#probably a lot of other babies were killed that day (the sacking of cities be like that) BUT THIS BABY HAD A NAME

[unbizzarre]

"I keep thinking of the infant from that night,

I keep thinking of the infant from that night,

I keep thinking of the infant from that night..."

the hyperfixation so powerful ya can't sleep some days (;_;)

#EPIC the musical #the odyssey #astyanax #son of hector #y’know… that one baby that was flung from the walls of Troy #killed by Odysseus #or maybe #neoptolemus #depending on who you ask #tagamemnon #trojan war #probably a lot of other babies were killed that day (the sacking of cities be like that) BUT THIS BABY HAD A NAME #:( #the iliad #epic the troy saga #odyssey fanart #jay rivera herrans #lyric quotes #my art #fanart #art wip

[smuthospital]

⭐️Degrees of lewdly: Eden⭐️

Premise: You're a spooky place youtube explorer, and you get lost in a big scary forest! Eden voorhees lol. Reader is fem. Enjoy!

Art by Minagami

Re-upload because tumblr took it down last time.

Content Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, tummy bulge, blood, Eden is Jason, Voorhees

Miners DNI

You've never really gone hiking before and it's proven itself to be a lot more difficult than you originally thought it would be. You like to explore places you've never been, spooky places. more for the thrill. you started filming it and posting your videos on youtube. You usually take some friends along, but all of your friends decided to be little babies this time since the place you're exploring is extra creepy this time. It's a large forest 20 miles away from your city. You borrowed your mom's car to get here. you always tell them you're at a friend's house because they'd kill you if they ever found out you're putting yourself in possibly harmful situations. This forest is known for creepy sightings, disappearances, ghosts, and lots of other things your viewers would love to watch. You've been to abandoned hospitals, cemeteries, tunnels, all that good stuff. You don't think you'll actually see anything, but you brought a can of pepper spray just in case.

The wind howls, making the trees dance above you. The shapes that were once branches in the day have turned into long gangly fingers that desperately reach for you and the bushes now house entities with red eyes and fangs that you imagine want to tear you to pieces! "Wow, guys. This might just be the scariest one yet, haha. There's probably some sort of scp in here with me haha!" You try to keep yourself company by talking to your soon-to-be viewers when you post this, but it's really just to keep you calm.

"I'm a bit lost. The trail kinda disappeared somewhere around here, I think. there's just so much long grass and it's more of a footpath than an actual trail." you complain as you try to spot any familiar landmarks. It's almost impossible. It might be easier in the day for sure, but the night masks everything. You step over decayed logs and large roots, feeling worry set in. What if you're really lost!? Your thoughts come to an abrupt stop when you hear a strange sound not too far from where you're standing. Your blood freezes as you feel a cold sweat coming on. Maybe...maybe it's a person? And maybe they can help you?..or..a monster!? No, (Y/n), this is no time to be silly! That could be a person willing to help you before you get yourself completely lost!

Little did you know you were already a mile deep, walking in the wrong direction.

“I heard a sound. It could be someone who could help me get back on track.” You whisper. You turn off your video camera's flash light and carefully make your way to where you heard the sound, being careful not to step on anything that could alert whatever it is of your presence. You don’t want to startle it, just in case it's an animal willing to protect its territory from invaders like yourself. The sound came from below you. There's a rocky slope leading down to a river. You get down on your knees and peer between the long grass. You can't make out much in the dim moonlight... until you spot a giant of a man dragging a sack through the shallow water. His size alone sends shivers down your spine. Even from where you're crouching, you could tell he would dwarf you the way a cat would to a mouse. You examine him a bit more.The sack is stained in a dark colour that is seeping through the fabric and into the water. You don't dare move a muscle or even breathe. You can't believe your eyes. This can't be real. Are you in a horror movie?

You make sure he disappears behind the tree line with the mysterious sack before letting out a breath. You didn't want to accidentally alert him of your presence in any shape or form. He was probably just a hunter. Yeah, he could have helped you, but he also could have added you to the wet sack and you were not risking that.

You stand up and turn around, ready to get as far away from here as possible, only to bump your nose into a tree. The collision causes you to drop your camera. That's strange. You don't remember walking around a tree to look over the cliff. You rub your nose in annoyance. Wait a minute... This tree didn't have rough bark like the rest of them...Your brain blanks out. You've been in denial this entire time, your brain working extra hard to rationalize what's happening. Before you is a large torso. You can't even see their shoulders from how close you're standing, just a wide, firm chest. You crane your neck up and it takes you a good three seconds before your brain registers that you're looking at the man from before..and he's wearing a mask!

He looks down at you with a focused gaze. You let out a short scream and try to run away, but being within arm's reach of the giant makes it too easy for him to simply reach out and grab the back of your top. He lifts you off your feet with one arm and brings you to his eye level. He cocks his head to the side, observing you slowly. He looks down at the camera you dropped and places his large boot on it, pressing down and crushing it. You start to hyperventilate. He's gonna chop you up and wear your skin, he's gonna keep you in a dark hole and shout "It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again!" You thrash in his iron grip, pushing at his large hand and sobbing untellable pleas for mercy, but your begging falls on deaf ears. "I-I'm sorry. I-I'll leave, I promise! Please let me go! I-I didn't mean to bother you, I'm sorry!" You cry. Your little struggle seems to have made your shirt ride up a bit, showcasing your supple flesh to his thirsty eyes. His eyes laser focus on your bare skin.

To your confusion, his hand reaches to caress your skin, feeling the smooth texture before slowly moving up. You wiggle more, scared of where this is going. His hand soon finds your breast and cups it before giving it a squeeze. He shudders. His breathing becomes heavier as he continues to mess with your body, his thumb rolling over your nipple. All you can do is whimper and wiggle in his hold. his hand begins sliding down and you scream. You suddenly remember you brought a can of pepper spray, whipping it out of your back pocket and pointing it at his face. Then as you were about to press down and unleash the fire juice, it was gone. In his hand that was previously molesting you lies the remains of your poor pepper spray, crushed and bubbling pathetically. He was so fast you hadn't even realized he snatched it. You just stare at him in horror. To your surprise, he's not even mad, too preoccupied with the need to explore your privates. You hold his wrist and look into his eyes. He looks back into yours as if telling you to stop. You hesitantly let go, and he nods as if to tell you that you've made the right decision. His hand cups your pussy through your jeans, pressing in a bit at the entrance. He seems eager.

He lifts you higher and uncomfortably sets you on his shoulder, his hand on your ass to keep you in place. You don't even bother struggling. You'll wait for an opportunity. If this man wanted you dead, you'd be dead. You don't want to provoke him. From your spot on his shoulder, You notice that he's got a hunting rifle strapped to his back along with a machete. He has an assortment of things attached to his hips among them being a hunting knife and bullet pocket. You shiver. One more off-putting thing that's just about forcing bile up your throat is that he's also covered in a dark wet liquid. You haven't noticed till now, but you haven't been breathing so his smell has now come to your attention. He smells strongly of iron. To that, you're not very surprised.

He starts marching down the hill you were previously watching him from. You have no idea how you saw him disappear through the treeline and he still managed to sneak up on you. He picks up the large stained sack where he left it in favor of locating his little spying mouse. It smells awful, the meaty smell assaulting your senses every second. It's been 15 minutes and an opportunity to escape has not shown itself. This is it. This is how you die. Your body will never be found. Maybe in a few years in a shallow grave by some hiker if you're lucky. This inhuman mass of muscle is going to cut you up and eat you. Maybe even skip cutting you up. He could probably eat you whole as pre-workout. He lifts his leg to step over a large log, his grip on your ass slightly loosening just enough for you to catch him off guard and slip off his shoulder. You grunt as you fall into the dirt and leaves behind him. You scramble up before the giant can scoop you up. You run in a random direction. You just needed to get away from him, getting out of the forest was a problem for later. You didn't even think about how fast he'd be. How could someone be so big and fast!? He took off after you and suddenly, he was on your ass. You've never felt such a primal fear as he chased you like a hungry animal.

A large hand grabs your shoulder and rips you backwards. You fall on your back and stare up at the man now on his knees in front of you, his body completely casting a shadow before yours. He gets down on his hands, caging you too the ground, his body inches above yours. You stare into the holes of his mask and into his rabid eyes. He leans in by your neck. You stop breathing once again, you think your heart stopped. You feel something large and hard pressing roughly into your crotch. You hear him take a deep breath and smell you..."Smells nice." His voice is deep and rough, but it sounds like he rarely uses it. You scream and begin to cry again, not being able to take it anymore. You fight him with all your might. He grabs your wrists with one hand. You hear him chuckle a bit before his hand comes up to cup your check. He suddenly squeezes it and twists your face around to get a better look at your features. He grinds his hips against yours, teasing you of what's to come. He roughly releases your face, before standing to his full height and dragging you up with him. He tosses you back over his shoulder, this time with an almost bone-crushing grip. “Name.” His tone is commanding. When you fail to answer right away, his fingers press into the area on your crotch. Threatening to rip right through. “(Y/n)! My name is (Y/n)!” He hums in response.

