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idga-buck · 3 years

Text

Some and Others, 4/?

Bucky learns some things about his relationship and tries to clean up the mess he made.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3,300

Content: swearing, discussion of pregnancy, awkwardness, light allusion to dubcon?(No sexual content, but I’m including in case- if you have concerns about this, feel free to message me) also a fanfiction writer’s attempt to fill in the blanks regarding how the avengers make money and avoid plot holes. They’re a nonprofit now. Lawl.

Bucky stared dumbly at your apartment door, the sound of it slamming in his face still echoed in his mind. His lips flapped under the force of his exhale as he swallowed his pride and knocked again. To his surprise, you opened it quickly. Must have stayed by the door after closing.

“Can I try again?” He asked, leaning to the left and looking at your frown under the chain latch that kept him from seeing anything else.

“Is it mine?” You repeated back to him in a voice much lower than his own. If he wasn’t being mocked and you weren’t looking at him like the worst human on earth, he probably would have laughed.

Bucky lifted his hands and your eyes dropped to the four plastic packages in his fingers, then widened. He was a little proud of himself for remembering your excitement over the artisanal popsicle guy that pushed his little orange cart around the park by your apartment. Once the air shifted in springtime and the sun was out most days, you wouldn’t shut up about it. He didn’t really get it and half the flavors on the menu were fruits he’d never heard of let alone could imagine being paired up, but you loved them. Before the break up, you’d dragged him out to join you for one and playfully teased him for ordering a peach lemonade instead of something more exciting. He’d been more interested in getting out of the sun and using your sweet tongues and cold breaths for something more fun and less surrounded by people. Between the heat and his sorriest look, he hoped that the popsicles would help him get his foot in the door.

“What flavor?” You asked, eyes narrowed and on him again.

“One of everything,” Bucky assured you. He held them out as if allowing you to take one before pulling it back again, just as your hand rose to reach for one. “Please?”

The door closed in his face a second time. Becky’s jaw shifted forward in frustration, his bottom teeth tickling his upper lip, probably looking more like a bulldog than an Avenger as he chewed on nothing. His mouth slipped open at the sound of the chain sliding open and the door opened again. Third time’s the charm.

Your arm reached out to take one of the popsicles and walked away, leaving the door open behind you. “You can put the rest in the freezer,” you called back over the crinkling of your wrapper as you tore into it. It was a better invitation than Bucky had expected, so he took it. He closed and locked the door behind him before making his way into the kitchenette. Just before closing the tiny freezer door, he grabbed a bright magenta popsicle for himself. DragonPassionParty, the wooden stick read, and Bucky decided that he could use a bravery boost. Trying new fruits was a good first step before talking to you about the elephant in the room. Or rather in your belly.

“Hey!” You whined, noticing that he’d kept one for himself instead of saving all three for you.

“I’ll buy you more,” he answered automatically before shoving the top of the treat into his mouth and shrugged. DragonPassionParty was good.

Bucky joined you on your sofa, something that had been so normal just a few weeks ago was weird now. Both of you silently slurped on your popsicles, waiting for the other to say something first and break through the invisible barrier between you. Just like before, Bucky knew he should say something and failed to do so. His mother would be so disappointed. His sisters would smack him. If they could see him now, sitting on a sofa, tongue coated in sugar and dyed hot pink, while he stared at a wall to avoid speaking to the mother of his child… actually, even he’d smack any of his old buddies if they’d been that dumb.

“I wasn’t with anyone else,” you finally broke the silence. The braver person in the room showed themselves and Bucky wasn’t exactly surprised that it ended up being you.

“I didn’t think you had,” he admitted.

You scoffed at that, clearly unsatisfied with his response. “Then why ask? Why storm out and leave me alone for a life changing moment? Why show up FOUR DAYS later just to ask something so stupid?” Just when he thought your little outburst was done, you thought of another question. “Why bother showing up at all?”

Bucky winced and bit down on the wooden stick, pulling it between his teeth and clearing the rest of his dessert in one swipe. The ice melted on his tongue and he sucked it down slowly, watching you shake your head. You’d spun on the sofa, leaving half a cushion between your crossed legs and his spread thighs. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Well-“ you laughed, but not because the situation was funny.

“You said you were on something, so-“

“Hey,” you said sternly and Bucky’s eyes finally left the cushion between you to meet you head on. You pointed one finger and shoved it against your own sternum. “Woman with a uterus and birth control,” then your fist fell forward, finger now pointing directly at him, “Super soldier with super soldier spunk.” Your arms crossed after that. “Now we know which one is stronger. Shocker.”

“So…” Bucky debated asking, but it was a thought that came back to him over and over during the last few days. He already thought that you’d used him once… what was stopping him from thinking you’d do it again? Nothing. “You didn’t do this on purpose?” Your eyes widened comically, but your brows met in the middle of your face. Equal parts shocked and angered by what he was insinuating. In a moment of stupidity, he decided to lay it out plainly, thinking you’d respect him more for just coming clean about what had been bothering him. “Were you trying to get pregnant... to, you know... trap me?” Bucky frowned as it said it. It sounded even worse outloud. “Is it an Avenger thing? A money thing? I don’t have any…” he rambled on, watching your face fall open in disbelief. “I just need to know.”

“Fuck you.” Or not.

Your voice was different. Maybe because you were mad, but Bucky thought it was more than that. In months of being your boyfriend, he’d never experienced this side of you. You’d always been sweet to him, albeit a little pushy when it came to going out rather than hiding under the covers, but you were mostly a gentle presence. Something he’d kind of needed at the time. Now… you weren’t holding back and every time your eyes cut through his, his gut turned over.

“I should have come to see you sooner,” he admitted and by the look on your face, you were completely unimpressed by him. That was new too. “I had a lot to think about.”

Your hands fell down to your sides and you pushed yourself off the sofa before Bucky could finish his sentence. “Well, I have a lot to think about too.”

“That’s why I’m here, doll-“

“No thanks,” you stated simply. Bucky turned toward the back of the sofa, watching you move toward the door. He frowned when you stood next to it, looking rather expectant. When he didn’t move from his seat, you opened it for him. “I need you to leave, Bucky.”

He stood from his seat but not without arguing his case. He needed a few days to wrap his mind around the idea of a baby. The idea of YOU and a baby. The idea of HIM freshly fucked up and still trying to survive in a new world… having a baby. It was a lot and it was a lot to shoulder alone. Bucky avoided any conversations that turned toward himself. Steve didn't push it. Sam had definitely noticed, but also had a gift for filling silences without making him feel defective. Almost everyone else in the compound was so used to Bucky avoiding them anyways that it hadn’t been all that surprising when he suddenly closed up again.

Standing in your apartment, in the process of being kicked out, Bucky only just realized that you were in it too. He wasn’t technically alone, not if he didn’t want to be. You didn’t have to be alone either. That was the thought that should have put his ass on his bike and sent him here sooner.

He tried explaining himself, but you were over it, eyes flirting back and forth between his and the floor. The second he took a breath, you jumped in, seizing the moment for yourself.

“You can’t be here, Bucky. I have a lot going on and I need to figure out what I’m going to do.”

“That’s why I’m here, I can-“

“Whatever you think you can do, you can’t-“ you said sharply and fell back against the wall next to the door. With your head back, face turned up, you spoke to the ceiling instead of to him. “I told you, Bucky. I can’t say no to you.” He remembered you saying that before. It didn’t mean anything at the time. It was flirty, that’s all. But clearly, he’d missed what you were really saying. “You’re… I dunno. You’re larger than life and it’s my fault for getting caught up in it, but what was I supposed to do? Turn down the fucking Avenger in my bed?” Your voice sounded so small, so embarrassed as you spoke. It made Bucky want to throw up. Were you with him because you didn’t think you’d had a choice? Once he’d gotten it in his head that you were using him, he didn’t stop to question why he kept coming back. Why he’d come to you at all. Good sleep. Comfort. Escape. Some piece of his life that wasn’t under a microscope. Did he have it all backwards? Was he the one using you? “This isn’t-“ Bucky's eyes were drawn down to your hand, coming up to hold onto your stomach. It looked no different than it ever had. But it was. Everything was different. “I feel like everything is falling apart right now and I just… I can’t think about you, Bucky. If I think about you, I won’t think about anything else.”

“I didn’t-“

“It’s fine,” you sighed, pushing off from the wall and dropping your hand back to your side. Bucky’s eyes were still on your stomach as he fought the urge to replace your hand with his own. “I just need to figure out what comes next for me. I don’t know what to do about work or if I can stay in this apartment or how I’m going to tell my mother… oh my god, my mother…” you groaned.

“What’s happening with your job?” Bucky asked suddenly and he could see he’d caught you off guard, your mouth still open and your eyes deeply confused by his interest.

You blinked twice and he tipped his chin up, encouraging you along. “I was at work when those… things attacked,” you explained. “Our building was evacuated, which is where you, you know, showed up to save the day.”

Right. Bucky nodded, but he didn’t bother speaking this time. Just letting you fill in the details.

“My director was one of…” you paused and shook your head. “Well you saw what happened to her.”

The people that died. The people that died in front of you. Shit shit shit shi-

“Then some asshole with a bomb strapped to his back flew through the windows of the floor below our offices, or so they say. Everything caved in, it’s all lost. The video is all over the news, but I could only watch it once. He just soars right into it… it’s… fuck what’s wrong with people?”

You were getting choked up and Bucky stood there frozen, remembering the weight of the man’s body as he kicked it clear into a building across the way. Yours. Apparently.

Seeing that Bucky wasn’t really listening, you wiped your eyes and cleared your throat. “Some people are being transferred to new branches, I haven’t heard from anyone yet and Margo’s funeral is tomorrow and-”

“I’ll go,” Bucky interrupted and your mouth closed immediately. He watched your lips curl in over your teeth to bite them and your eyes drop back to the floor. He was going to say something else. Sorry, maybe. But when he reached up to touch your face, you flinched. His stomach dropped again. It was subtle, but clear as day to him.

So Bucky’s gentle outstretched hand curled into a fist and he left. Whatever help he thought he’d be able to offer was empty. You were pregnant. Potentially out of a job. You might be moving away all together and somehow all of that was his fault. He tried not to dwell on the possibility of never seeing you again, but when his mind did wander that direction, Bucky told himself that the idea of never knowing the only child he’d likely get was what soured his stomach. He ignored the way his disapproval started in his gut, but managed to flutter until into his chest, beating wings beneath his rib cage. It wasn’t like he’d miss you. He couldn’t. He’d only recently gotten away from you. That had been his choice and now, suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about it. Maybe because it was his choice. It was good practice to set his own boundaries and decide what parts of his life included other people. From what he remembered of the sparse therapy sessions, those things were important and the break up let him do that. This time, however, if you left it wouldn’t have been his choice and that didn’t sit well with him. You weren’t interested in his input at all and that scared him a bit. He hadn’t felt this useless in- well ever. Bucky vaguely wondered what his therapist would have said about that.

…

The Stark’s were in charge everywhere they went. It wasn’t really a competition. Tony still perceived a power struggle that didn’t exist between himself and Steve, but Bucky knew better than to say what he actually thought about that. He’d come between them too much as it was, so whenever the two were together, Bucky steered clear. He’d perfected his aboutface back in ‘43 and 80 years later, he found more use for it than ever.

Bucky heard their voices echoing down the hall and needed no serum’s aid for it. The recent attack was the only thing anyone could talk about. It was stressing out Wanda to no end and if Bucky could tell that, he wondered why the hell everyone insisted on continuing on about it. Any civilian casualties set the witch on edge. Being so close to home made these particular losses that much harder. The android, Vision, tried to explain Lagos. Bucky felt like he barely had a grasp on reality as it was and conversing with a metal man who could float through walls wasn’t good for his mental health, so that was a brief conversation. Bucky saw Wanda in one of the sitting rooms, android sitting next to her on a modular sofa as both listened to the other Stark. The blonde one that managed to keep Tony in check when no one else could. She tenderly touched Wanda’s knee before rising from her own seat and making her way toward the hall, where Bucky realized he’d been standing like a creep and watching them for too long.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted him with a warm smile, shifting a leather bag from her hand to her hip.

“Ma’am,” he nodded. She told him to call her Pepper, but he still preferred ‘ma’am’. “Everything okay?”

Pepper looked back at Wanda and Vision, leaning into each other on the sofa like the opening scene of a sitcom, but with somber looks on their faces. “I suppose it is weird to see me around the compound,” she mused before leaning in as if sharing a secret. “Stark tower is more my speed.” Bucky offered a tight smile and when his eyes drifted back into the sitting around, where the couple still hadn’t moved, Pepper spoke up again. “She’ll be fine, wants to make amends. I’d let someone help usually, but since the attack was in the city…” she must have noticed that Bucky’s expression changed. He stared hard, through her not really at her, and Pepper moved her head a bit trying to catch his eyes again.

Amends. Wanda wanted to make things right somehow. As far as he knew she couldn’t bring anyone back from the dead, hell maybe she could, Bucky didn’t know the extent of her powers, but still she wanted to help the ones who lived start to heal. Whatever that looked like. Pepper would help with that and maybe she could help him now that inspiration had struck.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked, suddenly, but hopefully. Pepper looked over his shoulder, then down to her phone. It was obvious she wanted to say no and Bucky was shocked when she didn’t. The Starks were very different people and he was glad to be talking with this one. Bucky escorted her down the halls and toward the hangar, so that she could leave whenever she needed to, sharing a bit of his needs all the way.

“I think I need a space… not here you know? A house or apartment, I don’t know. The compound is great, really, more than I expected honestly, but sometimes I just… I can’t breathe and I don’t have any money, but maybe-”

Pepper stopped walking and held up a hand. Bucky shut up and was glad to, feeling like he was going nowhere with his awkward request. Her smile really was kind and it prompted him to take a breath. “Stark has some real estate holdings, investment properties, I’ll set you up with one of the property managers.” She made it sound so easy. It made Bucky nervous.

“I’ll need a job or something to pay for it, can-”

Pepper stopped him again. “Tony was supposed to talk to you about this.”

Bucky sensed that blaming her husband wasn’t his wisest option, so he smiled meekly. “I might not have been listening.”

She hummed, frowning a bit as if she knew he wasn’t telling the truth, but continued on, seemingly unbothered. “You are not a Stark employee, Sergeant Barnes-”

“Bucky,” he corrected reflexively, but quietly.

Pepper smiled, her shoulders lifting quickly in silent amusement. “Bucky…” she started again. “It’s a conflict of interest. After the mess over the accords, it was decided that no entity should have, for lack of a better word, control over the Avengers.” Bucky couldn’t agree more. “What used to be an initiative of S.H.I.E.L.D. is now a 501(c)3, accepting benevolent donations, but no strings. We use a fiscal intermediary, yearly audits…” Pepper rolled her eyes off to the side. “You don’t care about all that, I’m sure, so I’ll keep it simple. You have money, Ser-” she stopped herself. “Bucky. Many people believe that you put more good into the world than bad and they want to support that.” Bucky swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure about all that…

“Is there… is there anyway we could keep this between us?” Pepper frowned at his request and Bucky coughed. “The whole point of a place is privacy… no offense, but if your husband knows…”

Pepper smiled, but checked her phone one more time. “I understand. He can find out lots, but I won’t give him any reasons to go looking. How about that?” Bucky thanked her and didn’t follow when she started walking again. “I’ll be in touch,” she promised and he waved awkwardly as she pushed her way through tall glass doors, leaving him and the compound behind.

Tags are always open: @fangirl-swagg @learisa @urbankaite2 @intothesoul

#idga fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #some and others

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xxbakacoconutxx · 4 years

Video

youtube

So here’s a nice little interview with Tobias where he talks about Copia, changing characters, the three times Papa III fell, a common nightmare, horror movies with his kids and horror movies in general. The volume is pretty low, so I’ve typed everything out below the read more!

Nudge: This is Nudge on the bus here with Tobias Forge. It is an honor to be here, sir. Thank you for creating an entire universe with your music.

Tobias: Thank you for enjoying it. [laughs]

Nudge: I’ve enjoyed it from the very start. Now, I wanna start out in the – Cardinal Copia… Your backstory with him, he won the most employee of the month awards from Papa Nihil. What kind of crazy stuff did he have to do for that?

Tobias: Uhhm…. For my well-being, I’m actually quite happy that I don’t know.

[Someone in the background laughs]

Tobias: I don’t want to think about whatever chores there are within the ministry that adds up to employee of the month. I don’t know exactly.

Nudge: You don’t know? But that’s alright.

[Someone in the background says “but I’m sure it’s hard work”]

Nudge: Speaking of hard, when you transition to another singer with Ghost, is it hard to say goodbye to that particular character? That front man?

Tobias: Uhm… I usually feel a bit ambivalent about that segment of… you know it’s always enthusias- like I’m always enthusiastic about making a new record, and also very very pumped about having a new release as much as any artist, I guess, and from a creative point of view, it’s always refreshing. And it’s exciting, but that bit is definitely putting a limiter on that excitement, unfortunately. But I’ve learned over the years, of doing it a couple times, that it’s just part of the program and uh….yeah. [laughs]

Nudge: Now Cardinal Copia is sticking around for a second album. At one point, he was called an imposter. Do you still feel he’s an imposter, or has he proved himself?

Tobias: I think he’s fine, I mean I think he’s cool. I would love- like also from the previous questions asked- to do it that way. [laughs] Because then that means you don’t have to change that much. But still, it’s like, also like reconfiguring the look of the band is also like a…it’s a hard thing to um… Imagine if your … it’s almost to the point where - if you’ve had a long, big beard and long hair for a long time and all of a sudden you shave everything off, it takes time to sort of like adjust to that because you have, you know, this picture in your head of what you’re doing and… but throughout all these years of doing Ghost it is a sort of a schizophrenic experience just because you are so distant. Me, personally, my own vision of myself does not correlate with what I see on a picture of us playing last night. It’s like this completely different being. So, adding to that is like when you’ve done the first few shows of a tour cycle and with a new costume and with the new look of the band it always feels a little bit like “ok, so this is what we are now?” [laughs] You know, it’s always a little strange.

Nudge: With new costumes, it’s been rumored that Cardinal Copia is still working hard at becoming a Papa. Are you excited for that movement? And getting promoted?

Tobias: Um, potentially yeah. Yeah, yeah I’m very curious to see where we’re going as well.

Nudge: what does he have to do to get promoted?

Tobias: [in a funny voice] oh, meters and meters of – [regular voice] no! [laughs] Uh, I dunno. Hard work and… that’s what it is. Hard work, and don’t fuck up.

[Someone laughs in the background]

Nudge: Has he fucked up in your opinion? On these last legs of the tour?

Tobias: No, I mean, I mean even compared to his brother in the past… uhm, no his brother- that was the previous guy… uh [laughs nervously] compared to the previous dudes, Cardi has not - so far - fallen off stage, which is a good thing.

[Someone is the background says “Oh I remember that video. Did that hurt?”]

Tobias: I-I wouldn’t know!

Nudge: He didn’t complain?

Tobias: He felt - like, Papa III fell three times. Three times was… like- hard. Like I remember there was one time at a festival in LA and that wasn’t very- it wasn’t involved with pain, but it was one of those where the air almost like [makes a coughing/wheezing noise]. And uh, the one on the Iron Maiden show where he fell into a hole on stage- or technically it was in between the two sort of thrusts – that could have ended very badly. Because it was a jack in the leg and would have been a jack in the back of the head hadn’t it been for the extra padding. So that could’ve ended very, very badly. And what else was it…?

Nudge: It was impressive that he went on and didn’t miss a beat after he got back up.

Tobias: Right, well we were lucky because we were doing it in between Mummy Dust and Monstrance Clock so there was the speech thing in between and had it been like just a dry start into the next song it would have been probably not doable. I had sit down and I was sitting on the edge of the stage just like “my god”, just feeling - like touching my leg and it was all numb and I could feel that it was all messed up underneath and it was bloody, and… and um, you know when you injure yourself sometimes you feel so nauseous? [Person in background says “yeah”] You’re about to- you know I was almost hurling like [makes pained noise] and you feel all shook up.

And the third time was in Leeds, of all places. We have these ego risers, which is basically just a box on stage - on the edge of the stage - with a little bit of grating on and then underneath you have like pyro and things that sort of- lights and stuff. But you can jump up on it, and we do that all the time, and this was a night like any other so we do that little bounce and you land with two feet on that box. But one foot was outside the box, so I just went like, almost head first down into the pit. And I sort of landed on all fours, sort of like a cat like [makes a “kch” sound] but I sort of hit my head on the mojo fence. Because you know, the barrier has like one um, sort like leg that it’s resting... um what do you call it… angular to sort of support the crowd. So, landing on all fours like that, but then hit my head right on the, on that little leg there.

Nudge: Speaking of horror stories, is there any mask horror stories? I find it impressive that performers wear a mask and go through all that. Is there one where it almost fell off or you lost it?

Tobias: oh, I thought you said whores- [laughs] no, no. Um, horror stories… well, I mean the most terrifying things that I usually dream about, which is a nightmare – which I know several others in the band also have, and I think it comes sort of with the fact that, I think most entertainers that are due to stand on stage at a certain time and prepare to do something dream this, it’s like – every now and then I dream that we’re sort of circling up before the show and we’re like “alright, go!” and everybody runs up to their positions and then you notice that you’re standing there in your civil clothing like “…no!” [laughs] uhm, but other than that, like…. Yeah, sneezing in it is not very cool.

[Someone in the background laughs]

Tobias: I’ve done that a couple times.

Nudge: [laughs] It’s trapped in it

Tobias: Yeah, yeah.

Nudge: Let’s go to the family side of you. You don’t get a lot of time at home, so I’d like to know: when you’re home what kind of family fun activities do you enjoy?

Tobias: One thing that I enjoy now which I’ve been waiting for, for years- I’ve always been, I mean, I come from a very liberal home, we’ve always been very… you know, my mom was very…allowing? And I had an older brother so I saw a lot of things that I maybe shouldn’t have seen. And many, many, many nights… mom sleeping on the couch and I’m seeing late night films with her sort of just sleeping next to me. And that could’ve been anything, like Scarface, Alien, you name it. Like all those things, when I was like 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. Um, Shining. So my relationship to a lot of these films are very, very- I connect it with my childhood, like I connect it with so many nostalgic things… And I guess I was a little quick sometimes with my kids, like “Yeah, Temple of Doom, sure” like, and it-

[Someone in the background says “yeah, see a heart get ripped out!”]

Tobias: Yeah, and basically that scene was just like… caused like, a negative effect and like… “What’s…? This is like a matinee Lucas/Spielberg film…?”

[Someone in the background says “Rated PG!”]

Tobias: Yeah, yeah, like, totally fine! But now they’re 10 and my son has been - started to show real interest in horror films. He’s like really into Chucky and Child’s Play and you know, he wants to see Friday the 13th and like, “I’m game!”

[Someone in the background says “Oh yeah!”]

Nudge: you have to take him to see the new Child’s Play movie that’s coming out.

Tobias: Yeah that’s the one that we haven’t seen.

[Someone in the background “It’s coming out in a few months I think. There’s a new trailer for it.”]

Tobias: Yeah, I hope it’s as humoristic as the other ones. But most films that’re being remade, they have a tendency to completely not be charming anymore and they’re just like filled with jump-scares and it’s just horrible from first to last second. And that’s not really cool. I mean, all the horror films that I love are sort of very well balanced where there are segments of just transportation. So they’re just, you know there’s just better pacing in the old film.

Nudge: Alright, final question: what is your favorite horror film? Or a couple?

Tobias: My favorite ones… if I’m just going for like, for pure quality, it’s definitely the big cinematic releases like Jaws, Silence of the Lambs, Shining, Omen, The Exorcist, like the real films done by directors who don’t normally do horror films because that tends to get better that way. But on the other hand, I’m a big fan - from an entertainment point of view - of the more specialized like, genre directors. But those films have a lot of other qualities. It’s not techn- they’re not necessarily like, the best films.

[Someone in the background says “Mmhmm, like B movies”]

Tobias: Right! Yeah, yeah, yeah. That I really enjoy. Um, but yeah I mean I like a lot of the Italian like- old- like Fulci, like stuff like that. And not throwing him under the bus in any way, I think a lot of his films are fantastic, but they do not compare to Kubrick. It’s like a completely different level. So I sort of differentiate between like, here you have the “A grade”, big cinematic, fuckin box office success films, and then you have all of the cult films. They’re sort of two different things. And a lot of the things I grew up watching as well, that I have like a very fond memory of seeing, that I used to obsess about when I was a kid as well, like Friday the 13th and Texas Chainsaw Massacre is obviously – obviously that’s, even though it’s not a huge budget film, that is obviously very good. I think Terror - we say Terror in Sweden because it’s called Terror on Elm Street - but Nightmare on Elm Street, the whole Freddie series – especially the first four… three…. four films - I’d say is really cool. Every time I’m in LA I always swing by that, the house that’s on Genesee Street just because it’s like “there it is!”

[Someone in the background chuckles]

Nudge: Well I appreciate the time, man. Thank you so much for what you do. I appreciate it, and have a good show tonight.

