myself for quite a long time…"

Lucien winced and made all kinds of disgusted faces from his post, as he watched the whole scene. 

"Fine." 

The young guard went to the back pack and opened it. He threw two glass jars at Mundy. 

"Thanks mate, now, I'll uh… I'll do my business against the pillar here. You can keep the rifle on me, but eh, bit of privacy, please?" 

Lucien watched horrified, as Mundy not only filled the first jar, but also the second. But he went on sawing through the ropes with his blade and soon felt the last fibres yield. He was ready to spring up his feet anytime. He just needed an opportunity. All the guards were busy, except that one who was with Mundy.

"Ahhh…" The Aussie exhaled, relieved. "You have no idea how long I was holding all this." He said as he shut the second jar and brandished them like trophies. "And that's a nice stock! Now, I guess you don't really want to touch them, d'you mind if I put them in my backpack myself?"

The young man with the dark grey uniform and the rifle was as disgusted as Lucien had been, and he nudged Mundy with the tip of his rifle. 

"Ah, thanks, alroight, no need to be violent…" 

Mundy went to the backpack on the ground about one meter away from the pillar. His rifle and Lucien's gun were there too. He slightly turned his head to Lucien and winked. 

The Frenchman didn't wait for more. He sprang to his feet as Mundy turned and headbutted the young man who got tackled one fraction of a second later by Lucien. 

"Aargh!" 

The rest of the guards turned their heads and sprang to their feet. Lucien had knocked the young man unconscious. 

"The hostages are escaping!" 

Mundy had taken his backpack and rifle off the ground as he kicked Lucien's gun to him. They both took cover behind pillars. 

"Good job, Professor Ski!" Mundy said between flying bullets. He turned and threw both jars at the group of thugs. They shattered to smithereens and covered most of them in the Aussie's bodily fluid. 

"Did you just…?" Lucien's jaw dropped but then realised that most of them had their eyes closed and were out of cover still. He and Mundy shot them down.

Lucien went out of cover momentarily and shot two thugs. Mundy realised that he was also using a gun with a suppressor. 

"You disgust me!" 

Mundy reloaded his rifle and used it without scoping.

"Maybe, but it worked!" He proudly answered.

"Also, my name isn't Professor Ski!"

"I'm M, you?" 

"L!" 

"El what?" Mundy asked, thinking the man had a Spanish accent and therefore was Spanish.

"Just L! Three more down! Watch out on your right!" 

Mundy turned and shot one of them while Lucien got the other one. The reload time between two shots for Mundy now turned to be a little issue for heated situations like these but he still managed. 

After a few more shots, silence fell in the old hangar.

"I think we got them all." Mundy said. 

"Yes, we did." Lucien put his gun back in his inside pocket, on his jacket. "Now, who didn't you kill…?" 

"What?" Mundy asked, confused. 

"I need one alive." Lucien answered. 

"Why?" 

"To interrogate him." 

"Well I didn't kill any of them." Mundy said. "They're asleep, is all." 

"What?" Lucien asked. 

"The darts, they're sleepin' ones, not poison or anything, I'm a hunter, not a murderer."

"Well, how come they bleed so much?" 

"The darts have 2 bits, one with the tranquiliser and one with pig blood. It's to make them believe that I kill them. I hunt poachers to scare them off, not to kill them." Mundy explained. 

"I see."

"And you, you killed them, you brute!"

"Non, I have tranquiliser shots too."

"What?" Mundy's turn to be surprised. 

"Yes, I could have killed them, but they don't deserve it, no one does. Actually non, only one person does, he is worse than the Devil himself." Lucien knelt down to one guard.

"Crikey, who's that?"

"The man I will find." 

Lucien dragged the body of the sleeping guard to the post where he was previously tied up and handcuffed him there with ropes. 

"You may drive your truck away now. Thank you for the unexpected help." Lucien said. 

"I'm not goin' anywhere, mate." 

"Why?" 

"I also need to know somethin' out of these brutes." 

The Frenchman rolled his eyes. 

"Can't I torture him in peace?" 

"Oh I'm botherin' you now, am I? I was the one who bloody saved you! You owe me!" Mundy said. 

"Arh…" Lucien put a gloved hand to his face and let it sink down from his brow to his chin. "Fine. You may stay. Now…" 

The Frenchman knelt down and removed the dart from the guard's face. 

"Let us begin." 

He slapped him across the face to wake him up.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

[themadauthorshatter]

I said I'd make a post on this, and I want to start 2021 off on a positive note.

These are some headcanons I have if Cal had the two pets I talked about in my cat and dog posts, specifically the golden saint and sphynx cat.

For context, this is somewhat of an AU where Cal lives on his own and something of a pandemic happens. I will also be incorporating stuff like videos and other stuff just because:

After having a really bad nightmare, it was Julian and Anabel that gave Cal the idea to adopt an animal, preferably a dog because of how emotional they are. He turned down the idea because he was ruling Norta. After abdicating, and more nagging from his uncle and grandmother, he gave in and adopted a 3 month old golden saint, a sweet girl he named either Sweetie or Shiloh(he read the book as a child and the name stuck with him.) If I come up with a more creative name, I'll edit this, but for now, I'm referring to the dog as Sweetie.

Cal was surprised when he didn't see Sweetie drool a lot. THAT CHANGED WHEN HE STARTED TEACHING HER COMMANDS.

On nights Cal has nightmares, Sweetie will jump on the bed and nuzzle and kiss him until he wakes up. Works every time.

When he wakes up, he holds Sweetie close and pets her to help pull himself out of the literally nightmare he just experienced.

Sweetie thinks she's a lap dog. Cal has tried letting her know she is not, but apparently it's times like that that Sweetie is deaf because she still tries to curl up in his lap when he's reading a book or just sitting and relaxing.

He thinks it's because she was always around small dogs in the shelter and thinks she IS a small dog.

Whenever Cal eats or writes in his diary/journal or reads or anything, Sweetie will stare at him until he looks at her, ehich will make her tail start wagging.

This has led to them playing peek-a-boo, and it's awesome. Cal will hide and show his face and Sweetie will kiss him because she missed him.

There was an instance Cal fell asleep either reading a book or writing in his diary/journal. Sweetie carefully pulled the book/journal and pencil onto the bedside table, pulled the blanket over Cal's arms, and turned out the lights before joining him.

There are days where Cal is building something, and he still laughs at how the first day went: naturally, the garage door was closed, but so was the door to where he lived(house/apartment, idk you pick). While he worked, Sweetie scratched and knocked on the door. Cal would tell her to lay down and that he'd be back soon, and she'd scratch and knock on the door again. After an hour of whimpering, scratching, and knocking, Cal gave in and let her into the garage after picking up anything that could hurt her. You can only imagine the prance as she carried a toy into the garage with her.