Hot tears run down your cheeks as he walks back over to where he left his murder mystery sack. He navigates through the forest as he knows it like the back of his hand until he comes upon a clearing where his home stands. A lonely wooden cabin. He drops the gooey meat bag on the ground. You cringe at the wet sound it makes on impact. You peer over at the sack to see a human hand flop out. Before you could react, he slams his hand over your mouth painfully. "Shut up." He waits for you to nod before removing his hand. He opens his front door and steps inside. It smells musty, like old wood and man smell. Not bad, but not amazing either. He walks up his stairs and sets you on a very large bed. You take a deep breath in, your stomach sore from being jabbed by his shoulder for the entirety of the long walk.

He doesn't let you get comfortable though. His hands are on you in an instant, grabbing your clothes and ripping them to shreds like tissue paper, you're naked before you could even hold any of your clothes together. Hungry eyes leer over you through his mask. You feel his hot breath fan you through the bottom of his mask. "S-stop it, please! Don't hurt me!" You beg. As if to mock your plea, his rough hand grips your plush thigh a little too close to your cunt and squeezes it tightly before shoving it against your chest, making room for himself between them.

He releases you for a moment, only to unzip his uncomfortably tight pants. You shut your eyes and look away, only to feel the soul-crushing weight of his cock slam against your lower stomach. You writhe underneath him, small sobs and hiccups coming from your mouth every few seconds. He pauses for a moment but ultimately decides to continue. You peer up between your wet palms and see him rubbing the tree trunk between his thighs while looking down at your pathetic form.

"W-wait! I-I'm not rea-" He grabs your thighs and forces you closer to him and lines his cock up with your entrance, he slides it up and down your folds, causing you to shudder. He doesn't care if you're ready or not. You shut your eyes as he presses forth. You scream in pain. It won't go in. You're too tight, he's too big and you're dry. The tip can't even get through. You whimper in pain. It burns. You need moisture. He lifts his mask a bit and you get a peek of his jaw. It's noticeably sharp and covered in stubble. You feel his saliva plap against your poor dry cunt before he puts his mask back into place. He tries to enter you again. You yelp. He gets a bit through before he can't anymore. He sighs. He was trying to be gentle. He didn't want to break you so quickly...

He grips your thighs tightly. You feel his nails dig in. You barely have time to register the pain before you feel like you're being ripped in two. He's forcing his way in. You immediately let out a scream and begin spazzing. He just continues until he reaches his base, more than snug against your insides. Drool leaks past the corner of your lip as you stare off into space. He breathes heavily and stares at the bulge he created in your lower stomach. He brushes his hand over it and watches as you whimper and twitch. He pulls his hips back and watches it disappear before ramming himself in again and seeing it jab through your insides. He chuckles.

You lay there, unable to do anything but feel what he's doing to you. You lift your arm and place it on his lower stomach, hoping to stop him that way. You feel his rock-hard abs through his shirt and push. "You're...adorable...fuck.. you're tight." He groans before he slams himself deep inside and you clench around him. He hisses and struggles to pull out halfway, your insides trying to pull him back in. He slams in again and presses himself as deeply as he can, firmly hugging your cervix with his cock. Your eyes cross as he thrusts in and out, keeping a proper pace. Moans spill from your lips along with jumbled-up words he can't make out, all of which sound like music to his ears.

He leans over you, forcing himself snugly against you again, his mask right next to your cheek. He groans as he feels you twitch around him. "Feel..so good... was worried you'd rip... you're only bleeding a little." You can hear the smug grin in his tone.

It feels so good. You're so ashamed, feeling good when you're being raped by a maniac. You clench your tear-filled eyes as he pounds into your aching cunt. The knot in your lower stomach bursts as you cum. He moans as you tighten around him. He stills for a second, just enjoying how you feel before he pounds into you like a feral beast. You're surprised your pelvis is holding up. He grips your waist tight and grunts as he empties his balls deep inside you. You can almost feel yourself getting pregnant. You feel too full. Your stomach bloats with cum. You feel hot and fuzzy. Your pussy is so very sore and your legs are numb. He pants above you. "I've been thinking of getting myself a little wife like you." He says as he slowly pulls his still throbbing cock out with a wet 'pop'. "You're a pretty little thing and you take my cock well. Be grateful I'm letting you live as my cock sleeve." He stands up, towering over your crumpled body once again. "My name is Eden. Your duties from now on are cooking, cleaning, mending my clothes and taking my seed. Do not make me repeat these orders. Object and I won't hesitate to remind you of your place. I was gentle this time." His giant cock is still dripping your juices. You can't stop looking at it. Ge takes notice and climbs over you before grabbing your head and forcing you close to his groin. "I see you love cock. Lick it clean then like a good wife. go on."

You look up at him and hesitate a bit too long. You see anger flash in his eyes and you quickly envelop his tip in your mouth. He groans as you lick your mixed juices off, going as deep as you can without choking. He moans and grabs the back of your head. He stares down at you with such intensity that you can feel him burning holes into you. You suddenly feel your throat being invaded and your nose pressing into his pubic hair, nose pressing into his crotch. He moves you back and forth, face fucking you. You struggle to breathe properly through your nose. You let out muffled whimpers and cries, sending vibrations through his cock. He grunts in pleasure before you feel a load of hot thick liquid being shot into your mouth and down your throat. You're so tired. He slowly pulls his cock back and laughs at your exhausted state. Your head flops back onto the bed, your jaw and lips so incredibly sore and raw feeling. "Good girl." He says before your sight fades to black. You explored a bit too much.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #slashers #noncon x reader #obsessive love #degrees of lewdity #eden the hunter

[robininthelabyrinth]

I need to know what u think of an AU where JC is the one who dies (sacrificing his life to save WWX) instead of JYL, he’s not as angry with WWX bc JYL is still alive so when he sees his brother about to get murdered he just steps in front of him while JYL and WWX see :) I don’t even know what I want u to do with this? Give me some headcanons? Is it a prompt? Idk I just want u to to see what u make of this (I promise JC is my fav but my mind likes to make me suffer :p)

1

It wasn’t a matter of conscious thought when Jiang Cheng threw himself between that cultivator’s sword and Wei Wuxian’s unguarded back, all his defenses down in the face of Jiang Yanli’s pleading, same as always; it was just instinct. Wei Wuxian was always the troublemaker, the crazy one, and Jiang Cheng always the one being dragged along; he’d long ago learned to spend all his time watching his shixiong’s back, keeping him away from dogs, away from angry shopkeepers, away from any harm. It was instinct, just as it had been the day he’d thrown himself out into the street to distract the Wens, and he’d always justified that instinct because he knew that Wei Wuxian would do the same for him.

Though – he didn’t know that anymore, not after everything that happened recently. Wei Wuxian had made him all the promises in the world, to stand by his side through wind and lightning, and he’d seemed to have no issue abandoning those promises, picking the remnants of the Wen sect over the remnants of the Jiang sect without a moment’s hesitation and not even the courtesy of an explanation.

The Yiling Patriarch was all but a stranger to him, and Jiang Cheng still didn’t understand why.

So it was probably stupid of him to react as if the person being stabbed at was Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch – stupid of him to give up his life for someone who didn’t care about him nearly as much as Jiang Cheng cared for him.

But that’s why it wasn’t a thought. It was instinct.

He heard someone scream “Jiang Cheng!” as if their heart were breaking, and he thought for a moment that it was Wei Wuxian again, the one who loved him best. Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch, who threw him to the dogs over and over again, put his sect at risk of utter destruction a second time over, just to indulge himself and his bizarre fixation on saving the Wens at the expense of everyone else. Who didn’t care about their duty to their sect, to their parents - who didn’t care about him at all.

Jiang Cheng’s heart hurt. It was probably just the sword that’d just been driven through it, though.

Hands grasped at his clothing, pulling him back; his sister’s face had lost all blood, and Wei Wuxian looked as if his world had ended – he wasn’t sure why. Jiang Yanli had her son to care for, a new life in Lanling that she refused to abandon even if Jin Zixuan was now gone; Wei Wuxian had his Wens, his new cultivation – perhaps it was some little regret, far too late, for the Jiang sect that would now come to grief, leaderless, the end of their family line and the disappointment of their ancestors. Jiang Cheng’s final and most absolute failure.

Jiang Cheng looked at them both, the ones he loved the most and who had left him without a single glance backwards, and found with his last breath that he had nothing to say to them.

He closed his eyes so they wouldn’t have to.

2

The battlefield was full of corpses, and Jiang Yanli didn’t care about a single one of them.

“Do you think he can be brought back, the way Wen Ning was?” she asked, holding the corpse in her arms as if it were still the baby brother she sang songs to as a child, the little crybaby who was so fierce on the outside and so soft on the inside. She had been able to lie to herself with Jin Zixuan’s body – he almost looked as though he were sleeping, head on the pillow beside her own – but Jiang Cheng had never slept well in his life, his brow always furrowed as if he was worrying about something even in his dreams, and the blank peace on his face was so wrong that she couldn’t bear to look at him.

She wasn’t asking Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian had only stopped the massacre when Lan Wangji, of all unlikely people, had bodily tackled him; everyone had always said that the Second Jade was like oil and water with her A-Xian, but he’d unexpectedly taken their side in this battle and was even now letting a barely-conscious Wei Wuxian sob Jiang Cheng’s name into his collar. He looked silently at her, his gaze a quiet reminder that her question was inappropriate – one Ghost General had already been enough to cause all of this tragedy, and certainly no one would ever accept another as a sect leader.