#Tobias Forge #Cardinal Copia #Ghost #The Band Ghost

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devotedwaywardangel1 · 4 years

Text

Dust turns to Gold

Sam Wilson x Female Reader

Fandom: MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Word Count: 1489

Warnings: PTSD, Night Terrors

Tagged: @princessmisery666

A/N: Will post request rules later on

~~~~~

(Y/n), Bucky and Sam were in the dining room setting up take out boxes for everyone since Friday was family night. Bucky called everyone saying dinner is ready and everyone started to filter in. Scott, Peter, May, Wanda, even Pepper and Morgan came by to visit. Taking a seat between Sam and Peter, both of which started helping themselves to pizza. It had been a year since everyone returned from the snap and life was starting to get back to normal, only (Y/n), Cassie and Pepper weren’t dusted during the snap. If (Y/n) were honest with herself she started having nightmares since they all came back. Before (Y/n) could get lost inside of their own head Morgan started to ask questions. “(Y/n) how do your powers work?”

“Well I’m really fast and that means my brain works super fast so I can do things that would take ages for everyone else and finish it super fast.” (Y/n) smiles sweetly at her.

“Cool! How fast can you go?” Peter mumbled with food in his mouth.

They group heard a light whack that came from May hitting Peter on the back of the head for talking with his mouthful. Laughing (Y/n) answered “I don’t know exactly but I have broken the sound barrier before, the pirate king was not impressed.”

“So hypothetically, what would happen if you had six cans of redbull?” Harley asked across from you.

“I dunno but it sounds like a neat science experiment to me.”

Pepper gave her a look that said ‘don’t you dare’ and (Y/n) gulped and offered a look of innocence. Everyone laughed, but Sam’s laugh stood out to them. She loved that laugh, always had and always will. He nudged her shoulder and looked down at her, smiling and catching their gaze. (Y/n)’s cheeks flushed slightly and she looked away. Unbeknownst to (Y/n), Sam turned away nervously as well. Dinner carried on as usual until Morgan asked if we could watch a movie. Everyone agreed to let her pick the movie and she ended up choosing Big Hero 6.

Once the adults cleared up the dining room they meet the others who were waiting on one of the sofas, Morgan being snuggled between Peter and Harley, Cassie waiting for Hope and Scott on one of the sofas, Pepper and May took an armchair for themselves, Bucky took a beanbag chair, leaving Sam and (Y/n) with the love seat. Sam swore that the others had planned this but complied nevertheless. Taking a seat next to them barely touching her arm she leaned into the touch, before the snap this was not the way she would behaved normally a well guarded person but the five years after the snap had left her touch-starved. It wasn’t exactly a secret that she more often than not sought out Sam for this. But this left her insecure, what if he didn’t want this kind of affection from her, so to go around this she subtly got Sam to initiate the contact so it would always be on his terms. So she tried not to lean into the touch but she did and almost pulled away until Sam moved his arm to wrap it around her pulling her into his side. She blushed lightly but smiled nonetheless.

The film began playing Morgan shushing everyone so it was quiet and they lost Scott when Tadashi died… he was almost bawling Hope and Cassie hand tissues in hand. Then Wanda was gone during the “Tadashi is here” scene. But mostly the group were silent until the credits started to play and chatter among the group Hope and Scott saying their goodbyes as they had to take Cassie home to her mother. Pepper gathered a sleeping Morgan up in her arms, to go home say her quiet goodbyes. Harley grabs Peter’s hand guiding him to his room, May smiles at the two boys fondly. (Y/n) moved off Sam regretting it immediately as the loss of warmth and safety that came with being wrapped in his arms. Wanda, Bucky and May left to go to their rooms, leaving Sam and (Y/n) to clean up. Luckily it was a quiet movie night, no food fights and super speed naturally helps. So it was done in under a minute. “I love being fast.”

“It's handy and amusing.” Sam laughed lightly.

“No doubt but we should get a good night's sleep.” (y/n) yawned, sticking her tongue out slightly.

Sam smiled at her, he found the way she yawned adorable. It was one of many quirks he found cute like the way she tried to huff her hair away from her face or the way she scrunch up her nose when she was frustrated. Pushing all of that aside to answer her. “Yeah I’ll see you in the morning.”

They parted, going in opposite directions, shoulders sagged as their distance grew greater neither daring to look back.

(Y/n) got into her room and sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. Looking around her room a picture caught her eye. It was of the original Avengers and Loki in cuffs, the first battle as a team. A nostalgic smile came across her lips as she changed into tartan pj’s slipping under the covers and slipping into sleep.

She woke up in Wakanda, Thanos in front of her with the gauntlet with all six infinity stones, so without hesitation she sped forwards but he seemed to get further and further away from her but she kept running. Tears streamed down her face as Thanos just smiled and his fingers snapped, (Y/n) stopped dead in her tracks as people started to turn into dust. They were screaming for her help but she could not do anything. First to go was Wanda, she gasped for air as she disappeared. Second was Peter, he screamed her name in pain and brokenness. Next was Bucky, the look in his eyes was of pure betrayal (Y/n) promised Steve that she’ll watch out for him, she failed them in that moment. Finally she saw Sam rushing towards him catching him as he fell, laying him gently on the dry yellow grass. “Why weren’t you fast enough?”

“Sam… I…”

“You could have saved us, you could have…”

He disappeared into nothingness.

She woke up gasping and tear-stained, she got out of her bed and ran to check on everyone without even thinking about it, also checking on Morgan and Pepper in their cabin. Once she was sure everyone was alive and well, she made herself a coffee, decafe. Checking the time it was only half two in the morning, (Y/n) groaned, deciding to walk to Sam’s room to check on him again. But this time there was no rush so she walked over after finishing her coffee.

Before she knew it she was standing in front of Sam’s bedroom door, contemplating knocking or something. The decision was already made for her as the door opened, revealing Sam looking tired. He looked startled mirroring (Y/n)’s expression, since she was frozen in place trembling slightly from being caught. Sam reached out to her, “(Y/n) are you okay?”

She looked down at her feet and whispered. “I had a nightmare and just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Sam lifted her head up to look into her eyes, which were welling up with tears and a whimper escaped her lips. With that Sam pulled her into a bone-crushing hug and let her sob. Burying her head in the crook of his neck. They stayed like that for a few minutes until (Y/n) had calmed down. Taking her hand softly guiding her into his room and sitting her down on his bed, he went to grab tissues and turned the bedside lamp on. Offering her a tissue he asked, “would you like to talk about it?”

“It was the snap.” She shivered.

“Anything else?”

“You died in my arms and said ‘you could have saved us’ then turned to dust.”

“I never blamed you or anyone for Thanos winning and we just weren’t strong enough.”

“I know but dreams like this had been going on for the last year or so.” (Y/n) sighed defeated.

“That explains a few things.” Sam pondered.

She tensed slightly. “Like what?”

“You’ve been wanting more physical affection and mostly from me.”

“It’s not just that.”

“I feel the same way.”

(Y/n)’s head snapped up to look at Sam and he backtracked. “Shit was I reading into that wrong, I’m-”

She cut him off with a soft kiss, underlined with fear of rejection. Her heart soared when he kissed back, placing a hand on her cheek while placing her hand on the back of his neck. They broke apart smiling their hearts feeling as if they were twenty-four karat gold.

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lokidiabolus · 4 years

Text

The Deal - Chapter 3

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Holy shit, this took long, and should probably take longer but I'm just itching to get all this out of my system, so here it is. Also realized Alastor’s gloves are not fucking black and red lmao, but burgundy, fuuuck. Changed it.

Unbetad!

2020, January 18th

“What did ya think I’d say to a dead deer in my living room?!” Anthony almost fell out of the window for how far out from his flat he was leaning, trying to get rid of the corpse stench that assaulted his senses. “Is it some kind of fuckin’ peace offering? Like sorry, I fucked up, here’s a dead deer?!”

“A deer for my dear~,” Alastor singsonged in response while happily cutting vegetable at the kitchen counter, as if there was no stinky corpse in the flat, bloody and so, so dead.

“No, fuck you,” Anthony growled back into the flat, not bothering to turn even a little. “I hate you.”

“Now, now, cher, lyin’s bad for your health.”

“You are bad for my health!” he turned to the demon with an accusatory finger pointed at his face, and then made a retching noise when the smell of blood reached his nostrils. His hangover state couldn’t handle the smallest deviation from normal and corpses were definitely not in top 1000 of smells he was used to. Alastor didn’t even raise an eyebrow, he just calmly continued his ministrations as if he just didn’t carve the poor deceased animal right in the very room. Wasn’t it some sort of cannibalism if he would eat anything made from that thing? A deer eating another deer? Was that even allowed?

“Dat might be tru,” the demon agreed after a moment of pondering. “Demons are rarely good fer people.”

“Ugh,” Anthony sagged against the windowsill and the icy wind blew snowflakes into his face. “Seriously, why did ya even bring this thing. Where did ya even get it? A whole fuckin’ deer…”

“Hunted it down,” Alastor shrugged and walked towards the sink where the meat was resting pitifully (in Anthony’s opinion), portioned, but also skinned with surprising skill, not elaborating on the hunting part like it was his favourite hobby and not worth questioning. “It’s our weekend. Wanted to cook for you.”

Our weekend sounded sweet. Anthony wanted to be wary of that, but he was just a human and he liked it despite the possible danger lying in those words. After all that went down, it was apparent Alastor saw him as something akin to a pet project, a “unfuck this guy before he dies” sort of challenge, if his I’m going to fix you eventually speech was sincere. Who knew if anything about this person was sincere in general, but making dumb life decisions was Anthony’s forte so maybe he was inclined to believe the demon anyway.

“’K,” he huffed, his stomach finally calming down and he started to get chilly. “Just… tell me when yer done with the raw meat shit. The tequila is not agreeing with me otherwise.”

There was no answer until after several minutes he felt a hand touching his lower back and a body leaning against him to join him at the window.

“Aren’t you cold ‘ere?” Alastor asked as if he just didn’t squeeze in with him at the window and his warmth was a stark contrast with the chilly wind blowing outside.

“Well, not anymore,” he forced himself to remain on spot and not lean into the contact, more out of spite than anything else, but Alastor did it for him, hugging him from the side.

Hugging… him, what?

He must have felt the rigidness of Anthony’s body, there was no way he would not. Sure, they talked about hugs, but Alastor never looked like he was going to act on it anytime soon, and this was definitely soon as fuck.

“Meat is boilin’ and I put rest in da fridge,” Alastor’s voice was so, so close.

“I have a dead deer in my fridge now?” the human faked a reprimanding tone and the arm around him tightened and he felt Alastor nuzzling his hair. Oh. He wasn’t lying when he said he and his shadow are one person, because this felt familiar – only much warmer.

“Oi,” he nudged the man. “If ya feel like huggin’, I want a proper hug.” And took a step back and opened his arms.

Alastor hummed… and went back to the kitchen counter.

“Don’t push your luck, cher,” he said instead, like he didn’t just leave Anthony hanging, probably also out of spite. “How ‘bout you peel potatoes instead?”

“Wow,” Anthony let his arms drop down. “Just wow.”

He helped with the potatoes anyway and tried ridiculously hard to ignore the fact Alastor’s Bambi tail was wagging all this time.

***

2020, February 13th

“I have a request.”

“Only one this time?”

Anthony refused to feel offended by that. Alastor had been bitchy for a week now, probably had to do something with Hell fucking with his control kink, but it usually only made him snarkier, rather than hostile. Anthony wouldn’t probably even notice if the demon didn’t snap on Wednesday and Anthony’s living room suddenly resembled a boutique with at least fifty racks of clothes haphazardly appearing where was still free space, making Anthony stare at it like a child during Christmas. It wasn’t a bad “snap” Alastor had, actually seemed like a nice gesture until he said: Now be a good boy, Anthony, pick something nice and be quiet. If I hear one more word from you, one of those jackets is going to strangle you to death. So, Anthony shut up and Alastor eventually calmed down enough to allow him to speak again without the static going haywire (and he also let him keep the clothes, ayyy).

State Alastor was in also meant no touching policy. Anthony taught himself not to initiate anything unless in bed about a month ago already but still sometimes slipped when Alastor was too close – and it usually didn’t rouse a bad reaction (unless it was about the tail. Or the ears), but if Anthony tried it when the static was loud and grating, he’d risk a limb. He didn’t have a problem to keep his distance at that point and Alastor seemed to appreciate it.

But now it sucked.

“Ya know, tomorrow is the 14th,” the human pointed out, sitting sprawled in the comfy oversized cushion he bought himself two weeks ago and at which Alastor scoffed for some reason. It was the best thing to laze in ever, the demon had no taste. “And ya know.”

“I am not sure what I should know on the 14th,” the demon uttered, his red eyes not leaving a page of his book for a second. He was seated on the couch with enough distance between two of them that could be still considered social and as hanging out instead of we had an argument so we’re not talking to each other, which was technically not true. They didn’t argue since the tequila fiasco and that cleared up anyway. This was mostly just… precaution.

“Well, I know this is your last day this week,” Anthony tried different approach and sat more properly on the cushion. Not that it helped much, since he was sporting a pink crop top hoodie and booty shorts and Alastor already expressed certain distaste for it, but didn’t demand him to go change, so it was at least a small victory.

“Indeed, it is,” Alastor responded primly, turning a page in slow pace, like a snob he was sometimes. Another thing about the bitchy state of his was the speech. He never let it slip like he usually did when they were together, just talked like a radio all the time like he was keeping his barriers up almost hysterically. Anthony didn’t question it, but he sure did miss his Cajun accent a lot. It felt much warmer and softer than the radio show host persona Alastor normally presented, although it was probably just his form of coping.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, bracing for inevitable refusal that was going to meet his demand. He knew Alastor well enough to distinguish when he was not going to be swayed, and it definitely reached that point. “Just wondered if maybe you’d stay one more day.”

“I am quite busy, dear,” Alastor responded as Anthony thought he would. “You could have planned it a week prior if you knew 14th was an important date.”

It was like talking to a computer at this point. Please leave a message, beep.

“Ya, I could have,” Anthony admitted and let it go. It wasn’t like Valentine’s Day was something special for either of them. Or, honestly, meant anything to their relationship. Maybe there was some Deal day in hell’s calendar they could open bottle of wine to down the year eventually.

A sigh and Alastor was putting his book down, his smile rather strained.

Uh oh.

“Anthony,” there was the Name CallingTM, “if you have something to say, say it.”

“Nothin’,” the human shrugged while sagging back into the cushion. “Three days are up.”

It was the weekend-less week now too and Anthony knew Alastor was itching to get back to hell to deal with whatever was needing his attention and he sort of thought of telling him if he really needed to go, he could, despite the deal saying otherwise, but was selfish and never did.

“I am not going to repeat myself,” the static rumbled more, meaning the bitching mode intensified and Anthony groaned. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“It’s just Valentine’s Day, ‘s all,” he mumbled and right the moment the sentence left his mouth, he would shoot himself if he could, because even to his ears it sounded so… cringy. Like he was expecting Alastor to bring him flowers and have dinner together with candles and all that bullshit they do in the movies. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Actually. Forget it. I dunno why I even thought about it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Lover’s day,” Alastor didn’t forget it. Oh no.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it that way, honest,” Anthony quickly assured him, and really wished Alastor would just shrug it off and return to his book like love never interested him. Since it never did. He was such an anti-intimate and anti-sexual person Anthony suspected him of really being just a little alien in a robotic body, like in Men in Black.

“Then what did you mean by asking me to stay on the Lover’s day?”

Oh yeah, okay, bastard mode activated now as well. Just keen on marinating Anthony in his own sweat and tears from the obvious mistake. Classic Alastor.

“Nothin’,” he piped defensively.

“Nothing would not make you ask me to stay one more day on Lover’s day,” Alastor was staring at him like a laser now, just burning through his skull. He was obviously super into making Anthony squirm in self-pity from his bad life decisions.

“Please, forget I asked.”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaase.”

“No.”

And that was it. That was the end. That was Anthony herded into an imaginary corner with nowhere to go, and Alastor was already turning towards him, and he couldn’t say if the smile was mischievous or angry. Lately the border between those was thin as fuck.

“I just thought a company on the most depressing day of the fuckin’ year would be nice, is all,” he gritted his teeth under Alastor’s red-eyed stare. “Like. We could watch some chic-flics on TV and drink wine and laugh at it, I don’t know.”

“You know how I feel about the picture show shenanigans,” Alastor shot right back, as expected. He learned to more or less tolerate when Anthony wanted to watch something on TV in his presence, but he never joined him for it like a goddamn boomer.

“Ye, see. So, it was doomed from the start anyway!” He hoped it was the end of it. Sure, he might have thought about some cuddles here and there too, since that was what they were supposed to do anyway, but the main plan was not to be alone while hating on all the hearts and roses and happy couples showed everywhere.

“It would seem so,” Alastor finally let him off the hook and opened his book again, the static diminishing slightly. “You can still drink wine though.”

“I plan to,” the human mumbled more to himself than to his companion and was just glad he didn’t need to go to work on that wretched day, or Alastor would find him in hell the very evening.

***

2020, February 14th

He’d be lying if he didn’t have at least the smallest hope of Alastor appearing out of thin air with one of the soft smiles he could do and with his Cajun accent telling him he changed his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone on such awful, overrated cash-grabbing day like this. It was probably 1 % chance of it happening, but he still felt a little disappointed when the clock showed a bit before midnight and Alastor didn’t show up at all, not even saying hi over the radio or sending Junior to give him few comforting nuzzles (Anthony was suspecting him he kept his shadow on short leash since the tequila incident and it was kind of sad).

He was switching between channels with a small frown two wine bottles later, but at least he managed to survive this shitty day without burying his face in PCP. He’d have to leave the house for it and the image of seeing happy hand holding couples on his way would kill the urge anyway.

Once Titanic started to play, Anthony decided it was enough suffering for one day and turned the TV off with a groan. Maybe Alastor knew exactly what kind of boredom the TV was, if not playing shitty movies, then filling majority of its broadcast with ads, and that’s why he avoided it.

He dragged his body to the bathroom and then to the bedroom to cuddle his body pillow instead of Alastor (not the same, but at least he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night anymore feeling cold and alone), and stopped dead in the tracks, staring at his bed.

There was a rose on his pillow – a red, beautiful rose just lying there like it was no biggie, and Anthony was afraid to blink in fear it would disappear. He padded closer, staring at the flower, and then turned quickly, searching the shadows for any sign of Junior hanging around, ready to pounce. He found nothing, the flat was silent and dark, and the rose was still on the pillow when he turned back.

“Al, you fuckin’ softie,” he chuckled to himself, picking the rose with a smile playing on his lips, just to hiss immediately after when a thorn bit into his thumb, drawing blood. Of course the demon would leave all the thorns intact, if not even adding more, just to show him he’s not as soft as Anthony would think.

“Classic Alastor,” he shook his head and brought the rose to his lips. “Thank you.”

He missed the shadow slithering out of the room and disappearing in the radio softly buzzing in the kitchen.

***

2020, July 25th

“Jazz club?”

“I’m in a mood for some good live music,” Alastor opened another wardrobe in the bedroom and raked through the clothes on hangers, mostly scoffing in distaste. It was Saturday evening and the night was warm and lively, inviting them out. “Do you actually own anything presentable or is it all just random bright coloured horrors?”

“Excuse me,” Anthony pushed him to the side from the wardrobe opening and dived in himself, pulling out a pastel blue shirt with stitched flowers on its lapels. “I only have the nicest-,”

“Denied,” Alastor snatched it from his hand and threw it on the bed. “Try again.”

Anthony huffed but grabbed another of his favourite pieces, an old-pink V neck he couldn’t even properly present before Alastor was taking it out of his hold and throwing it on the bed too.

“Yer such a prude sometimes, holy shit,” he rolled his eyes. “What the fuck ya want me to wear then?”

“Something dashing, of course,” the demon eyed the closet one more time and then closed it with a scoff. “And something red too.”

So we match was left unsaid.

“Maybe you should try pink instead,” Anthony smirked but honestly it was better if Alastor never attempted that one. Red and black were his colours like an ingrained order of the world, any deviation from it would probably make it collapse.

He wasn’t surprised Alastor didn’t react. Instead the demon left the bedroom and Anthony followed him while thinking.

“I can wear a dress,” Anthony offered after a moment. “Like. Those nice jazzy cocktail dresses and feathers in hair in a pearl headdress. And do nice make up.”

“A dress?” Alastor repeated. “Do you own any?”

“Yeah, plenty,” the human shrugged. “Often from work, though it was other bar I worked in before. Most of the guys were in a drag, they taught me how to do my own make up and how to style the hair. Really enjoyed that place, too bad they closed it down once the owner shot himself cuz of his debts.”

“Unfortunate,” Alastor commented with a nod. “Though I do recall you were saying the bar you work in now have the costume events too. Are dresses part of it as well?”

“Anything goes,” Anthony shrugged. “Dresses, skimpy body suits, fishnets, business wear. It’s usually themed with the drinks and the food.” He didn’t miss Alastor’s eye roll when he mentioned the skimpy body suits, but at least Al didn’t comment on it.

“I suppose guests enjoy that kind of show,” Alastor said matter-of-factly and Anthony decided not to elaborate. Going to work no longer made him feel at ease, it was mostly automatic. He just shut down all of the negativity, did the work, slapped grabby hands and went home. It more or less kept him out of trouble so far.

“So? Want me to doll up?” he leered at the demon between the doors. “I even have a red dress that might be just what you’d like.”

Alastor looked curious, that was a good sign. It had been few years since Anthony dressed up like this, but it could be a nice change of pace and a treat for his favourite demon who might not have about any interest in intimacy but could get very appreciative when he saw something he liked.

“Please,” the static dropped from Alastor’s voice. “Surprise me, cher.”

Anthony beamed and disappeared in the bedroom.

***

“Grandma,” Anthony walked into the living room in high heels, a fluffy coat covering his body all the way to his knees. He immediately drew Alastor’s attention and saw his eyebrows shooting up. Before he could open his mouth and ask probably why the hell was Anthony wearing a winter coat in the middle of summer, the human dramatically threw the coat down, so it pooled around his feet and struck a pose. “It’s me! Anastasia!”

Cue for the laugh, though Alastor just remained staring without a single word and Anthony cackled and kicked the coat away back into the bedroom without bothering to put it on a hanger.

“Forgot ya don’t watch TV, joke’s lost on ya,” he commented dryly and walked closer, the heels clicking against the wooden floor rhythmically. Alastor still stared but reached out towards him, so Anthony put a hand into his and their fingers intertwined.

“Ya like?” he cocked his head to the side and Alastor actually beamed at him, his eyes raking appreciatively over the setup the human presented – deep red flapper dress with long, pearl necklace tied on his chest into a knot, with fishnets and open black heels, and long black gloves reaching just above his elbow. The red and black eyeshadow with perfect eyeliner took some time, but Anthony was proud of the result and judging from Alastor’s pleased expression it was worth the wait. He styled his hair into 20’s fashion (thanks google) and the only thing he was missing was the headdress and the feather, but he imagined it wouldn’t be a problem for Alastor if he asked for it.

“Vous êtes absolument époustouflant,” the fluent French came out and even though Anthony had no idea what it meant, he believed it was a compliment. At least the tone sounded like it was.

“Hehe,” he let Alastor to twirl him around and when he finally faced the demon again, he realized he was not in the pinstriped suit anymore, but instead of the coat there was an elegant black vest and the red shirt under had different pattern as well, all accompanied by a thin black tie.

“Damn, that’s pretty sweet, Al,” he gently patted the tie and Alastor offered his arm with a smile.

“I believe we’re ready now, cher,” the demon gestured towards the main door and Anthony locked their elbows together and let Alastor lead them out. He felt his palms sweating in the gloves, the last time he felt so nervous was maybe on his first real date, but he was so not telling that out loud.

***

Birdland jazz club was the first thing that Anthony thought of and Alastor seemed satisfied when they entered the building and found a place to sit. Going out with Alastor wasn’t as frequent as it could be, but Anthony didn’t mind it either way. The first time they ventured outside of the walls of Anthony’s flat was around March and it left Anthony wondering why nobody actually turned around when seeing Alastor from the get go – the suit, the hair, the red glowing eyes – not really a normal sight in New York, that for sure.

2020, March 24th

“They don’t see me like you do,” Alastor told him when they sat in a coffee shop and ordered. The waiter didn’t even bat an eyelash at the demon, and it left Anthony’s mind reeling. “They just see a normal person, not even that interesting.”

“As in completely different person?” Anthony inquired and Alastor gently touched his forehead before taking his hand back again. In that moment instead of the red-eyed demon there was a man in his thirties, if not younger, with wild brown hair, rather short and tousled, hazel eyes hidden under round glasses, in a white shirt and a vest, looking completely human and normal and honestly kind of cute?

“Oooh,” Anthony couldn’t help it, “what a cute guy, damn. Ya can change to whoever ya want?”

“Not really,” the human had Alastor’s radio voice, how bizarre. “This face… it’s not whoever, it’s just me.”

Anthony blinked, taking in the face and the eyes and the small smile, and oh, yeah, there was a resemblance now when he focused more, but that would mean…

“Wait. Ye were a human before becoming a demon?” he gaped in shock and one eyebrow shot up on the pretty human-Alastor face.

“How is that surprising? We even talked about my mother,” he shook his very human head. Damn, it was so strange, yet adorable. “Of course, I was a human. Then I died. Ended up in Hell.”

“I don’t know!” Anthony groaned. “I know we talked about it but I just… I mean ya seem like an important and strong kind of demon? Like Lucifer-kind of demon? Surely there are demons born in hell and not just sinners becoming ones?”

“Yes, hellborn demons are a thing,” Alastor nodded and then stopped talking when the waitress approached with their orders, placing a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Alastor and Frappuccino in front of Anthony. The demon eyed Anthony’s drink with distaste but didn’t comment on it. “It is amusing to topple them over, while being just a sinner.”

“But then… you don’t really hold your appearance when you get down there? Or did you choose it?” Anthony tilted his head to the side, not getting enough of this stranger in front of him. Familiar, yet not at all.

“You do not have a say in it,” Alastor answered simply. “The appearance the sinner take in Hell depends on his life or the way he died. There are variety of things in play.”

Anthony nodded thoughtfully while sipping his drink and then grinned around his straw.

“What,” Alastor narrowed his eyes at him and Anthony let the straw go with an audible pop.

“Well, didja fuck a deer~?”

2020, July 25th

Alastor ordered whiskey and Malibu Sunset for Anthony without even needing to ask his companion and the waiter eyed them both with a pleasant smile before leaving. The club was almost full, and the live band just started to perform, which made the ambience quite enjoyable. Anthony didn’t mind jazz, though he was not a die-hard fan of it either. He knew about the clubs but never actually came to chill in one like this before. It was… pretty nice, especially with the company. Alastor was holding his hand on the table, a gentle touch Anthony relished in, and for some reason here, sitting like this, he felt like his equal. Like not only as a pet project and a future pawn, but a partner.

“It is peculiar,” Alastor suddenly spoke, his eyes meeting Anthony’s again. “For how much the world changed, jazz clubs are still feeling almost the same to me.”

“Compared to which year?” Anthony asked, holding his gaze and felt a thumb gently caressing the back of his hand.

“1930,” Alastor smiled with surprising gentleness. “What a year.”

1930. He didn’t know when exactly Alastor died, but if in 1930 he was enjoying jazz clubs, he must have been an adult already. It made him 80 years old past his death at least.

“30’s baby,” Anthony chuckled. “No wonder you don’t fancy TV. It was probably just coming out?”

“Yes, the biggest wave came after I died, thankfully,” a clear distaste in Alastor’s voice was hilarious. “Would prefer radio anyway. It was my job after all.”

“A radio host?” Anthony guessed as much, and the demon hummed while sipping his whiskey. It fitted him, that sort of occupation. “Well, I dunno what ya did in your life to end up in hell,” he leaned against his palm, smiling at Alastor softly, “but yer biggest sin is not talkin’ in that accent of yers. And I mean it. It’s so hot.”

“Correct speech was a must for a radio,” Alastor said primly, but he looked very relaxed talking about it. “Talkin’ like dis would make me a garbage host.”

“I could listen to ya for hours tho,” Anthony grinned and Alastor glanced back to the live band with a small smile, still holding Anthony’s hand.

The night passed fast with great music and maybe a little more alcohol then they planned on drinking, but they could still walk on their own legs when leaving. When drunk, Alastor dropped the correct speech entirely and was extremely touchy feely, which reduced Anthony into a giggling mess.

“You’re a lovely companion, cher,” he was crooning at Anthony when they were walking home through the New York streets, arm sneaked around Anthony’s waist. “Da deal we made was da best thing dat happened to me in a long time.”

“Oh, man, Al,” Anthony couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Ya know how to flatter a guy, huh.”

“Truth is da sincerest form of flattery!” Alastor spun the human around, twirling him on the pavement like a ballerina, then stilling him again with both hands holding his waist. “And I mean every word.”