On days Cal has to leave, Sweetie will try to come with him. Cal will gently tell her to sit and wait for him, and she will, until the door's open enough to get her muzzle in. It's usually on slightly off days, and Sweetie is smart enough to know what makes Cal laugh when he's about to snap.

Cal learned the hard way to never play dead with a golden saint after Sweetie turned 1. He wasn't hurt, but she ingored him for almost two hours.

The only times Sweetie ignores Cal are when he gives her some flea and tick repellent, hide her toys, and if he was stupid enough to play dead.

On one such occasion that he played dead, he texted Mare that Sweetie was ignoring him because he both gave her flea repellent and played dead, and has been ignoring him for fifteen minutes at the time of him texting Mare.

This was a video he showed Mare as proof:

(For visualization purposes, Cal is using his phone as a camera and is on one end of the couch while Sweetie is on the other end staring out the window. He is borh kind of laughing, but also close to tears because it's not a woman's scorn that people should worry about; Hell hath no fury like a DOG'S scorn.)

"... It's been a hour, and she's still ignoring me. I gave her some flea medicine, AND A TREAT."

Sweetie's ears perk up, but just for a second before going back down.

"I GAVE YOU A TREAT AND SAID I'M SORRY!😂😂"

More ignoring from Sweetie.

"Yeah, she's... she's not happy with me. At all."

TIME JUMP!

"An hour and twenty minutes. She still won't even look at me. I-"

On the contrary, Sweetie turns her head to him.

"Wha... 😃AYYYYY!"

But then she looks away again.

"Damn it😂😂😅! Come on, I was happy!! Sweetie, I'm sorry!!"

TIME JUMP: PART 2

(Cal now has his camera flipped with a subtitle thign reading, 'It's been two hours now, and she's still mad at me. To show you I am not kidding, I'm going to try petting her and she's going to give me 'WTF are you doing?' eyes.'

Never breaking eye contact with Sweetie, Cal gives her some back scratches.

Like he said in the subtitle, Sweetie looks up at him and stares at him, almost saying, "WTF are you doing?" She doesn't growl at him or wag her tail, but the two stare at each other.

"Are you still mad at me?"

Sweetie gets up and walks away to get some water, and because, yes, she's still mad.

TIME JUMP: PART 3

The camera's facing Cal again with a subtitle that reads, 'THREE. HOURS. I can't tell if she's trying to get me back or if she wants to play.'

Sweetie is behind him and slowly creeping up on him as her tail starts wagging a little bit.

'She has NO IDEA that I can see her behind me right now.'

You know that look of when you feel bad, but you keep laughing because it's KIND OF funny? Cal has that look on his face as Sweetie keeps sneaking closer.

'She'll go back to ignoring me, if I look behind me, but I think she's past that. Just in case, I'll pretend I don't see her.'

Cue Sweetie pouncing and Cal laughing as he falls back, the phone/camera falling with him. We don't see much, but we do see Sweetie's tail wagging.

Not a time jump, but a cut to Cal smiling at the camera as Sweetie lays on his chest sleeping. He points the camera back at himself and gives a thumbs up.

'She forgives me😊'

I know you're wondering, 'Okay, Sweetie's cool and is an awesome girl, but where's the cat!?' To which I say, RIGHT HERE!!

Cal was planning on getting another dog, a friend for Sweetie in case he had to leave home, but at the shelter he noticed a cat that no one wanted: a hairless sphynx that was all wrinkly from being on the defense and only having one black paw. On the ride home after adopting this cat, it curled up into his lap and then climbed onto his shoulders.

It meowed at him when he asked, "What happened to your socks? Did you find a sock or lose the other three?"

Cal was sneaky as hell when he got back because he didn't want Sweetie figuring out and getting territorial.

She figured out anyway. This is the video he took when she did:

(Over the sound of Sweetie scratching on the bathroom door) "You can't come in, Sweeite. Go lay down."

(More scratching and even a sniff under the door.)

"Sweetie, we're okay. Don't worry."

(The cat, which Cal named Fink, meows and paws at him for pets; Cal's warm and Fink's cold. The sound makes Sweetie whimper and scratch at the door harder.)

Cut to outside the bathroom, where Sweetie is constantly between sniffing Cal's hands, shirt, and face from petting Fink and from Fink just being all over him because of how warm he is and smelling and scratching the door, her tail wagging the entire time.

"You smell your brother, Sweetie, huh? You smell him?"

He bursts into laughter when a black paw reaches out under the door and Sweeite freezes before flopping onto her back.

It took a little while for the two to get along, and there were no major fights, as in Sweetie didn't get territorial and snap.

On one occasion Sweetie growled and Fink would swat her on the muzzle as he hissed at her. Sweetie stayed by Cal's side that evening as he tried not to laugh.

Cal came home once to a few surprises: 1. Fink and Sweetie sharing her bed, but not looking at each other. 2. Fink PETTING Sweetie and grooming her before running away. 3. Fink and Sweetie playing tug of war(which made Cal's day because Dink would occasionally stand up on his back legs and it looked hilarious). 4. The two sleeping together, Fink on Sweetie's back.

Note here, this happens if there was a pandemic like the one we're dealing with right now, so it's a good thing Fink and Sweetie are best friends now.

During lockdown, Cal has more nightmares and more 'episodes' during the day. On days, Sweetie isn't helping as much, as in just petting her and her being there isn't enough, Fink will climb onto Cal's shoulders and try grooming his hair. On nights, Fink lies on Cal's chest and watches him sleep. When he starts getting restless, Fink curls under his chin to try to help him. If all else fails, Fink will sneak off the bed and knock over a soap bottle or box of tissues to wake up Sweetie, who barks and wakes up Cal.

Fink hates thunderstorms. They make him pant and have anxiety. It's night like that where he hides under the sheets next to Cal; Sweetie's better at waking Cal if has nightmares during storms anyway.

Mare, Kilorn, Farley, and a few others have Face Time workouts, and all if them have noticed Cal isn't as muscular as he used to be.

They get their answer when they all start working out:

While stretching, Sweetie watches Cal, staring at him. He can't help but smile when she wags her tail

"Can I help you?"

Sweetie creeps up to him and rolls onto her back for belly rubs, which Cal gives her before going back to stretching.

During ine of these stretches, Fink hops onto Cal's back and scares the daylights out of Kilorn.

"What the hell is that!?"

"What?" Cal looks over his shoulder to see Fink. "Oh, yeah, I have a cat AND a dog😁."

Mare and Farley laugh as Kilorn retorts, "That is not a cat! What is it?"

"A cat, and his name is Fink!" At this point, Cal's laughing, too.

"That is the ugliest cat I've ever seen."

"(More laughter) No he's not!😂"

After a few minutes, and finishing stretches, the workout begins with some pushups.

Sweetie keeps trying to sneak in some kisses and Fink's back on Cal's back, but is getting confused because usually he tried hoppong while Cal wasn't moving and only watched him while standing in his back legs.