She looked steadily back at him, indicating in return that she didn’t give a damn about the standing of the Jiang sect if it meant she wouldn’t have to bury her baby brother.

Lan Wangji hesitated, looking down at Wei Wuxian. “You cannot stay at Yiling,” he finally said. “After this…”

They’d killed people from virtually every sect; no matter who had sympathized with Wei Wuxian before this or how much they felt he was wronged, they would have no choice but to raise up arms against him.

Jiang Yanli understood. They would be fugitives, condemned by all. She didn’t care. “Will you help us?”

He nodded and stood, Wei Wuxian cradled as gently in his arms as she held Jiang Cheng in hers.

“Will you come with us?” she asked. Anyone who loved her brother enough to defy his sect, to stain his untainted blade with the blood of his own kin, deserved a chance to court him properly, if she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions; she didn’t think she had, not with the expression so clear on his silent face.

“I will help you,” he said, and that wasn’t an answer, wasn’t the one she wanted, but it would have to do for now. “Let us go.”

3

It was Jin Zixuan who figured it out, oddly enough. Perhaps it was because he was an outsider, looking at the situation without affection to blur his eyes.

“You gave him your golden core,” he said, less than a week into his resurrection – Lan Wangji had been very efficient in his help, not only finding a new place to hide Jiang Yanli and the remaining Wens but also returning to Lanling to steal Jin Zixuan’s corpse and little Jin Ling before returning to his own sect at the first sign that Wei Wuxian would awaken from his coma. He hadn’t sent word since that time, whether from regret or other reasons; their only consolation was that there was no news of his death. “That’s why you couldn’t do anything other than demonic cultivation – is that right?”

Wei Wuxian looked at him through blood-red eyes. “Get lost,” he said; the phrase made up the majority of his vocabulary, these days, and because he refused to curse his shijie he mostly ended up not talking to her at all.

“Wen Qing was a famous doctor – she could have figured out a way to do it, and that would explain why you felt so indebted to them,” Jin Zixuan continued. “You never told him because you didn’t want to burden him. But instead you left him without any reason, any explanation: he must have felt that you abandoned him because you didn’t want him.”

“Get lost!”

“You broke his heart,” he said, and looked down at Jiang Cheng’s body – still perfectly preserved, but unmoving. The resurrection spell had already failed three times. “No wonder he doesn’t want to return.”

“I did it for him!” Wei Wuxian screamed, tears of blood dripping down his cheeks. “He didn’t – he wouldn’t – he has to come back!”

Jin Zixuan said nothing.

4

They ended up back in Yunmeng, rather unexpectedly; the new leadership of the Lotus Pier, a distant branch cousin who’d survived the massacre because he’d been night-hunting elsewhere, had all but begged Jiang Yanli to return. Against all odds her reputation had survived the massacre at the Nightless City; the loving wife, sister, and shijie that nearly sacrificed herself to save what lives she could and to banish the dreadful Yiling Patriarch who was never seen again from that day forth –  she was very nearly regarded as an incarnation of the goddess of mercy.

She had no idea where that ridiculous notion came from, but it did mean that she could live in Lotus Pier again, with Jin Ling by her side – she’d told Jin Guangshan to name someone else as his heir, or at minimum as regent; the Jiang sect needed her and her son more. It wouldn’t have worked if Jin Zixuan hadn’t snuck into his mother’s room to convince Madam Jin to throw her support behind it; officially he was still in his tomb, since Lan Wangji had been very subtle, but in fact he lived within shouting distance of the Lotus Pier, spending his days playing with his son.

They all did, actually, the whole lot of them resettled into a tiny adjacent water town populated largely by civilians that relied on the Jiang sect for their prosperity. As long as Wei Wuxian never did anything, which he didn’t, the illusion that he was gone for good in a cloud of self-destruction after his terrible massacre could be maintained; no one expected they could possibly be so daring as to simply go home after all of it.

Lan Wangji was in seclusion, they were eventually told; Wei Wuxian hadn’t believed it for one second, smuggling himself into Gusu to check – he’d come back unconscious, slung over Jin Zixuan’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Struck by the discipline whip,” her husband, the fierce corpse that wasn’t fierce at all, said, and didn’t comment when she instinctively reached out to touch Jiang Cheng’s body, to trace the scar he had; she often spent her days next to the bed that preserved his corpse. “Many times; his body is ruined. It will take years for him to heal – the Lan sect saying he was in seclusion was their way of saving face. Wei Wuxian wants to bring him back to the Lotus Pier to hide him.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed her face, thinking not for the first time that the world would be an easier place if only her two brothers weren’t so stubborn. One who wouldn’t wake up, his spiritual consciousness all in pieces; the other who wouldn’t give up – “The Lan sect wouldn’t accept that.”

“He wasn’t planning on asking. That’s why I knocked him out. Anyway, they’re distracted with the Xue Yang matter now – my father’s still insisting on protecting him, and the Nie sect gets angrier about it by the day; without the Jiang sect, there’s only the Lan to play peacemaker, stop there from being another war.”

Jiang Yanli, who was very nice but also very much not the goddess of mercy, tilted her head to the side; something of her mother was in her eyes. “A war would be a good cover, though, or at least the rumblings of one. If we were going to steal Lan Wangji away from his sect, that is.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll sneak into Lanling to talk to my mother, maybe see if I can follow Xue Yang and see what he’s up to. You go talk to the Nie.”

5

Jiang Yanli’s visit to the Unclean Realm turned out to be more fruitful than anyone had expected. The moment she walked into Nie Mingjue’s receiving room, her Jiang sect bell rang so hard that it shattered, which it definitely hadn’t done during the war – they both stared at it wordlessly for a while.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “You know my family history,” he offered as an explanation, embarrassment at the public revelation of his problem already turning to anger but suppressed by his strict adherence to etiquette.

“That’s no family history,” she said, bemused, as she crouched down to poke at the pieces. “The silver bell of the Jiang sect can steady focus and calm the mind, and the ones made for the family are the strongest by far; it would only shatter like this in the effort to resist a spiritual poison…how are you feeling now, Sect Leader Nie?”

He considered for a long moment, and his face grew black with rage. “Better. I feel – like my mind has been filled with fog, and a clear breeze has blown it clear.”

She smiled up at him. “Perhaps you should visit Yunmeng.”

He scowled, and she realized he must know about Wei Wuxian’s presence, though she wasn’t sure how; despite that, in the end, after a roaring argument with Nie Huaisang in another room, he agreed to go, even if the idea of staying willfully blind clearly pained him to the core.

Jiang Yanli quietly approved of his decision to put family over principle.

When they put their mind to it, the Nie sect  had an underrated talent for saying ‘I don’t know’ to just about everything. Neither brother blinked an eye at the Wen sect remnants that still teetered every time they went on a boat, very clearly not Yunmeng locals; they politely greeted Jin Zixuan as if he’d only been gone a while and not murdered; much to his older brother’s very evident irritation, Nie Huaisang even leapt over to give Wei Wuxian an enthusiastic hug while Nie Mingjue was still talking with Jin Zixuan about what it meant that Jin Guangshan had hidden away the still intact Wen Ning, who Jin Zixuan had found in a hidden part of Koi Tower during his most recent visit and immediately liberated.

“Definitely a case of spiritual poisoning,” Wei Wuxian said after a short examination, and the most reliable doctor they had left in the Jiang sect concurred. “The silver bell can help a little –” 

They’d already shattered seven of them, but Nie Mingjue had actually cracked a smile for the first time in months, to hear a sobbingly relieved Nie Huaisang tell it. 

“–but it can only help so much; that technique is really only meant for acute cases. And you really need to figure out what was doing the poisoning; there’s no point in curing you if you’re only going to get poisoned again.”

“A matter for a later time,” Nie Mingjue, who clearly had some suspicions that made him look as though he’d been stabbed in the back, said. “Now that we know it’s a poisoning, and my mind is clearer, I can take some action myself – the Nie have plenty of techniques to stabilize the spirit.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile was full of self-hatred, as it always was these days. “I don’t suppose any of those are designed to work on the dead.”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said. “Several are. Why do you ask?”

6

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #lan wangji #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #my fic #my fics #congrats! #you get a full ficlet #this one just wouldn't stop writing

[fonulyn]

fonulyn’s 2020 in fics

this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.

in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s

13 of Joe/Nicky

58 of Piers/Leon

56 of Chris/Leon

(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)

5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

11 of Krauser/Leon

3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)

1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser

so. in retrospect, i did okay. 

it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D

I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.

without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)

Joe/Nicky

a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.

within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.

the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.

catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.

nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.

only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.

(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.

cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.

cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.

that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.

tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.

two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.

safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.

Piers/Leon

it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it. 

unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.

got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.

not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.

nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.

piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.  

so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“

you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“

kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“

smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.

dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.

your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.

here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away. 

grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”

new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.

a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.

for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.

wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.

the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.

you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k |  It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.  

before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.

you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon.  And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.

need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.

be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”

you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.

call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.

incentive to stay alive | 1,0k |  "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”

blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.