“Ha, are ya this happy because of the dress?” he batted his eyelashes at the demon and Alastor’s hands slid lower to Anthony’s hips before returning to his waist, an appreciative touch that made Anthony’s breath hitch.

“It suits you,” Alastor concluded, standing close and personal. “Da whole look suits you so well. But even in your pink distasteful pieces of cloth you call fashion, you still look da best.”

“O-ooh, boy,” Anthony felt his heartbeat speed up. If he’d only slightly dipped his head, he could be kissing the man in front of him. Maybe normally he even would if his partner wasn’t a demonic deer with intimacy aversion. But he didn’t want to fuck this up. Holy shit, he would really go and kill himself if he fucked it up now of all times by not holding his horses and forcing himself on an obvious asexual only enjoying the company, while having too many drinks to keep his defences up.

“T-thanks, Al,” he gulped down the cringy nicknames he would use on anybody else after a date night. “Yer the best company I could’ve hoped for too.”

He was adamantly sure it wasn’t him who brought them together, that it was Alastor’s hand grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him lower and then pressing their lips together in a quick kiss, and Alastor’s body pushing against his, and also Alastor who stepped away again with half lidded eyes and a sly smile, saying: “Remember, you’re mine forever.”

Anthony was never, ever going to forget that.

***

2020, July 26th

It was the rhythmical beat of rain against the windowsill that woke Anthony up. The weather let up a little and allowed a little colder wind to blow through the windows and it felt so pleasant Anthony just buried his face back into the warmth and breathed out in contentment. It took him a moment before he realized the warmth was Alastor’s chest and that there were Alastor’s arms holding him firmly in place and their legs were intertwined and even though it was nothing new, he suddenly felt his heart speeding up almost in panic and he blinked in confusion on why the hell would he freak out now after more than half a year of sleeping with the demon like this.

It hit him just a little while later – because Alastor kissed him yesterday. On his own. While drunk.

Nothing happened afterwards, they just stumbled back home and Alastor was clingy and by some miracle Anthony managed to get rid of the make up and change into an oversized t-shirt before collapsing to bed with the demon draped around his torso, mumbling sweet nothings like a suave Casanova with zero experience and then they both fell asleep.

He knew Alastor had his clingy moments, usually when really, really tired, so it made sense his drunk self would be probably another extension of that behaviour. But the kiss was still unexpected, and Anthony was terrified of the consequences. He could see Alastor freaking out over it when sober, he could imagine him being distant and cold to deal with the situation, to keep Anthony on arm’s length again, and it was making him sad. He could maybe hope Alastor would draw blanks after the night, but he didn’t drink himself to stupor, so the chances of that were quite low.

He looked up to the sleeping face of his companion, relaxed and content, and just thought fuck, why is he so lovable sometimes? Why couldn’t he be more demonic, more heartless, or crueller for Anthony to keep at least his metaphorical heart to himself? Why was watching him sleep pulled so many strings in him? Why his presence was so dear and needed? Why falling in love always happened with the worst kind of person?

“Are you tryin’ to curse me, cher?”

Anthony whined and buried his face back into Alastor’s chest. Of course the fucker was awake, witnessing Anthony’s existential crisis.

“I’d recommend voodoo for dat,” the demon had no mercy. “It’s lot less messy.”

“I’m bad ad sewin’,” Anthony mumbled into the red shirt and the laugh Alastor let out rumbled in his chest like thunderstorm. His clawed hand raked through Anthony’s hair with gentleness and it was too much for his poor, weak heart.

“This is gonna sound morbid, but…” he started quietly, “I can’t wait to be dead. So I can be with ya down there.”

The hand stilled for a fraction of second before resuming its pace.

“Dis is gonna be morbid as well, but I can’t wait for you to be ded too, to be with me down dere,” Alastor’s other hand moved to rest on the small of Anthony’s back, the warmth seeping into his body like poison. “To belon’ to me and do my biddin’ any time I’d want you to.”

“Fuck, that’s kinda hot?” Anthony groaned. “Imagine talking like this in front of people though. Can’t wait for you to die already, babe! Like shit, is he a murderer? Is he gonna slice his throat in bed?”

“Romance done right.”

“Till death do us apart… for a moment, until we’re pass that phase,” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle. Honestly, he never thought about dying as much prior meeting Alastor, like he knew it was going to happen eventually – sooner or later, it depended a lot on drugs and work and attitude – but there were no deep feelings about his life ending. Not even that much fear. But now? It was like a gateway he couldn’t wait to pass, and it was a little fucked up.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Alastor sighed and yeah, he didn’t help, really. “Comin’ here so often is quite taxin’. I adore bein’ with you, but it would be even better when we’re both in Hell, havin’ you on my lap-,”

“On your lap?!” Anthony whipped his head up, grinning. “So yer a kinky bastard after all!”

“Nothin’ kinky about wantin’ to keep you close,” the demon was so confident all of sudden, sheesh. Was he still a little drunk? He never talked about things like these – hell, he never actually expressed his feelings toward Anthony so openly, unless it was his shadow who, instead of words, was showing him by nuzzles. Sure, it was apparent he liked Anthony at least a little, but now it scaled up so much Anthony was scared it was just a dream and he was going to wake up soon.

“On yer lap, with your dick out, huh?” Stumbled out of Anthony’s mouth, out of habit, honestly, and he immediately regretted it. Alastor, as expected, scoffed at it.

“Darlin’, we’ve talked ‘bout dis.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony rested his chin on the back of his hands. It was somewhere in April, if he remembered correctly, when Alastor informed him sex was probably as interesting to him as stepping into muddy puddle and then having to clean his shoes. Anthony took it as it were – it was in their deal anyway about the intimacy and sexual stuff, so it didn’t come as much as a surprise to hear Alastor was purely asexual character. It was still fun to rile him up sometimes though. “Just want ya to know ya can do anythin’ yer want to me. Even here.”

“You’re always so sincere, cher,” Alastor’s hand previously in Anthony’s hair slid down to his cheek, gently caressing it.

“Life sucks anyway,” Anthony leaned into the touch. “Every time yer not here, it’s like it loses colours. Like yer my impulse control and when I can’t be with ya, I do stupid shit. Like drugs.”

“Lately?”

“On occasion. When alone for too long,” Anthony admitted not too proudly. It was difficult to let it go completely, no matter how Alastor filled the void. Once he was gone, the void returned. “Makes me feel better. When yer here, it’s like I’m addicted to ya and need to fill that void with somethin’ when ya leave.”

“Can’t be helped,” the demon’s thumb slid down to Anthony’s lips, the claw gently pressing down and easing up. Anthony felt an urge to lick it, but Alastor would probably smack him if he did.

“Shouldn’t ya be discouraging me?” he teased a little and Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Do I look like an angel to you?” he asked with a tilt in his voice and Anthony shrugged.

“Yer trying to fix me.”

“To feel more confident, not a saint,” Alastor opposed and Anthony hissed when the claw cut the tender skin on his lower lip, a drop of blood appearing.

“…fair,” he hummed, watching Alastor stare at the redness with half-lidded eyes before he suddenly pulled Anthony close and licked the droplet away, making him shudder.

“I can’t let you be too much of a good boy,” the demon whispered to his lips. “Or we’d have a problem with upstairs.”

“And we don’t want that,” Anthony added breathlessly, and his partner smirked.

“We really don’t, darlin’.”

***

2020, October 9th

It was a rare moment – rarer than seeing a rainbow after rain, but it was there. Alastor allowing Anthony to touch his hair and ears, while sitting on a couch in the living room, reading a book he brought along from hell. They were in the middle of preparing dinner but there was at least 30 minutes of downtime and Alastor thought it was the best time to study some of his hell shit, like Anthony wasn’t there, ready for a cuddle.

Unfair.

So he stood behind the couch, right above Alastor’s head and risked a gentle scrape of fingers through the red and black locks. Alastor didn’t react, which normally meant a green light for whatever Anthony was up to, so he buried his hand in his hair and while the demon made a humming noise in the back of his throat, he didn’t stop him. So he played around, twirling the strands, pulling them back, braiding some, poking the ears till they flicked, until he started pulling the hair back from Alastor’s face and from the sides into a neat ponytail he secured with a hairband he had on his wrist from his own hair care just an hour ago and left it there.

Alastor… with a ponytail. Huh.

He circled the sofa and stopped in the front, taking the sight of the new style in, and yeah, okay, that shouldn’t really make him this horny, but it did.

“Am I gonna regret lettin’ you play with my hair, darlin’?” Alastor glanced at him from the book and Anthony buried his face in his hands.

“No, but now I regret ya let me because I made ya even fuckin’ hotter,” he whined.

Alastor delivered an overkill when he rolled his sleeves up once they got back to cooking and left the ponytail be. Anthony was pretty sure he was only preparing him for the suffering in hell in his own way.

***

2020, November 11th

The first time he had thought of taking off Alastor’s gloves were on Wednesday evening while resting his head on the demon’s legs, playing with the hem of them. He had never seen Alastor taking them off – ever. Honestly he never saw him take off about anything except of his shoes and his coat, but even when he rolled up his sleeves, he left the gloves on and Anthony thought he maybe just had a thing about touching stuff with his bare hands - some people did. He knew there were scars on Alastor’s forearms and his chest, he had seen them when he unbuttoned his shirt a little, so maybe his hands were the same and he didn’t like showing them. Alastor didn’t strike him as somebody who cared as much about other people’s opinion, but he knew appearances might be deceptive. With Alastor’s obvious control kink the image he presented himself with probably played its role.

He was dragging his nails over the fabric of the burgundy gloves with thoughtful hum and when Alastor didn’t protest in any way, he slid two fingers under the hem, touching the bare palm of the demon’s hand. Still no reaction that would mean Alastor hated it, which encouraged him to continue.

The tip of his tongue peaked out in concentration as he tried to fit more in, at which Alastor finally cleared his throat above him.

“Darlin’,” he crooned. “What’re you doin’?”

“Havin’ sex with yer hands, duh.” He wiggled his fingers a little and Alastor sighed while grabbing the offensive hand and stopped the ministrations. “Aww.”

“Leave my hands outta your crudeness,” the demon flicked his forehead instead and then rested his hand back on Anthony’s chest where it was before. It only took about ten seconds before Anthony was on it again and at that point Alastor just grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“Nooo,” the human tried to wriggle out of the hold, but the grip was inhumanly strong. “Spoilsport. It’s not like I’d do somethin’ dirty to it… maybe.”

“Whateva you say, darlin’,” Alastor didn’t budge, obviously. But at least it made Anthony think of something else when it came to Alastor’s elusive hands.

“Let’s make a deal then,” he proposed, grinning at his partner’s confused expression. “You lemme take off yer gloves. And I won’t do anything bad to yer hands.”

“Dat sounds like a rubbish deal,” Alastor shook his head. “No dice.”

“Then… what do ya want in exchange?” he batted his eyelashes seductively, which had about zero, if not minus, effect on the demon. “Imma game for anythin’.”

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eyes as if he thought of something wicked and manipulative, and then his smile widened. Anthony thought of anything – eternal enslavement, monthly donation of human souls, not talking for a week-

“I want t’ see you in a suit.”

“Say what now?”

“I’ll let you take my gloves off, but I get to see you in a suit,” came a term and Alastor was positively beaming now, which was weird, because… a suit? Was that even a proper condition? He could have just asked; it wasn’t like Anthony had an aversion to wear fully buttoned up clothing or something. Sure, he didn’t love it, but to make a deal out of it?

“I mean… sure?” The grip on his wrist disappeared and Anthony sat up, still confused. When a hand appeared with familiar green shine, he checked once more for Alastor’s happy expression and then took it, feeling the tingle running down his spine.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, darlin’,” Alastor gently grabbed Anthony’s chin to raise up his head a little. “Now dress up. I’ll be waitin’.”

“Yer a public menace,” the human barked out a laugh but got up anyway. He was pretty sure he still had a suit from the cabaret night and could only hope it would still fit.

It fit. He liked the suit because despite wearing it just once, it fitted him like a glove and even though he wasn’t exactly a fan of black and white setup, it had its charm once in a while. The well-tailored vest and close-fitting pants still made a nice figure and Anthony vaguely remembered the cabaret night granted him quite a bit of extra money, just because of how the pants hugged his ass (and because of his pretty face too, he was confidently sure. He didn’t even need to suck anybody’s dick that night).

He checked himself in a mirror for the last time, trying to find any imperfection he could somehow remedy, until he was completely satisfied and returned to the living room with surprisingly nervous expectations.

“No Anastasia today?” Alastor greeted him with a small smile standing near the couch, and Anthony fidgeted, not really feeling that confident in the clothes as he ironically was in the dress before.

“Wouldn’t wanna make the same joke twice, ya know,” he rubbed the back of his neck and took two more steps closer to where Alastor was standing. “Well. Here I am. In a plain boring suit just for yer viewing pleasure.”

“Pleasure indeed,” the demon looked delighted, which still baffled him, but maybe he had a thing for suits in his asexual spectrum, why not. Then he offered his hand for Anthony to take, palm up, and he realized the gloves were already off. Alastor’s hands were black as night with long, red claws gradually darkening until the blackness swallowed the colour. The obsidian shade was stopping in tendrils around his wrists like the shadows were swallowing his hands in a provocative manner and Anthony had an urge to rub his face all over it.

He must have stared for too long because the hand started pulling away and Anthony panicked with low nonono and grabbed it like a frightened animal.

“Ya can’t just flash it and then walk away with it, sheesh,” he grumbled, holding the hand in both of his and it was smooth and somehow warm, and feeling like a human hand, sort of, but at the same time not really? He couldn’t tell for sure. He wondered how it would taste if he licked it.

“You looked put off, didn’t wanna flaunt it ‘round,” Alastor’s voice cracked his concentration and it made him look up to the demon’s face in surprise. The smile he had was tight – was he self-conscious about it? In all its strangeness his hands were like some famous artist’s masterpiece, nothing to be conscious about.

“Well, ya should flaunt it around,” he said firmly. “Damn, it’s like. Really cool and kinda creepy, I like it.”

The hand visibly relaxed, the claws opened, and Anthony couldn’t stop himself anymore, he just rubbed his cheek against it like an affectionate cat and heard Alastor’s breath hitch in his throat.

Score.

“That feels so niiiice,” he purred happily. “And for just one lousy in-suit evening, ya should feel cheated.”

“Quite the opposite, darlin’,” another clawed hand joined the first one and then Alastor was holding his face on both sides, gently rubbing his cheeks, and Anthony was pretty sure he had the most dorky expression on his face right now but didn’t care. “You look dashin’.”

“Mmmhm,” Anthony grinned, and his hands covered the clawed ones and squeezed. “How ‘bout you walk back a bit.”

“Walk back?” the demon tilted his head, but did as he was told, just to lose his balance immediately after two steps when his knees hit the edge of the couch (Anthony pushed him slightly so he would fall right into sitting position, because he was a little shit and had a plan). Before Alastor could say anything else (though he didn’t look like he wanted to), Anthony sat on top of him, knees next to his thighs and took one of the blackened hand and gave the pointing finger an experimental lick.

Alastor immediately bristled like Anthony just flashed him, the static buzzing to life and off the roof, and shit, it should have scared him, but it did not. He stopped though, watching the demon with seductive smile and Alastor gradually breathed in and out and the static stopped again.

“Scary,” Anthony winked at him, still holding the hand in his, and Alastor shook his head and flexed his claws.

“You try your luck too often,” he just said in a low, warning voice.

“I know,” the human positioned the clawed hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating, vulnerable and open, and smiled. “I’m goin’ to be good from now on. Promise.”

“Moderately,” Alastor added.

“Ya know it.”

Their hands intertwined and Anthony was pretty sure during this night the defences Alastor had lowered for him once more.

***

2021, February 9th

When it came to birthdays, Anthony normally ignored them. Since almost no one knew the date, he was mostly safe to spend the day as any other, so it actually came as a surprise when Anthony brought home bouquet of roses from work (ironically from the patrons and not from co-workers, go and figure) for his birthday and put it in a vase on the table in the living room. It was rather nice of them, sure, though it only fuelled the disdain from his co-workers further. He more or less forgot about it up until Alastor showed up in the evening and noticed the newest addition.

“I thought the Lover’s day is on 14th,” Alastor watched the bouquet as if it would explode any moment, his eyes narrowed.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Anthony peeked in from the kitchen. “Valentine’s Day is on 14th. This is cuz of my birthday.”

“Your birthday is today?” the demon left the bouquet alone and joined Anthony in the kitchen, his tone surprised. “You did not say anything.”

“Well, cuz it’s not really important,” Anthony shrugged while slicing meat. Even though he normally ignored this day, he kind of wanted to make something special for Alastor, if anything else. As a treat for himself. “Nothing worth to celebrate.”

“What a strange thing to say,” Alastor leaned with his back against the counter right next to Anthony, his expression curious. “Mortals normally enjoy celebrating their birthday. Mainly because of gifts, at least?”

“Well, I’m a special case.”

“Not enjoying gifts?” That was a stupid question. Of course Anthony enjoyed gifts as long as they were not mean or overly sexual, but along with his miserable life his birthday mostly left a bitter taste in his mouth every year.

“As much as any other John, obviously,” he glanced at Alastor with a smirk. “It’s just… not my thing. To celebrate the day I was born.”

“I see,” Alastor nodded thoughtfully. “Would it be an overstep if I said I would like to celebrate it with you?”

“You would?” Anthony stopped with the meat preparations and turned to face the demon, a weird flicker of happiness igniting in him.

“Celebrating the day you were born seems very fitting,” Alastor’s smile widened. “Otherwise we would never meet. And I treasure the moment when we did.”

“Aww,” Anthony cooed, and it was nice, to be told by the person you were crushing on.

“Though I must admit,” Alastor tilted his head to the side. “I am not entirely sure what is the norm in this century.”

“We can bake a cake?” Anthony offered. He was pretty sure he had all the ingrediencies stocked. “I guess people usually do that. Then they wish happy b-day and lots of health and good fortune or… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this shtick. They smooch maybe too. Or shake hands. Same thing for some people.”

“Oh,” Alastor looked thoughtful. “That sounds amendable.”

“Yeah, we can try-mmph?!” Out of anything that could possibly happen to him on his wretched birthday, Alastor pushing him against the counter and kissing him was definitely not one of them. Sure, they did kiss sometimes, though it was usually chaste and almost innocent?

Well, this was extremely far from innocent. This involved tongue. This was some other Alastor possessing the demon’s body, ravishing his mouth in the kitchen on his birthday while his hands cupped Anthony’s face and his thumbs were gently caressing his cheekbones, and what the hell, the gloves were off too, it made Anthony melt. Alastor was nipping on his lower lip and then diving back in, and Anthony felt his body shiver and his hands gripped the pinstriped coat in fear Alastor would stop or something, and when the demon let go of him with a last obscene lick, he realized he was basically on verge of suffocating already without his brain notifying him. He gasped for air with a shudder and Alastor joined their foreheads together, his smile small and private.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he purred. “Thank you for bein’ born.”

Anthony made an inhumane voice in the back of his throat and clung to his demon as if his life depended on it.

Maybe his birthday was not so bad after all.

(Later he found the bouquet in the trash and a new and much bigger one on the table instead. Alastor acted like he had no idea what happened.)

***

2024, October 1st

When Anthony thought about dying at any point of his life, it just meant the end. He didn’t know how he was going to die, but that usually changed each year. As a teenager, he wanted to commit suicide several times a year, mainly from age 15 to 17. He wasn’t sure what exactly stopped him each time, but somehow, he pulled through. In his mid-twenties it was a risk from the outer sources – too tight squeezes of hands around his neck when having sex, too many drugs in his system, too much alcohol. Once even a stab wound from his crazy ex. Granted, Anthony almost killed him back on the spot – though later he found out the fucker died in the hospital. So technically it wasn’t exactly murder? It should have been though.

Anyway. When he hit 30, he felt like his mind was on verge of breaking and any kind of distraction was strong enough to keep him occupied. He thought about death from time to time, but always stopped his hand reaching for a knife in the kitchen, thinking maybe, just maybe there is more to life than stubbornly surviving days, weeks, months of his miserable life for no reason.

At age 31 he summoned a demon and for four years his life turned to be enjoyable three times a week, and sometimes even five. He gave his heart and soul to hell for company, and fell in love with a force of nature, a whirlwind of emotions, a lovely devil. He never, ever regretted a single day spent with Alastor, a single hour, a minute, a second. Despite their occasional quarrels, their differences, and their triggers, they enjoyed each other’s company. They learned through their mistakes and they made each other stronger through the weaknesses, and while all that was slowly fading away in staccato of painful spasms and tears, Anthony still felt fondness and maybe even a twinge of happiness of his cage finally breaking free, even though it hurt like a bitch and he felt sick and alone.

It wasn’t like he wanted to die. He didn’t think 35 was some kind of milestone of life and death, a crossroad not meant to be crossed.

But he was tired. He was lonely. He wanted and craved and yearned for more of something that was out of his reach, no matter how much he tried to grab it, to pull it close.

You are still alive, mon chéri, and it is yours and only yours to live. I do not want you to regret it, no matter how much I want you with me. I might have forfeited my life, but your heart still beats. Do not waste it.

Anthony thought Alastor was being cold that day. He thought they were just words said to placate him somehow, a lie spilled to keep him here. If he wanted, if he craved like Anthony did, would he say please live to him? Right after spilling his heart? Even though they both wanted to be together? Even when they both morbidly dreamed about Anthony’s eventual death?

Now, thinking back to it… he saw what he meant. Now, when everything was turning cold and distant and dark, he realized dying at 35 is young and stupid and wasteful.

Yet he didn’t regret it. He was never going to regret selling his soul to a devil and leaving a place that only brought him pain in a ditch.

The only thing he regretted was dying alone in a dirty bathroom, but… it wasn’t like he could choose anyway.

“There, there, darlin’.”

There were warm hands holding his face. Everything felt raw and searing, like falling through liquid fire.

“Breathe.”

He tried to, but only hacked out blood. He shook his head, curling into himself. The hands gently petted his hair.

“Now, now, my heart,” the voice cooed. “My everything. You are safe now. You belong to me.”

He felt a pain in his chest, like his heart was torn out and left a gaping chasm behind. It was like tasting despair and ash on tip of his tongue.

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, cher,” a gentle reminder, a curtain hiding the missing organ in his body, a beautiful lie. “Nobody, ever again.”

He submitted to it and the pain disappeared.

***

2024, 359th day

“I can’t believe that! Ya almost ate my pig!”

“I thought it lost its way here and it is time for dinner, it was only appropriate.”

“How dare ya! Ya monster!”

“Can you two keep it down?!” A screech came from the stairs and halted the crossfire like a switch before the owner of the voice even entered their field of vision, a fair hair flowing around a pretty face, a fierce glare seizing them. “Bloody old-married couple, do it somewhere else!”

“What she said,” a grumble agreed from the bar, and a tall, four-armed spider demon picked a small pig from the floor and cuddled it to his fluffy chest, cooing at it gently.

“Well, sorry for trying to save my little baby from this guy,” he glared at his enemy from under long, white fringe. “He’d eat him. Eat Fat Nuggets!”

“Oh dear, you already named it?” the red-eyed demon twirled his microphone in his hand, his smile widening. “You should have told me. Would adjust the name on the menu.”

“Keep talkin’, big boy, I have enough venom to make you spend your day in agony,” the spider hissed and the pig in his arms snorted happily, apparently finding all the commotion amusing. “And not the good kind.”

“I am looking forward to it, darlin’,” Alastor crooned and Vaggie made a retching noise when she finally reached the bar. Husker didn’t need her to ask for a drink, he was already pouring her one – and one for himself. It wasn’t like she condoned the bar in the hotel, but sometimes it was a much-needed way of coping, especially when it came to these two.

“Can you leave already?” she turned back towards them once she gulped the alcohol down, grimacing at the burn crawling down her throat. “Angel was talking about this for a week and now you stand here for whatever reason for half an hour, you should’ve been gone by now!”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about it for a week,” Angel shot back while pursing his lips. “Just few days, maybe.”

“A week?” Alastor crossed his arms on his chest. “Lucky. I was hearing about it since he got here.”

“Well excuse me for being sentimental,” Angel stuck his tongue at him and walked towards the bar, handing Fat Nuggets to Husker, who eyed the pig warily.

“I ain’t looking after that fucking thing.”

“Pleaaase.”

A groan, but the cat demon took it, rolling his eyes. “Last time though.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” Angel winked and left the bar in easy stride, joining Alastor in the middle of the hall. “Shall we?”

“Only waitin’ for you, cher,” Alastor offered his arm and Angel locked their elbows together. “You sure you don wanna take da pig with you?”

“Why?”

“A late night snack.”

“I’ll fuckin’ smack ya, stop it,” he grumbled at the laugh Alastor didn’t even bother hiding, and let the man lead them out of the hotel.

The red sky above their heads was like an everlasting void pierced by a tall, dark tower in the distance and Angel kind of liked how demons were afraid to come close to it, yet to him the place felt like home. The Radio tower came with big overlord territory and despite it being rather far from the hotel, Angel insisted on walking instead of Alastor using the portals to get them there in seconds. It just felt more date-like rather than abusing the Radio Demon powers and Alastor didn’t argue about that – which was nice because normally he argued about everything for the sport of it.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel hummed while leaning into Alastor’s warmth on their way through the Pentagram city. “Christmas is ‘bout Jesus being born and shit. No reason to celebrate it here.”

“I was wonderin’ when you’d find out,” Alastor responded matter-of-factly. “Christmas bein’ a big Christian secret.”

“Har har,” the spider demon nudged him. “I’m new, don’t make fun of me. Can’t help I miss it.”

“Of course you miss it,” Alastor freed himself from Angel’s hold, just to sneak his arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “It’s when you met me.”

“Yer so fuckin’ cocky, maybe I just miss the presents,” Angel crossed his upper arms on his chest, but his lower one curled around Alastor’s waist as well.

“I’m da only present you’ll ever need~,” the Radio demon singsonged and Angel barked out a laugh.

“Guess that’s not completely wrong,” he admitted and when he felt a hand on the back of his neck, he met Alastor’s lips halfway in a chaste kiss, both not even stopping on their way to the tower.

“You’re da only one for me too,” Alastor whispered softly. “My dear Anthony.”

Angel couldn’t help but think life is fucking overrated when your boyfriend is owning your heart in all kinds of ways.

#hazbin hotel #radiodust #alastor x angel dust #au #the deal series #human!angel dust

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moonlightreal · 3 years

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Fate Episode One

At long last, it’s tiiiiiime!

First: whitewashing bad. Fact acknowledged. Everybody else has said everything on the subject (ad nauseum...) so no reason to say it all again!

I’m diving in with questions. The main one is “Will there be a good reason for Musa to be a mind fairy rather than a music fairy?” Dunno why that’s what I’m wondering the most, but it is. There’s also “Is Fate!Stella truly an unholy union of Stella and Diaspro?” and “so what makes them fairies not witches/psychics/mutants?” and “So what’s up with Beatrix? We know nothing about her, and as an Umineko fan I’m favorably disposed towards witches named Beatrice!” and also “They’re not really having sex are they?!”

I’m going to try and approach Fate just like I do every season of the cartoon, ready to celebrate the good, snark at the bad, enjoy many headcanons, reference random stuff, and have a good time. Pretending I haven’t had my fannish heart nigh to broken by the state of the fandom and that I’m worried I’ll get hate for even posting this. I’m’a try to start from zero to find my own answer the really big question… “Good, bad, or totally irredeemable?”

So… In which we discover a new world.

We start with… a night scene. Not promising when “too dark can’t see” is one of my pet peeves! An old fella comes out to check on his cute Irish sheep. He passes through the barrier, into the dangerous forest beyond to look for a missing sheep. Yup, he’s gonna be guest victim in the first five minutes.

Oh no! Something has disemboweled a sheep and left it hanging in a tree! Clearly there are leopards in the magical realm!

There is a great roar and an unseen but very large-sounding beast chases our poor shepherd! The guy trips and falls just as he’s about to get through the barrier and is set upon and devoured by the unseen beast! Blood spatters the rocks!

Opening! It’s the wings we’ve sen and some really beautiful music. One point for the music.

Then a gorgeous flying shot of the outside of the barrier and Alfea. Whatever the plot turns out to be, the outdoor setting is beautiful. Music that seems to be both pop and edgy plays as we zoom in on the logo on the gate, and there’s Bloom coming in the gate.

And there’s Terra with her father and a tray full of plants.

And there’s Aisha walking by with her dreads

And there’s Stella taking a selfie with other students.

And there’s Musa leaning on her suitcase, headphones on, looking at her phone. Another girl says something to Musa and she turns and replies and smiles.

And there’s one of the guys twirling a knife. I’ve heard Sky starts out in a pink shirt so this must be Riven. The camera comes back to Bloom as she gives him a doubtful look. In the novelization she’s mentally labeling him an edgelord, and that kinda fits. Any dude showing off his willingness to twirl weapons at a high school probably is best avoided—except the dudes here are training to fight so the weapons rules must be different. I wonder if Bloom knows yet that dudes with swords are normal here.