Needless to say, Cal has to stop to get Fink off his back and Sweetie to lay down somewhere.

Throughout the entire workoit, the pets try to "help" and only end up making everyone laugh.

No wonder Cal hasn't been doing a lot of workouts, he has two animals that just keep wanting to give them love.

Sweetie does help with arm exercises, as in she's the weight Cal uses, and Fink keeps trying to stand and join in.

Workout session ends with everyone laughing, Kilorn reiterating that Fink is ugly and not a cat, and Cal crying from laughing so hard as he repeats that Fink is not ugly.

Fink and Cal have conversations from across the room and house. If Cal is on the couch, Fink will meow from the bedroom for Cal to carry him to the couch.

Cal has SOME sweets every now and then, some because of how he was raised and because Sweetie and Fink kept waiting for him to frop a piece.

Fink is not good with stairs. While teaching him, Cal has had to repeatedly tell Sweetie not to help Fink. She did anyway, and Cal eventually had to keep her in his room when teaching Fink to walk up stairs.

Because he has no hair, Fink has to wear sweaters and coats inside. First day in a sweater, Fink laid on the ground and gave up on life. Cal had to pick him up to help him stand before Fink got ised to the feeling.

Sweetie tried playing, but Fink was not interested.

He was pissed at Cal for the rest of the week, hissing and hiding whenever Cal got too close.

Cal was very upset.

Fink did eventually stop being mad, it just took a while.

AND THAT IS THE POST!!!! I had fun with this fluffy post, and just imagining Cal happy.

I hope you guys enjoyed this, stay safe, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

#red queen #cal calore #tiberias calore vii #cat and dog post #fluff #possibly funny

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

Could you do the first five asks from the autumn list and the spooky Halloween list please? 🥺

Hi nugget!! Thank you so much for this ask!! 🥰 Like an idiot, I reblogged two autumn lists and I didn’t know which you meant, so I did both 🙈 I hope that’s okay!!

1. What is your favorite autumn scent?

Ohhhh I have so many favorites... really anything that smells sharp and smokey (i.e. anything with “fireside” or “sweater weather” in the name)

2. Would you rather go through a corn maze or go pumpkin picking?

Pumpkin picking, hands DOWN. I’m weirdly terrified of corn mazes? I just feel like it’s the perfect opportunity for something to jump out and scare me and no thank you. Plus pumpkins are adorable, and I love picking them out and feeling their energy and finding the perfect fit for my little room.

3. What is your favorite Halloween candy?

Okay so hear me out- we used to get these candies called “dem bones” for Halloween when I was little, and they were like sweetarts but shaped like pieces of a skeleton and you could put them together before eating them. Those were my favorite growing up, but I don’t think they make them anymore. Honestly I get really excited about anything unusually flavored - cauldron Skittles, spooky fun dip, funky laffy taffy, etc.

4. Favorite autumn holiday?

Thanksgiving. Please don’t eat me 🙈

5. Rainy, foggy autumn days or cold, sunny autumn days?

Cold, sunny autumn days. ALWAYS. Don’t get me wrong, I love rainy days with that chill that seeps into your bones where you can bundle up in a million blankets and drink tea and have a movie marathon. BUT- if it’s cold and sunny, you can go outside! And stomp in the leaves! And get an apple cider and wear little gloves and scarves and enjoy the breeze on your face! Oh, what joy—

Boogeyman: What is your weirdest/most irrational fear?

Oh gosh I think I have too many to count. And as far as weirdest, maybe that’s relative? Because in my mind they’re all equally logical aksjaksjjff The one that always baffles my psychologist is my “modified” trypophobia. She doesn’t even have a name for it. But when spiky things come out of holes? I’ve had nightmares about it ever since I can remember. I’ve also developed a more recent fear of being abducted by aliens late into the night while everyone else is asleep, and no one knowing where I went. Or maybe everyone I love forgetting about me? Being alone, I guess 😂🙈

2. Candy corn: What is the best Halloween candy? The worst?

There are too many good candies to choose from and you know how indecisive I am, whyyyyyy— Okay so of the “traditional” Halloween candy, I’m going to say… snickers, kit kats, sour patch kids, and/or nerds. I’m so sorry, I can’t choose because it really depends on my mood!! But the worst are definitely Mounds. No contest. 👀

3. Crow: Do you believe in omens? Which ones?

Okay so I’m going to say no. But I also don’t know enough omens to actively believe in any? My sister and I were watching a Halloween movie and she went “oh, a black dog. He’s going to die now” and I just kind of looked at her and she really simply went “black dogs bring death” and I looked down at MY BLACK DOG and was like “oops” 🙈 so I’m going to say no

4. Exorcist: Do you believe in demons?

I grew up Catholic so let’s say yes but I don’t touch that kind of stuff

5. Ghost: Have you ever encountered a spirit or haunted place?

I’ve never actively gone to a haunted house or anything like that, but I do see spirits occasionally. Usually people I’ve known, I can feel them in a space or see them standing/sitting by someone. I used to always see my uncle in his old house, but my aunt moved to a new house and I walked in and the space felt so dead. And I almost cried, because I knew I wouldn’t see him again. But maybe that’s weird that I can feel them, so shhh nevermind forget I said anything oop

1. Hay ride: Where have you always wanted to travel?

Africa!! Or maybe Scotland

2. Pumpkin carving: Are you artistic?

Oh goodness, everyone in my family would tell you yes, but I don’t feel like I am

3. Soft scarves: What’s a talent that you hide from the world?

I don’t know, I’m a pretty open book. Although I never properly sing in front of people because I’m convinced I’m tone deaf

4. Jack and Sally: What’s your love language/what makes you feel loved?

Alright let’s get sappy here we go: Being understood, being listened to, someone who tells me I’m not too much. Someone being there for me no matter what, good times and bad times, who never makes me feel judged, is patient with me, looks at me when I’m at my lowest and craziest and most and tells me that I’m perfect and that they wouldn’t change one thing about me. Being accepted exactly as I am, in my entirety. (Also: snuggles)

5. Cardigan: Tell us about your favorite autumn outfit!

Jeans, boots, a big comfy sweater that stretches down over my palms, with a pea coat and maybe a beanie if my hair cooperates! Either that or tights under a skater skirt and a cropped, brightly patterned sweater skaldjlfgf

#ask me anything #asks #asks and replies #asks answered #Halloween asks

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: welcome the unknown

Another one for @goodintentionswipfest, and the oldest of the lot I’ll be posting by a significant margin! As in written in 2009 old. You’ve been warned.

Gonna put the whole fic under a readmore because JTHM fics have one setting and that’s Upsetting, so have some naval gazing from me first.

2009 was uhhhhh, some kind of year for me. It was the year I graduated high school, and the year I was a little bit homeless, and the year I wished I was a little bit homeless for longer so I could have avoided some bananas shit, and the year I spent waiting on tenterhooks mid-recession before I could run from a ehhh home life off to the military.