I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.

why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.

still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.

of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.

always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.

misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.

yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.

you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.  

want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway. 

and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.

hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder. 

goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly. 

promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.

stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?  

4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.

caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.

and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.

girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)

worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.

the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.

beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.

as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.

never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.

nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.

no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.

the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)

just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.

all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.

Chris/Leon

if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k |  Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs. 

and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.

you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.

from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.

right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.

about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.

yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)

beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.

look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.

there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”

from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.

surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.

need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“

something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.

come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.  

your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.  

a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.

the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry. 

robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.

luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.) 

take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.

let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.

I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.

a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.

the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food)  | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)

oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.

jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”

twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.

meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.

precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.

it's always been you | 870w  | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.

come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.

first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”

read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.

battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.

a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“

welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.

I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.

fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.

i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“

oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”

the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.

like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.

monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.

please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion. 

like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)

black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.

at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.

bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.

dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.

drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.

blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.

Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.

chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.

dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.

Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon

fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. --  Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)

Chris/Leon/Krauser

hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.

OT3

double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”

of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.

hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.

the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.

not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.

Krauser/Leon

drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all. 

enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.

carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.  

and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.

yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.

of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.

better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.

breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.

kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.

lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.

Wesker/Chris

I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily. 

the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.

love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.

#the old guard #resident evil #kaysanova #chreon #metaltango #nivannedy #chrisker #kreon #idk what i'm forgetting it's 2 am and i've spent seven hours on this #have pity on me :'D #my fics #2020 #this was so much work #i am praying for the links to work properly #so i don't need to touch this again nnhhh

[aboveallarescuer]

A cheatsheet of Dany's political actions in ADWD

I think this might come in handy for Dany fans. I've analyzed most of these before here and here.

A shout-out to @rainhadaenerys for helping me with this list.

ADWD Daenerys I

Dany finds out that her first Unsullied, Stalwart Shield, was murdered by the Sons. She refuses to forget his name, gives him a proper burial, promises to pay a lot for whoever gives information about his murderer, sends men to the Temple of the Graces to ask if any man with a sword wound came (because Stalwart Shield's killers swarmed him and he probably wounded some of them), asks butchers and herdsmen about who had been gelding goats recently (because Stalwart Shield's killers forced the genitals of a goat down his throat), forbids other soldiers from patroling at night and names a company of freedmen after him. She won't punish the nobles indiscriminately, however (so she follows Reznak's advice rather than the Shavepate's, even if she doesn't like him).

Dany considers banning the tokar, but ultimately relents and uses it herself.

Dany says no to helping Cleon in Astapor against Yunkai (despite regretting that she wasn't more ruthless against the latter).

Dany closes the fighting pits and, despite knowing that she needs Hizdahr's support, refuses to reopen them for moral reasons.

Dany is angry that the slavers "hire[d] the [freedmen] back as servants at wages so meagre that most could scarce afford to eat" and that "those too old or young to be of use had been cast into the street, along with the infirm and the crippled". Then, they hypocritically went to complain about "how the dragon queen had filled their noble city with hordes of unwashed beggars, thieves and whores".

Dany weighs on her suitors, but doesn't take any real measures to choose a husband for now.

Dany sends her khalasar to subdue the hinterlands, where "thousands of slaves still toiled on vast estates in the hills, growing wheat and olives, herding sheep and goats, and mining salt and copper". (In Dany V, we'll be told that they succeeded)

Dany sends Daario to convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes and bring grains down the river or over the hills at need. 

Dany gives the freedmen and the noblemen equal attention at court. 

Former slaver Grazdan (a relative of the Green Grace) says that six young girls owed him gold because they learned their craft from an old weaver who was his slave. Dany denies him the request and, instead, orders him to buy the young girls a new loom for forgetting the old woman's name. 

A freedmen asks for a noble to be gelded for raping his wife back when she was his bed slave and to receive a purse of gold for having to take care of the noble's child. Dany grants him the gold, but not the gelding (because it would establish a precedent where other masters would have to be punished for their crimes, which would go against her blanket). 

A nobleborn boy asks her to kill the slaves who revolted against his family by killing his father and elder brother and raping his mother before killing her and who are now living in his house. Dany denies him the request because it would go against her blanket. 

A rich woman (who lost her husband and sons during the sack) asks for her house (which she left in fear for her safety), clothes and jewels back, for they are now all in possession of former bed slaves who turned the house into a brothel. Dany allows her to have her jewels, but gives the house and the clothes to the former bed slaves because of her sympathy for them.

ADWD Daenerys II 

Dany initially asks the Shavepate to question the wineseller and his daughters sweetly, but later she allows him to torture them in order to find who killed Missandei's brother, Rylona Rhee and seven other freedmen in one night. 

Dany also asks for the Shavepate to create a new watch and imposes a blood tax on the slavers to compensate for the deaths of the freedmen and pay the soldiers she'll employ.

Dany keeps two children from each pyramid as hostages. 

Dany still says no to the reopening of the fighting pits, though she feels more reluctant after hearing what the pit fighters want. 

Reznak says that the freedmen were disrespecting the traditions of the guilds for "carving stone and laying bricks" for a cheap price and calling themselves "journeymen" or "masters" and that the guilds ask for her to "uphold their ancient rights and customs". Dany grants that only the guild members can be named "journeymen" or "masters", but that the guilds will have to give the freedmen the opportunity to become members too. She also allows the freedmen to continue to carve stone or lay bricks cheaply because they are hungry, though they won't use those titles anymore. 

Dany chooses to pay Hazzea's father the blood price; she sets it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. She also lays her bones to rest in the Temple of the Graces, orders a hundred candles in her memory each day and night and promises to pay for her children "each year upon her nameday" so they "shall not want" too. She asks him not to tell anyone that Drogon was involved, though.

Dany chains her dragons.

ADWD Daenerys III 

Dany considers the possibility of leaving for Westeros with the thirteen ships that Xaro offered her, but she ultimately gives up.  

Dany organizes the freedmen of fighting age into companies (Mother's Men, Stalwart Shields, Free Brothers). 

Dany tries to sell Meereen's salt, copper and wine for Xaro.

Dany sends envoys to Tolos and Mantarys in an attempt to make alliances against Yunkai, but is told by Xaro that the two joined the latter (and later Qarth also will). 

Dany still denies help to Astapor because, if she gives them part of her forces, there won't be enough men to defend Meereen. 

Dany is replanting olive trees. 

Xaro tells Dany that a former merchant who dealt in rare spices and choice wines ended up working to dig a ditch to bring water from the river to the fields and to plant beans. (The man, however, was a merchant who most likely lost his slaves, couldn't leave the city because he was unable to trade his goods and then had to find work. The available work was to dig ditches to plant beans and reform the city's economy.) 

Dany chooses many freedmen to be advisors in her council.

ADWD Daenerys IV

Despite the Shavepate's wishes, Dany refuses to kill the child hostages in response to the Sons' ongoing attacks.

After making several questions to Hizdahr (and after he emphasizes that Yunkai has a lot of support to fight against her), Dany says she'll marry Hizdahr as long as he's able to maintain peace in Meereen for ninety days. She previously had objections to the Green Grace's advice about whether it would be beneficial and considers what both Reznak and the Shavepate would think after she makes her choice. She also distrusts Hizdahr, the Green Grace and Reznak. 

Dany considers making a peace agreement with Yunkai, though she's unsatisfied with the other freedmen in the other cities potentially being enslaved again. 

Dany reiterates that she can't go to Westeros until she heals Meereen.

ADWD Daenerys V 

Dany doesn't allow the Shavepate to continue his tortures because she realizes that they are unreliable. Unlike him, she thinks that there isn't a single overlord working against her because "[her] enemies are legion". She also believes that Hizdahr convinced them to stop the killings either through bribery or because of news of their marriage. 

Dany "has planted beans and grapes and wheats" and will soon have the friendship of the hinterlands (which is bringing crops to the city) and Lhazar. 

Dany finds out that Astapor has fallen into the hands of the Yunkish and that the bloody flux has spread in Astapor. She is given more details by refugees of what exactly happened and regrets not having helped the Astapor (even if her military strength wasn't large enough to help). 

Dany considers waging war against Yunkai (which Barristan thinks she should, while the Shavepate advises her not to do so), but she doesn't have enough men to do that and to protect Meereen at the same time, so she gives up on the option. 

Dany orders Ben and his Second Sons to scout the Yunkish forces. She also grants Ben's request for provisions, fresh horses, bags of gold and gems (which he made because he intends to betray her) and asks Reznak to close the gates and double the number of soldiers keeping watch upon the walls. 

Dany decides that she needs Hizdahr's support to gain the Meereenese nobles' help and protect the city from Yunkai. 

Dany sets up a camp for the Astapori refugees "beside the river, west of the city". She tries to separate the healthy from the sick, but that meant separating family members. That is ultimately for naught, since the ones who were only sick at first died and the ones who were healthy got sick.