Bloom gets a text to meet Stella at the gate. She waits.

Camera pan to Sky talking to another guy. Sky looks… Sky-ish. Chris Evans style handsome, blond. I’d’ve made him grow his hair to mimic cartoon Sky’s silly shaggy haircut, but points for making Sky look like Sky! Minus points for not dying Riven maroon. They could’ve made it work!

Sky is indeed wearing a pink shirt. In the novelization Bloom thinks he’s wearing it “because gender roles were for the weak” which is a line I think is funny and intend to use in a story somewhere. There is no obvious hint in the show that Sky thinks gender roles are for the weak

Bloom’s tired of waiting. She heads off. Sky ditches his buddy to go meet her. “Wow, you are so lost. I’m impressed with your confidence in the face of complete ignorance. Issue is, you’re overcomitted. You’re essentially running. And now that I’m here you can’t possibly give me the satisfaction of turning around.” he says, all in one go.

I can’t decide if that’s jerkish or charming. Maybe Bloom shares my weakness for men with accents because she decides on charming.

Bloom says she’s a fairy, giggles because that’s something she never thought she’d say, they’re standing in the courtyard of a college for fairies, Bloom’s from California, not the Otherworld. So we get all that established. Sky is kinda charming here and points out the specialists’ hall and fairy hall.

Sky: “I’d be happy to-”

Bloom: “Mansplain it?”

So the writing team does know some modern issues! Bloom says Sky seems like a mansplainer, which seems like quite a leap since she is new and he is helping her, in a friendly-sarcastic kind of way. She’s giggling, clearly charmed.

Then Riven comes up, and he’s like a foot shorter than Sky, and Bloom escapes for some reason so maybe she wasn’t enjoying the conversation as much as it looked? Or maybe it was just the plot needs to move along. Riven glomp-hugs Sky. He’s got a great accent too.

Bloom must’ve left because she saw Stella, they say hello. Bloom says she got impatient waiting and Stella says, “How very American of you” So American stereotypes are known in magical worlds also?

So, Stella! Blonde, tall, zero Stella vibe. Accent. Long pale coat and a satiny top with big chunky pendant. She gets to her ring quick, “Portal ring, the only thing that keeps me sane in this place is the ability to leave it. Your world may not always be thrilling but it beats this one. There are seven realms in the Otherworld, each a different kind of boring.” All spoken in a jaded monotone. Ugh, what have they done to our Stella!

The girls walk inside while Stella speaks, the school is pale stone and arches and plants. Other students are arriving, hauling suitcases, hugging. At least some of them seem happy to be here!

Cut to the globe! and it’s a magical globe, the water moves and there are lil sailing ships! But the lands are totally blank, so it’s a cheap magic globe Dowling didn’t pay enough for the one with tiny forests too. Alfea is in the realm of Solaria.

Maybe they shouldn’t have made Ireland = Solaria. I’ve only been to England but we did not see the sun the whole trip! Bloom’s in Dowling’s really cool office. She spins the globe but the camera pans away before we see the names of the other realms. Bloom’s talking nervously about seeing people updating their insta stories, expecting Tinkerbells, and the lack of wings.

Dowling: “We had wings in the past. As we’ve evolved, transformation magic has been lost. Tink was an air fairy, you’re a fire fairy.”

Dowling says classes tomorrow, learn to use magic slowly but safely… we establish Bloom is here to learn to control her magic so she can go home and not keen on ‘slow.’ Dowling says, ‘trust the process’ which immediately makes me mistrust her.

Then she gives a great lil speech: “Alfea’s graduates have ruled realms and led armies. They have forged powerful relics and rediscovered long lost relics. They shape the otherworld.”

But Bloom just wants to get done and go home. She says, ‘I'm here because you promised you’d teach me control.” and Dowling says, ‘no, you’re here because you knew you have no other choice.” and Bloom looks betrayed.

Yeah Dowling’s sus.

Next scene: Bloom showing her dorm to her parents over video call! How does that work between dimensions? Her folks look nothing like Mika and Vanessa, dad’s got a beard and silver temples, mom’s got big blonde curls. Neither of them have burn injuries or the sort of freaked out vibe I’d expect from folks whose house was just on fire.

Roommate pan-around! Terra puts potted plants everywhere! Stella preens at the vanity! Musa headphones-and-laptop but smiles at Terra. Aisha comes in with her laundry bag.

Bloom’s parents get suspicious about the timezone thing, they think Bloom’s in the Alps, and Aisha comes and covers for her saying it’s time for lights out.

Aisha intro! She is wearing a pink and brown checkered dress that’s not super fashionable or flattering. I like her blue braids though. Aisha does not seem to have the accent that many Alfeans have.

Bloom explains the “human parents, fairy daughter, I must be a throwback to an ancestor” thing. Aisha looks dubious. Then they mention Harry Potter!

Bloom; ‘Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin.’

Aisha; ‘Explains the lies then. Gryffindor.’

Bloom: ‘Explains the judgment.’

Congrats, you both were jerks in three short lines. 9_9 But they’re smiling so I guess it’s friendly sniping.

Bloom goes to see Stella, who’s holding up sparkly tops to herself. She’s also got this weird rainbow skirt that looks like gymnastics clothes not real clothes. Stella’s changing for the party because people have already seen her in her clothes. Bloom asks confused, ‘People expect you to wear multiple outfits?’ and Stella comes back with, ‘people expect me to care how I look.” In the same jaded monotone.

Before Bloom can WTF outta there like a sensible person Stella snaps her fingers and creates a ball of light. Bloom gapes, but not nearly as much as I feel like she should. The magic is beautiful, it’s all rainbowy and sparkly. Bloom just hesitantly asks, ‘Can I ask, how exactly you..?” and Stella shuts her down with an almost kind, “I’m a mentor, not a tutor.”

But she does give a little infodump. “Fairy magic is tied to emotion. God thoughts, bad, hatred, fear, the stronger the emotion the stronger the magic.”

And Bloom says, ‘Do you hate me or fear me? You were looking at me when you did that. And I’m pretty sure you don’t love me.” Smart cookie, Bloom! Points to you! We know it’s because Bloom was talking to sky, and that gives Stellla some emotions.

And points to Stella, she thaws out her voice and talks like a real person, ‘I don’t know you. I’m sure once I do I’ll find something to love.” She sounds rather doubtful about the last bit but yay actual emotion!

Then Stella goes over to Terra for her intro scene and I cringe because the novelization did Terra dirty and I’m not keen to see it on screen. But it works ok. Stella gently calls Terra on the number of houseplants and says the secret garden was better kept secret, Terra responds that wasn’t really the message of the book, Stella looks at her with amused patience and leaves Musa and Terra to continue the scene. And I decide if there’s no infodump about how earth and the Otherworld relate to each other in this show I shall be cross.

Then Terra chatters on about her family and how she grew up at Alfea since her dad works here (she’s holding a 100% fake plant) and drops that Stella is a second year. Musa asks why a second-year is in a first-year suite and Terra says it’s some administrative thing probably best not to mention. But Terra totally knows the secret.

Musa’s eyes glow purple. Magic! But we don’t hear what she hears. She starts putting her headphones on. Terra goes on to say they should all not mention it to Stella, then interrupts another headphones-attempt to offer Musa a succulent, “They’re low maintainence, perfect for you, not that I really know you...’

Musa: ‘If I take it will you stop talking?”

Terra visibly deflates and Musa apologizes and grabs the succulent before finally getting to escape into music.

Aisha leans in to ask Terra if Alfea has a pool. It has a river and Aisha’s been swimming—twice a day every day! Terra says no pool, just the pond where the specialists train but nobody swims there, at least not on purpose.

And we immediately cut out to the pond, which looks pretty mucky, I wouldn’t want to swim there either! Two specialists, a boy and a girl, are whacking away at each other with wooden swords on the shore. They’re all dressed in black pants and tank tops, very Divergent movie poster except with the Alfea logo on the front. There’s a bunch of specialists training all around the pond and one does indeed knock their opponent in with a splash! But we home in on Sky and Riven and I cannot get over how short and skinny Riven is compared to Sky! And the fact that I’ve just been rewatching Lord of the Rings and Riven doesn’t look 100% not like Dominic Monaghan… sorry Riven’s actor, I’m sure in future episodes I’ll stop thinking you’re a hobbit!

Anyway, Riven’s teasing Sky about his crush on Bloom, says Sky always goes for the crazy ones and all redheads are crazy. Sky puts Riven on the mat and Riven says he was getting high all summer and not practicing. Before Sky can give him a “big brother speech” on that riven skedaddled because here comes the teacher with a different speech!

This show’s Codatorta, whose name is Silva and who looks very irish and I like him, does a little speech about how y’all gotta train, singles out a black guy I think is Dane and says, ‘even you will be able to fight like him.” and attacks Sky, who fights back. They spar for a minute.

Infodump: “Sky’s father was Andreas of Eraklyon, that makes him a legacy.” Also, some of these kids are from families of specialists and some were selected by Silva based on their talent for combat and weaponry. “This place will seem like hell until actual hell comes. We are the first line of defense, a certainty when the future is uncertain!’

Then Dane snickers about the whole ‘school full of kids with swords’ and Silva says it must be nice to be so ‘soft’ he can make fun. And Dane drops that the barrier exists ‘to protect the school from Burned Ones.”

As he says it, we cut to Sky going out through the barrier to smoke.

Burned ones are gone. But Silva saw one when he was a kid. His father shot it but was killed by the Burned One’s poison. Burned Ones are inhumanly strong and fast, and have a terrible poison, or disease that kills people who get away.

Sky looks over and sees the shepherd’s body. Yikes!

Cut to the staff arriving to look at the remains. Just three: Dowling, Codatorta, and Terra’s dad. Is that the whole staff? Who teaches? Could’ve been a wolf or a bear… Terra’s dad collects some gunk from the body and I think calls it “char residue.”

Dowling says, “She killed all the Burned Ones.”

She? This world’s Marion/Daphne, likely.

But the adults clean it up so the kids can party! Our girls are gathered around the food, and they’re better dressed! Aisha’s got her hair up and a blue hoodie, Musa’s got a little red coat. Terra has not been blessed by the fashion fairy, she’s in some overalls it looks like, not flattering. Terra is saying hopefully that maybe the shepherd died of old age and Musa’s ‘Yeah, that old age decapitation” is gentle ribbing not cruel.

Aisha’s loading up a stack of cookies, says how much she eats and, ‘If I didn’t swim I’d be massive.” it’s not aimed at Terra , but Terra flinches. Aisha heads off and Terra says something that boils down to, ‘Musa, you’re tuning out me in particular.” which, Terra you’ve known Musa for what, six hours? Way too short a time to take it personal. Musa says, ‘It’s a me thing, it’s not you.” and Terra just flusters and heads away. Musa looks troubled but not sure what to do and puts her headphones on.

This is SO much better than in the book. Not perfect, all the interactions between the girls have been very weird as if they’ve been given a script full of cruel catty lines and instructed to say them in a kind way, but at least they’ve tried for the vibe of “trying to be nice to people we don’t know yet and flubbing it” rather than “we are all terrible people” like I feared.

Terra meets her dad and tries to go to the greenhouse with him but he makes her stay to enjoy the party.

Cut to some grownup dude—Dowling’s secretary? Apparently searching for something in a desk that I presume is outside the headmistress’ office.

Beatrix… or possibly a gothed-up Bloom… comes to see Dowling and when told the headmistress isn’t in says, ‘I’ll just take a water, room temp, thanks love.’ and then when the door opens Beatrix greets Dowling with a simpering ‘I'm your biggest fan, I’m obsessed with Alfea...” and cascading apologies for swearing, with more swearing. Dowling and her secretary are as confused by this as I am but Dowling says Beatrix can study the history of Alfea in the library if she wants to. I assume this is evil Beatrix slyly getting permission to hit the books. Is Beatrix even a student at Alfea?

Cut to Bloom’s notebook, she’s already started taking notes about powers being linked to emotions, love hate and fear. Great initiative Bloom, but are there no textbooks you could be reading ahead in?

We get dumped back to a flashback: Bloom’s mom wants her to go out on a Saturday night, to a party or a movie or whatever teen thing. All Bloom wants to do is go to antique sales apparently. Bloom doesn’t want to be a “basic bitch” like her mom and her mom doesn’t want her daughter to be a “weird loner.”

Pause while I urban dictionary “basic bitch.” Huh. Not a term I ever heard in my circle of nerds.

Bloom and her mom are awful to each other. Back in the present Bloom’s eyes flame up as she remembers. She decides it’s time to go experiment! Right now! Before even one day of magic class or one page of a textbook! The idiot ball has entered play.

Night has fallen because of course it has. Bloom runs into Sky at the party. But she’s not looking to party, she’s looking for a place to be alone outside. Sky directs her to beyond the barrier, because we’re about to have Plot. If it weren’t for Plot I‘m sure Sky could’ve suggested a specialist workout area inside the barrier. Sky says there might be wolves or bears or “maybe something much scarier” and Bloom catches the idiot ball and says, ‘But no people? Perfect!”

Sky offers to go with her but Bloom says no thanks in a “I think you may be flirting and I may be down for that in the future just not right now.” kind of a way. Good character interaction! Except Stella grabs Sky for a chat once Bloom heads out to meet the Plot.

Sky and Stella have an opaque exchange that really just establishes they have a past of some sort that everyone knows about because everyone stares—or at least Stella thinks everyone is staring. I’m starting to feel weirdly sorry for this Stella who has none of her namesake’s sparkle and confidence. Why does she think all the realms are boring? Is she ever enthusiastic?

...wait, it’s still day! Why was it night inside?? This show is weird about lighting. Gosh Ireland is beautiful! Where’s this castle they got to be Alfea? Can I go there? This FOREST! It is a fully magical forest. Aisha is swimming in the river, with goggles and a cap but Bloom heads into the amazing forest. Good music here too! Forests and magic and music, come on Fate you CAN be a good show, I believe in you! Just put down the idiot ball and step away... Bloom goes through the barrier and outside it sees a swirl of orange and white sparkles in the air. She watches it and laughs and then hikes through a little more forest.

Finding a clearing Bloom calls her fire. At first she can’t, then she looks through the pictures on her phone looking for emotion. “Pictures of my sad teenage years are not happy thoughts. Noted.” She says with an angsty little smile. Then there’s a photo of the burned out house. She zooms in and stares at it taking in all the details. And we get flashbacks to the line of fire racing towards her parents’ bed.

Fire! Bloom turns her handful of fire this way and that, delighted, then tries for two hands. This is the scene from the trailer, playing with fire. Good music here. And good that Bloom thought the magic was neat… uuuuntil she realizes she doesn’t know how to put it out. She freaks out and waves her hands around trying to blow out the flames.

Aisha comes to the rescue and says dumb things like, “You’re losing control.” and “If you get angry at me...” and Bloom does get angry and throws lines of fire right at Aisha. Who looks terrified. Sensibly, but also has she never seen fire magic before? She grew up in a magic realm, does she know nothing about how to help someone get control? Is control taught to magical babies so teenagers rarely see someone wigging out? But if magic is emotion then everyone will lose control sometime since we all get upset. How does an emotion=magic society function?

Anyway. aisha pulls water up from the ground and puts out the flames.

Inside Aisha gives Bloom what for about losing control. Including, “Is that American for sorry I almost set you on fire?” Srsly, this show is Irish people and Italians stealth throwing shade at Americans! *Laughs in January 2021* Bloom retorts that she went away from people to experiment for just that reason, and tells Aisha about not having had fairy parents or any magical experience.

Aisha responds with the story of flooding her school including the toilets and having to wade through poo. (I also tend to call it poo, after watching Mike Rowe. I wonder if they watch Dirty Jobs in the Otherworld.)

And Bloom tells her story. Bloom isn’t a cheerleader, she likes antiques and staying home by herself, so she and her mom don’t get along. Her parents removed her door, which is awful! And Bloom got flamey eyes and sent fire straight at her parents while they slept. While Bloom sat on her bed in a rage trance. Understandable level of fury after that fight. And Bloom feels awful, also understandable. And she snuck out to sleep in a creepy warehouse to protect her parents. Her folks didn’t know it was her of course, they don’t know about magic.

Aisha says that beats her flood story, but Aisha is also wondering about something. “You drew on a good deal of magic without even trying. it’s hard to believe you’re from a dormant bloodline. Is there any chance you’re adopted?”

Bloom laughs. Then says she heard the story of her birth a million times, she was a miracle baby diagnosed with a heart defect but then after birth her heart was fine.

Aisha: “Oh god, you’re a changeling!” … ‘It’s barbaric and it barely ever happens anymore….”

Bloom has had enough and just says, “why would you even tell me that?” and leaves. Musa comes over and asks Aisha what she said. Aisha: “The truth. Because someone’s been lying to her.”

Cut to Dowling, lookin’ sus!

This changeling thing had better be fully explained later. Why was it done in the past? Why is it considered barbaric? What happened to the parents’ real kid? I assume she died of the heart condition, but that’s a bigole dangling bit of Plot. In the unlikely event that Fate goes for many seasons that baby will turn up with magic too or as a specialist or something.

Dowling pours tea. Then she telekinetically locks her office door and opens a secret passage! Dowling is sus.

Back at the party, where it again seems to be night. Dane is leaning on a column hangin out when here comes Riven with a flask! He offers, Dane says no thanks, Riven says, ‘There are two types of first-years: pussies and aspiring former pussies.” and pours the entire flask’s worth of booze into Dane’s cup anyway.

Dane says something about, “It feels like less a binary choice and more like a spectrum.” And points for the actor delivering this line like it’s a sarcastic comment on social juscice-ness rather than the large sign saying “Dane is not straight!’ that the writers intended. Dane drinks, makes a face, and Riven bullies him into drinking the rest, tipping the glass so Dane chokes.

Terra rides to the rescue, “Bullying the first-years? Can you be more basic?” and Riven says Dane was into it which he wasn’t.

Terra: “Thinks he’s some badass but you should’ve seen him last year he was just a tragic nerd in disguise.”

Riven: “And she’s just three people in disguise.”

Dane does call Riven out on that bit of nastiness but Terra just does a great lil speech and strangles Riven with vines. Thought I’d hate that but I kinda liked it. Go Terra. Then she introduces herself to Dane, says that wasn’t a great first impression but Dane says he’s about to make an impression by throwing up after a single drink, and Terra hurries him away presumably to the nurse.

Bloom google-imaged changelings! Lotsa woodcuts, someone’s fanart entitled “horror of fairy babies.’ There’s more nuance to it than that… Bloom looks at a family photograph.

There’s Stella, coming to be sympathetic? Nope, she’s coming to conivingly advance the plot! “You know there’s no shame in that, wanting a normal life, wanting to be home...”

When the girls get back Bloom is nowhere to be found. Musa mind-reads that Stella is wracked with guilt, They put it together, Bloom was talking to Sky and now she’s gone. Apparently Stella did something nasty to the last girl who talked to Sky. Terra is kinda straight up badass. Stella confesses, she kindly loaned Bloom the portal ring so she could go back to “the first world” but to use it Bloom has to go deep into the forest outside the barrier to a door in a graveyard.

Portal’s super low special effects, Bloom pushes open a door in a cemetary, the ring glows, and Bloom walks into what must be the warehouse she hid out in.

It’s very dark inside both buildings but away from the cemetary it seems to still be day so we can see a Burned One’s shadow coming towards the portal. Day and night seem to depend on location in this show, and anywhere you need a monster it’s gonna be dark! Bloom seems to leave the magic portal open and we see her step out on the warehouse into a weirdly well-lit night on earth.

Real actual nighttime on earth. Bloom walks to her parents’ house and calls them from outside. Her dad’s surprised she called twice in one day. This call her folks seem just worried and nice, not awful like they were in the flashback. Bloom cries. She can’t ask her parents about the changeling thing. Her mom says very kind, ‘Your path isn’t like mine or your father’s but I can’t wait to see who you become.” Bloom hangs up and cries and watches her parents in their house, then walks back to the warehouse to return to Alfea.

But first we get to see where she was camping! In a little office in the warehouse. She brought a lot of stuff, bedding and pictures for the walls and everything. She opens a notebook and we see that she was experimenting already, discovered she was fireproof, wondered if she had superpowers. Then she senses something and looks out through an interior window into the rest of the warehouse.

Yikes! it’s a Burned One!

Bloom staggers back, trips, and drops Stella’s ring down a grate in the floor.

Bloom’s never heard of Burned Ones at this point but she knows a monster when she sees one. She cowers, back to the wall. The Burned One breaks through the window and tries to grab her!

Bloom escapes into some kind of tunnel, I guess she opened the grate that the ring fell through? It’s not totally clear. There’s the ring, on the other side of a different grate or screen, Bloom can’t reach it, there’s lots of roaring, Bloom runs like hell!

And there’s Dowling! She says, ‘don’t stop now.’ and gestures Bloom through the door back to the cemetery. The door closes behind her. Terra, Musa and Aisha are waiting to make sure Bloom’s ok. Bloom says the Burned One got the ring.

Stella, meanwhile, is on Sky’s bed when he comes out of the shower! Dressed, at least.

Sky is not interested. “You can’t be here, Stell. If Silva finds out-’ Sky goes for his trousers but Stella comes over and snuggles up to his bare back. Sky is still not keen. Seems Stella dumped him then went silent all summer and now she’s jumping in since he talked to Bloom. Stella… comes out and says, “I got jealous. I did something really stupid.” and she says, “I can’t sleep in a room where everybody hates me.” For sending Bloom into danger to get home when that’s what Bloom wanted? Not great, Stella, but hateworthy? Did the girls all tell her they hate her or does Stella just think she’s an awful person? And is Stella actually desperately unhappy or is she just trying to get in Sky’s pants? Not sure what to take away from this. Sky hugs Stella and tells her she’s better than she thinks she is.

The others get back to the dorm and Aisha reassures Bloom that Dowling can take care of the Burned One.

Cut to Beatrix leaving her raid on the library with armfuls of books. She passed Riven, who’s smoking. They say flirty things and Beatrix says she’s been “snorting the midnight adderall” to show that she’s a bad girl. Riven offers her a puff but her hands are full of books so they do this almost-kiss so Riven can blow smoke into her mouth. Erotic, also gross. Is that a real thing people do? Riven asks Beatrix if she’s a first-year and she says “I’m lots of things” and walks off leaving Riven and the room he’s in, which has the most gorgeous arched windows with trees in them. Is this place real? It’s the same place the party was but now it’s night and these windows are glowing green with tree outlines in them. This has gotta be something the filmmakers added.

Pajama scene in the girls’ suite, Terra waters plants, Musa hops in bed with headphones on. Terra does a needy little wave. Musa reluctantly un-headphones. Terra offers a speaker she borrowed from her brother so Musa can have her music without shutting other people out.

And I cringe so hard because just let people tune you out if they want! Communicate by whiteboard! People not wanting to share doesn’t mean they hate you, it means they have their own thoughts they’re busy with! Come on Terra, be better than your novelization self!

Musa calls Terra out on her fake-happy bullshit. Musa can feel all of Terra’s insecurities and anger. Seems like maybe empaths shouldn’t have to share a room! What’s the range on mind reading? How did Musa hit 16 without learning to tune stuff out or going mad? But Musa says, ‘but if you want to know how I really feel...” and switches her music to a speaker, it’s guitar-y and nice.

Up in Dowling’s office, Silva says she should’ve killed the Burned One not left it chained up and knocked out in a shack outside the barrier. Dowling needs to investigate this Burned One, see if there are more of them. Then Dowling spills that Bloom is a changeling, from the time the last Burned One disappeared. And she says, “Rosalind kept so much from us. I’m worried about the students. The Alfea they know is very different from the one we attended.” There’s something very “there was a war before” about the two of them. Dowling may not be sus after all, though that may make her a terrible headmistress depending on how the next episodes go.

Montage of sleeping students. Terra and Dane are texting. Dane accidentally likes one of Riven’s sexy photos. Riven’s pleased. Sky and Stella are sharing a bed but after the last scene I can’t imagine they actually did anything. Sky seemed pretty unseduceable.

And outside a Mysterious Cloaked Figure passes through the barricade, finds the Burned One in the hut, and zaps it awake with lightning. It pushed back its hood… Beatrix! So if she undid her too-tight braids she’d be Stormy? So is Beatrix the villain? I mean obviously she’s a villain but the threat of the Burned Ones feels... bigger than one teenager in Bratz clothes who has not got the presence of even one Trix much less all three wrapped up together. But anyway she’ gets to be a doomful cloaked figure at the end of episode one.

Very pretty ending credits music. Listened to it several times. I can’t understand the lyrics which is probably just as well. Is it in irish or is it just sung in a way to not have clear lyrics? C’mon fate, Irishness is a big thing you’ve got going for you, please milk it for all its worth!

I… I LIKED it! Now my friends say future episodes get worse so I can’t get my hopes too high but this wasn’t awful. None of the girls really had any vibe of their characters, only Bloom and Sky really look like Bloom and Sky. The worldbuilding is lacking, I’m left with more questions than answers.

And oh god one episode was ten pages and about five hours. I… I meant to do this with every episode but I’m not sure I can. There’s so much to comment on it takes forever. Maybe I’ll do each one in parts. Or maybe I’ll abandon the writing and just watch the show like a normal person. It’s a lot of fun to fine-toothed comb each scene but I’m’a be here forever!

#fate the winx saga

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stusbunker · 5 years

Text

Featuring: MoC!Dean x Demon!reader, Original Female Character, Castiel, Charlie, Crowley, Rowena

Summary: Our reader’s back and there’s gonna be trouble! Charlie brings back the Book of the Damned and CC asks Castiel for something he doesn’t want to give.

Warnings: This is super long, possession, show level violence, rough sex, face fucking, oral sex (male and female), hair pulling, dirty talk, dub!con smut.

Series Masterlist

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March 30, 2015

Munich, Germany

The city was old, streets wrapping around buildings at harsh angles and in varying stone. But that was what you needed, age, wisdom, answers. At your sendoff, Crowley had given you a name, occupation, and a proverbial pat on the head. You didn’t know why you complied so easily; until you heard the first peal of laughter from a stranger on the sidewalk. Humanity. To be surrounded by life was worth the mission. Language and social niceties came back quickly, adjusting from vessel to vessel as you navigated the foreign byways.

It was easy to forget your time with Dean here; to imagine yourself something newly minted in this different world. The power you found during your initial escape in that lonesome field painted with bull’s blood, was nothing compared to the possibility of redemption. It taunted and teased you with that naïve hope only Crowley’s goading could coax from your battered mind. He hadn’t mentioned your previous time running his errands, nor the Winchesters, but he didn’t have to. He had your number, and once you started stacking the clues together; you had his.

The shop was warded to the nines, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t watch from the café across the street. You handed the server a fifty Euro banknote and asked to be left alone, freeing your table for the lunch hour and beyond. Hell, the teacher of eternal patience had left you with nothing to do but absorb and endure. So, you did what you knew; you waited. Eventually, the shopkeepers eased from the side door, their business hours long faded into the setting sun.

They each cast a hasty glamour once they spotted you. Too late; you had their scent now. Carefully you rounded the building the opposite way they had headed, the alleys were dark and narrow so much more inconvenient for the humans you tailed. Their hurried footfalls remained unmasked, up and over the next embankment. You didn’t flinch as they separated, trying to confuse you further. They only managed to spread their magic too thin and soon you had gained on the rasping breaths of the one that had decided to go north.

“I’m not after you, you know. I’m looking for someone else,” you said in blunt German.

“I know who you work for,” the rough voice answered in accented English.

“Then you know it is easier to give me the information than wait for the consequences.”

His middle-aged face appeared as he dropped his last barrier from your shining black eyes. He pushed off the brick wall and squared his stance, hands dangling and fingers working in distracting movements. You pulled the handgun from your waistband and met his bluff. No one expects a cowboy duel in the Fatherland, but nothing about your afterlife made sense.

“You want to draw a little more attention to yourself there? Bullets don’t scare me, demon,” he spat out the last word as if he was some holy man, some saint worthy of a judgement.

“Witch killing bullets might slow you down a tick though, yeah? Witch.” You said it how it felt best on your tongue. You spoke over your shoulder to the one who had rounded back, failing to trap you, “thanks for joining us. All I need is for one of you to talk and then we can all go home. Easy peasy.”

“What does it want?” The one still hidden from sight demanded from the one staring down the barrel of your gun.

“Information,” you answered evenly.

“On who?”

The man shook his head at his partner; the name in your head reaped more fear in the witch than Crowley. The silent conversation dragged between them and you decided incentive was necessary at this point. If Crowley’s reputation wasn’t enough, enforcement needed to make up for it. You pulled the hammer back and aimed.

“Alright, alright, what do you need to know?”

“Give me everything you have on Rowena MacLeod.”

*^*^*^*^

April 1, 2015

Inside Man

If Dean was avoiding CC, then he was. If CC was avoiding him, he had no idea. It was almost too easy to be with her in the quiet library or even the cavernous garage, now. Maybe it was the non-human thing, but Dean didn’t really notice her anymore. A chameleon in any room, there, only when she wanted to make her presence known, otherwise she had become as peripheral as furniture. So, it was with the same regard as to a bookcase that Dean called Rudy, begging to be his back up on a case. Sam had his mime movie thing and Dean had his cabin fever. Bupkis it was.

He slipped into the driver’s seat and headed to nowhere in particular, the purples and greens of twilight kept at bay with Baby’s headlights. Dean needed something normal, something expected, something as easy as his hands on the wheel and his cassettes in the deck. This was where he belonged, where he was himself and how he could make sense of things. Now with what the Mark and the world had done to him, he needed it more than ever. Without Sam’s constant vigilance and CC’s over accommodating methods; Dean needed to feel like Dean again, even if it was just for the forty-mile drive to a douche filled sports’ bar.