18 year old anthrop was working through some shit while writing this thing, is what I'm saying.

This was intended as a prequel to a fic I was working on in high school, while also being kind of a stand alone fic? If you've been with me since my JTHM days (wow) you'll recognize what it might have been for, but otherwise don't worry about it. This is a bit all over the place but there are still a lot of pieces I'm fond of and honestly, it's nice to see where I was as a writer and how far I've come in comparison? Too many of us fandom writers destroy huge swaths of our work out of this terribly sad and unnecessary shame for liking "cringy" things, and to this day I regret doing the same to virtually all the things I wrote for my first few fandoms. Cheesy and heavy-handed as this fic is, it's nice to have around still, you know? I cared about this fic. Working on it kept me sane during an extremely shitty summer. I dearly wish I still had the first draft, which I remember writing in different colored markers on folded sheets of computer paper hunched up in any random little corner I could get some time alone. Alas, like 98% of the rest of my things pre-military, it's gone for good.

Title comes from Robbers on High Street's "The Fatalist," which sure was a song I had on repeat a lot back in 2009.

=

Everywhere is dirty. Filth and stink and dead particles on everything he touches. He'd fallen asleep, and somebody had broken into his house and poured the offal of a thousand trash cans onto everything and smeared it in deep. 

Asshole. 

Really though, they are all assholes. Shit-smeared animals groping around on all fours, blind and deaf and desensitized to whatever little good was left in the world around them. 

They make so much noise. All they do is scream, and whenever someone manages to gasp out a non sequitur the whole world applauds, casting them into the history books for the next generation to draw penises upon their photographs. It is all a matter of course.

It can't just be him that sees this. One look outside is enough to prove his point. Why else would he board up all the windows? To keep the assholes from looking in, of course.

The assholes are everywhere these days, screaming and fucking. Fucking. They're good at that too. Reproduction. Bucking hips and nails across skin and incredible, terrible intimacy, the exchanging of fluids. Disease of the flesh, fever of the mind. A new generation born in every positive pregnancy test, a new generation dead in every street corner abortion clinic. Babies. Disgusting, germ-ridden things. Oh God, don't let it touch him with its fat little hands shiny with saliva and the green ooze that won't cease dripping from the holes in its face. He doesn't know what'll happen, what he'll do if this thing gets too close, but he has ideas, and none of them are pleasant.

He always has ideas.

He blinks, and the baby and the stinking slut mother cooing at it with too-red lips and salon-styled hair and the bus and the roaring all vanish. He stumbles and knocks an elbow against the dresser.

The smell in here is somehow worse now. Like old vomit in high summer. Is it vomit? Is it his vomit?

He decides it's better not to now, at least not now. He feels a strange mood coming. High tide comes to drown the starfish, already dried by the sun. Perhaps it is a mood he needs, but then again, perhaps it comes too late.

Something cracks, and the edges go soft and drip in a puddle of wax.

He burns his fingers by candlelight.

=

"Johnny?"

"Bunny?"

His throat burns. It hurts to breathe.

"Oh thank God, you can hear me again. You're back."

"What—" He breaks off, coughing. Blood in his mouth, on his teeth. He licks them clean and swallows. "What are you talking about?"

Bunny sounds small and tired in his ears—

Mind?

—and there was fear, Johnny can hear it licking at the corners of Bunny's— 

His?

—voice, but it has faded with time. Johnny suspects he has been asleep for a very long time.

 "I've been trying to reach you for… God, I don't even know how long." Bunny trails off.

He looks around, his eyes struggling to see in the pre-dawn light trickling in through a dozen half-circle windows on the floor above wherever he is. More by the smell than anything, he realizes he is surrounded by blood and bodies. A part of him knows he shouldn't be comforted by this, shouldn't find this scene familiar.

And yet.

"I was scared, Nny."

He hiccups, chokes, and spits out three bullets.

=

The mirror is laughing at him.

He sneers at it. Squints as two left hands do two different things, almost identical but the blur is still visible, still there.

He was wrong, he knows that now. There isn't just one person, one world, one reality on the other side of the mirror. There are dozens, maybe hundreds. Maybe thousands. Not all at once, of course, but there seems to be another pair of eyes staring back, another mouth talking at everyone and no one, each time he looks hard enough, long enough. The edges blur, fingers drag in slow-motion arcs, teeth where teeth shouldn't be, a hundred shades of skin and hair and eyes.

He can't remember the last time he showered.

=

“You look like shit, Nny,” observes the Burger Boy.

“Yes.”

“You really should do something about it.”

“Yes.”

He drives the pen through the paper and carves something into the wood that later he won't understand.

=

Greasy. He is so greasy. The others in the mirror bow out of the way to let him see the unwashed, true reflection of himself. He makes a face, drags his cheeks down to his jaw and waggles his tongue, and the reflection follows accordingly. No blur. 

Yep, that’s him all over.

Devi screams, her face set in a terrified, furious, how-could-you-you-shithead expression, and smashes his face against the mirror. His nose breaks on impact, glass stabs, digs, and catches, and drags down his cheeks and forehead. Blood everywhere, his blood. A tooth goes flying as his chin hits the dressing table’s pitted surface with a crack that sickens him even as the edges of his sight turn black, and the pain is more than noise can express. Blood on Devi’s knuckles. Fingers ripping out his hair.

No.

Everything pauses, then it all reverses in an instant, and he is left standing before a dirty mirror with too many faces looking back.

That already happened— a long long long long time ago

—and he is better now. Devi is better now too. He hasn’t talked to her in awhile but she is around, she is there, and everything is okay now. There is some blood dried into the floorboards still—was that were the stink is coming from?—but his scars have faded. He has forgiven, and he thought he had forgotten.

He’d gotten a new mirror and everything.

=

“Hi Nny.”

“Evening.”

Squee leans back on his heels before the underbelly of a machine Johnny has no understanding of and glares. With his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, smears of engine grease on his hands, sweat on his face, and looking like a mix of engineer, mad scientist, and responsible adult, Johnny has no idea how to treat the boy-now-man-next-door.

"How've you been? Whatcha been up to these days?"

There is something unspoken, something furious and accusing underneath the easy drawl of the questions. He can't imagine what Squee could be angry with him about. He is at a loss, also, at how to respond to the heavy questions thrown at him so casually. He struggles under their weight, unable to answer, unable to keep quiet, unable to lie.

Squee chuckles as he stands in one smooth motion centered on his knees and cleans his glasses with a rag from his pocket. "It's okay, shit, calm down. Not like I got a gun to your head or anything."

For some reason, he feels himself flinch. Squee's eyebrows knit and relax in an instant.