ADWD Daenerys VI  

Dany sends "healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barbersurgeons" to the Astapori refugees, but they got sick as well. She commanded them to dig ditches to defecate, but they started to do it where they slept because they were too weak to stand up and defecate there. She sent the food that she could, but "every day there were more of them and less food to give them". Even sending food was becoming hard, since some soldiers were becoming sick and others attacked on the way back to the city. This leads Dany to bring the food herself, even while knowing all of the risks that doing so would entail. She wants to show her people that "their Mother cares". She also considers sharing the food equally twice. She baths an old man herself even while knowing all of the risks, she burns the dead corpses (which could have transmitted the disease) herself, she "shames all of them into helping her" to take care of people who she had no allegiance to and would receive no benefit from helping. 

Dany agrees to marry by Ghiscari rites and use a "white tokar fringed with baby pearls", but she won't allow her womb to be examined by Hizdahr's mother and sisters nor will she wash Hizdahr's feet if he won't wash hers first. 

Dany says that Hizdahr can reopen the fighting pits after their wedding and that she wants no part of it.

Dany begrudgingly agrees to Yunkai's terms of peace. She's okay with paying "gold and gemstones", but she's still not content with having to see slavery being reinstalled and being told not to interfere. She also needs to follow through with her marriage so that the slavers will believe in her. 

Dany finds out that Brown Ben betrayed her, so she decides to gather food to sustain the Meereenese citizens, keep all of her forces inside and close the gates with the Astapori refugees starving outside the city.

ADWD Daenerys VII 

The Yunkai'i are besieging Meereen and building catapults, scorpions and tall trebuchets in case they need to attack. 

The freedmen continue to be mistreated in "palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs". 

Dany stopped holding court due to being disillusioned by the negative repercussions of her actions.

Quentyn offers himself as a husband to Dany in return for Dorne's support so that they can honor the secret part originally made to marry Viserys and Arianne. Dany refuses him and goes through with her marriage because of her people; in order to protect them, she needs Hizdahr's support immediately, while Quentyn only has two men.

ADWD Daenerys VIII  

The Yunkai'i have men of the free companies, two iron legions of New Ghis and two Ghiscari legions by their side. 

Dany has to accept the Yunkish lords bringing slaves to serve them and to be sold in a market outside the city as one of the conditions of the peace agreement. 

After Hizdahr is crowned, the Shavepate is removed from command of the Brazen Beasts (which is another concession that Dany made in the name of peace).

Dany orders the food that would normally be thrown away to be given to the poor. 

Dany orders Barristan to set Pretty Meris free so that she can send her offer to the Tattered Prince. She wants to sound out the Windblown, the Long Lances and the Company of the Cat.

Dany shows Quentyn her dragons and tells him that "[her] marriage need not be the end of all [his] hopes" because "the dragon has three heads".

ADWD Daenerys IX 

Dany is willing to pay gold for the Windblown's support, but the Tattered Prince wants more than that; he also asks her to give him Pentos when she marches for Westeros. She denies his request out of consideration for Illyrio. 

After a freedman collapses while carrying a palanquin, Dany orders him to be taken off the street and be given food and water. She also notes that, even after freeing the slaves, their work (in this case, carrying the palanquin) is still just as hard.

Dany makes restrictions to lessen the harshness towards the participants: only freedmen can join the duels (only those who "freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor"); children are not allowed to participate and only certain criminals (murderers, rapers and those who persist in slavery, not thieves or debtors) would be sentenced to fight; women, comic combats between cripples, dwarfs and crones and beasts are still allowed to fight; the carcasses of bears and bulls are used to feed the hungry at the Gates of Fate.

Freedmen are being slaughtered to amuse the noblemen in the pits. 

Dany takes off her flopping ears.

ADWD Daenerys X 

Dany explicitly rejects the peace.

#daenerys targaryen #a dance with dragons #asoiaf meta #resources

[dercolaris]

Chess

Fandom: Batman Arkham Verse

Characters: Joker, Jonathan Crane

Relationship: Joker & Jonathan Crane (Rivals, none romantic)

Genre: Tension

Word length: 3145

Warnings: No warnings

Status: Complete

Short summary: Joker is paying Jonathan a visit in his new hideout in Arkham City to play a little game of chess.

Song: https://youtu.be/rW4uBvP2Dqc

Enjoy.

The industrial area was under a small layer of pure white snow, when Joker slowly moved into the interior of his very own district. His gaze slid up into the cloud-draped sky. Suddenly a loud cough came from his throat. He put his hand protectively in front of his torn lips and gasped heavily into the grey glove. The coughing fit subsided, leaving the Clown Prince breathless. One look in the hand was enough to discover the red blood on the otherwise flawless leather. Joker cursed softly and spat the rest of the blood in his mouth on the street. At the next corner the green-haired man saw some of his henchmen, who were probing the area with rusty assault rifles. They were absorbed in a lewd conversation, did not notice the leader at first. Suddenly, one of the big muscle mountains poked the other in the ribs and nodded his head to the side. The person being pushed growled softly and looked in the direction shown, swallowed hard at the unusual sight. He began to sweat and mumbled, visible confused: “Boss. What the hell are you doing out here? It's cold as fuck. Shouldn't you be at the steel mill with Harley?” “Let me worry about that”, Joker replied coldly, wiping the wet hand on the inside of his suit jacket dry. His own blood was slowly killing him. He shook his green hair lightly and reached for his belt, touching the revolver in the holster. In the next moment the Clown had drawn his weapon and pressed the barrel against the forehead of the poor henchman. The guy went even more pale under his white make-up. His voice was nothing more than a pleading as he quietly begged: "Please boss, ya know, I'm horrible sorry. I've no fucking clue what I did wrong, but it will not fucking happen again. Really. Fuck, God help me..." Joker giggled happily and finally pulled the trigger after almost a minute. The man in front of him squeezed his eyes tight, waiting for the final bang. This did not come, instead there was only a soft click. The green-haired man began to laugh muffled, was getting louder and louder. He spoke slightly amused: "Today is your lucky day, bastard and now get out of my sight." The thugs didn't have to hear the command twice. They quickly turned into one of the side streets. Joker rubbed his tense neck briefly and groaned. Nothing but idiots. It was difficult to find intelligent henchmen this days and the high competition with Two-Face and Penguin was not making it easier. Everyone was able to get a reasonably useful weapon in Gotham, but not even half of them could actually use them without shooting in their own feet. The Clown put the revolver back in its holster, rubbed his mouth again. The metallic taste was still on his tongue. It was more than time that Bats showed up and helped him out of this whole mess. According to official rumours, he was already in Arkham City. What a pleasure it was to be able to welcome the Dark Knight in their ranks. Joker had already planned a lot with Batman and he would, as always, play his part in this perfidious game. The green-haired grinned smugly. Yes, his plan wasn't going to go wrong. Not this time. The Clown roamed the streets, finally came to a stop at a metal door.

He examined the door, then stepped closer and knocked three times on the heavy material. Behind it something seemed to be moving and in the next moment a small slit opened in the rusty metal. Brown eyes stared into the Joker's green ones. The man behind the door growled loudly: "Password?" The addressed person frowned, then slowly came closer to the slot. He tilted his head a little to one side and breathed into the very small opening: "The Clown Prince of Crime is demanding an audience with the famous and genius Scarecrow." The other person paused for a moment, then pulled out a small handheld transceiver. He pressed the button on the side and spoke calmly into it: “A certain Clown Prince of Crime wants to see you. What should I do with him boss? He has clearly no password." A loud crackle sounded from the device, followed by a deep voice: "Let him in. Be so kind and send him directly upstairs.” “Understood.” The metal slot closed. Some mechanical noises followed. The henchman probably opened a multitude of locks from the inside. In the next instant the door swung open. The thug was armed with a junk rifle, carried a burlap sack over his face, and nodded towards the stairs. “Just a friendly advice, clown face,” muttered the man with the brown eyes, “don't make stupid comments about his appearance. He can react a little, let's say, indignantly. Any weapons with you?" The Clown Prince grimaced slightly, then pushed his suit jacket aside. He replied calmly: “I won't let my baby be taken away from me, buddy.” The person addressed rubbed his chin, seemed to be fighting with himself to make a decision. After a few seconds the tall man stepped aside. Joker nodded briefly to the henchman and slipped into the spacious apartment. There were three other thugs standing in the small hallway, talking in whispers. It was generally an uncomfortable silence in this house. In contrast to his henchmen, those of Scarecrow were almost cultured. They were no less dangerous, of course, but seemed to be able to count two and two together. The men's eyes examined him almost disparagingly, but no one dared to say anything. Joker went up the stairs to the first floor. Two heavily armed men in front of a door awaited him. They looked at each other briefly, nodded meaningfully and opened the light wooden door. There was an unusual darkness in the next room.