He switched to the radio about twenty minutes down the road, letting a familiar snare walk and bass line fill the car. He started singing along, drumming his fingers on the downbeats. Dean let himself sink into the music, the carefree joy of belting out crescendo after crescendo. His voice cracked on a lyric and he stopped to swallow as it all hit him. He missed her. He fucking missed the demon. He finished the song, words hitting him harder on the other side. He ignored the tightness in his chest and the shake to his hands. Thinking it made it real and the reality of longing for something, someone like that made his stomach pitch. But it wasn’t disgust, it was grief.

Dean yanked his thoughts out of the depths and brought them back to surface survival as he pulled into the parking lot. The faux neon signs reflected on the Impala’s freshly waxed hood. The meager groups were congregated around the pool tables and Dean decided to try his luck.

A few beers and a pool hustle later; Dean realized he should have stayed in for the night. Rowena had set a pack of rabid frat boys on him and he had to reign in every ounce of his control to stop from gutting them all.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean had the tiny woman pinned to the bar after her spell failed to even give him a nosebleed.

“Saving my son!”

Dean’s confusion was dwarfed only by his surprise. “Your son?”

“Crowley,” she challenged him, adding another shock to the moment.

“Crowley Crowley?!”

“My son is a king! A god, or he would be if you didn’t—You snap your fingers and he comes running like a wee lapdog.”

Dean started to back away, missing whatever blame he held in this scenario. “Lady I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a good influence on him. That’s why you need to die!”

“Well, sorry your little light show didn’t work,” Dean held her fast, he wasn’t going to underestimate her now.

“Oh, I’ll try again,” she whispered the promise that sent a chill down his spine.

“What, you think I’m just gonna let you walk outta here?” Dean matched her menacing smirk.

“I think, you’re a hero. You could have killed those men, but you didn’t. Because they’re innocent.” She winks at him then, taunting him even with the knife to her very pale throat. “Cuz, you’re the good guy and you want them to live. But the spell I cast will DEVOUR them from the inside out, just like it did that girl.” She knew exactly how to use her powers and wiles against him. “I’m the only that can save them. What’s it going to be, HERO?”

Dean recoiled, releasing Rowena as he stepped back to allow her the chance to reverse the damage she had caused. “Fix ‘em up and go.”

“So civil, aren’t you?”

“Lady, I think I’m being the, bigger person here? You did just try and kill me.”

“Well, bigger isn’t always stronger, is it? Brains are a muscle you might want to, strengthen?”

Dean rolled his eyes behind her back. Lithely, Rowena whispered into each of the dude bro’s ears, pulling hexbags from their pockets.

Another bar, another drink with another MacLeod

“Who’s the liar now?” Crowley looked at Dean a little too knowingly. Dean scoffed and took a drink. “She says I’ve gone soft.”

Dean chuckled, because damn if the red head isn’t right, “you have. What? Yeah, maybe it’s all the human blood that Sammy pumped into you, you know? Maybe it’s, uh, I don’t know. I don’t know. But the old Crowley, he would have come in here with hell hounds and demons and he would have blown the roof off the joint. Now? You didn’t want to fight. You wanted to talk. And maybe I’ve changed too. Here I am playing Dr. Phil to the King of Hell. Never saw that coming.”

“Maybe we’re getting old,” Crowley waxed mortally.

“Never saw that coming either,” Dean agreed.

Dean let go with Crowley, explaining the backbone of who he is and how he had made it this far. Family. Then he shoved the piss poor example of a mother Crowley was clinging to, back into the demon’s face. “Does that sound like your mother?”

Crowley knew better, but he was feeling generous. Dean had become his Achilles’ heel after all. “You know I may have seen it coming. Might have had someone digging up all her years of indiscretions since I’d last seen her.”

“Well, good, can’t be too careful,” Dean takes the last pull from his glass, smacking his lips together.

“She’s kind of a wildcard, but I think she’ll get the job done. Who knows, maybe it’s just me getting soft. But I do love an underdog,” Crowley’s eye sparkled back at Dean as the suspicion creeped through the man’s features.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno,” Crowley stood. “Just, uh, let me know if you want her number? Might be worth the dime.” With little segue, he vanished. Dean groaned and slid Crowley’s drink over, holding back the fruit and ice before taking the leftovers as payment for not offing the guy’s mom.

April 16, 2015

Book of the Damned

The Bunker after the Cabin

“Whoa,” CC muttered just as she felt Castiel arrive. She looked across the War Room table to Sam who just walked in from whatever he had stashed in his room. “We’ve got company.”

“Hello, Sam, CC.” Castiel joined them, filling in the details of their plan to get information out of Metatron on the Mark behind Dean’s back. Castiel explained in guilt-laden detail how his original grace had been restored. CC felt an ease in the Angel’s eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. Sam did his best to placate Cas, while CC started guessing how a being like Metatron on the loose was going to come back to bite them all in the ass. A stone started to worry in her gut over the words of a never forgotten dream.

“You did the right thing. That book needed to be destroyed,” Castiel’s reassurance brought CC back to the present. “We will find another way, Sam.”

The creaking of the entry door turned everyone’s head skyward.

“We’re back bitches!” Charlie’s spunky return continued to brighten the mood as the evening moved forward with genuine ease in the air. CC never saw Dean smile as much as he did when the red head was around. Something about her tenacity and unabashed nerdiness brought out the teddy bear in him, which CC liked to see, even from a distance. The hacker had become part of the family in a way she never had, despite living with them for this long. Thoughts of a lonely childhood and her looming solitary eternity caused CC to call an early night, leaving only a weary Sam to notice her exit.

April 18, 2015

Manhattan, KS

A summons.

Though the hope had betrayingly crossed your mind, more than once, you never thought he would actually do it. Now that you stood before Dean Winchester once more, you weren’t sure if it was to kill you properly or to fuck you senseless. His glare was that gloriously intense. You welcomed either outcome, if it was at his hand.

“You rang?” You smirked in greeting, hoping the vessel was moderately appealing. The timing of the spell didn’t really give you many options, she was a petite Latina in her early forties, though her genetics hid her age well. You weren’t in the Bunker, but what appeared to be the storage area of an old basement. Mildew and old masonry evident as you gathered any detail that held potential of his intentions. Secrecy abound; you were very much alone.

“Y/N?” Dean didn’t break eye contact, his voice cracking as your eyes misted at his acknowledgement. You only nodded, the emotion of seeing him again began to break through.

“I wasn’t sure you remembered,” a whispered confession.

Dean looked down, shame falling over his usually steadfast features, “Yeah, well I had to do some digging.”

“So, you still don’t know who I am?” Realization knocking you down a peg once more. Geez, drag a girl across the world and you still can’t put the pieces together, some great love he was. And yet he was, damnit.

“I don’t think I know anyone the way I know you.” Dean chided himself, biting at his lip and tsking his tongue. He stepped closer, eyes searching yours. You unconsciously mirrored his movements, taking you to the rim of the red spray paint on the cellar floor.

“I suppose that is the best I could ask for.” Your arms longed to be around him, to feel the weight of him against you, to feel his heart beat. You didn’t know what he wanted from you, but you knew it was your last chance at honesty. You answered his call and raised him with your shared history.

A heavy breath escaped your chest and you let your eyes go black. “I first met you, centuries ago. Before I was a Demon and before you were the infamous Dean Winchester. When you were just some kid who sold his soul for his much more promising brother. Before you knew of your destinies and long before you gave Heaven and Hell the finger.”

Dean’s shoulders straightened, one hand in his pocket as his head cocked with mild amusement.

“I remember the first day Alastair strapped you to his table, the way you screamed and challenged him. I still heard it some nights back home: your voice in agony and me powerless to stop him just outside the door to his favorite torture room.” You began to pace inside the trap, working through the memories both cherished and painful.

“How long did he leave you there?” Dean asked, arms crossed over his chest now, brow furrowed.

“I was left outside your sessions until the day you took the deal,” you stepped forward as he shook his head in disbelief. “I heard him, every day, ask you and I heard you every day, even after hours of anguish, refuse. I begged him for the same opportunity, but I wasn’t special. I wasn’t you. And then I finally saw you face-to-face.”

“The First Seal.” Dean closed his eyes as it all came crashing back and into focus.

“I never blamed you,” your voice fell, hand raised trying to comfort him. He stood just beyond the barrier of his own devising. “Of course, I would have done the same, had I been given the chance. But it wasn’t until your Castiel rescued you, did I feel Alastair’s final torment.”

“Just stop, okay?!” Dean pleaded suddenly; he thumbed the Mark of Cain which seemed to be throbbing over all of the blood he had shed in Hell. The hunger that threatened his humanity once more. You flinched at his words, your stories had brought you back to that vulnerable human soul who had witnessed her schoolgirl crush and torturer ripped from her plane of existence. “You’ve only ever seen the worst of me. Why didn’t you just kill me?”

He kept his eyes down, but you saw how perplexed he felt; you were not a predictable demon and bless him for trying to understand. Your face softened, the endearment you felt catching him off guard. “I was just getting to that part, dumbass. Love. Alastair’s final torment for me was an unwavering and unrequited love, for you.”

“We had very different experiences with Alastair.” Dean’s face broke into a smile, the slight blush on his features. He was such a dork, it hurt to watch him like this.

“Yeah, well, according to Crowley, it wasn’t Alastair at all. He wasn’t ‘that sophisticated with the emotional aspects of the job’.” You shrugged.

“He has a point,” Dean relaxed, walking a bit as you continued to speak.

“Where’s Chloe?” You asked nervously, “And Sam?”

“Chloe? She’s still kicking ‘round the Bunker, but, well, too much water under the bridge.”

“That’s our girl.” You knew she would move beyond this ordeal better than most, yet somehow you still worried for her wellbeing, even after she extradited you. Fucking symbiotic relationships.

“And Sam’s fine. Ornery and trying too hard to make me listen to reason–”

“A lost cause if there ever was one.” You teased, Dean smirked, toeing the line that separated you.

“I’m done fighting the Mark, Y/N.” Dean let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not strong enough, either I go hermit-style like Cain for as long as I can, and people die. Or I just give in.”

“That seems a very narrow list of solutions to a very new problem.”

Dean’s whole torso twitched at your candor, “Well, the Book of the Damned was our last lead and that’s toast. Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

You stepped closer; tips of your pointed shoes frozen against the magical wall of the Devil’s Trap. “I’m what you would call an ‘entry-level demon’. I got out on sheer dumb luck the first time, Dean. They don’t share the great mysteries with the cesspool. Honestly, I think Crowley has been honest with you about the Mark since you became his trusty Knight in Shining Plaid.”

“Yeah, well, worth a shot.” Dean tried and fell just below gracious. He was truly desperate. It carved at you to see him so defeated.

“Is that the only thing you wanted from me?” The pain you couldn’t hide from your words, returned to you in his aching glance.

“It’s not like that.” Dean swallowed. “You know it’s—”

“It’s better left unsaid.” You nodded, trying for the stiff upper lip, sniffling against his stubbornness. “But tell me something else?”

Dean head shot up, waiting for your next question.

“If you’re done, if you’re giving in to the Mark. Why the trap? Afraid I’d get out or just afraid I’d touch you? And you’d really turn? If there’s really nothing to lose, why don’t you—”

Then he was kissing you, Dean Winchester had stepped inside your cage and welcomed your darkness as if it was his only salvation. Though you couldn’t save him; you needed to show him everything words were unable to convey. How you wished he could see how perfect in his imperfection he was, how his self-sacrifice never ceased to take your breath away, how with just the sound of his voice you could withstand a hundred years in the Pit. How much he was loved and needed and how he deserved so much more than a worthless hell-spawned wretch could offer him.

The height difference sent you spinning, he was everywhere, broad shoulders and strong hands, clutching at your now smaller body. The danger Dean accepted by stepping into the circle gave you a rush, your core tightening as he deepened the kiss. Suddenly, you were weightless, he lifted you up, your legs quickly opening to lock around his waist and before you knew it you had tugged open half the buttons of his shirt. When you pulled the tee shirt up from where your thighs had pinned it to his sides, Dean broke the kiss, with heavy breaths he rested his forehead against yours. It had been years since you had tasted him and never with this tongue, but somehow, he still knew how to kiss you.

*^*

Dean could have stayed in that moment forever; the oasis of Y/N’s arms was something he hadn’t known he had missed until he found his way back home. Her hands were now delicate and soft, her legs shorter and waist impossibly narrow, but she still moved the same, with Y/N it felt right. His cock twitched against both his jeans and her impossibly sheer leggings. She rolled her hips against the movement, causing him to groan before leaving a fierce trail of nibbles down her jaw, her skin spiced and smooth beneath his chapped lips.

*^*

The heat growing in your belly intensified as Dean’s mouth wandered lower, his teeth tearing at the lowcut top, you pulled down the shirt and lace covered bra, freeing your aching nipples for his hungered mouth. Balancing one hand tightly on your back, Dean’s free hand kneaded your left breast before teasing the puckered flesh with the warmth of his tongue. You clamped down against the emptiness inside, overwhelmed with each affection Dean gave you.

You grinded harder against him, whimpering, letting your hands snake through his hair, your fake nails digging in as he switched to the opposite tit, pulling that nipple between his straight teeth. He watched you grow needier beneath his every touch, the desire in his eyes making you more desperate. You pulled yourself up, flush against him as you worked off his shirt. The anti-possession tattoo utterly elementary compared to the ancient curse on his arm.

You took over, your kiss demanding his submission as he backed you against the invisible concave wall. The barrier, though intangible was strong, and you used it to rest against as you slid down Dean’s body to remove the clothing restricting you from taking him fully. You wiggled the trim hips from the thin material, tossing the drenched lace to the side among the bunched pant legs. Dean had kicked off his boots, thumbing his shorts and jeans off with a swift dip. He was simply gorgeous, solid and bowlegged, but stunning all the same. Lust battled the emotional appreciation of his nudity and all too soon you were sinking to your knees. Tiny fingers raked up his calves and over his sturdy quads, heavy lashes fluttering over your cheeks as you waited for his impatience to get the best of him. Your face so close you could smell the tang of his heavy balls, eyes lingering on the drop of want leaking from his menacing tip.

Every inch of him seemed larger than before, perspective was in the eye of the beholder and for this vessel Dean’s cock was downright intimidating. The trim legs held you up, the abundant chest brushed against his leg as you silently dared him to make the next move. His hand came down hard on the crown of your head, thick fingers lacing in the dense black locks, he slid through until yanking at the nape of your neck. As he snapped your head up your mouth opened automatically from the jarring tug. In his other hand Dean fisted himself, “You don’t get to tease me, or I’ll send you back. You understand?”

You nodded, tears forming from the intensity of his grip on the base of your neck.

“Sorry?” Dean tilted his head, dramatically inviting you to speak up.

“Yes. Yes, Dean, I understand.”

He sucked air through his teeth, green eyes darkening as he released his hold on your hair, his rough thumb dragged down your jaw to circle lazily around your pouting lips. Instinctively, you licked them before he paused. “No teeth, Y/N. I know that was you and I mean it.”

“Whatever, you liked it,” you hissed before taking him into your smart mouth. Dean’s hand fell away from the base of his shaft as you worked him deeper and deeper with each test of this mouth. The lips were fuller, plush against the veiny length of him. He repeatedly tucked your hair back, keeping your face on full display as you sucked and mewled over him. As your tongue lapped from underneath, your core clenched, once again, over nothing. The gagging girth of him quickly made you lightheaded.

“You want it so bad you’re gonna choke on it, aren’t cha?” Dean crooned down at you as you looked back up at him, his fat bottom lip clenched between his perfectly white teeth. You slid back to lock eyes with him completely, delicate fingers massaged his balls as he called out into the night. “That’s it, that’s my dirty little demon slut. Hmmm,” Dean huffed and suddenly the Mark took over. His massive hands planted themselves on either side of your fragile skull and suddenly he was thrusting back into you. His dick deepened to puncturing your throat, your stomach rolled, saliva building as he growled with the fierce snap of his hips.

The pressure on your temples increased alongside his speed, delicious and terrifying. Then you began to cough, Dean finally slowed, which allowed you to swallow against the thick mucus that had gathered in your esophagus, tender and stretched wide. You dragged her nails back down his legs before letting him go with an audible pop. Then Dean did the hottest thing you had ever seen, he crouched with those damned bowlegs, lowering his pulsing cock to the generous cleavage in front of you. In a frantic whimper, you tugged your breasts apart for him, tips of your fingers teasing the dark areolas before holding the fleshy globes tight against his spit-slicked cock. Once again, his strong digits weaved into your hair as he fucked your tits. His every muscle worked to dominate you, the Mark of Cain ragged against his pale forearm, his abdomen tense behind the soft layer his other vices supplied, all overloading your senses with his power, his lust for you and just how far you would push each other.

You teased the ruddy head of his cock with the tip of your tongue, his salty juices seeping out to aid in the rough friction. Your nipples ached as your pussy sopped with emptiness.

“On you back, Y/N. I need to eat some of that before I am done with you.” Dean growled, tugging as his cock as he tried to step back from the brink. “Fucking smell you from here, you know that?”

You didn’t reply, just slowly sat back on your bare ass, the cold floor sent shockwaves through your overheated thighs and straight to your folds. Your nipples puckered impossibly smaller. Dean spread out his large shirt behind you, before leaving a tantalizing kiss on your shoulder. Then his lips took over, he sucked and nibbled and decimated the teak colored skin. When his hot breath hovered over your nipples you thought you were going to cum on the spot. Each sensation barreled into the next, your legs were shaking by the time Dean spread your knees wide.

“Now this view, Y/N? I have got to hand it to you, hmmmm, nice choice,” Dean’s eyes glinted as his thick tongue found your swollen bud. It gave a dizzying jostle before licking broad strokes up and down your lips. Spreading you wide, Dean gathered your juices with his skilled fingers. You half laughed and half moaned when, at long last, your trembling cunt earned its fill. Dean’s fingers worked into you as he sucked gently on your bursting clit.

“Is it sweet enough,” you teased back, watching him lavish you, drunk on your sex. His scruff shown with your arousal, his whiskers adding roughness along your tender apex, further blurring the lines of pain and pleasure.

“You know what’s the most messed up part?” Dean whispered, sliding back to watch his fingers disappear inside you. “I don’t know this chick and I don’t care. I am just fucking you. Not Chloe, not anyone else. Right now, it’s only us. And I should care and I’m sure I am going to hate myself tomorrow. But that feeling of not caring?”

“I’d call it freedom. Best kind of bittersweet.” You sighed, reaching up to stroke his temple. His closed his eyes and you finally saw how bone-tired he was.

“I hate being this scared, Y/N. It’s not who I am.” His fingers never stopped; his mouth ghosted over every sensitive crease as if the act alone was penance for his confession.

“Dean?” Your voice hitched.

“Yeah?” Dean placed tiny pecks along the inside of your thigh, his voice impressively soft.

“I really need to cum. You make me feel so good, but I can’t—” you broke off into a gasp as he added a third finger inside you, his tongue pressed wide and forceful against you. You didn’t know if it was his admission or the added effort once you begged for it, but less than two minutes later and your climax overcame you. Waves of heat flooded your system as everything contracted. Then the break and you fell: unwinding with the stuttering pulses. Dean pulled you through it, his fingers’ pace slowed in calculated increments. Just as he slipped from your clutches, he made sure to nuzzle your mound before easing up to his knees.

With a tempered swat at your knee, you caught his drift, rolling completely over you rocked back to give him another angle to admire. You arched your back and shimmied your shoulders to stretch out the tension that had settled as you braced for your orgasm. You couldn’t see him, but you knew Dean was centering himself behind you, his damp fingers coating his length as it returned to its full glory. You squared yourself, knees below hips and shoulders over splayed palms, ready for whatever he would give you.

Dean nudged your knees farther apart, causing your upper half to lower onto your elbows, the cold stone floor stiff beneath your thin joints. Ass bared and ready. “I want you to tell me, who I am.”

“Deeeeeeeeannnnnnn.” You keened as he stretched you open, even his fingers couldn’t prepare you for the heavy steel of his cock.

“And?” he slowly rolled his hips, barely hitting that secret spot, as if by accident. He was fucking vindictive.

“Dean fucking Winchester.”

“That’s more like it, Y/N.” Dean built up his rhythm.

“Hunter.” You mewed.

“What else?”

“Mark Bearer?”

“And?” His teeth were clenched now, the words strained and menacing.

“Knight of Hell!” You screamed as he smacked your ass, pounding into you with constant shallow thrusts.

“Who am I?”

“The Righteous Man!”

Dean growled at the old title, the darkness of the Mark at war with his true nature: protector of the innocent. As his other hand connected with the opposite cheek you tensed, unsure of what else he wanted to hear.

“Michael’s Sword!” your voice was high and whiny as everything that was holding you upright began to weaken. He took both of your hips in his palms now, dragging out of you slowly before popping his pelvis back in, forcing you to press back into him or crash to the floor. He hummed in appreciation as he spread you wider from behind, his thumb pressed against your puckered hole, adding to the building pressure throughout your core.

“That’s mine, just like this pussy is mine. You hear that, Y/N? You’re mine.”

“Always have been,” you replied plainly without even registering what it all meant. “My Seal Breaker.”

Dean liked that one, because he raised one knee up and began to work you over again. You tossed your head back to watch him over your shoulder, bending nearly in half. He was breath-taking, his mouth open and panting, skin dewy and tense, uncountable scars and freckles randomly yet perfectly placed to outline this impossible man.

“Come on, baby, let me see you,” Dean coaxed, your eyes burst open, the inkwell pools staring back at him as he thrust harder into your luscious depths. “Hmmm, Y/N, you know how good you feel? So. Fucking. Sweet.”

“Better than her?” You half-whispered, half-begged.

“Every ti–.” Dean broke off on a moan, your body pulling him as deep as it could, and suddenly you crested again, muscles spasming as a howl escaped your mouth. Dean gave you only two beats before slamming back into you with wild abandon, reveling in the tightness and the added slick. The slap of his balls against your clit and his strong hips against your firm ass an erotic symphony.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum so hard in that borrowed pussy, you want that?”

“God, yes, Dean. Fill this tiny little thing up,” You whined, tugging at your nipple as Dean began to add an extra roll of his hips between his thrusts. Damn, he knew just how to move, your channel quaked against him, another orgasm looming just out of reach. Dean slid one hand from your waist to palm the small bubble of one ass cheek, fingertips digging so deeply they’d leave marks in the morning. He brushed your g-spot over and over again, everything was vibrating, but it grew too loud. As soon as you felt the next wave approaching Dean froze, spilling inside your wanton cunt. Hot, thick and delicious Dean’s cum slipped from your lower lips as he eased his spent cock from your shaking walls.

He wouldn’t stop touching you, his hand on your hip as you slid down to curl on your side. He let his breathing regulate as he perched back on his heels, his well-built body on full display, the base of his multicolored pleasure trail glistened with both of your juices. His mouth a perfect pink “O” as he blew out a chilling stream against your lolling breasts. You groaned and rolled back up to all fours, biting his delicious thigh as you snaked up his body to steal another kiss. His arms encased you, pulling you in a painfully tight squeeze, the Mark of Cain, hotter than the rest of him, pressed against the lower curve of your ribcage.

He nestled his nose against yours with a satisfied hum, “Now, THAT, was not something I never thought I would do.” Gesturing to the sigils beneath your bodies.

You laughed, “Come on, not even when you were the demon?”

“Okay, maybe once, but Sam was in the room, no way he was getting a free show.” Dean winked down at you, which you eye-rolled away, letting the black slip away for effect. This was it: you felt the inevitable end approaching like a derailed train. You couldn’t look away or sidestep the onslaught, you just had to let it happen. If Dean would let go of the brakes, it would all be over soon.

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” You asked softly, letting your hand rest just below his tattoo, head against his collar bone.

He shook his head, “Not a clue, but I had to see you again, in whatever way I could.”

“Well, you could have come to me,” you teased, “I’m pretty sure Knights get all access passes.”

“I’d much rather come in or on you, sweetheart.” He grinned, what an ass. You shoved him away playfully, setting these carefree moments to memory. Even if you were both shit at coping, but professional at bullshit, at slapping on a mask for everyone else’s benefit. Well, Dean the later at least. You didn’t care much for anyone other than yourself, him and CC, if you were being honest. Which you weren’t.

“I don’t think I could handle if you went back, you deserve better than Crowley’s crap-dom.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I can’t die then.” He kissed you gently. “And won’t be going on another karaoke tour anytime soon.” There were so many things you wanted to say and none of them sounded like what he needed to hear. So, you sat there in silence, naked and blissed out upon the grimy floor of a forgotten warehouse in Dean’s arms.

***

He had fallen asleep, with his flannel as a pillow and his jeans thrown back on, unzipped and rumpled, he snored lazily at your side. It was some surrealist painting unraveled, he was raw and clammy with every spare patch of skin reaching across fictitious distance between you. He grumbled senselessly as you watched him, the vessel’s pleas growing with each passing minute. You kept your exploits from her, but she still knew she wasn’t safe there. The wrongness of losing perspective fostered the alarm churning inside your shared head. You savored every second you spent watching Dean dream, which was all the more precious because it was brief. Fleeting as a heartbeat, gone as quick as a wink. Nothing gold can stay.

Once the awe of it all wore down into undeserved contentment, she pushed harder and your willingness to ignore her thinned. You had work to do, a King to please and a vessel to free. You may have been a demon, but you weren’t cruel. CC had taught you how to be honest, even when it cost you everything. You wouldn’t look him in the eye and offer a true goodbye. You didn’t want to hurt him, and you couldn’t bear it if he wasn’t as pained as you.

Which is why you left like a thief in the night. The trap meticulously scratched through with the switchblade Dean always kept on him. Hastily, you left a note, prying a strip of vellum from the spell book he had used. Sam would have a bitchfit about it later, that you were certain. You couldn’t just disappear after experiencing an ecstasy of his choosing. Dean deserved more than you could offer, but you muddled through. With an air of melancholy that would make a Victorian widow proud, you staggered away on feet too swollen to be shoved back into her tiny boots.

*^*^*

When Dean woke up, everything hurt: his pride especially.

He hadn’t planned beyond summoning and facing her, but once he was inside her vessel with her; Dean had found what had been missing all those months. Dean saw his mirrored half: damned and deceitful, surely, but beautiful and blossoming all the same. He started to laugh when he fully came to, a deep belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes. Here he was, left half naked in a devil’s trap and somehow felt like he was the one doing the walk of shame. Either way, they both were. Figured.

He started gathering his spell materials as his phone went off.

“Dude, where are you?!”

“I had an errand, Sam. I’ll be home before noon.” Dean plucked a folded piece of paper from the middle of the old grimoire he had stolen from the Bunker’s collection.

“Everything alright?”

“I haven’t killed anybody, if that’s what you mean.” Dean read the note carefully before tucking it into his breast pocket, phone pinched between his shoulder and ear.

“That’s not what I— You know what, forget it. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Not if I see you first,” Dean replied ad nauseum.

Sam barked a forced laugh. “Nice.”

“Yeah, well, you too.” The brothers both hung up, allowing Dean to finish clearing the basement of everything but the mangled sigils ringed in red. Before Dean started the Impala’s engine, he pulled out the thin scrap and reread the words she had left him.

Dean-

I’m sorry to do this like this, but this one needs to get back to her life. I’m still on a job in Europe for the time being, but thanks for the one-night vacation. You were, as always, incredible. I hope you know you can call me; whichever way works best, anytime. Just, don’t do anything stupid. O.k.?

Always yours,

May 1, 2015

After Angel Heart

If Castiel had known Chloe Collins her entire life, perhaps he wouldn’t have been surprised by her request. Maybe, if he had known her without a demon’s influencing their entire history; she would have built up to this massive deceit with more finesse. Though angels were known best for being direct, unless one considered Lucifer and Gabriel, of course. Every way he regretted their tumultuous past; it still didn’t make answering her any easier.

“No.” Castiel glared at CC like she had suggested he trade the trench coat for Bermuda shorts.

“Castiel, please? This is really important and now that you’re fully you, you can show me how.” CC hated asking for favors, especially of the Angel, but this had gone too far.

“I don’t understand why you think I would do such a thing.”

“Because it is for their safety, Castiel. Sam and Dean are in danger with this hanging over us. We ALL are in danger from the truth getting out.” CC moved further from the backdoor of the Impala, drawing Cas out of earshot.

“Why?”

“Because, ‘Heaven’s eyes will never be far from you now and the minions of Hell will seek you out as a fortress against the light.’” She huffed in exasperation, eyes locking onto his impossible blues as the warning resonated between them.

“Whose words are those?”

“Mine, or my granddad’s, I don’t know. I had to make a choice to comeback from being comatose, Cas. I chose to live with the knowledge of my birth, of what and who I am. So now; I am a target. Dean doesn’t need another cross to bear, his plate is full. And Sam? Sam’s already walking on thin ice.” She stopped before she could expose every dirty secret she had learned from her months of hiding.