"Let's see," Squee muses. "You look like you, I'm pretty sure your car still works, and I'm currently over at Pepito's for some headfuck or another. Okay, I think I know what year this is. Awesome." He puts his glasses on and shares a smile that could cut glass.

"What are you talking about?"

Squee looks surprised, but after a moment laughs a quiet little laugh. "That's right, I forgot. This is the year you do your weird losing-time thing, yeah? Haha, you freaked me out even more all summer. I think I slept on the roof more than I did my own room. Oh God, this is even better!" He laughs again, louder, and claps a hand on the shoulder of the strange machine.

He can't think of any kind of response to this before Squee speaks again. "Fuck, Johnny, you really think seeing me at nine one day and twenty-three the next is normal?"

He thought about it. "Noooot really. No."

"That is exactly—what—How did you even recognize me?" He gestures at himself, and his eyebrows do something halfway between emulating surprise and gut-busting dislike.

"Who else could you be?"

This time his laugh is loud and body shaking, and he thumps the machine as if Johnny has said something incredibly witty. "Wow, okay, if that logic works for you it works for me, you crazy fuck."

He did not just hear that. "What did you call me?"

Squee smiles again, but his eyes remain cold and flinty and full of hate towards something—Johnny suspects—he has done in the future. Goddamnit, future self, way to ruin a good thing. But his hands still clench, his joints lock. How dare Squee? How could he?

But the boy-now-man-next-door acts as if nothing has changed. "So I can't remember how your art or lack thereof is working out in this little slice of time. You paintin' with any other color 'sides red?"

Why was Squee acting like this? "Of course I am."

He isn't.

Squee scratches his neck, scratches at scabs over long, thin lacerations in finger-shaped bruises, and Johnny wonders if what he's feeling now is how the man felt when he had still been a boy, and the scary neighbor man once crawled through the window to tell him a bedtime story. 

"You know, somehow I doubt that."

=

His fingers itch for activity. He hasn't left the house in days, maybe weeks. Does it matter?

He licks his lips and swallows, fighting down familiar urges. He can beat this.

=

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"Oh god oh god oh god why are you doing this—"

"Excuse me, I asked you a question."

Gently touch the controls, tack the pressure on, oh, just a little more. Just enough to make them scream.

=

The back of his head itches, and when he scratches his fingers come away red. No pain, just blood. So it isn't his then. But he can't remember killing anyone.

He looks away from his hand and out the window, at the outside world creeping in through the cracks between the boards. Outside there is no sun, no moon, no stars, no anything. His breath hitches.

It's raining.

He exhales.

The door is open though he doesn't remember leaving it so, so he takes the hint and walks outside. He inhales, tasting the hot summer smell of wet concrete and the cloying reek of decomposing bodies in his front yard. The million million light bulbs of the city throw their energy skyward, and the roiling clouds eat the light whole. A weird, orange glow from above casts the city into an otherworldly scene, and, feeling a little silly, he wonders if tonight might be the beginning of the apocalypse, and the idea doesn't sound half bad.

In the driveway, the concrete is slick with oil. He stands there a while, letting the rain wash the human grease out of his hair. It takes him just as long to realize his car is missing.

"That's funny," he says aloud, wiping the rainwater out of his eyes. "I don't remember teleporting home. Unless—was it Tuesday yesterday? I don't think it was, but—"

There is a soft, scared inhale of breath, a backwards scream. He turns, and there on the sidewalk is a gray woman in a bathrobe, faded coffee stains and food crusts all down her front. She is pointing at him, her face wide, frozen in a rictus grin of fear.

"What?" he asks, reality crashing into place with a shatter of glass ripping through his ears.

Her mouth moves, but the sounds that come out are backwards and insulting, and her eyes are fish eyes, wide and lidless and staring.

"What?" he asks again, sharply, his voice ugly and tasting of ashes.

"M-mon—" the woman wheezes.

Her throat is in his hands, and he doesn't recall moving from his empty driveway.

"What are you staring at? What do you want?!" he screams.

She gags and gurgles, her tubes for eating breathing talking standing bleeding; all of it collapsing under his fingers—

which hadn't been so thin a few weeks ago

—and the grin on his face is a mile wide. 

"Monster!" she whimpers as something cracks in her neck.

Monster? His hands loosen, cradle her jaw, as his mind tries to grapple with this. Why… Why would anyone call him that?

The pounding of feet, and someone wrenches the woman out of his grasp. "Jesus jump-roping Christ, Johnny!"

Dazed, he stares at the newcomer as if he's looking at everything through the wrong end of a telescope. The reek and the roaring of the public transit system returns with a bang of pneumatic doors, and Squee's mouth moves in angry shapes but the slut-mother's cooing comes out instead.

=

"You gonna pay or get off my bus?"

He looks at the bus driver, at the thick rolls of fat ballooning out underneath his sweaty, undersized uniform, a sneer pulling back the heavy flesh around pearly white teeth. He imagines jamming the steering wheel through the man's dislocated jaw and feels slightly better.

It's safe to imagine such atrocities. Imagine, but nothing more. He has to remember that.

"Hey kid! I'm talkin' to you!"

"Sorry," he manages through grinding teeth and a throat hot and restricted with anger. He deposits the required fare into the automated tray and darts across the yellow line before he can act upon his ideas.

He always has ideas.

He stumbles into an open seat as the bus jerks forward with a belch of black exhaust he can't see but can taste, heavy and gritty on his tongue. On his right, a plastic mommy bounces her little dolly on her knees. They are dressed in matching summer dresses. Disgusting.

How long has it been summer anyway?

He glances at the pair again and thumbs the volume on his CD player a little higher, fighting to keep his face neutral. He has never been fond of parents who treat their offspring like objects rather than the people they are going to be.

Something tugs on his sleeve and he recoils, crashing into the metal bars on his left. It takes everything he has not to retaliate against the foreign touch. His headphones are knocked askew by the impact, and Mozart's power vanishes, becomes tiny vibrations around his neck.

The baby, the child, the dull-eyed little girl has the ragged end of his sleeve in its shining, soaking wet hand. Through the fabric, he can feel its dampness, its heat. It babbles at him incoherently, green ooze dripping from its squashed little nose into the gaping, grinning mouth below.

"Oh, she likes you!" The mother cries, swooping in for the kill. Her smell washes over him—of heady perfume, hairspray, hysteria. He can see the makeup creases, the scars of plastic surgery, the shadow of a bruise on her shoulder half-hidden by her yellow sleeve. His mind jumps to all sorts of conclusions, and each one of them sickens him more than the last.

"Uh," he manages.

His hands twitch.

=

He is sick of this life again. All the old signs are there, everything points to one fact, but he can't bear going down that path, not yet. Later, later.

"'Later,' he says!" Crows the delighted Burger Boy. "Yes, perhaps when the scabs from the old shackles grow over the new he'll get off his scrawny ass and attempt to do something about all this!"

"Fuck you."