The green-haired man entered the small chamber and blinked a few times. The windows were boarded up with thick boards, only allow some light rays shone on the rotting floorboards. The door closed behind the Clown Prince, leaving him in the faint glow of the moon. He took a few steps towards the large desk. A melodious, sinister voice welcomed him with a strange undertone: "Ah yes. The infamous Joker himself. It's been a while since we met, Jack, right? It's always a pleasure and kind of an honour. So, what can I do for you tonight? You wouldn't come all this way just to pay an old friend a visit.” His counterpart chuckled softly, put a hand on one of the two heavy wooden chairs. He pushed the furniture back, then slowly dropped onto it. The green-haired man placed his hands on the ends of the armrests and answered muffled: "Johnny-Boy, what happened to your voice?" The former psychiatrist seemed to pause for a moment, then moved slightly in his chair. He leaned forward a bit, just enough, to show off his disfigured face. The deep scars ran around his barely existing nose, drawn like curved lines over his eyes. Joker remembered the professors cold blue opals, was surprised to see now a dull grey. The pupils barely moved and did not respond to the Clown Prince appearance. At that moment it dawned on the green-haired man that Scarecrow had probably become blind. The Clown still didn't know what had happened to Jonathan after that night in Arkham. There were rumours that a wild animal named Killer Croc had taken him literally apart. For a long time he was even considered dead. Joker was all the more surprised when his scouts reported that there was a secret hideout in his district. Directly under his nose! The patrolling henchmen in this small area were clearly recognizable as little helpers of Scarecrow and tried their best to hide. The former psychiatrist didn't seem to want to attract any attention at all in the past weeks. The Master of Fear took a loud breath and said calmly: "I'm fine, Jack. Would you like to play a game of chess with me?” “Like the good old days in Arkham?”, grinned the Clown, rubbing his stubbly chin. The quiet laugh of the other reached his ears, rough and cold. Scarecrow pushed the small chessboard into the weak light of the room, felt briefly over the black pieces. He spoke calmly: "You can open the game, but please tell me which moves you are going to make." Joker put his fingers around one of the pawns and moved him two spaces forward, said aloud: "E2 to E4." The man opposite smiled a bit and closed his worn, leathery fingertips around one of the figures. At the same moment the Clown Prince looked into the grey eyes of the former psychiatrist, then finally spoke: “Tell me what the hell happened to you, Johnny. I really thought I'm the one that looked bad, but you're taking the cake.” The Master of Fear paused for a moment, then moved his own pawn two squares forward.

He placed a hand on his torn chin, replied quietly: "What exactly do you want to know from me right now, Jack? Maybe that Killer Croc tore me apart or that a certain Bat is to blame for this predicament?” “Bats has something to do with it?” , snapped the green-haired man a little too quickly, then tried to get used to the other's very low voice. Apparently the sinister professor was even more withdrawn than before. Back in Arkham he was already not one of the most talkative patients in the ward and was rarely involved in any of the discussions. What he thought often remained in the dark. Joker took the horse in his hand and placed it across the field. He mumbled softly: “G1 to F3.” Jonathan's forehead wrinkled. The brown-haired man slowly felt over the figures with his decaying fingers. His voice was nothing more than a whisper in the dark: “It is true. Batman surprised me in the sewer. If it hadn't been for him, I would have contaminated the city's water system with my fear gas successfully and would have come closer to my ultimate goal.” The Clown Prince grinned a little and watched the other move his bishop a few squares forward. He said calmly: "That sounds like something that Bats would absolutely prevent. You're always a bit unlucky, Johnny-Boy." A low laugh came from Scarecrow's dry throat. At the same moment he reached aside and gently touched the bottle of whiskey with his bony fingers. He opened the liquor and slowly poured himself some strong smelling alcohol into a glass. He raised one of his displaced eyebrow, asked politely if his unexpected guest would want some too. Joker giggled in amusement and answered with a short yes, held out his glass for the skinny villain. The former psychiatrist groped for the opening, then finally filled the glass carefully. He shivered a little for a very short moment, made the whiskey spill over slightly. A soft apology slipped from his throat. The green-haired man waved it off, then stopped short. The other probably hadn't seen that gesture. He added quietly: “Never mind Johnny. I imagine life can't be so easy any more when you can't see a fucking thing." "Oh, it's anything but easy, "said Jonathan in his husky voice," but you get used to it really quickly, Jack. Besides, I don't really have a choice or do I? I will still take my revenge on the Bat, even if I can no longer see his gruesome form in the sky.” The Clown Prince began to cough again, panting heavily into his hand. This made the other sit up and take notice. The sinister professor blinked his grey eyes a few times, then asked carefully: "Is something wrong, Jack? The cough sounds alarmingly too wet for my liking." Scarecrow had got up from the chair and was slowly stepping around the table. His fingers went on the Clown's throat, gently touching the pale and pitted skin. The hands moved by themselves over the outgrowths that were slowly becoming apparent. The red flesh pulsed under the former psychiatrist's fingertips in the rhythm of a fast beating heart. The gaunt man paused for a second, then spoke in a whisper to the green-haired visitor: “What are these excesses and protruding veins? Is there something important you wanted to hide from me, old friend?"

The Clown relaxed in the soft grip and replied, still coughing violently: “It's my stupid blood, Johnny. That shitty stuff is slowly killing me.” He rubbed his bloody hand on his suit jacket, panting softly from the last fit of coughing. A small smile played around Scarecrow's lips, his words were as cold as ice: "You have taken too much Titan." "What you don't say", grumbled the Clown Prince and tried to free himself from the other's grip. Suddenly his host held his head firmly, carefully turning the psychopath's head in a dangerous movement. Did he want to break his neck? The next words of Jonathan were nothing more than a low whisper: "And what are you going to do now, almighty Clown Prince of Crime?" Joker looked at the chessboard in front of him, moved one of his bishops to a distant square. He spoke surprisingly calm: “I already have a plan, Scareboy. I always have a plan.” “I know that”, confirmed the former psychiatrist and let go of the head, moving smoothly back into his old place. He sat forward a little and put his hand on his chin. He seemed to be considering. Then he raised his voice again: "Will you win this game against the Dark Knight or will the white king fall in a never-ending coughing fit?" Joker just smiled at it, leaned back relaxed in the chair. His fingers reached for the glass, dipping whiskey down his throat. He put the empty vessel on the table and giggled happily. He answered confident of his soon victory: “Let's finish the game, Johnny." The other smiled a barely noticeable smile, slowly folded his hands together. In the next few minutes, calmness returned between them, which was only broken by the announcement of the moves. Jonathan put his only remaining bishop a little way back and said curious: "What will happen to Gotham if we are no longer here?" "It would sink into pure chaos”, chuckled the green-haired man and brought his pawn to the end of the playing field. The sinister professor frowned and mumbled softly: "Another queen, I suppose." A laugh came from the throat of the Clown. He put his hand back on his chin, leaned a little more on the clunky wooden table. The other played with his fingers on his own queen and seemed to be thinking hard. After a few seconds he moved her to hit a rook. Jonathan spoke cautiously: "Isn't chaos what you desire, Prince of Crime?" The Clown snorted a bit and examined the current position on the board. Inwardly, he was impressed by the ability of Scarecrow to remember the position of the figures just by hearing the single moves once. His hand reached for his second queen. The green-haired replied coldly: “Chaos and destruction may be my milieu, but it has to be regulated by a wise leader. I always have the reins in my hand." The former psychiatrist smiled knowingly and answered canny: "Well-controlled chaos, I understand. Like your way of playing chess. I still don't know what you're up to, Jack. It's fascinating to watch you play."

Joker just grinned wider, giggled uncontrollably. He finally broke into a loud laugh. Jonathan couldn't hide his own either, and joined in with increasing volume. It took a few seconds for them to calm down again. An unfamiliar tranquillity fell over them like a black cloth. The prevailing darkness seemed to have spread even further and swirled around them. The Clown could barely see the board any more, blinked slightly into the blackness. He didn't dare ask for some light, didn't want to show any weakness at that moment. Instead he replied coolly: "Watching my moves should be very difficult for you anyway right now, Johnny." The person addressed wrinkled his torn nose, hit a lonely pawn with the rook. He placed the beaten figure to the edge and raised his melodic voice again: “Watch what you say, Clown. I may not be able to point a gun at you any more, but you are in my little world now. A snap of my fingers and the room is filled with my men, ready to kill you without hesitation." “Come on Johnny”, the other purred with a broad grin, “don't always take everything so seriously. Try to smile. It looks much better on your face than this frown line.” Jonathan rubbed his cheek slowly, removed scraps of dead skin in this action and moaned softly. A small smile finally twitched in the corners of his mouth. He spoke coldly: "I should trust the words of an insane psychopath." Joker played with his fingers over the remaining figures on his side and looked at the playing field. He then replied with a giggle: "Aren't we all proud of our little diagnoses?" The former psychiatrist dropped his eyelids and relaxed for a moment. He grabbed bottle again and poured himself another whiskey. This time no alcohol spilled over. While he closed the bottle again, he said calmly: “We are probably. One more than the other.” Jonathan took the glass and emptied it in a few gulps. His body shuddered from the pungent aftertaste. The Clown Prince was visibly amused. He chuckled happily, hit the last bishop of his opponent with the queen. His gaze studied the current position. Everything went perfectly according to his plan.