“Why are you only telling me this now?”

“Claire. You did the right thing, even if it hurt like a sonofabitch.” CC gave him an impressed eyebrow as he took what she said as the compliment she intended.

“You trust me?” Cas looked at his hands then back to CC, who’s own were tucked into her back pockets.

“Us Heaven rejects need to stick together, right?” Her smile pulled one out of him.

“If I agree to this, when would we even be able to do it?”

“As soon as possible. I need to get back at it, especially with the Steins still out there.”

“And you’re sure this is the only way to ensure Sam and Dean’s safety?”

“Fuck no. This is the only way to ensure Sam and Dean’s blood isn’t on my hands. Those assholes don’t do safe, you know that.”

Castiel nodded into a shrug, still playing at considering her offer.

She stepped forward, dropping a heavy hand onto his shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t care about them, Cas.”

He noted her repeated use of his nickname from Dean and the physical contact that they had never shared before. “Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll erase the knowledge of your lineage from Sam and Dean’s memories.”

“And Charlie’s,” CC added.

“And Charlie’s, of course.”

“I can’t thank you enough.” CC reached her opposite hand out and shook Castiel’s hand, solidifying their agreement. Cas took her hand and her anxiety in his, sensing she needed the peace of mind as much as she needed the escape.

*^*^*^*

Next Chapter: Finale: Just One of the Many

#known series #moc!dean #dean winchester fanfic #dark fic #demon!reader #dean winchester smut #moc!dean x reader #spn dark fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fanfic series

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aliceslantern · 4 years

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Retribution, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 7

Newly a person again, Ienzo is weighed down by guilt and his humanity. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to atone... only to find unexpected solace in a familiar face. With more insight into the bonds between people than ever before, Ienzo reaches for a dangerous element from the past to help Kairi and Riku in their search for Sora. What is his life if it means saving another, brighter light?

Post KH3 and Re:Mind, Zemyx

Chapter summary: Ienzo tries to come to terms with his and Demyx's newfound connection, on top of continuing to strengthen his magic.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

On a purely literal level, this was all so… bizarre. Not only was it physically and emotionally jarring, but there was also the not-so-minor fact that the object of his attraction was Demyx. This had to be in part--he thought (did he hope?) because he was Ienzo. Zexion would never put up with this.

(Or would he, had he felt such things earlier? Then again, Zexion couldn’t feel--that was the difference between his selves, wasn’t it?)

It didn’t help that this all was a fantastic way to silence the noise of his various ongoing existential and identity crises, considering they constantly invaded when he wasn’t at work.

Stranger still, to have things to look forward to other than some form of self-sacrifice for the greater good. The greenhouse became a neutral space, a created space, where he could shed his masks and simply be , and feel. Ienzo suspected Demyx may do the same.

For a while after that kiss, their touch was purely chaste. The handholding became embracing, became true cuddling, something he hadn’t experienced since he was a very small child, and truly this was much different than that, though innocent in its own way. To simply hold and be held overwhelmed him, and often he found himself shaking, his skin unused to contact. They would sit against one wall, Ienzo in Demyx’s lap, leaning against his shoulder. His smell was comforting, grounding. Sometimes they would talk, but often they just sat in silence, absorbing one another almost with embarrassment.

“...This feels nice,” Demyx said. He was stroking Ienzo’s hair, and Ienzo wondered if this was how cats felt when they purred, though no noise left him.

“I’m afraid it’s through no effort of my own. My hair simply does what it wants. I gave up wrangling it years ago.”

He laughed a little, and Ienzo could feel it. “No. Sitting here like this.”

“It… is.” He felt the blood rush to his face. “Touch can be… incredibly reassuring. At least for humans.”

“It’s like my skin is thirsty.”

“...I know what you mean. As social creatures… we need people.” He scowled. “Much to my chagrin. It is entirely natural… and wholly irritating.”

Demyx laughed again. “You even resent things that feel good?”

“...I resent feelings in general. I do so wish I had control over them.”

“Turn them on and off at will?”

“Mostly off, but quite. Or at least… lower the volume.” He wrinkled his nose. “After so much numbness this is almost more than I can take. My heart is quite literally a child’s. To suddenly be shoved into an adult mind and body… makes me feel so tenuous.”

“...I don’t know. I like you as you are.”

Ienzo looked up, pulling away just the slightest. “Why?”

He seemed genuinely startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why should you?”

He furrowed his brows. “I dunno… now that we’re not constantly sniping at each other, I can kind of see… the person peeking out underneath.” He touched his cheek. Ienzo shuddered; it had nothing to do with the content of their conversation. “You’re so--funny.”

This was the last word he expected Demyx to use. “Am I,” he said dryly.

“Witty. Thoughtful. Selfless.”

“No, no. Please. Fluff up my ego, why don’t you.” He scowled.

“Why are you so hard on yourself?”

“Why am I--” He sputtered. “All the things I’ve done--”

His eyes took on an intensity Ienzo had rarely seen. “Is in the past. As you keep saying.”

Ienzo had to look away. “Do you forgive yourself, for what you did?”

“I’m trying to.”

“I want to.” It was a revelation to himself. “But I… I don’t know how to let go.”

“Maybe settle for feeling first.”

Demyx had a point. All this tamping down and derailment of emotion was not going to make it go away . If he felt it--let it all come up--maybe he’d be in tatters, but there might just be something left underneath. Someone who could still do good. “You’ve become--painfully insightful,” he murmured. “I suppose you always were, and I was none the wiser.” Ienzo shook his head. “Where do you propose I start?”

He ran his thumb over Ienzo’s lower lip, a touch that brought with it another shiver. “I can think of one thing.”

Ienzo kissed him. It was easier this time than before, less awkward; they’d both caught on at this point. He felt Demyx’s hand on the small of his back and noted it, too, was shaking. To let this all in took conscious focus, an unraveling of the barriers which so far had kept him upright, functional. To melt and cede to his body and heart, rather than the mind and will.

It helped that kissing felt rather lovely. Demyx kissed back with more insistence, and Ienzo matched him, his hands reaching up to grasp at the blonde hair (softer than he would have thought?). He was breathing hard, a juddery, unstable sound. This was not a terrifying breathlessness. This might be something worth testing, experimenting with, all of the sensations breaking over him new and yet somehow so old. Genetic, the desire for this sort of thing, he figured in brief snatches of consciousness. People were wired for it. He let this impulse run, and it should not have felt so liberating to give into something for once, instead of his normal restraint. Ienzo ran his tongue along Demyx’s lip and heard the shallow--and not completely promising--sound of surprise he made. He pulled away. “I’m… sorry,” he said.

He was flushed. “Don’t be sorry.” He touched his mouth. “I just--”

“Should we set boundaries?”

The flush darkened, reaching his ears. Curious, the power Ienzo had in that moment, to make him feel that way--but a power used for pleasure instead of pain. Definitely something worth toying with. “I wasn’t expecting it… but I…” He seemed to make some kind of decision, and rather abruptly pulled Ienzo close again. He wondered if Demyx, too, was just trying to feel. This time he parted his lips, and let Ienzo in, and much like that first kiss it was awkward for a moment or so as they tried to learn. Ienzo’s hands, caught in the fabric of Demyx’s shirt, trembled. This was a deeper sort of pleasure, one that threatened to bleed into other places in his body, and the simple shock of this was enough to make him break away.

A normal result of such activity, he knew, but something completely unfamiliar to him. How interesting , to feel this, the flush and flood of his own hormones, so long hidden by quirks of Nobody biology. It made him feel warm, strangely vulnerable, but also free. Like a chick about to take its first flight.

“Are you okay?” Demyx asked. He was breathing hard.

“I was merely… taking a second to observe these feelings,” Ienzo said. “Do forgive me.” And kissed him again. He shifted his weight a little, so he was fully facing Demyx, thighs against hips. Hard to tell exactly with their clothing, but Ienzo was fairly sure he felt his--

It didn’t happen all at once, but he felt his own body reacting, hardening, and the shiver that passed through him was less pleasant than the last, this effortless freedom giving way to a pain of overstimulation.

“I… I’m afraid I have to stop here.”

“I… feel the same… I’m dizzy.” He sounded it. “I didn’t think--”

“It would feel like this?” They both said almost at the same time.

“It feels… good,” Demyx said. Ienzo pulled away from him, acutely aware of the new pressure between his legs. “But at the same time it’s almost like I can’t take it.”

“Too much too fast,” Ienzo agreed. He tried not to drop his eyes to his lap, to observe it. “Have you ever felt such things?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Felt--? You mean--?”

Embarrassed and glad for the curtain of his hair, he nodded.

Demyx cleared his throat. “Not that I can remember, at least with someone else,” he admitted. “But it’s not… so unfamiliar? I guess? The, uh.” Ienzo prayed he wouldn’t say it, but he did, rubbing the back of his neck. “Boner?”

He flinched. All of these terms so crass and inelegant. “What you said when we first kissed. Did you mean it?”

He furrowed his brows. “I haven’t gone off and gotten laid in the meantime, if that’s what you’re asking. Think I would lose my shit--not in a good way.”

“I just don’t know how cautious to be. That is.” He swallowed.

“How fast to take things?” Demyx offered. He nodded once. “Let’s play it by ear. Don’t think about it too hard.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Ienzo's ear. "But I'm definitely willing… to experiment with you."

The pressure worsened. "Can we change the subject?" He asked. "The more inconsequential, the better."

---

And it did feel like playing with fire. These feelings were quickly getting too large, too embodied. He wanted. Ienzo had longed to be an adult for so long; he'd never anticipated it having its own challenges. In his rare moments alone, he found himself fantasizing about such things, about what it might be like to touch and be touched, take and be taken. Completely normal thoughts to have, he knew logically, but at the same time, alien. Distracting, embarrassing. (Delicious.)

He never gave into the temptation to explore on his own, which he found odd given that would likely make things much more bearable. He tried to a few times, but the sight of his own body quickly caused self-consciousness to kill any longing. Easier to feel this way if he had someone else to focus on.

Not that it was all physical, between them, but it was easier to think that it was. He feared there may be something below it, the kissing and the joking, something new and startling. Why was it he felt more comfortable being himself around Demyx than around the men he’d known for ages, the ones who’d raised him? Especially those he’d forgiven so far?

Demyx was also familiar with facades.

This realization came to him as he was trying to sleep. Much in the way Ienzo had feigned maturity, stability, tamping down hard on emotions, Demyx had feigned stupidity, obliviousness, kept himself under the radar. Neither of them had been their true selves in a long time, and allowing those masks to fall aside only deepened the bond between them.

He could stop this, he knew, stop these budding feelings in their tracks, let it all be about sex, or what have you. But did he want that? It was no doubt bad for his mental stability, already tenuous enough as it was. Would it truly be so terrible, to bond with someone? To trust them?

(Then again, all the people he’d trusted had betrayed him, or been pulled away from him.)

Demyx was so flighty. Who was to say that he, too, wouldn’t leave Ienzo? Why allow vulnerability when it would only grant pain? He did not need yet more angst. In all this, after all, he still had a job to do.

It was so… grueling.

During one of these endless hours training, he’d actually had to sink to his knees, his chest splitting like he’d run a marathon. Ienzo tried to catch his breath, his fingers working along the fabric of the cover of his lexicon. The magic fought him hard. Of course it should; pursuing this was unnatural. But if he didn’t, what else could he do? Work and work in supposed “research” while nothing continued to be found? Despite returning to more-or-less a normal schedule, through gradual increases, nothing happened. If he had the power to make change, he was going to do something. No more sitting quietly in the background, refusing to dirty his hands.

The illusions refused to gather strength; they remained weak, flickery, intangible, no matter how hard he pulled or how much he tried to strengthen his other magics. Was this all he was really capable of?

Ienzo cried out in frustration and tossed the book. It splayed loosely on the stone floor of this room. A heat gathered in his face, equally from the embarrassment of losing control and a vague self-loathing.

Calm yourself. Focus.

He crossed his legs and shut his eyes, which were hot and ached. He tried to take deep breaths, focus on the way the air felt in his lungs. Calm, as ever Zexion was. Smooth, steady breaths. Let the memories run. Imagine how they may feel.

He pretended a patch of grass, so like the grass in the gardens he used to play in as a child. The smoothness of the blades against his fingertips, the coolness and dampness of dew. Keep breathing. Push the sensation outside of the body.

The first thing he thought was, it’s small. Maybe two meters square. He reached down and touched it, feeling that familiar dissonance of knowing this was fake and made, but at the same time, his own mind was fooled.

Perhaps the key was not using Zexion’s memories, but Ienzo’s. But there were so few of those--years he’d been too young to remember, and only some months since he’d been here again. How to gather data for use in his memory, and ergo illusion?

A stab of pain in his head shattered the illusion. He needed rest. “Zo… you look…”

Ienzo glared at Demyx, daring him to say something. He sat down weakly on one of the cushions. His body felt so heavy, despite the fact that he was fairly sure he’d lost weight. He'd been trying to keep up with his caloric intake, but the illusions seemed to require pure vitality.

“ Terrible ,” Demyx asserted, despite the harsh look. “Did you get any sleep at all recently?” He craned his neck a little, to get a better look at him. “And what are--” He brushed his fingers along the inside of his wrist. “You’re all bruised.” He grasped Ienzo’s hand and pushed the sleeve up farther, despite Ienzo’s efforts to pull away. Demyx was physically stronger than him; hauling packages would do that. “How--”

“I’m afraid you got a little carried away the last time we were intimate.”

Demyx shot him a look which indicated Ienzo was full of shit. “Those don’t look like hickies.” In the lamplight, Ienzo had to admit the bruises did look gruesome; they were small, perhaps the size of coins, splotches in random places all along his body. He was infinitely glad there were none on his face. They were just bruises--not darkness, as he’d initially feared. Some were already yellowing and fading away. Demyx handled his wrist gently, then grasped it; Ienzo realized he was trying to gauge if someone had grabbed him. The bruises were finger-sized, he realized, if a man had large hands.

“I was not in any fights, if that’s what you were wondering,” he said quickly. “I bruise easily--I always have. Must’ve knocked into something and not realized it.”

“These aren’t contact points,” Demyx said. His gaze was sharp. “Cut the crap. What really happened?”

He sighed. “I almost miss the days you pretended to be oblivious.”

“Ienzo.”

He huffed through his teeth--and gave him part of the truth. “I’m trying to strengthen my magic,” he admitted. “It was greatly weakened during my reformation. The… training is having odd effects on my body.”

“Because you’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said. “You work like a million hours during the day, and if you train at night--” He put a hand to his forehead. “Of course without sleep the magic is going to literally suck the life out of you.”

“Since when are you a medical and magical expert?”

Demyx scowled. “You know I listen to you guys when you talk, right?” He took both of Ienzo’s hands. “Zo. Please. You need to be easier on yourself. You don’t need magic right now.”

To his surprise, he felt tears in his eyes, tremulous and hot. “But I do.”

“Why? You were never a fighter.”

He had two options, each of which seemed equally arduous. He could tell Demyx the truth and force into the open his own recklessness; or he could lie and risk damaging the one bond he had. “I--”

He was almost funnily serious. “Ienzo.”

“I’m trying to get my power back.” Like opening Pandora’s box.

Demyx's eyebrows shot up; then he turned pale. " Can you?"

"It's coming back weakly--but it is coming back. It's simply exhausting. I wish to… use it to help Sora. I have power over memory, to see it--that's part of how I created illusions. If I can see the bond's of Kairi's heart…" He exhaled. Demyx didn't need to know of the inevitable price.

"Will it hurt you?"

"It's unclear." The closest his conscience would let him get to a lie.

"Ienzo--"

"This was my decision, Demyx. I want this. I wish to help, however I can."

He still looked worried. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He was so exhausted. "You could hold me," he said.

Demyx touched his face. "Will you let Even look at you?"

Ienzo blanched. If Even found out--

"Or Aerith? She's a healer."

He hesitated. "That would be prudent, wouldn't it?"

"I could go with you."

"Perhaps… I could use the air…" He settled back against Demyx and felt him slip his arms around Ienzo's waist. Demyx took his bruised wrist gently and kissed along the marks, making him shiver. "That's nice."

"Why don't you nap for a little while?" Demyx asked. "I'll stay with you."

"Yes… maybe…" His eyelids were so heavy. "Fifteen… twenty minutes…"

"Just sleep."

Ienzo drifted.

When he woke, it was light out. He was wrapped in blankets and on a mattress of cushions. He'd slept hard, hard enough to not notice any of this, a rarity. There was a handwritten note by his head in Demyx's neat, painstaking writing--

Zo,

To be fair, I did try to wake you, but you just wouldn't. I would've stayed until you woke up, but I had to get to work. I left some ether and water for you. You should finish it.

Please get some rest. And don't be mad.

See you,

He groaned a little as he sat up. His head was pounding, though the drinks he'd been left helped. The worst of the bruises began to fade as the ether seeped into his system. He checked the time and felt his heart jolt; it was a little after noon, meaning he'd been unconscious close to sixteen hours.

He was late.

Ienzo groaned again, more in frustration than anything. Very well.

"Oh, Ienzo. So kind of you to join us," Even said, when he got there.

He ignored the barb and walked over to the computer, to pick up a tablet. "I thought I was working too hard," he said instead.

"Yet--you've again been stepping up your time here. Don't think I haven't noticed, boy."

He sighed. "I am very much well."

"That so."

"Yes," he said. "It is."

"I'm sure Ienzo had things he needed to wrap up," Ansem said diplomatically. "If you feel you are well enough to work, then you are. Yes?"

"Quite." He went over to Kairi. He'd done some reading recently, about ways to channel magic through touch; he wondered if this might help his floundering power. As casually as possible, he reached for her wrist, as if to take a pulse. Help me.

He tried to let his power feel for her; and to his shock and delight, he could sense her light reaching back, beckoning. She'd been waiting for this. He gave her hand one more gentle squeeze. I'll come back later, he thought, and hoped she got the gist of the sentiment.

He did, too, weathering another not-quite-argument of Even and Ansem's. Once they had finally, finally left for the day… he approached.

Kairi grasped at him with the same willingness as before. Ienzo shut his eyes. It was imperfect, weakened, painful, but he could see snatches of her memory--the island, the bright saturated color, days and days of playing in the sand and surf, adventuring as they may, and Sora--

Ienzo was abruptly thrown from her mind. His head was aching and he could scarcely breathe. Was Sora's disappearance to blame? Was he simply too weak? His nose was also bleeding rather heavily, and he thanked the stars he actually had a handkerchief with him. I'm sorry. I'm not yet strong enough.

She slept.

#retribution #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #kairi

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steve0discusses · 5 years

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Yugioh Ep 23 S3: Always Put Guns on Your Satellites

Ah, I’m finally back at my home computer after a little hiatus there. In case you are curious, I went to San Fransisco and then spent about 2 weeks trying to find a single parking spot. But, I’m back in my normal place now, where trash trucks aren’t driving around, breaking the speed barrier at 3 AM and where I don’t have to parallel park at a 45 degree incline. I got my fill of good food, chilling out, getting completely rained out by a freak storm in May, and walking about a mile vertically to go three feet horizontally, it’s time to sit back, relax, and talk about an anime that came out 20 years ago.

Y’all...what were even doing 2 weeks ago? It really does feel like three years.

If memory serves, we are currently in the midst of not one, but 3 Apocalypses. Lets just place em down in case you forgot

1.) The Millennium Item Apocalypse, where if one person gets all 7 (or was it 10?) of the items, the world freakin ends. This is briefly on hold because Bakura, our Millennium item enthusiast, hella died about 24 episodes ago and none of these people have brought it up or tried to contact any sort of governing authority even though Yugi and Tea both witnessed the murder about 7 hours ago (which, for Marik’s credit, did take place over international waters, touche). So, for now, Bakura’s spirit is kinda holed up in Pharaoh’s puzzle necklace so he’s just...chillaxing.

2.) The God Card Apocalypse, where if one person gets all 3 God Cards, the world freakin ends. Briefly on hold because everyone got stuck in a VR universe, and Marik felt like staying on the blimp instead because I dunno maybe he wanted to take a nap or something.

3.) The Matrix, where Seto’s Dad is going to launch a bunch of machines to trap the entire human race in this VR zone against their will and become a slave to the machine overlords. Somehow this is a thing that has been happening in the background this entire series but has only been revealed like...last episode.

Bro is reminding me that I forgot to mention that all these duel monsters are becoming slowly more and more real but like...eh.

There’s three concurrent Apocalypses right now. Don’t forget. There’s three of them.

Anyway, Seto Kaiba has decided it’s about time he deal with his Daddy issues/prevent the Matrix.

While Kaiba has decided to confront his Father, the rest of the people on this show have no freakin idea what to even do so they’re just arguing with eachother in Domino square and getting no where.

Also, I nearly forgot, Joey can’t even beat up Noah currently because Noah switched places with Mokuba, because this isn’t Yugioh unless we start switching brains like it’s as easy as turning your T-shirt inside out.

Of course, in this case, Mokuba didn’t exactly *switch* places with Noah--Moki’s brain is just...floating around this world somewhere. I don’t know if he got stuck in a Monkey or if he’s just...dead...but it just makes absolutely no sense to me how your soul can get sucked into a VR game and now lives tron-style in VR while someone else steers your body which isn’t any more connected to the machine itself, so I’ll just assume he’s dead. It’s just easier to say Moki died, it’s happened so many times to this kid at this point.

Basically, Mokuba is here, but in not-spirit. In every way but spirit.

And about those brain pods--does Yugi’s pod take up 2x the RAM because he’s got two people in that bean or has Noah seriously not noticed this like at all? because there's two dudes in one pod and Noah has just acted like that’s a completely normal thing that can happen.

(read more under the cut)

Anyway, the A team has sort of all turned into the B team because only Kaiba’s can really have any active involvement at this part of the arc, so Yugi decides to take a break and enter brain fort. Which, I assume he does just whenever he’s bored. It’s just kind of weird when he decides to do this, without warning, in front of a large group of other people.

Anyway, it’s Yugi, so he somehow turns what is so clearly Kaiba’s problem into this selfish need to carry the torch by himself for no reason.

Like, Yugi is the main character--I get that--he’s gotta be some sort of moral standard because this is a protagonist in a kid’s show, but it is such a stretch for him to still think that there’s any good left in Noah after all the events of this arc. It just comes off that every time Yugi tries to see good in Bakura, or Marik, or the Kaiba family even, he’s maybe doing it out of guilt.

Like Yugi isn’t naive at this point - he set a guy on fire once with Russian Whiskey in a freakin burger diner, and even if you don’t consider Season Zero canon, he also set PaniK on fire and left him to die in the woods (and that nut ABSOLUTELY died), so it just doesn’t make sense to me that he’d helplessly fall victim to a thousand evil assholes who pretended to be his friend. Instead, it’s sort of like Yugi’s trying to overcompensate for the amoral weirdo residing in about 98% of his brain right now.

Overall, TL;DR, Yugi is kind of a weird guy.

Love him, but he’s sort of a walking disaster with some very selfish motivations and I forget. Not about the walking disaster part of course, that part is like clearly very obvious, especially when we find out his grand masterplan.

Also, this happened,

Again, I would be absolutely fine if Tristan just remained like this, talking like the librarian out of Terry Pratchett, taking Serenity to prom just like this.

Anyway, these guys had absolutely nothing to do, so the show invented something on the fly.

If you could copy-paste any card, why not just copy-paste 24 Exodias? Like I get they don’t have God cards here but they have all the other ones, right?

Like I don’t understand the danger here, you can just keep playing cards infinitely because there’s no rules when you’re outside the game. Just keep slapping stuff on your duel disk like it’s that fanmade Yugioh game that they made for real life VR headsets. Youknow the one that was so bad that it became like a viral video, where everyone is a really low poly Yugioh character but they only have like 4 character models, and for some reason one of the four is Yugi but as a girl in a miniskirt? And they’re on the blimp for some reason, and none of them can stand up straight so they kind of duck walk everywhere? That one? The one with Joey saying “It does what it do!”

Like I feel like if even I saw that video show up on my twitter, everyone else has seen that video of just this really bad VR game and I don’t remember what it was called but feel free to google it, it’s a fun 10 minute ride.

Anyway, the mayhem of that viral video is kind of what this entire VR arc is turning into. More and more as we break reality and completely ignore the rules, to the point where now we’re just slapping whatever cards on our duel disk--cards we shouldn’t even freakin have because we identified at the beginning of this season that no one has a deck here.

But anyway, back to the only person who got out of the VR zone, lets see what Noah’s up to. Ah, the real world, where all we ever had to worry about was magic.

This password was so obtuse even Noah, who is literally a computer, forgot it. Wow.

So now that Noah has escaped the computer, he decides to walk down the hall to log onto yet another computer so he could use his hands instead of...however he was using computers in the digital zone.

He could have done this from within the Orb, right? Like this part didn’t really require him stealing Mokuba’s body? We know he’s already connected to Kaiba’s network so he could become ascended and open the Door of Truth, so I’m assuming it would also have the ability to just log onto this computer in his own ship?

Noah does seem to be just winging it through this entire arc, but he could have done this sequence, and THEN stolen Moki, and THEN hightailed it out of there. It would have saved him some problems later. But wtv, lets hack a satellite, that good ol Kaiba pastime.

Also, fun fact, Kaiba went through all that work to get rid of all the weapons and then forgot about his space stash?

Like was there just SO MANY weapons that he overlooked it, or is he just keeping this here, just to have? Just in case, youknow? Like why does Seto Kaiba have access to The Bomb? Why would we leave a horrible nuclear missile in the hands of a teenager who freaks every time he plays cards? This child who is so unstable, that he knows he was married to a paper card in a previous life but doesn’t feel like talking about it? That crazy kid?

Like usually we have a set of two keys for this type of thing and two different people turn the key at the same time, we don’t just leave them in the Seto Kaiba headquarters with the kid who turned all cards into guns. Are all of Seto’s handlers actually just spies from other countries trying to keep Seto from nuking the planet? Is that the real answer to who the hell Roland is? Is he just a nice spy that makes sure Seto plays enough cards to forget that he could blow up the world if he sneezed too much and pressed the wrong key loading up Duel Disk Myspace?

The implications.

Meanwhile, Kaiba is the only one on this show smart enough to just walk into Gozaburo’s office, where I assume this guy has just been hanging out the entire arc.

Yep, that’s right, they’re going to do a card duel with a chess champion because this show has to shoehorn in those cards. Just one more card fight. Just cuz. Just one more completely pointless card fight between these two people, to show...that Seto can beat his Dad? Seto’s beaten his Dad like every opportunity he’s had to beat his Dad I don’t...exactly know why this was necessary. Would’ve been a much bigger emotional beat for Seto to have just walked away, but that would have also been a much different Seto than the Seto we have.

So basically, if Seto loses, Gozaburo threatens to erase Seto’s mind entirely, which we’ve already pointed out has been so wiped at this point that it would be all of 700 KB and it would just be a single corrupted pixel picture of a dragon.

Anyways, Marik finally conquers his greatest enemy.

Oh. OK. This is a thing he can do now. Welcome back to the show, Marik.

Anyway, Marik has decided it’s high time for him to just go flippen spaz and start breaking stuff. For no reason. I don’t think he fully comprehends that he’s underwater and should not blow up the boat.

Or maybe he FULLY comprehends that? Either answer for him would feel correct.

Also, while I don’t cover cards here, Kaiba’s Dad has decided that the only way to beat his son was to pretend he’s Yugi Muto and reenact the pilot.

It was weird. It was sort of like watching someone audition for a role they don’t have.

Lets go back to Noah.

I knew this arc was going kinda long but how did they end up in freakin Guam???

Marik, who has no concept of technology because he grew up in a tomb and is currently possessed by an ancient force of evil, is still able to recognize a good countdown clock when he sees one. Before he bashes it to pieces because of course he can.

Marik almost saved everyone else’s ass, but unfortunately doesn’t understand that the monitor is not actually attached to the workings of the computer. Much like my Mother.

Bro brings up that this a very Metal Gear thing to only use helicopters to travel over the ocean and hot damn we got yet another Metal Gear reference in just before this arc closes. These weird war crime children.

Ps I like that they drew in the shadow of the bangs across Moki’s eyes as if that would somehow make Moki look sinister. lol.

But, much like the Grinch, Noah’s heart grew...well, it grew.

I wouldn’t go as far to say it grew even a full size, but youknow it...kinda made a weird little fart and bloated a little bit.

So like with Tristan turning into a monkey, it does seem a lot like Noah is just turning into Mokuba and that’s why he’s decided to save everyone. Least in my mind that’s what it looks like. Maybe if he really did take Yugi’s body, Noah would have lasted maybe 5 seconds before being doubled over with endless anxiety and guilt. Would’ve solved a lot of their problems.