The Burger Boy looks at him imploringly, its meaty little hands clasped, its fangs retracted, the perfect image of a concerned friend in hideous checkered overalls. "In all seriousness, Johnny-boy, this is not something you can put off any longer. You must act now, or not at all."

"Go die in a hole."

"We both remember how effective that was the last time you tried that. Now, please—"

"Don't make me get the sledgehammer."

At least it had the decency to flinch at that, the little fuck.

The Burger Boy sighs, obviously frustrated. "I don't understand why you find it necessary to fight me so, Nny."

"Maybe it's because, oh, I don't know, you're trying to enslave me to my own kidneys?" He bites on the straw of his cherry Freezy hard enough to tear it. The plastic tastes like artificial fruit and latex gloves. "And don't call me Nny."

The Burger rolled its eyes, which shouldn't have been possible because it was pretending it was still ceramic. "So I'm no longer allowed that special little privilege, am I? Only the ghost of your dead, levitating bunny rabbit is?"

"Leave Nailbunny out of this."

"And those pathetic Doughboys as well? The very ones that conspired against you to 'serve their master', who, in case you've since forgotten, was the very creature you were charged with imprisoning behind a wall of blood and plaster?"

"That was D-Boy. Eff just wanted freedom. And really, can I blame him?" He bites the straw in half and spits it into the bathroom sink. In the mirror, his reflections mimic him, ten thousand mouths a-grinning.

"You're missing the point, though I'm hardly surprised."

A thought strikes him, and it's out of his mouth before he can think twice about it. "You know, if they ever started talking again, I think I'd still let them call me Nny. Sure, they were both exploiting my ever-increasing insanity and all that, but they were mine in the beginning. Unlike you."

It ignored the jab. "If they ever start talking again, it will be far too late."

=

There wasn't any soap in the bathroom.

=

"What the hell were you thinking?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Give me one goddamn reason, one very good goddamn reason you had for strangling my mother, or so fucking help me Johnny—!"

Squee is definitely reminding him of himself now. Great. Fantastic. Fuck.

"Um."

=

The Burger Boy scowls, its face transmogrifying into the fanged, drooling thing it really is. "You remember how terrible it was to toil under the merciless whip of the System! I know you do because I am a part of you, though you refuse to believe as such! And though you hate what I have to offer, you must realize that I am far more preferable as I am now than what I could become unless you tear free of the System's grip now!"

"I AM FREE!"

With a snap of ceramic he breaks it's right arm off, and the two of them scream in pain and hate, in the same voice, in one voice.

"I." He jabs at his chest with the arm, feeling it squirm under his fingers.

"Am." He drops it to the bloodstained linoleum.

"Free." He grinds the arm to dust under the heel of his boot. His reflections are too blurred, too scattered, to see how many follow suit.

Gripping the hole where a limb had been seconds ago, its ugly face twisted further by agony, the Burger Boy pants, "There is no such thing as freedom! No!" It screams, harsh and violent, as he opens his mouth to retort, "Listen to me. Hear me out. Please."

A heartbeat passes. Five. He closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted, and nods. The figurine sighs and leans against the faucet, settling its insect eyes on the spilled Freezy in the tub.

"Let's get one thing straight. I don't want you thinking that the puppet masters are singling you out for sport. God knows you aren't anything special. Everyone is a slave to one thing or another." It pauses to laugh bleakly. "Perhaps even those who fancy themselves the masters of this game of Monopoly must bow their neck to the chopping block one day. Who am I to know? I am but a series of chemical reactions created in the misfiring neurons of a sick man's brain. But never mind that. What I'm trying to say here is that there has been no other way. Ever. There has been no freedom, no choice. It is all preordained. This is the way of all things."

Every part of him rebels against this. No free will? Impossible. His life is his own, now more than ever. Yes, he had been a slave, once. But that had just been the luck of the draw, an accident, like winning the lottery or getting hit by a truck. It was… unpredictable, impossible to preordain. Heat in his chest, his jaw tight and creaking. "They told me—" He begins, his voice ready to rise into a shriek.

"It was only temporary. Even stone must crumble, Johnny."

His legs turn to jelly at a terrible, terrifying thought. He grips the sink, licks his lips and tastes salt and cherries and fear. In a soft, weak voice he barely recognizes as his own he finally asks, "Are they going to make me a flusher again?"

"They already have."

=

"Mom, can you make it back to the house on your own?" As he speaks, Squee performs a quick once-over on the gasping woman clinging like a burr to his chest. His face betrays him, showing the extent of the damage done even as he keeps his voice upbeat, a stream of happy reassurances pouring out with the rain even as his eyes confirm a far more dire prognosis. "Johnny and I need to, um, talk."

"Who—" Her voice fractures in her collapsed throat, and she chokes and dry heaves until her face is purple with strain. 

Squee holds her until she calms. "Johnny's our neighbor, Mom. We've lived next to him since—for as long as I can remember."

"O-oh. He looks ni-ice. I-is he a friend o-of yours?"

Squee makes a face remarkably comparable to the one a particularly vehement guest made once after Johnny had made him swallow a pound of nails. "Just—go inside, Mom. Go see if Dad's awake, okay? See if he'll call 911 for you."

"Okay sweetie." Her voice is wet and crackling, like stiff paper going soft beneath a steady drip of water. He recognizes the sound, and suspects now that he may have squeezed too hard. But she had insulted him, hadn't she? Called him a fucking monster. How could he let that go without proper retaliation?

"And tell Dad I'll be in in a min—oh festering whore tits, your eyes are bleeding."

"Don't swear, honey." 

"Sorry. Johnny?"

He can't help but flinch. "Yes?"

Squee swallows, looking almost frightened before setting his jaw and glaring hard at him. "You are going to go in your house, sit your ass down on your couch, and you are going to stay the fu—stay there until I can get Dad to give me the keys so I can get Mom to the ER. See, betcha I gotta do it 'cause Dad is an incompetent, loveless douche with a heart of coal. But I'm gonna do it fast, 'cause you and I? We need to talk."

"I—" 

Squee got him off with a sharp gesture. "Uh-uh. Not today. Not gonna play that game. Get in your house."

He got in his house.

=

"Slavery is inherent in all things, Johnny. It is only a question of to what. Once before you were selected to be a Flusher—"

"And I failed. Miserably, I might add."

The Burger Boy shook its head firmly. "You excelled."

"Clearly we're remembering my experiences in the After Life differently."

"Clearly you forget what kind of monster was imprisoned behind that wall."

"I never saw it. I died before I had the chance."

"It doesn't matter whether you saw it or not! What you had to do to keep it locked up should tell you more than enough."