The sinister professor literally played in his bloody hands on and did not recognize the danger. This type of approach was characteristic of the Clown. Only when the trap was snapped shut did the enemy know what difficulties he was actually in. Jonathan tapped his worn cheek a few times. A puzzled impression spreads on his face. Suddenly he snickers softly: “Four more moves and I would be checkmate anyway. Very intelligent manoeuvre, Jack. I actually didn't see the danger coming.” His barely remaining fingertips wrapped themselves around the king's narrow neck and slowly tilted the black figure on its side. It landed on the chessboard with a dull thud. The green-haired man couldn't hide his joy any more, grinned wider: "Never underestimate an opponent who has nothing more to lose." The darkness enveloped his slim figure in a black shell, slowly melting him into the room. The Clown Prince blinked into the abyss of his existence and spoke in a whisper: "Checkmate John."

#DC #Batman #Arkham Verse #Arkham Asylum #Arkham City #Joker #Jack Napier #Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #Chess #Checkmate #Friendship? #Chess is a war #Older stuff

[dilfdoctordoom]

Literally all the oc questions I’m 👀📝

Urs... you’re my favourite person ever. Let’s get into this.

scarlet - What would your OC do if they found a mysterious sack of money just left unattended?

Okay, before Coast City gets blown up... Autumn tries to return it to their owner. There’s probably a small moment where she considers keeping it for herself, but, like, she’s a hero. She’s gotta do the right thing here, she’s pretty sure there’s a rule about it somewhere.

After the Coast City debacle... she doesn’t hesitate to keep for herself. Does she need it? Not really. Does she care? Also not really. She’s at a very selfish point in her life & is kind of... apathetic to other people.

amber - What would your OC do if they found out their significant other(s) are cheating on them?

Oh... this would be a mess. It doesn’t matter if it’s before Coast City is destroyed because Autumn’s already full of trust issues & if someone cheated on her... she’s already mentally unstable, people, stop hurting her.

She’d go to Hal, no matter what. Would that end well for her significant other? Good God no. Hal does not need a satantic cricket taking him for a joyride to commit murder for his protege, okay, he was down for that like two weeks after meeting her.

There’s definitely a messy break-up, because Autumn is generally a dramatic person, but something like this? Yeah, she’s torched their place. It’s on fire and she does not care.

Absolutely follows it up by crashing with either Hal or Carol & if she does go to Carol, then Hal will arrive with her favourite take-out. May bring her to beat up bad guys.

honey - What would your OC do if they lost a treasured possession? Imagine that there is no way this item could be replaced or bought again, that it is 100% gone forever and they can’t get it back.

She goes insane and commits mass murder. Autumn would probably freak out. Like, she’s got a little arrowhead necklace from Roy & she doesn’t wear it anymore (she hasn’t since Coast City) but it means everything to her & if she lost it... she’d be a wreck. Roy doesn’t even talk to her anymore & it’s pretty much all she has left of their friendship, the only thing that remains & yeah, it’d mess with her if she lost it.

And, well. It’s firmly established that this girl cannot regulate her emotions in a healthy manner.

seafoam - What would your OC do if they ever got stranded somewhere or lost? They have only a few basic supplies with them and have no idea where they are and are completely alone with only themself to rely on.

As shown... a lot... if Autumn’s on her own for too long, she loses her mind and starts to blow stuff up. She’s stranded on some alien planet with no way off? Nobody’s coming to get her? She’s alone for an extended period of time? Her powers are going haywire. She’d probably try to calm herself down, but it wouldn’t really work.

Honeslty, pre-Coast City Autumn would actually handle it a lot better. She has literal endless faith in Hal, Guy, John, etc, & convinces herself within minutes that they’ll find her. All she’s gotta do is survive & since Ollie’s taken her on so many camping trips, she reckons she’s fine.

cerulean - What would your OC do if time suddenly froze only for them?

Like, okay, Autumn in the beginning? She engages in assorted shenanigans, really dumb pranks that’ll never be able to linked back to her. She absolutely frames Wally for a few. They’re all pretty harmless thiugh & it’d take her a while to freak out, even slightly, because she’s accustomed to weird stuff happening & is like... ‘oh is this what we’re doing today? cool i’m drawing a mustache on martian manhunter’s face’

Later, she’s using it for murder, I don’t care. Time freezes, she realizes what’s happened & is like, well, I guess I gotta kill Slade Wilson, don’t I?

lilac - What would your OC do if they found a baby abandoned on their doorstep in the middle of the night?

She freaks out! Like, I’m putting this when she’s an adult so... she doesn’t fully trust herself around kids? I mean, look at Rachel; she did almost kill her. And babies are so fragile, she’s almost definitely holding this one wrong, oh god, she’s gonna crack their skull.

She brings the baby to Guy, in the end, because a) she trusts him & b) he’s a social worker, he’s gonna know what to do with a baby.

(Guy, meanwhile, is genuinely amused that she seems terrified by a baby. Trigon? Fine, no problem, she can handle that. A small human? This is it, this is how the entire world ends).

peach - What would your OC do if someone confessed their love to them?

There’s been, like, three people to tell Autumn that they love her in a romantic sense... when Arisia told her,  Autumn was practically bouncing off the walls because her amazing, talented, beautiful girlfriend just told her that she loves her, oh my god, this is literally the best day of her life. To be honest, if anyone in her previous relationships had dropped the L bomb, she wouldn’t have been so okay with it, but her & Arisia have been friends for years.

Dick tells her that he loves her eventually &, uh, she doesn’t handle it that well. Like!!!! Autumn doesn’t think she deserves Dick in any way & she especially doesn’t think that she deserves his love, not after everything that’s happened. She’s also a lil dumb because every single ‘I could never hate you’ was a low key declaration of love.

When Kory tells her, it’s after Dick & Auutmn have suggested that idea of all of them beingin a relationship. I mean, let’s be honest, Autumn’s been in love with Kory for a while (seriously... Autumn, you don’t platonically think about your friends like that, there’s no such thing as platonic make out sessions, please grow a brain cell xoxo) & that goes both ways! And Autumn & Dick wouldn’t even be having that comversation with Kory if they weren’t very seriously committed to the idea of being with her, so... yeah, tht one goes down very well.

pearl - What would your OC do if a natural disaster hit their home? What would they do in the aftermath?

[insert wheezing here]

chocolate - What would your OC do if they were forced to sacrifice one of their most beloved people to save another of their beloved people? Only one can survive.

Okay, so!!! Matter of the fact is, Autumn, my sweet darling angel, would sacrifice literally anyone for Hal, even Dick. He is the single most important person in her life. Like, honestly, if Parallax had outright said that he needed Autumn to come with him... that’s it. She’s gone. He’s her family, in a way that nobody else really acomplishes, because he’s the only person that Autumn’s ever truly vinerable with.

So, yeah, if she whas to choose between Hal & anybody else, Hal wins. Hal & the universe? She picks Hal. He’s really not the biggest fam of this but, uh, he’s the same.

She would put Dick over a lot of people, too. He’s never gonna reach Hal’s level, but, yeah, she’d let a few people die for him. 

If it ever came down to her picking between him & Hal though... she’d hate herself, but she knows who she’d pick. She always does.

pitch - What would your OC do if they were being interrogated for valuable information? *bonus* What would they do if this interrogation turned down a darker road e.g torture?

It... depends on who’s doing the interrogation, to be honest. Because, like, it has happened to her a lot. Girl has been taken into government questioning over things like the GLs but she does not talk. Autumn is loyal to a fault & it’s very hard to get her to crack.

Unless you’re Sinestro, in which case... yeah, fun added bonus of easily being able to emotionally manipulate her.

When it comes to torture... hm. Before everything that happened with Casot City & Parallax, I’d say it’d eventually work on her. Like, faster in her younger years, slower when she’s older, but ultimately, yeah. She’s between the ages of 13 and her early twenties, so she’d definitely crack eventually.

After that whole shit show, though? Lmao, no. No form of torture is gonna get through her. Exception is, of course, Sinestro for the sheer emotional pain it’d cause, but beyond that? Not happening. Although, honestly, in the direct aftermath of everything... who the fuck is even gonna try hurting her. Who even has the balls.

#q & a #oc: autumn alita #URS ILYSM YOU'RE AN ANGEL #en knee ways... autumn is just... wow. i love her. i should post about her more on this blog

[cavesalamander]

My brief thoughts on this season of anime!

Just a quick review of the ones I’d recommend and/or keep watching. I managed to find all of the below on Funimation or Crunchyroll or Youtube!

Horymia: (Yes) This is looking to be a very funny romcom slice of life style anime, and seems to be a fairly good one! Had me laughing a lot. The Main couple are a nerdy quiet boy who’s actually dumb as a sack of bricks using his disheveled appearance to hide his tattoos and piercings, and a popular pretty girl who’s actually a total homebody. Their friends seem to have a lot of potential to be fleshed out as the series progresses and I look forward to seeing how it goes!

So I’m a Spider, So What?: (Yes) Whooo another isekai (excited)! This time a girl and her entire class!? Get isekai’d in a massive explosion. The main character reincarnates as a trash monster in a dungeon and must fight her way up the food chain just to survive. Meanwhile her friends who have mostly reincarnated as Cool Humans or the occasional elf or baby dragon, have mostly found each other, and want to figure out what happened/why and if they’re all okay. It’s genuinely pretty funny, though leans a little too hard sometimes on the gamey aspects of this new world. I think it may get darker as it goes along too.