I’ve been watching a cat while commuting 4 hours a day and this is actual footage of what my charger cable looked like after the cat went Marik on me and decided the cable deserved to die at 3AM after the freakin SF garbage truck went supersonic and woke up the entire neighborhood.

(the cat is fine, btw, we went and hid all the other cords, dumbass cat)

So what does Noah do? He decides...it’s time I fessed up. And he does it in the worst way, during a time when literally everyone else in the VR world is fighting multiple card enemies/their Dad.

Way to be, Noah, way to be. On the other side of town, Yugi was visibly sweating and had this facial of expression of like “Wow, maybe Noah is just a freakin psycopath?” Which, I dunno, kind of seems like the sort of thing we figured out 23 episodes ago, right at the same moment we met Noah.

Anyway, that’s all for this episode. Really seems like the only person who actually DID anything was Noah who just...decided to throw a bunch of missiles directly at himself because he can’t think things through. I guess Marik did some stuff too, but honestly, I have no idea if Marik thoroughly understood that he just guaranteed that he was absolutely going to be destroyed by rockets. That Loki.

Hey if Noah DOES manage to destroy everyone on this boat, he prevents 3 whole apocalypses and that would default him to hero status. He’ll kill off like 3 major villains and maybe even Shadi. And who doesn’t want Shadi to die (who I assume is already dead but wtv) I mean that’s not going to happen, but like...way to try and save the world Noah, you’re doing your best life.

Anyway, if you just got here, here’s a link to read these recaps from the very beginning, fair warning, there’s 2.5 seasons.

#Yugioh #episode recap #photo recap #yugioh recap #ygo #s3 ep23 #Noah Kaiba #Seto Kaiba #Yugi muto #Gozabura Kaiba #Tristan is now just fully a monkey but still a robot #so he's gone from robot monkey to monkey robot #Tea gardner #serenity wheeler #joey wheeler #duke devlin #So Kaiba just didn't feel like mentioning the huge ass rockets he has #and has had all of S1 and S2?#Marik Ishtar

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highfivecalum · 6 years

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The Bet {CH} 8

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN

YOU SAT at the wooden table in the library that you always sat at, scrolling through your phone as you waited for Calum. You knew that you wouldn’t get much work done and he probably wouldn’t pay attention to much of what you would say. You liked Calum, you knew that much, and you hoped that he liked you back. He acted like it, sure, but he also had a naturally flirty personality, and you couldn’t decipher between him flirting with you because he felt the same as you, or because he was just always like that. Or maybe you were just overthinking like you always did.

It had been a week since the party, making it a whole two weeks since you started tutoring Calum, and it felt like it had been months. The two of you talked all the time and your friends would collectively hang out together, going to the bars some nights and sometimes just going out to get something to eat and hang out at Calum’s house or your apartment. Peyton and Luke hit it off and they, surprisingly, hadn’t hooked up yet, but it was just a matter of time before they did.

Calum would kiss you any chance he got. In the library, at the bars, at the restaurants and diners you went to, every and anywhere you were, Calum’s lips would somehow find yours. Not that you were complaining, though, because you loved it.

“Looking lovely today.” You looked up from your phone and smiled when you saw Calum sitting down across from you. You locked your phone and slid it into the pocket of your jeans. You didn’t think you looked that lovely considering your hair was up in a messy ponytail and you were wearing the same clothes you were wearing the day before, but Calum still seemed to think so, and appreciated that. “What are we learning today?”

You shrugged and sat up straight. You weren’t in the teaching mood. You had finished all of your assignments that were due earlier that day, so the thought of trying to explain psychology to Calum didn’t sound too appealing to you. “Dunno. I’m not really in the mood to teach you stuff today.”

“Thank God. I’m not in the mood to be taught today.” Calum released the sigh he was holding. Calum grabbed your hand that was resting on the table and played with your fingers. He swirled the rings on your fingers around and stopped to look at them in detail. “Wanna do something more fun?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Let’s take a drive and see where we end up.”

You agreed, not wanting to be stuck inside the library all day since the sun was shining, and followed Calum’s actions as you shoved your book back into your bag and followed him out of the library. You put your bag in the backseat with his and slid into the passenger seat like you had before and Calum sped out of the library’s parking lot. It was a Thursday afternoon and while most people were still in class, the two of you were free to do whatever you wanted.

You drove around for a little while. The music blasting, your hair thankfully up since all of the windows were down and the wind was picking up, your feet on the dashboard- which would usually bother Calum, but since it was you, he didn’t care- and your hand in Calum’s as he only drove with one, until Calum slowed down to turn into a gravel parking lot. It was deserted, no cars to be seen, a few picnic tables scattered around, and a huge lake to look out on.

“Where are we?”

“Lake Melon.” Calum shut off his car. “Ever heard of it?” You shook your head no and jumped out of the car as Calum did. He rounded the front of the car and took your hand in his, leading you to the little dock that he sat at many times before. “I used to come here all the time with my sister when we were in high school.”

“You have a sister?”

Calum sat down on the wooden bench, pulling your body on top of his, and slid his hands around your waist, clasping his hands together. He rested his chin on your shoulder, so his words were a bit muffled as he spoke. “Yeah, Mali. She’s a few years older than me.” You didn’t know that Calum had a sister, but come to think of it, there was a lot you didn’t know about Calum, and he didn’t know much about you. You knew he was majoring in music and he knew that you were majoring in Psychology and you knew about each others friends, but other than that? You didn’t know much about him or his personal life. “What about you? Any siblings?”

“Nope. Only child.”

“That’s boring.”

You laughed in agreement. “You have no idea, but Peyton is like my sister and Michael is like my brother, so at least I have them.” Calum hummed against your skin and your eyes fluttered shut. You loved the feel of his lips on your skin, even if your shirt was a barrier between the two. “We should go swimming.”

You jumped up from Calum’s lap and kicked your flip flops off. “Swimming?” He laughed. “We don’t have bathing suits.”

“We have our underwear.” You shrugged and peeled your shirt off and shimmied out of our jeans. Calum gulped at the sight of you in just your black bralette and matching thong. You spun around and Calum tried to adjust himself as the tent that was forming in his pants made it uncomfortable to sit normally, but seeing your bare ass on full display made it even harder for him. You let your hair down and shook it out before getting a running start and jumping into the water. Once your head popped up you smiled at Calum. “You comin’ in or what?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’.” Calum shed himself of his shirt and jeans and you bit your lip as you watched him cover his junk with his hand. You could tell he had a boner, it was hard not to tell, but you didn’t say anything. You weren’t creeped out by it at all, if anything you were flattered that he had a boner because of you, and you didn’t want to embarrass him, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

Calum jumped in, doing a cannonball, and you squealed as the water splashed your already wet self. Calum popped up from the water and shook his hair out. Calum could stand, the water stopping at just his chin, but you couldn’t, so you swam to swim and wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. His eyes widened at the sudden closeness, but he quickly accommodated to it and tried to ignore the fact that the only thing separating your skin was the thin underwear the both of you had on.

“Your skin is soft.” You mumbled against Calum’s shoulder and he exhaled a laughed. You traced your fingers over the tattoos on his chest and he let out a shaky breath. Many girls have touched him before and he’s touched plenty of girls, but no girl compared to the way you felt against him, or the way your fingers felt on his chest as they danced over the ink on his skin.

You pressed your lips to his skin and trailed them up his chest, his collarbones, his neck, and finally, to his lips where you captured them between yours. It was a slow kiss, unlike any of the other kisses you stole from each other, and it was the best kiss so far, in your opinion. Calum’s hands were on the back of your thighs and they slowly, torturously slowly, slid up your thighs and rested on your butt, cupping it softly and you let a quiet moan out against his lips.

Calum had to stop himself from letting his hands roam any further. Sure, he wanted to have sex with you and wanted to win the bet, but he wasn’t going to fuck you in public, on a rickety wooden dock, where anybody could show up and see. No, he wanted you in his bed, or him in your bed, and wanted to take his time with you, didn’t want to rush it, and he knew that if he took you right then and there, on the dock, it would be rushed and that’s the last thing he wanted.

He knew that when he had sex with you it would probably be the first and last time. He didn’t want it to be, but he knew he couldn’t do it again for a second time, since the first time it was for a bet. In his mind, it would be wrong to do it again, but then again, the whole thing was wrong. The bet, getting you to fall for him just so he can sleep with you; it was all wrong and Calum hated it, hated himself for doing this to you, but it was too late to back out now.

You stayed in that position for a while; just floating and enjoyed each others presences, until the sun started to set and it started to get colder. “We should probably get out now so we can dry off.”

You hummed in agreement and let go of Calum’s body. You swam to the dock and pushed yourself up, giving Calum the most perfect view of your ass in the process, and he had to hold in the groan he almost let out. You shivered a bit as the sun that was nearly completely set. You turned your body around, quickly peeling your wet and uncomfortable bra off and putting your shirt on. You wrung your bralette out and turned around to put your jeans on. Your legs were still kind of wet, but they would make do.

Calum tried not to stare at your chest and your nipples that were so hard he could see them through your white shirt, but it was hard for him not to. You were a girl, a girl he was overly attracted to, so it was hard for him to keep his eyes off of you. You didn’t mind it, not at all, but Calum didn’t want to creep you out by just staring at you.

“Today was fun.” You smiled when Calum pulled up to your apartment building. You gathered your stuff, reaching in the backseat to grab your bag, and opened the door to get out when Calum stopped you.

“Hey, I was thinking about our second date.”

Your eyes lit up. “Oh?” You weren’t expecting another date, so you were surprised. Sure, Calum had mentioned a second date being a possibility, but you didn’t think he was actually serious. You hung out enough to not need to go on another date, but you loved the thought of it.

“Yeah.” Calum laughed. He loved the way your eyes lit up at the sound of his voice and he knew he was getting in way too deep for this just to be a bet, but he didn’t care. He wanted to take you out, show you off, wanted to tell the world you were his. But you weren’t his, not yet, at least. “I wanna take you out to dinner. A nice dinner so we can get fancy. Me wear a button up and nice pants and you wear a dress and heels. The whole shebang. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect.” You admitted. You had never been on a date like that. The only dates you had been on were the dinner and a movie kind of date, which you didn’t mind, but going to a nice dinner sounded much more appealing to you. Especially since it was with Calum.

“Yeah?” You nodded your head excitedly and Calum laughed at your eagerness. “How about tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night works.”

“Perfect.” Calum kissed your lips, letting them linger a bit, before pulling away with a smile on his face that he couldn’t seem to wipe off. You said your goodbyes and walked inside of your building, waving to the guy behind the desk, deciding to take the stairs instead of taking the elevator like always.

You took a much needed shower and did your daily skin routine before climbing into bed with a smile on your face. Just as you were falling asleep, your phone buzzed on your nightstand, and you squinted against the dark. The smile that was already on your face widened as you read the text that Calum had just sent you.

Calum: can’t wait for tomorrow. :) sleep well beautiful.

Your cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much that day. You hadn’t ever expected to be this happy just because of a guy, but now you were starting to understand why Michael was such a hopeless romantic. You used to make fun of him for it, but you couldn’t do that anymore, because you were turning into one yourself. Months ago, that would have bothered you, but with the way Calum was acting towards you and the way he treated you, you didn’t seem to mind anymore.

❀❀❀

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anth-seeing2019 · 5 years

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Looking Prohibition: The homeless in Clifton

Alexi Frick

Living in Clifton for the last three years has made me an almost lax observer of the homeless and those less-fortunate who inhabit the area. I’ve always found it very interesting to see how people interact around the homeless and what they do when they’re approached by someone they probably don’t want to be around. Especially when you’re dealing with parents from the suburbs or affluent kids who really have never been around these issues and are experiencing a sort of culture shock. I always hear that you should just ignore them, not look at them, pretend they’re not there, all of the above. While this isn’t an outright written rule in a constitution or anything, it is still advice a lot of parents probably give their kids right before they move to an urban area. At least my parents did, and I’m sure a lot of other parents in the predominantly white, middle-class town where I grew up did as well. This looking prohibition, of acting like another human being doesn’t exist simply because they’re begging you for money, is something I find very interesting and very poignant in a country where the gaps between classes just keep growing and growing.

To start my experiment, I tried to find a place where there is usually a high volume of people and also a place where I’ve had several encounters with the homeless. The first place that came to mind was the Clifton Krogers. Well, the parking lot to be exact. There’s usually three or four people who I regularly see begging customers who are walking to their cars. Today there was an older African-American lady with pretty beat up clothing who was constantly scratching her neck and arms. She noticed me and came up to my window, and when I told her I only carried a card on me and apologized, she said “God bless” and politely left me alone. I witnessed a lot of college-aged kids walking by her and I’d say the majority of them outright ignored her and acted like she wasn’t even there. I noticed this more with straight couples and groups of men. People who were alone walking into Kroger’s interacted with her more, but not by a large margin.

I talked to one of the security guards always standing outside of the Krogers about the regulars he sees in the parking lot. He said that, for the most part, there’s never really issues with them. “I really can’t do anything unless one physically starts to assault someone. But I haven’t seen that happen yet. For the most part they’re ignored until they go away.”

One of the things that I think is interesting about this space is that there are more factors than one going into these panhandling interactions. The Kroger customers just spent money on groceries, they want to get them in their car and get them home, they don’t want to hang out in a Kroger’s parking lot. So that itself could factor into the decisions they make when interacting with the homeless. For the most part, they don’t feel threatened as well. The customers know that there are security guards, cameras, and cops always posted in the parking lot. So I’m sure people feel a little more at ease when dealing with a beggar in a very public space like this. I talked to a man who was unloading his groceries in the car next to mine pretty briefly, and found out exactly that.

“Yeah, I mean I never really think they’re gonna pull anything or threaten me. But there is always that fear, because you never really know. But yeah, there’s literally a cop car parked 20 feet away so I guess I feel like I can just ignore people like her and not really be afraid they’ll try to rob me or something.”

After about ten minutes another car pulled up next to mine, so I planned to ask whoever came out how they felt about panhandlers in this parking lot. This time it was two girls, around my age.

“Honestly they don’t bother me, I’m pretty used to them in Clifton and kind of just ignore them. Like I stopped giving them money, but every now and then I’ll give them a dollar or something. This lady I’ve seen here like three or four times, she’s always around. I don’t really like looking at them, because I am a girl so I kind of have to worry about if a male takes my gaze the wrong way or something. But this lady is pretty nice, I feel safer interacting with her.”

Her friend spoke out and said something pretty interesting.

“Yeah, she’ll actually remember who she asks and if she asks you for money when you’re going into the store, she’ll remember you when you walk out and won’t ask you again. I just feel like you never see homeless people doing that.”

While a lot of times it was hard to hear what people would say to her, since I didn’t want to just follow her around the parking lot, I still heard some things here and there. A few “go aways” were probably the rudest remarks I heard, I never witnessed a really harsh response or physical threat or anything like that. In terms of power relationships, I think in a lot of these cases the homeless person, or beggar actually has more power than the person they’re interacting with. If something or someone is making you avert your eyes, or completely ignore something that’s a few feet away from you, then that thing has the power in that situation. While the beggar may not have money, and the other party does, the beggar is still the one in control of a social situation regardless of whether they even know it. I noticed a lot of people going out of their way to avoid the woman I was observing, even if it meant a longer walk to their car. That right there is power over other people.

Tying this back to Garland-Thomson is interesting, because I think she would be more interested in the lack of staring going on in situations like this. She states that staring is a form of communication, and that when we stare at somebody we are sending them a message. And while people do stare at the homeless, they do it more from a distance, where they won’t be bothered. When the homeless person is actively interacting with a person, that person puts up blinders and stare at anything but the beggar in front of them. In Chapter Four, Garland-Thomson says that it isn’t civil to “stare at those beneath us”. While I do think this rule has something to do with people outright ignoring the homeless, I think the annoyance of the situation, of interacting with a panhandler, has more to do with it. It’s not something you want to deal with when you’re just going about your day. I asked my roommate how he feels when he’s going around Clifton and ends up in a situation like this, and had a pretty casual conversation with our friends about it.

“It’s just annoying, I really don’t like to be an asshole but I also can’t just give every person a dollar. I don’t like to think about those people’s situations, honestly. It just makes me feel guilty and like I should be helping them.” One of my friends chimed in that he likes to observe the homeless, kind of just for fun.

“Just like, when I’m in my car or across the street and know they can’t talk to me, I’ll look at them and try to figure out what their whole deal is. Like how they got there. I dunno, I don’t really think about the staring part, but I guess that could come across as rude.”

I asked them what he thinks about when he stares at them.

“Like I said, I like to think about how they go to that position. A lot of the times I assume they’re, y’know, on crack or something. Like I know not all of them are, but like a lot of the times I really think they’re either boozing a lot or just high off some shit.”

This kind of opinion relates back to Segal’s visual typification. While my friend wasn’t assuming that all Jews have curly hair or a stereotype like that, he was assuming that most of the homeless people he sees are high off of some substance or are just going to use the panhandling money to buy alcohol.

“…we must recognize that all of our sensory typifications are, in common, social constructions, and that their relative reliability must be understood by examining them as social constructions.” (Segal, pg. 238)

This Segal quote really sums up the bias that all panhandlers are high and just want money for drugs or alcohol. That opinion, shared by one of my friends, is a social construction that modern society would have us believe. I think it’s a lot easier to tell yourself that drugs and alcohol did that to someone instead of life, and the world itself. Because then that barrier between you and them gets a little weaker, when you realize that maybe that could be you. So I think people like to ignore that idea and assume that they’re just cracked out instead. I think, when it comes down to, people have their own reasons for interacting or no interacting with panhandlers and the homeless. A lot of people are told by society growing up that these people aren’t “regular” and that you should just ignore them. But in a very unstable economy, and in a country that has just begun to pull itself out of a financial crisis, I think homelessness and beggars are becoming a much more normalized part of society. Or, at least they should be. References: Thompson, Rosemarie Garland. Staring: How We Look. Oxford University Press, 2009.

Segal, Daniel A. Can You Tell A Jew When You See One?; Spring 1999; 48

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tempestshakes01 · 4 years

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8/8/20

oh no.

i’ve had another dream where a man tries to kiss me despite having a partner. what is my subconscious trying to say?

last time it was br*d from b/a (but in the dream I was also Claire? I think.)

this time I was at a climbing gym (it smelled and vaguely looked like the old Y I used to go to for gymnastics...yellow lighting, pinesol scent, echo-y) and we were climbing for the first time in forever. alex was in the dream. anyway, we came upon a group and it turned out to be the bould/ering b/obat boys just goofing around with some locals. they were helping out and teaching as well.

anyway, alex got in on it cause it was vert and i nervously wandered away to find an overhand or an easier slab, and to get away from people who might watch me climb.

so then the evening is coming to a close and i make my way to the set the boys were teaching alex and locals. it was a red v2, lol. no one is around. i touch it, and suddenly jake (from bb) comes up behind me and encourages me to try it out. i do. he’s a very nice and patient coach cause i keep placing my feet wrong (my issue irl), but i correct myself quickly and it’s actually a really easy problem. i jump down and jake claps, kindly excited for me, and then...

...this is where my memory gets fuzzy, but basically all I remember is *snap* he’s into me and I know it, and i’m obviously into him, and he goes to kiss, but i turn away like, no, no, you have di who is on the other side of this wall. and he’s like, we’re poly. and i tell him i have to hear that from her first. he agrees and we walk off. the end.

lmao.

and then still in ~dream state~ i’m like, damn another dream where someone almost cheats with me? what does that mean?

that’s a rhetorical question, ofc, because even a ninny like me can tell that’s a can of worms i don’t want to open without a licensed professional on call.

p.s. i am back to hating **** and no i will not elaborate.

p.p.s. i said i’d elaborate about jdemps looking like my dad if you lose your glasses, get lemon in your eye, and you squint, but i don’t think i will--mostly cause i want to forget i even i had that notion.

p.p.p.s. i think a lot of people look alike when they don’t now that i think about it. i’m that one person that sees a someone’s new wedding photos on facebook or whatever, and my first thought maybe 75% of the time is...wow, they look like siblings.

no lie.

i’d post some examples but i won’t invade people’s privacy like that or embarrass them when i am proven RIGHT and they DO look like they married their sibling. it truly creeps me out, but i think i’ve read that people are attracted to faces that look like theirs?

i mean:

which is a quote from an article called:

anyway, i know i’m very in love with long faces/jaws because my own long face. i hate how it’s becoming more crooked though. trying to embrace, but i’m like 🥴. literally. if i were a man i could pull it off a la rya/n gos/ling, but as a woman...🥴.

what else...

started a new job. like a very serious job with a good (enough) salary and it’s sort of in my field. i don’t want to say what it is and i will continue to keep it vague even if i write a blog post to rant--mainly because of legal reasons and staying ethical, or whatever. plus, i feel like i’m in enemy territory and i don’t know how i’ll stomach some of the choices i’ll have to make.

ugh.

i’m getting very nervous. but i’m excited about how it’ll test my skills in a lot of areas and i think it’s a great opportunity to learn and grow. originally i put a 3 year goal on this job (out by the time i’m about 30 and go to grad school), but i might drop that to 1.5 years, lmao. depend on if i like it. i just...can’t give myself to things i’m not 100% about, ya know.

it’s why i left sp/okane.

i really liked it and last summer was such a lovely time with L and N being in my life and climbing and just hanging with M and the fam, but times were going to start changin’, and i didn’t feel tethered to that place anymore. i felt like i had learned and earned my growth.

i also felt like i had things to do and fix with my family here in san an, but i’ve come to figure out that while i may love them...i can’t “fix” the things that i thought i could. overall, the greatest surprise is the love and warmth i feel for my dad that i haven’t felt in years, and just the ease i feel when i’m around him.

for YEARS i felt on edge when i was in a room with him--for reasons i didn’t even know!!! all i knew was that he hurt my mom and broke my family...but honestly, the whole story is probably kinder to his side of things because my mom...god love her, but she’s. she’s...prideful and stubborn, i guess is one way to put it. which is why our relationship is not the same and why she keeps hurting me with her words and perception of me.

the kids are teens now and...with that comes all the moody new qualities of teens, lol, so they’re not as keen to hang out with their weird auntie anymore, but i’ve discovered new love for hanging out with my big sis, and i love that for us.

anyway, back to this new job. yeah. i just can’t fathom sticking to something i’m not all about--which might be unhealthy, lmao. at some point i’m going to have to “settle” into something. a job. a relationship. a city. maybe? or maybe not. maybe i can continue to flutter around and get what i want to get out of things and move on. i dunno. i just dunno.

tbh, i’m done with san an. i thought i’d stay at least until the kids are out of high school, teach resource, and figure out what path i wanted to go down for grad school in the meantime, but this job was me grasping at this life here. like, i love living my brother, but he’s only here for another year. i’ll probably find a place with alex next year (that was an option this year and we looked for a bit) and i love getting to have her as a best friend. i love having lilz close by (even if i haven’t seen her in months!).

but, nothing feels right, and i knew that when i started getting serious about this job and knowing this is a multi-year commitment, and again, this is an invaluable experience for all the different avenues i debate between (career wise) and it’s a step in the right direction...especially with schools down and i can’t go back to subbing until i find the campus/open position i like. there’s no guarantee with the pandemic. that being said, if a vaccine is quickly available and schools open up safely and things go back to normal...maybe i’d switch back...but tbh, i don’t think it looks good moving around so much.

this year (job wise) looks terrible on paper because i didn’t spend more than three months at any job, lol--though to be fair, i was committing myself to subbing before the pandemic hit. went on spring break though...and we never came back.

i’m not trying to talk myself out of committing to this job and what it entails (despite...again...it being an utterly sober position) but this is just what i feel.

it’s funny to see half my peers settle down with a career and marriage and babies, but i also love that i see plenty of people more on my side of the scale, and mostly i see people in between. i get the vibe that we’re, as a whole, more accepting of alternative lifestyles and crossing social barriers and being friends with people outside of our own norms. like, it’s not sad that some people don’t want kids!

(actually, i’ve been thinking about that the older i get and i get really lonely thinking about how it’s kind of a small island to be one the people who don’t want bio kids, but *do* want to foster and adopt children--and it’s not a medical reason. it makes me lean toward wanting to find a female partner vs a man because i read and hear so much toxic shit from men about wanting their kids to come from their own seed, lmao. and i just don’t relate to child-free folks. i want kids! i just don’t want to birth them! like, at all! lol. i remember alex saying how every time she sleeps with a man, she imagines what their hypothetical baby would look like, and i just could not relate. i mean, i’ve only had 3 partners, but not once did that ever come up in my thoughts...except to think, if i get pregnant, i’m abor/ting.)

i’d also be cool running a foster home for dogs (any kind! medically recovering, disabled, senior!). it’s what i dreamed about as a kid (lol on a ranch in seattle after retiring from the wnba).

anyway, lil cup of joe has worm butt again :/ tapeworms so he’s going to get some meds on monday and get updated on shots as well. i love him so much. i cry thinking about him leaving me, but he’s a small dog so he probably has like 17 more years in him and THAT makes me cry because i’ll be in my 40s and he’ll be an old man and still my sweetest bean.

i’m putting in the comparison photos:

i said if you squint!!! rub a lil salt in your eye and then you will See what i mean.

#miranda this is your life

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heloflor · 7 years

Text

Resets

AO3 link; Frisk's first reset

Well, between school, the Soriel discord projects and procrastination, I'm finally done with that. Just so you know, the book isn't canon, it's just the best way I found to explain how Frisk did their resets in my storyline. Also, as you will see, the rapport between Sans and the timelines is a bit weird because he can only remember feelings and déjà-vu impressions. Finally, I start to count random at a point (because there's way too many resets) and some stuff may be repetitive but in my defense Frisk resets each time and Sans doesn't remember everything.

Last important thing : Chara has nothing to do with Frisk's choices.

Also language warning I guess.

Reset 1

I woke up in Snowdin. Sounds normal but I had a dream. I was on the surface. Papyrus was too. Heck, everyone was. Al, Undyne, the King, I even remember the Lady being up there. And there was that kid. A human. They saved us, freed us. Then...I'm pretty sure they talked to me. I don't remember well, but that had something to do with resets for sure. This kid's curious, they wanna try new things. I dunno what they'll do though. I barely remember anything aside from the surface. I guess I was living with Paps ? I also remember being close to the Lady. Maybe we were living tog-. Nah, I'm daydreaming here.

I dunno how to feel 'bout it. Pretty sure that wasn't a dream; I have the same feeling than when that flower anomaly was playing 'round everyone's nerves with its power. If that's true, the kid can do everything they want. In a way, it can help us to get outta there but they reseted it.

Hope they won't do anything bad. I have a good memory 'bout them.

The kid's about to fight the King. They didn't kill anyone but it feels weird.

This timeline's not the same as the first one.

They're gone.

They killed Asgore; then something weird happened : some kind of giant plant appeared out of nowhere and everything went black. When we all woke up, the King was dead, the humans souls disappeared and the kid was no longer here.