"I—"

"I think somebody with a say in things liked what you were doing down here. Otherwise, why else tether you to this particular yoke a second time? If your memories of what Satan said to you are correct, you are practically the very antithesis of Flusher material!" It hobbles towards him, it's ungainly waddle exacerbated by its missing arm. Drool spills freely from between jutting fangs that cut at its lips with every overeager exclamation. "Take a good look at me, boy. The very moment the System slapped the manacles back on your wrists it began to take me as well. These changes are the result of your inaction."

His reflections smile bitterly. "You claim to be mine one minute and admit you're not the next. One or the other; it can't be both."

It stares at him with a steady, curious expression. "Can't it? The System is trying to take me from you. That is one truth. Another is that I am fighting it as best I can. Just as your Doughboys did, not so long ago."

He sneers and says nothing.

"I am resisting," the Burger Boy continues, "but I cannot win. The changes done to this form you've assigned me are the result of every foot of ground lost. You must see how much faster the transformation is in me compared to the Doughboys! You must understand that you are no longer a mere Flusher! For the Wall Monster remembers how effective it was to use your own madness against you, and now an eye is upon you, Johnny! The merciless, unflinching eye of the System in its entirety, and the System is more powerful than either of us can possibly comprehend."

He locks his fingers around the lip of the sink to keep from shaking. Slowly, the words trickle out of his mouth, pooling in a pile of warm paranoia in the drain. "Everything you say only goes to prove how much they have already conquered you, taken you from me and twisted you into some… thing. Some monster braying about hope even as it settles its jaws around my neck." 

He drops his gaze from the figurine, from the mirror, afraid of the triumph he knows he will find there. "I can't trust you."

The Burger Boy positively beams. "Now you're catching on."

=

"Nailbunny, what should I do?"

resist

"Who? Who do I fight? Him? The System?"

resist

"Whether I like it or not, he's my only source of information. Even if he's manipulating me, he at least has the decency to forewarn me, unlike his predecessors. If push comes to shove, I think I could beat him. But what—what if he's telling the truth? What if he can help me?"

resist

resist

"Nailbunny?"

resist

resist

resist

resist

resist

re—

=

"Please! Oh god, this hurts so much! Stop!"

"Shut up. The machine's barely even warmed up."

The sobbing blob tied to one of many torture devices he keeps humming at the ready cringes as his hand floats above the dial. He allows himself a brief smile.

"W-what do you want? Jesus Christ, I just m-met you! What did I even do?!"

He opens his mouth, a speech rife with injustice suffered under the merciless hands of a society dead from the neck up on the tip of his tongue, only to find himself unable to remember who this woman is and why he has her strapped into the Needler.

He laughs, and turns the dial up anyway.

=

—sist

=

The baby, the child, the dull-eyed little girl releases its iron grip on his sleeve and forgets him instantly, yet the mother perseveres, eager to speak with another human being. It seems he has no choice but to participate in a conversation with this woman until his stop, as every other seat is taken. And besides, it would be rude to just stand up and walk away.

You could kill her.

He frowns and ignores the voice, but nevertheless finds it unsettling. Meat's all for living and talking and eating and fucking and being an actual human, not murder. This is very out of character. Still pondering over it, he glances at the woman and finds her staring at him, expecting something from him.

"What?" he asks, itching to put his headphones on again. He really likes the piece vibrating against his collarbone. 

"Where did you buy your shirt?" the woman asks, as if she's repeating herself. She probably is.

He peels his eyes away from her surgically swollen lips long enough to glance down at himself. Black and gray, with an obnoxious splash of color amid the stripes that makes his head hurt. He doesn't recognize it.

"I, uh, don't remember," he says.

"Oh, that's too bad! My little brother loves that show."

He nods mutely, allowing his thumb to play with the volume of his CD player. The woman keeps talking, and Carl Orff rages at fate in a whispered rise and fall of Latin and violins.

The girl touches his hand again, and he accepts without protest that he will kill these two in their matching summer dresses with an eager blare of trumpets.

=

"Slavery to a broken machine or slavery to life and all its pains and pleasures." Meat touches his arm with its remaining hand. Through his sleeve, he can feel its dampness, its heat. "Decision time is now or never, Nny."

He laughs. "I am a broken machine."

=

Sometimes other people appear in the mirrors. Just brief flashes, overlapping the current other-self dominating the rest, and he knows it's foolish, but he can't help but wonder.

What is it like to have friends?

=

"—and it's being called the worst crime in the tri-county area since the café massacre two years ago. With twenty-seven dead at the scene and another twelve in critical condition, we here at the Channel 4 News Network can't help but agree. What do you think of it, Jeff?"

"It's a real atrocity, Nadine. The man who did this must be a real psycho, a total monster."

"Oh yes. And speaking of the killer, a woman—who has asked to remain anonymous—has stepped forward, claiming to have been at the club when the murders were committed. She also claims to be the one who halted the massacre by shooting the killer three times, despite having already been wounded."

"It is true a thus-far unidentified blood sample was recovered from the scene, as well as the bullets matching the woman's gun, but nothing conclusive has been determined yet. However, the woman has agreed to meet with a sketch artist once she's recovered from the attack, and a drawing of the killer will be sent to all media coverages when available."

"In the meantime, if anyone has any information regarding the killer or his whereabouts, we would appreciate it if you would call the number at the bottom of the screen. Please, don't hesitate—"

The reporter's face freezes for an instant before exploding in a supernova of white noise. Jolted out of a daydream, he instinctively reaches for the remote to mute the atrocious sound, but pauses before letting his hand fall. 

The sound is… oddly pleasant.

He leaves it on for three days.

=

He decides to call it Reverend Meat. It just… seems to fit.

=

He pauses at the couch only briefly, wondering what happened outside and what kind of reaction he should be having, but his legs give out and once he hits the floor it doesn't seem to matter anymore. Something skitters away, startled by the sound and vibrations of his body striking the wood. A minute passes or maybe five before it skitters back, probing his fingers with inquisitive antennae. His nerves won't respond to the signals his brain sends, to flinch away or crush the insect before it has a chance to grow bolder. He panics briefly, fear and helplessness clawing their way through his chest cavity, but then, as if a switch is flipped inside him, he relaxes.

The insect, whatever it is, takes a cautious nibble at the calloused tip of his ring finger. There is a tiny flash of pain, but no instinctive recoil from the source of the hurt. He is truly unable to move, than. The insect continues to bite, finding the outer layers of his skin tasty enough to merit further excavation. A second insect, crawling out of some unseen hole beyond his limited vision, joins the first, and is quickly followed by a third, a fourth, a dozen, too many to differentiate by feel alone and before he knows it an entire colony of carnivorous insects are biting into him, eating his flesh, burrowing under his clothes, his skin, crawling in his mouth and into his soft, wet insides, and he can't do anything to stop it.

It hurts, God it hurts, and he thinks wildly to himself that if he manages to live through this he will never ever strap a jar of bugs between another guest's teeth, ever again, because this is beyond torture, beyond ironic justice, beyond what words can describe: it just fucking hurts.

But then they reach his spinal cord and, like a city-wide power outage, his pain receptors begin to shut down, and then it's only the sounds of thousands of tiny mouths chewing. Until the insects turn their attention to his face, at least, being eaten alive isn't quite as bad as movies would lead him to believe. It's certainly slower, for one thing, and it lacks the nerve-wracking horror soundtrack, but perhaps that's for the better. The sounds he does hear are far from pleasant: squishing and crunching and gnawing and if he still had a stomach it'd probably be heaving by this point. He can see nothing but the dusty edge of darkness beneath his couch, but it's easy to imagine how gruesome he must look.

He's seen the results of this kind of thing with his own eyes, after all.

By the time they reach his head, they have already chewed through something vital in his chest and nowhere can he feel anything, any ache any pain any sadness any anger any loneliness and God is that an improvement. Consciousness fades to a dull spark somewhere in his increasingly exposed ribcage, perhaps somewhere just behind his collarbone, and he is hollowed out as rapidly as a properly upgraded power tool can scoop the mush out of a pumpkin. He is home to a colony of army ants, or a vast nest of ravenous, newborn spiders. That buzzing he hears could be the many vibrating wings of mating flies, or the first comb of a beehive being constructed among his bones. Certainly this is some species of insect that won't hesitate to swarm over a piece of meat—however stringy—before it has a chance to defend itself. Maybe it's even a school of land-bound piranha. He can imagine all sorts of culprits and has little trouble believing in all of them.

He wonders if honey from a human hive would be any good, but immediately discards the idea, revolted. He's practically thinking cannibalism here! Or, rather, self-cannibalism. Can a person self-cannibalize when they no longer have a digestive system? He'll have to try that sometime.

He wonders.

"Johnny?"

He blinks with magically undevoured eyelids, and is whole.

=

Sometimes, if he focuses hard enough, long enough, on these days when others flicker by in the mirrors, sometimes these flickers steady, become memorable faces, re-memorable people. And if memory serves, most of these people are dead.

The implications leave him with aching knuckles.

=

"I am not a monster."

"You just keep telling yourself that. Hey, maybe if you wish hard enough it might even come true one day!" Meat cackles and kicks his toothbrush into the toilet bowl.

"I wasn't always like this. I haven't always lived here. I haven't always been alone."

"How can you be so sure?”

Frustrated. Does he really have to state the obvious?

"No one is born knowing how to speak or read or write, or how to drive a car, or how to use money. Inherent knowledge is limited in humans. I may no longer have the memories of being taught, but the result is still the same. I know how to mix paints because I probably took classes in high school. I know how to use a camera, order dinner at a restaurant, do my own laundry, because someone else was there to teach me. Fuck, someone hated me enough to give me you."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who gave me to you?" Meat's smile tries to appear kind, yet it is condescending, as if it is speaking to a child. "It's a simple enough question, dear boy."

"I—you said it was a girl—that we—" He swears. "You know I don't remember."

"Who gave you an understanding of the English language? Where is the license that proves you once passed a test at the DMV?"

"I—"

"Can you prove that you did not simply read the directions in some art books, or on the camera's packaging, or in a Laundromat? Perhaps, on the same strange whim that made you steal some Styrofoam Pillsbury Doughboy figurines, you came across my body yourself?"

"You said—"

"I thought you didn't trust me."

His knuckles burn white.

"Well, Johnny?"

"You know I can't prove any of that."

Meat's eyes glitter with delight. "Then, dear Johnny, how can you be so sure?"

=

At the edge of a stage bright with colored lights, he curls his hands around a microphone and smiles. The audience—

so many eyes watching him, and yet he couldn't be more relaxed

—has hushed; yet their screams still ring in his ears. 

He is not alone on this stage.

He doesn't dare turn to see who is playing softly behind him, afraid it'll be people the mirrors have shown him that are alive in some other Johnny's life but dead dead dead in his. His heart pounds, and for once the ache in his throat feels good. This is all so wonderfully terrifying, sickeningly familiar. Has he dreamed this before?

He comes to a stop inches from the audience's reaching hands. Good God, he has them right in the palm of his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he breathes into the microphone, and every spark of life in this vast room is shining its light on him, and it is all so beautiful, so perfect, so alien. 

"What we have here is a moral conundrum."

=

"Bunny, I'm worried."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one. But really, there's so much to worry about. Please, elaborate for me."

"I haven't gone anywhere I might run the chance of killing someone in months. Just drive-thrus and that fully automated shopping center. Until recently, the only other people I've interacted with haven't bothered me or have been out of reach. It's only been these past couple weeks I've attempted anything more. Walking in parks, public transportation. You know."

"I know."

"What I can't figure out is how I ended up in that club at all."

The television is on, too low to be heard. In its pale blue glow, he carefully touches his chest, wincing when his fingers press against three tender circles: one on his sternum, another between his sixth and seventh ribs, and the last just beneath his ribcage. Tiny puckered scars ache in the center of each purple bruise.

"If I remember correctly, you recognized something who went inside and followed after."

"Why would—that doesn't sound like something I'd do."

"You stalked Devi for nearly a year."

He scowls. "Unnecessary, Bunny."

"Is it?"

He thumps his boots onto the coffee table and says nothing. Bunny presses on.

"It was a woman. Short hair, glasses, surprisingly compassionate to your… cause."

"Wait, do you mean that one woman with that shitty boyfriend I Tazered once? When I saw that movie—"

"Yes."

"Wow, really? I figured the Wall Monster got her after reality collapsed." He taps his chin thoughtfully. "What was her name? Did it start with a… a T?"

"Tess."

"Yeah!" He pauses. "She… recognized me first."

"Uh-huh."

"She practically ran into the building. They didn't even card her. She must have been a regular."

"Or she worked there."

"Or she worked there," he agrees. "That anyone could recognize me—" he trails off. A beat passes, and he continues on a different vein. "But what set me off? What caused me to break again, after I'd been doing so well?"

"That shouldn't be your chief concern, Johnny."

He looks at the disembodied rabbit head, little more than a skull now, and tiny and fragile-looking without it's maggot-riddled skin. "Oh?"

"You should be asking why you were sent back again."

=

Those other people in the mirror, those strangers, those friends, those dead bodies in motion, would sometimes pause beside his reflection. They smile, laugh; get mad and fight back and actually live; attack and be attacked; get scared and fight back and die. Some of it looks fun, some of it looks ridiculous. A lot of it scares him, more than he'd like to admit.

He wishes one of them would notice him.

His fingers touch glass.

#jthm #johnny the homicidal maniac #deadfic #my writing #if you know the comic then you know what kind of violence and fuckery to expect #otherwise good grief i apologize to anyone checking this out who doesn't know the source material and just likes my writing #i also dearly apologize for the lack of contractions #18 year old anthrop didn't know what the fuck she was doing