We're pretty much all confused here and some looks really lost. I'd be hard without Asgore to rule. I dunno if that's what the kid planned but I hope they'll reconsider it a bit.

I can't fucking believe it. The Queen's back. She ruling now.

She's the fricking Lady behind the door ! How in the world-

Ok, writing this in there won't help me.

Anyways; so yeah, since the kid's gone, the Queen's ruling. She wants to protect any human falling down here. Guess it's not a bad idea. It'll probably be better than killing them. It's not like it really worked out well...

Again, I have no idea what the kid's looking for but I guess it's not that bad. The Queen's asking for a way to break the barrier with science. She's really being considerating for Al who seems to feel great for some time now. It's not surprise. She has a good job now and even a girlfriend. I'm happy for her.

Paps' doing great too. He's in the Royal guard now, and he doesn't have to fight anyone. I'm so happy for him !

I guess I'm doing great too. Since the Queen's out of the Ruins, I spend a lot of time with her, so much I think she should start paying me for making her laugh so much. I...really like that time with her, and she seems to like having me around too. I...

I'm being some kind of romantic idiot. She's the Queen for god's sake ! She doesn't have time to deal with whatever the way I feel about her...does she ?

Anyways !

If things are looking great, I can't help thinking of what the kid did. We were on the surface, I'm sure of that. Why did they reset ? What do they want from us ?

I'm both scare and hoping for them to reset. If they do, maybe they'll open the surface to us again. But if they don't...

This kid's got more power than any of us. This could be paintful for us if they use it wrong.

Reset 3

The kid's been on their journey again, or I guess it's again.

They didn't kill anyone. Feels familiar.

I know they brought us outta there. They're being kinda reasonable with their resets. Hope they'll stay cool with us and open the surface to us again.

The kid crossed the barrier, leaving us without King and with the souls gone. Now the Queen's ruling. That's a...pretty big surprise. Not only she's the Lady behind the door but she also did pretty big changes down here. She made a new policy to protect all humans falling. People were confused by this. If the kid's been good, they didn't really made friends with others, s'pecially Undyne. And she's even more pissed 'cause the Queen disbanded the Royal Guard and she lost her home for some reason. Now she's leaving on our couch. Papyrus wanted to help her so he invited her home. I also gave her my hot-dog stand. I won't need it anymore now. I spend most of my time at the castle, sticking to the Queen. It's...nice to be able to talk to her face-to-face.

Anyways. If things are mostly good, it's still pretty sad down here. With no Royal Guard, Paps doesn't know what to do anymore and a lotta people feels unsafe. There's also a lot of issues and the Queen got tons of work to do. Also, according to Undyne, Al's not doing that well. Hope she'll get better.

I remember having better times when the kid did their previous runs. If they start making our lives worse...

They're a good kid. They'll never try to rip-off all our hopes...will they ?

Reset 5

They killed someone. I dunno who but I know they did. They were LV2 when they came to the judgment hall. I wanna believe that it was just an accident, that they didn't mean to kill, but I know they meant to do it.

Guess my surprise's the proof that they never did it before. Now the question is; will they do it again ?

Despite the kill, everything's looking familiar now that they're gone. Nobody seems ta have noticed the death. It was probably a random monster in the Ruins.

Anyways. Like last time, I think, the Queen's back, Paps's a bit lost 'bout his future and Undyne's mad. Actually, Undyne's the one seeming different. She seems to know the kid killed someone. She's calling them a murderer and wants revenge on them. Pap's sometimes trying to calm her down but it's...not really working.

She'll better not hurt him, even accidentally.

Reset 10

They killed a monster from Snowdin. It didn't surprised me much. That means they probably killed before but maybe monsters from another place ?

If they've got a certain order of killing planned, I'll need to try to figure it out.

Nothing much changed. Some people are sad for the death but everything else feels familiar.

Reset 30

I think I'm starting to get what the kid's doing with the little sense of déjà-vu I have : they seem to be killing every monster getting in their way one by one. They didn't kill the stronger people though; or at least I don't remember it. Heh, it'll be really hard to forget if the kid ever hurt my bro.

Still got no idea on how far the kid will go.

Reset 108

They killed two monsters, or at least more than one. Their LV is higher than what feels like being last time; the numerous last times.

Must admit, I'm not really caring 'bout that. It's not like I can stop the kid anyways. And nobody seems really bothered by their acts; not that they're right to kill.

While thinking of their old resets, I started remembering something. Before the first one, they told me something; something that gave me hope for my future; the only hope I can believe in now. They talked about bringing us back to the surface, I'm sure of it. Was it just some words like that or a promise; I'm not sure. But if there's more chances to be the first case, I doubt I want to know.

Reset 365

Welp, it's apparently been an entire year. Feels weird. It's like way more but also way less time passed.

Not much to report though. The kid's still killing people slowly.

Must admit, I'm starting to get a bit worried here. They started killing three monsters more some time and, comparing to what feels like the ones they killed less, people feels more pissed than before, even if they don't know who the kid killed. Undyne's the one mostly mad.

If the kid starts killing more than three people; things will start to get fish-y for politics.

Reset 1005

Undyne's an ass.

The kid decided to kill ten monsters and instead of doing her fucking job, Undyne decided to form a rebellion and take over the throne. I'm about to ask her some questions. I need to know what happened to the Queen.

This will be painful.

Welp, Paps's mad.

As I expected, Undyne was being a jerk about the Queen and we ended up fighting. Papyrus's the one who stopped us.

… I don't know who would've win if it wasn't for him. I don't know what would've happened to the loser...

On a brighter tone, The Queen's fine. She's back to the Ruins. I went to see her after my fight with the “empress”. She was more worried 'bout me than herself. She really is a good person.

After spending so much time with her when she was ruling, I really wanna keep her company. The Ruins's a lonely place. She doesn't deserve to be left alone because of what some random kid did.

After feeling like being not so happy in so many timelines, things are actually starting to be great for once.

I went to see Tori, the Queen, again, Paps was with me. She invited us in and now we're having a routine. Each day, me and Paps go to see her. We bring games, books and sometimes one of us go to watch over humans while the other one's bringing her outta the Ruins. Paps loves looking for humans. I'm glad to know that he's happy hanging out with Tori. I'm a bit sad though. Some time after taking the throne, Undyne asked him to be in the Royal guard and he refused to keep spending time with me and Tori. Even if he seems happy, he's probably disappointed 'bout that.

Must admit, it's been a long time since I felt that great. If nobody died in some others timelines, I don't have that of a good memory of it. In this timeline I just...each night, I'm looking forward to the next day. Guess I know why. If there was a time when the kid didn't kill anyone, Tori would probably be in charge. But now, she has no responsibility. Life is just me, her and Paps.

Even if the kid keeps killing people; even if we're not going back to the surface; maybe life won't be a pain.

Reset 3402

They killed the robot. Only the robot.

Feels weird ta finally have a different timeline. I dunno how it'll turn out though. I don't think the kid ever killed him.

That's weird. The kid killed someone that mattered for a lot of people but the result feels really familiar to older timelines. The Queen's ruling, Paps has no life goal anymore and Undyne's mad. Well, some people are sad not having their star anymore but b'sides this, everything seems familiar.

I didn't see Al though; hope she's taking it well.

She disappeared. Alphys, my old lab partner, my best friend; she's gone, just like that. I'm mad. Sure, it's been some years since I last saw her but I never forgot our old friendship. After all, when da- the old scientist was here, we were both working for him.

I'm not the only one pissed. Undyne want the kid's head for that. Paps's trying to make her feel better but she's way more down than usual. She apparently found a suicide note in Alphys' lab.

I wanna believe that the kid didn't know about that. Hell, who would've guess that the death of some useless robot would make her feel that way ?

I'm pissed at this robot. If it wasn't for him, maybe she'll still be there.

...I'm pissed at myself too. I know Al's not the kind to have much friends. Maybe if we were still in contact, I could've help her...No. If Undyne couldn't do anything, there's no way I could've help.

...I wish I could have.

I talked to the Queen in a brutal way today. I feel mad 'bout myself. She was talking about how we need scientists and I just...lost it for a minute.

I can't help thinking of Al each time there's something related to science around.

I hope the Queen's not worried or pissed at me; I don't wanna hurt her.

Paps' been acting a bit weird too. I guess it's because he's always trying to comfort Undyne but I know how easy it is for him to read me sometimes. I don't want him to see me feel bad.

Reset 4758

There's still killing MTT, Al's always killing herself and the Queen started to get banished by Undyne who's really pissed, way more than what feels like before.

I hate it; I hate that feeling.

I woke up, feeling like living a bad dream and knowing that it'll be real in some hours. I hate feeling each time that worry for Al, this sadness to know where she went, that anger when Undne banishes the Queen and that not-so-happy life I live by going each day from home to the Ruins. I hate feeling all of this, feeling déjà-vu with it, trying to figure out how many times they put us in that “ending” and knowing that, if it's not the first one, it's far from being the last.

Can't the kid just realize how nothing's different and stop that ?

Reset 6850

They killed Undyne.

It was a pretty surprising fight; she refused to die and grew determination to last longer before dusting. As sad as it sounds, this is getting me curious. I wanna know where this DT comes from. Guess it's probably from an ancestor. Humans and Monsters mixed with each other wasn't rare at a time. Heck, I know I have a human trait in my soul coming from an ancestor. But if she made her own determination, it would lead us to a way to break the barrier without the kid.

But if it was possible, what would we do to them ? Would I be able to break my promise...nah, there's a good kid inside, some death won't change it...maybe.

I'm worried for Paps. He spent the entire day in front of Undyne's house, waiting for her to come back. She's his best and only friend; I have no idea how he would take her death.

I'm afraid of telling him. I want him to stay happy. But anyone could tell him.

I don't know what to do.

The Queen's been banished. It's not really a surprise; the kid killed someone seen as a hero.

Paps' acting weird. I told him that she was probably on vacation but I dunno if he bough it. I hope looking for humans in the Ruins will distract him.

I heard some guys saying that Al was gone. It doesn't feel like a surprise tough. Guess it happened before, when Undyne was still alive.

Reset 10242

They're killing both Undyne and Mettaton for some time know. I'm starting to wonder who will be their next target then. Considering they started from a Core important's monster to a Waterfall's one, I don't think I wanna know who they will kill next.

Speaking of this, Paps' been acting a bit weird recently; he seems more worried for me. I sometimes wonders if he can remember stuff like I do but if he doesn't...it'll be better not to worry him with that.

Reset 10750

For what feels like the first time from a long one now, I didn't see the kid killing anyone. It kinda reassure me; I was afraid they would kill my bro for some reason. They've still got dust on their hands. Must've killed someone in the Ruins; or many. They're LV4. Pretty hard to get so high-LVed unless ya kill someone powerful.

I fucking hate this kid.

After everything she wanted to do to them, after the promise she asked me to keep for them, they killed her.

I'm so fucking pissed. I swear if that brat was still down here, they would have already gave us a soul to break that shit of a barrier.

I'm afraid I worried Paps too. He went to my room this morning, happily telling me that Undyne was the empress. But I knew it was weird. When I teleported to the forest, going to the door...

There's only dust back there.

Paps went to check on me less than five minutes later. I'm surprise he knew I was at the door but he's aware of the Lady's existence...of how much she mattered for me.

I want her back so badly. I don't give a shit about Undyne's rule or all that other bullshit. I just want to hear her laugh again, to imagine her smile, to know that she'll always be there to listen.

...I want the kid to reset. I want them to bring her back and never hurt her again.

If it wasn't for Paps wanting me around, I don't think I'll be alive right now.

Life sucks.

Undyne asked Paps to be in the Royal Guard, at a post where he won't be in fights. It's good to know that she wants him to be happy without hurting him. He probably doesn't need me now.

Heh, after all, I just ruined his day. I went to Grillby's with only one intention : drinking until I'm dead. I dunno how much I drank but I know I woke up in the couch. Paps was looking at me with a sad look when I saw him. I hope I didn't reveal anything 'bout timelines.

Well, if he can't remember it, it's not like it'll affect him.

I never though I could miss someone so much. I doubt I'll be any help for my bro now. I feel like I'm mostly rambling 'bout how much I wanna see the Lady again.

I should just leave Paps live a happy life without me in it.

I fucked up.

I went to the Ruins to put the Lady's dust on something she cares about. I discovered that she's the Queen. Don't really care.

I also found her diary. I shouldn't have read it. It was the best way to know what's the most important thing for her but...

She was fucking in love with me. I can't believe it and yet I want to. It doesn't makes me feel happy. On the contrary; now I know the person I wanted to live with had the same feeling but I'll never gonna see her again before a long time. I'm sure the kid will keep killing her. It feels like their way to do.

Anyways, after putting her dust on some humans kids stuff, I tried to find a place to just let me die but Paps found me. He was so worried it made me sick. Why can't he just live happily without me putting him down ? I wanna try again but I know he won't let me.

I'll just have to wait for the kid to crush my soul again with their murder then...

Reset 10751

Three months. That's the time they take before resetting, I'm sure of it.

I can remember it, these three months of torture, waking up knowing that the Lady won't answer anymore.

They'll do it again, won't they ?

I wanna kill them, warn them to stop doing that...but what if that makes them do even more resets 'cause I talk differently ? What if she's not death and hates me for breaking her promise ? I feel like remembering a big grudge she has against someone. I would rather not have her feeling that way for me.

I'm stuck. The only thing I can do is waiting for them to ease their curiosity.

I don't want to; but I have no other choice.

My HP dropped a bit. Can't say it's much of a surprise. Knowing what the kid's doing, I'm starting to loose HoPe on getting back to the surface.

After all, they know what happens if they do. Now they'll probably just kill us all and get away with it.

...I think I remember them telling me something about their intentions. Is their word still worth to believe ?

Reset 17052

Weirdly enough, Mettaton became the ruler of the Underground after the kid killed Undyne...along with the Lady.

I...have no idea of how to feel 'bout this. This guy isn't made for ruling; he just brainwash everyone with his show and ignore the problems.

At least Paps' happy ? I still want the robot to go back to his little stage while some other people can take care of politics.

I don't think I'll handle much living down here.

Reset 20350

Welp, the kid killed the fish, the robot and the Lady. Looks like they're getting further in their kills.

I'm starting to wonder how things will end this time. There's no one to take the throne.

That's fucked up.

By process of elimination, my bro became the King. Sure, it's great in terms of money; heh, I can finally pay my tab; but I'm really worried. Paps's not made to be King. I'm trying to do my best to help him; doing paper stuff. With the Lady gone, it's not like I had anything else to do anyways.

That doesn't stop me from being worried. If Paps's still smiling a lot, telling me that everything's good, he never mention Undyne, who was his best friend and I feel like he's lying to me, that he's scared and lost being on the throne....Or maybe I'm just imagining things 'cause I'm his bro ?

I hope so. I don't want him to suffer. He doesn't deserve it.

Reset 22780

It's becoming harder to act like normal. I still don't get while it feels like the kid did so many resets where nothing changes but keep doing it.

To avoid having Paps worrying, especially about my HP, I started to fake a smile, the same I had when the flower was active. Dunno if it'll work though.

I also try to stay away from the door in the forest. After all, what's the point of talking to the Lady if she's just gonna be killed ? But I can't bring myself to avoid this place.

And of course in the meantime I'm worried for Paps. Considering how the kid's acting, he's probably next on their list.

I don't know what would be my reaction to it; I don't think I wanna know.

Reset 23560

I wanna disappear.

They did it. They killed him. I'm so fucking pissed.

I wanna kill them. I wanna kill them so badly. But I can't. At their last resets, they killed the Lady, I'm sure of it. Now they started killing someone else, which means she's alive...for now.

If I kill the kid, the Lady's gonna be mad at me. I don't want it to happen. She's all alone, I can't destroyed the little she has.

Life is torture.

During all their journey, past Snowdin, I stayed away from the kid, following them but staying at distance. I couldn't bring myself to talk to them; I would have attacked in rage. But when they came to the judgment hall, I had to; it's my job. I swear I never wished so much to see someone dying at this instant; and it was a struggle to let them pass. Now the King's dead too and Undyne's really mad. She cared a lot 'bout both the King and Paps. I dunno how to act with her. We've never been really close but working together can bring us to plan a way to destroy the barrier and kill the brat.

I feel like it's the only ting I'll seek now; revenge. I want my bro back; and if I can't, heh, guess I'll join him.

Welp, looks like I won't team up with Undyne after all.

The Queen came back and tried to rule with a policy good for humans, but no one accepted it. It was weird, to see everyone looking up for her before refusing her next second. B'sides it, the Queen tried to keep her authority as a ruler.

It failed. She was all alone; even the guards were against her. Heck, Undyne created a rebellion and most peps followed her. I didn't. The Queen is the Lady. During her short reign, before Undyne took over and banished her in the Ruins, I sticked to her. Dunno who I was trying to help though. Was I trying to forget about all my pain the kid gave me or was I trying to comfort an alone Lady ? Hell if I know.

Now that Undyne took over, I dunno what to do anymore. I had a fight with her when I saw her at the Queen's place. She'll probably ask for my head in no time now. But it's not like it'll help me if she doesn't. I can barely go home. It hurts to go in, to see Paps' room, the food he cooked, all the stuff that belongs to him; knowing that he's gone, that he'll never come back. I doubt I can stay in there longer. I should just go in the forest, waiting for tiredness to take all my HP. Guess I could also go to Grillby's...heh, he'll never let me die by alcohol.

On the other side, the Queen's all alone in the Ruins. Maybe keeping her company by just being here, not telling her about my bro, can help her.

I'm living in the Ruins now. I went to see Tori, just some books in hand, my bro's scarf around my neck, asking to stay for just one night. I ended up staying more than one.

Must admit, life's pretty great in there. I got food, bad jokes and can laze all day. Still feel hurt though. I miss my bro like hell; and Tori talking 'bout how she cared for the kid doesn't help. But I don't interrupt her. She's letting me live in her house, and she's happy about the brat; I won't destroy her joy.

It's not like I can be happy anymore, so why should I complain ?

This is bad.

It's been a little more than a month now and things are looking bad for me. I'm getting awkward, saying ridiculous things before restarting talking, blushing each time Tori's laughing at my jokes...

I can't do that, not know ! It was already torture to see her dead when we barely know each other. If I let my soul speak, if I grow attached...

It won't end well. The kid has dark intentions and I won't be able to keep living in horrible timelines with the feeling of a strong love from a past timeline. I can't just dump Tori either. I'll never forgive myself if I leave her in there, alone.

The kid takes three months to reset. Guess I'll just have to be careful with my soul until they do.

Welp, I failed miserably.

Tori spilled out her love for me one day and I'm too much of a bonehead to tell her that I can't date her. Heh, at least I guess I'll feel happier ? But for how long ? Until the kid resets ? Will it happens in all resets now ? To try to avoid my feelings and end up with Tori...until they decide to kill her again ?

I fucked everything up.

It was the night of the last day before the kid resets and I couldn't stand that. Having them resetting means seeing Paps dying again and loosing Tori's love. I don't want to and I still don't. Hell, it became worse about the love part.

I told her. I told Toriel everything; the resets, my bro, what the kid did. I was desperate. I needed someone to know, to share my pain with me.

Of course, she was shocked and didn't want to believe it but deep down, she told me he felt some fear about the kid's abilities in fights. I guess all monsters can remember some rare stuff.

But that's not the problem. Later, she started to take out some wine, saying that if it was our last night together, we should at least enjoy it.

Worse. Idea. Ever.

I'm so fucking doomed now.

We shared our souls, I'm sure of it. Heck, pretty easy to guess when you wake up at 3AM naked in a bed next to the person you love.

I'm a fucking idiot. Now my soul will seek a lost feeling at each reset; the feeling of this night; of her love. It'll haunt me for life...

And of course, 'cause it wasn't enough, I feel like more of a mess than before. I don't want the kid to reset. I wanna stay in the Ruins, with Tori...I would even rather be there than with my bro. It's terrible. I'm starting to imagine how life could keep going down there. I'm even starting to wish that maybe me and Tori could have...a kid ?

Fuck. I fucking hate this...but here I am, feeling that way, wanting to wake her, to talk to her, to spend all the time I can with her until the kid comes back. But more importantly, I want her to remember what I told her about the resets. I know she won't, she'll forget like everyone do, leaving me to deal alone with all of this shit.

...The future will be terrible.

Reset 23561

I'm scared.

I woke up this morning, cuddling a pillow. Then Paps came and I've never been so happy to see him. I guess the kid killed him. If they did...they'll do it again.

I have no idea why I was cuddling a pillow though. I feel weird; there's a new feeling in my soul, something I never had before, and it's...a likable feeling ? But at the same time, it feels wrong, like I should avoid it, like it can only bring me pain.

Hope I'll figure this out.

The kid's in Snowdin, playing around with the dogs. I'm not serene.

I'm trying to stay the closest possible to my bro. I know what the kid can do, what they want to do.

Things seems familiar, and it fucking sucks. My bro's gone, Undyne's ruling and I'm living in the Ruins with Tori.

Speaking of Tori, there's something odd with her. We started to be together for some time now but it feels so wrong...Guess it's from past timelines but I got no idea on what happened. It feels like I shouldn't be too close to her.

Heh, I'll just try doing that.

Why am I so fucking dumb ?

The more time I'm spending with Tori, the more I'm thinking of my bro, of how I should honor his memory instead of sticking so much to someone else.

So one day, as me and Tori went to the golden flower's bed, a place she goes to everyday, I made the dumbest things ever. I asked to broke up with her, and, because I'm too fucking dumb to explain myself in front of her confused and sad face, I ran away and teleported back to Snowdin. I thought I would have my peace here...I was fucking wrong.

Despite wanting to honor my bro, I spend the rest of the day thinking of Tori. Then I came back to the Ruins, in the middle of the night, apologizing to her like the biggest idiot ever. At least she wasn't mad.

I'm still angry at myself. I want to remember my bro, to honor his memory but...maybe I can do that by being happy, living with someone else ?

Reset 23570

My HP dropped drastically. Can't say I'm surprised. Waking up, seeing Paps living, knowing what will happen, knowing that I'll stay alive after this 'cause I've got the impression that someone will need my company, all of this hurt like hell.

I don't even know why I keep going.

Reset 36854

Huh, the kid killed someone else down here. Heh, guess they were already doing that, I just didn't notice it with my bro dying each time. I didn't figure out who they killed though; it just feels like someone's missing for the first time since they started hurting my bro. Guess I'll discover it soon.

So that's how it is huh ?

Paps, the Lady, they killed both of them...I never felt so alone in my entire life.

I'm trying to stick to Al but she's not doing so well either and she wanna do everything to help Undyne destroying the barrier. Speaking of Undyne, I had a chat with her about the brat.

If they don't reset in three months, we'll do everything to get out and kill them.

Reset 40210

Welp.

They killed all the monsters people were looking up for. Asgore, Undyne, Mettaton, Papyrus; even the Lady is dead. Everyone's scared, like we'll all die down here. I can't really blame them...heh...

Since there's nobody on the throne, some peps asked me to be the ruler. That was...unexpected. I'm not really made to be on the throne, especially with no one to help me. The worse is that the kid will probably keep doing this kind of resets from now on.

Life will become a real hell.

Reset 43682

They killed almost everyone this time. I'm not surprised, it feels like they're doing that for some time now. But this time, it feels like something different will happen.

Maybe things will be better this time ? Heh, who am I kidding ? There's no “happy ending” for us anymore.

Alphys's alive.

She's the one ruling now. I'm a bit worried about her; she'll never be able to support pressure. She's doing pretty well for now though. She showed to everyone the amalgamates, some DT experiments that went wrong, and despite this people are sill looking up to her. This is what happens when you help everyone evacuate while a crazy brat is killing everyone.

I'm spending a lot of time with her, helping her to deal with all this political stuff. Must admit, it feels good to be with Al after so many years apart.

But not everything's all sunshine and rainbows. Almost everyone's dead and the ones still alive are scared of the future, if there is a future. Me and Al aren't exclude from this fear. She often talks about how much she's lost, how much she won't be able to do anything for monsters, that they should just let her disappear. I'm trying my best to comfort her; after all, she's the only person I have now; but it's far from being easy.

I lost HoPe; hell, I only have one now.

The kid will never let us be happy anymore. They wanna see the different possibilities so what would they free us if they already did it in the past ?

They'll just kill all of us and leave our dust to be forgotten.

Reset 43702

They killed everyone, but there's still some “no-corruption” in them. They holded back while fighting MTT.

This feels horrible. I wanna kill them like hell; but I can't bring myself to. The Lady's probably dead so why the fuck am I trying to prevent myself ?

...Guess I wanna honor her memory by keeping her promise at all costs. But if the kid intend to destroy everything...

I'll have to do something, maybe make them wish to reset...maybe trying to make them understand how we're not simple toys...

Reset 43703

They're killing everyone again but it feels way different. It doesn't seem like they want any of us to stay alive.

I have a very bad feeling about this.

They're almost at the judgment hall. Everyone's dead aside from me, the King and those that Al evacuated. It looks like there's no way to stop their genocide. I wanna do something; I want them to stop, to reset, to destroy the barrier.

...Knowing how I gave up seeing the sun again; watching how they went from a merciful kid...my merciful kid, to this crazy brat that wanna destroy everything; I started to try remembering their first timelines, these times when we were friends, when, even if they didn't free us, there were still a lot of hope for everyone...

Now all of this is gone forever, buried under a wish to erase the world, all of this because of curiosity...

Reset 43704

I woke up in a jump, feeling pain on my chest.

They killed me. They killed me before going to the throne room and kill the King, I'm sure of it.

But why did they reset ? What does they want to see now ?

They're killing everyone all over again. Heh...they're really kind of a freak, aren't they ?

Reset 43705

They're doing it again. Are they really hoping to see us say new things ? Or are they just enjoying killing us ?

Reset 43706

Welp.

They came out of the Ruins hands clean this time, they played along with Paps, they have a kid's smile on their face...This feels so great but so wrong at the same time.

They finally stopped their genocide but are their worth trusting ? What if they get us at the surface and decide to reset again out of boredom ?

But at the same time, I remember them promising me at their very first run to free us again, after they're done with their “experiences”...

I dunno what to trust. I don't think I could ever completely trust this kid anymore after all the pain they made me feel.

They pasted Waterfall now. They speared Undyne; heh. Their hands are still clean and they're making friends with others. I'm starting to believe that it'll be their last run. Heck, it's not like they're something they didn't see.

If it's their last, then there's something I wanna try.

The kid's a fucking hypocrite.

I invited them to a dinner at MTT place and I tried talking to them about the resets. They were shocked. They thought that no one remembered, that they can toy with us without any consequences whatsoever. I'm feeling a bit sad though. When they understood that they made me live hell, they started to cry, claiming that they never wished such a thing. I got mad, telling them that doing puppy eyes won't make me like them more. But at the same time, they're just a kid. Sure, a crazy psycho one, but still a kid. The kids that fell down here weren't known for being the happiest kids; this one must feel the same way.

But that doesn't stop them from being hypocrite. They're young, were lost, but if that's the case why did they reset in the first place ? Why killing out of curiosity ?

I didn't get the chance to ask them. I was too mad, leaving all my anger speak out. Maybe I'll get the chance to ask them later.

The kid's about to face Asgore but Paps's hurrying me to go to the castle with him and Undyne. I dunno what this is all about but I got a good feeling 'bout it.

Well, they broke the barrier. We're all free...again.

I dunno if I can really trust that kid now. How long until they reset again ? Can I really enjoy my life up there if it's just for the kid to erase everything we're working for again ?

Guess I'll just be careful at some points. Trying to get a good life, making Paps happy, keeping company to Tori...about her...I shouldn't let my soul speak. If I confess and she loves me, the kid could reset at any point and make me suffer. But if they don't...what if she didn't love me ? It would make me life even worse. I can only try to stop my soul from tempting me while still sticking to her without looking too awkward around her. I can't ruin this friendship because of stupid feelings.

Anyways, I hope the kid won't get bored again; that they'll leave us be for more than some months.

Then maybe I could believe in a possible future.

#Undertale #my fanfics #headcanon stories #Sans #Soriel #all main characters mentionned #neutral endings #genocide ending #suicide thoughts #lots of angst

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batchaoticcollectionnight-blog · 6 years

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