Mushoku Tensei: (No) Whooo another isekai (derogatory). 34 yo old man gets reincarnated and uses his worldly experience to Learn Magic Fast and creep on his mom and prepubescent tutor. If you can stomach that stuff, it actually has a fair amount of potential? It did set itself up to touch on some interesting stuff down the road, but I’m kind of Over the horny toddler/young boy trope and it kinda just seems like the protagonist is Just Awesome At Everything but not in a remotely charming way.

Cells at Work Code Black: (Yes) If you liked Cells at Work, this is that but dingier, and is able to tackle some darker themes - like what stress, smoking, drinking, and probably eventually STDs can do to your body.

Kemono Jihen: (Yes) I don’t wanna explain TOO much about the plot of this one because it looks to be a mystery series, and the first episode sets it up the characters very very well. A man from the city is called to a rural town where animals are being mysteriously killed and found rotting. He’s tasked with finding and killing the perpetrator, assumed to be a monster of some kind. It does the horror very well, and even in the first episode manages some twistyness.

The Hidden Dungeon Only I Can Enter: (No) Even for a blatant fan service anime this one is just......... stupid. It might have a scrap of joy to it if the protagonist were anything other than a boring sycophant. His harem just all seems to be random girls who’s singular personality traits are to be in love with him in various stereotypical ways, that he just uses to min max his Cool Stats. But like, it’s not even self aware enough to make that into an interesting premise.

Sk8: (Yes) It’s a racing anime that seems super stylish and fun and very well animated. The protagonists have some cool chemistry already, and it really leans into the Underground Illegal Racing part of the fun - all the various characters who battle in death defying races through this abandoned mine, all have seemingly ordinary day jobs. Definitely worth a shot if that sounds up your alley.

Suppose a Kid from the Last Dungeon Boonies moved to a starter town?: (Probably) Okay so the premise is just there in the title and is actually pretty fun. Think: a random NPC who is considered pretty weak where the monsters are lv 50 moving somewhere where the monsters are scary at lv 5, shenanigans ensue. The MC boy is hilariously oblivious to the fact that anyone with a shred of sense can see he’s insanely over leveled to the area, and just trying to be nice and polite to everyone ^u^. The tentative nature of my recommendation is that it is kind of leaning harder on the Girls are Obsessed With Him train than is ideal. How much it depends on that as opposed to utilizing the premise to its fullest extent will have an enormous bearing on how fun the show is to watch going forward.

Ex-Arm: (Absolutely not but yes) It’s a fucking train wreck.

Heavens Design Team: (Yes) God decided to outsource creating animals to a team of angels, and works as a client giving weird ass requests for the angels to fill. Hilarity ensues, and it is peak edutainment to boot. It’s so much fun learning weird shit about animals, or trying to guess the animal these seemingly random train of failed attempts leads to.

Dr. Ramune -Mysterious Disease Specialist-: (No) It has a promising premise and some good moments. The main characters are solving these weird “diseases” that people get by finding the actual emotional cause and using magic of some kind to monkey paw it into a resolution. This could be really fun and interesting, but something about the execution just... falls flat? Like maybe it picks up as the season goes on but for now it’s not rly worth it.

Vlad Love: (Yes) I was going through the list of anime this season and was like wtf is this and literally just now watched episode 1. It’s about a girl with a blood donation kink and her vampire girlfriend. Literally. It’s rly funny and over the top ridiculous but like, gay vampires.

Back Arrow: (No) It’s like... fine. It’s about these two warring kingdoms surrounded by a wall with a mountain range between. They worship the wall as god, and occasionally get gifts from beyond it, in the form of mech suits they use to fight each other in. One day a boy shows up from beyond the wall in one of those suits and no memories of anything and he wants to get back. Which... could be promising I guess? But something about the show just didn’t grab my attention.

Skate-Leading Stars: (No) It’s like Yuri on ice if it was less gay and less well written I guess...? The first episode set up the Drama competently enough, but I just... couldn’t give a shit.

Project Scard: (No) For some reason part of Tokyo has been turned into a post apocalyptic hellscape where people just murder each other. They also have super powered tattoos and use them to fight each other. Animation is very similar to Handshakers - which is an Aesthetic that may not appeal to some. The first episode didn’t rly do much for me but I could see it going somewhere if it tries.

Wave!!: (No) Might have been a tentative yes if I hadn’t gone on and watched the second episode. First ep went hard with the queerbaiting cause they want to be the new Free! but with surfing, but Ep 2 just forgot all about that entirely. Dialogue is mostly boring and there’s like 3 sets, which becomes painfully obvious very quickly by ep 2.

Idoly Pride: (No) Literally looks like they ripped off the waifus of a bunch of other more popular anime and made an idol anime with the most basic ass idol plot. Nothing exceptional here.

Gekidol: (undecided) It’s an idol anime... set after a mysterious apocalyptic event? It’s mostly so far seemed intriguing as hell but not my jam. Mysterious craters destroyed parts of Japan, and its rebuilding and the MCs wanna bring light to the world. Maybe aliens exist? Idk! I’m intrigued.

I*Chu: (No) Another idol anime but this time it’s cute boys! Idk maybe this is a decent idol anime but it rly didn’t grab me and idol stuff isn’t usually my jam. I couldn’t tell anything exceptionally unique about this one from just the first episode.

WIXOSS Diva: (No, but) I don’t normally watch spin-offs of series but I didn’t realize until halfway into this that it was one cause Crunchyroll didn’t attach it to the core line. It’s like... magical girl battle idols in VR! Which honestly if you’re a fan of that it might actually be worth checking out.(edited)

Idolls!: (No) Another idol anime! But this one uses mocap 3d models. Phoned in plot line delivered by a weird tiki statue that tells the girls what to do. Seems extraordinarily low budget, and more just a way to sell music. The whole episode happened in a single set and  was basically just... girls want to make it big as idols... oh no... gotta book a stage! Yay they got one! Now must get an audience! Like... ok

Hortensia Saga: (No but) Sword and sorcery fantasy setting that’s mostly sword, main character is a princess masquerading as a male knight alongside the son of her dead parents’s also dead bodyguard. The first episode is very lore heavy and felt kinda like the prologue to a video game. So it ended up feeling a little expository and trope laden, but it has potential. Seems a bit Game of Thronesy? Wasn’t like... bad or anything, so if it’s your thing you might enjoy it.

Otherside Picnic: (Yes) I think it’s gay first of all, two girls going exploring / treasure hunting / monster hunting in a bizarre mirror world to their own. Girls are cute, it’s very interesting premise and writing seems solid.

Wonder Egg Priority: (Yes) It deals with some HEAVY themes? But it’s... a bit of a psychological horror but in a way that feels very like it’s dealing with some of the real life issues. The main character girl comes across as neurodivergent, and it’s just... idk man the first episode was good and left me wanting more.

#Winter 2021 anime #Its of course flavored by my personal preferences but idc

[remywrites5]

Hey there! I really love your fics, and ficlets, they brighten my day every time I read or re- read one! I'm sort of having a rough day, and I went through all your wolfstar, because wolfstar is one of my favourites, and then I really got into spideypool, but it seems I can't find that many good fics out there! Is there any chance you could write something where peter gets kidnapped because he photographed something he shouldn't? Only if you have free time of course!

I’m sorry you were having a tough day! Again this ask is from forever ago but I hope all is well. Thanks for you prompt! 

******          

 This was just…well…humiliating was the word that came to mind. Peter had been kidnapped –or abducted seemed more appropriate because he wasn’t a child no matter what Mr. Stark said. It wasn’t his fault that these big, muscle-y guys had jumped him as Peter. He couldn’t exactly fight them off without giving away his secret identity. It’s not like mild-mannered Peter Parker could fight off five guys.

           He had a feeling he knew exactly what this was about too. He’d been snooping around Oscorp and had taken some pictures of them doing human testing for some new kind of drug that appeared to be some kind aggression hormone based on the way the subjects freaked out. That was all the world needed, more Hulks. He’d hadn’t had a chance to sell the pictures to the Daily Bugle yet because Jamison was a grade A asshole who had chosen to haggle with Peter over the price.

           Now he was chained to a chair and he probably could have busted out of them if he’d given it his whole strength but again Peter Parker can’t break out of chains. So Peter sat stewing in a ball of frustration when he heard gunshots. His eyes widened and he wondered if he was going to have to blow his secret identity just to not get shot in the fucking head by whoever was coming.

           He was just about to break the chains when the door swung open and in strolled Deadpool. “You coulda had a bad bitch! Noncommittal!”

           Peter groaned and shook his head. If the Avengers found out he was rescued by Deadpool, of all people, he would never live it down. The only saving grace was that Deadpool didn’t know Peter’s secret identity.

           “Oooh!” Wade said, holstering his guns. “I must have walked into the pantry because I just found me a snack!”

           Peter rolled his eyes. “A little help, please?”

           Wade cocked his head to the side. “Say, aren’t you the guy who takes pictures of Spider-man? Do you know him? Can you get me an autograph?”

           “Why would I know him just because I take pictures of him?” Peter asked, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you think everyone that works for US Weekly knows Taylor Swift?”

           “You’re my looooover!” Wade sang out.

           “Can we focus?” Peter asked impatiently. Although he knew Deadpool had a thing for leaving a stack of bodies in his wake, he didn’t want to chance that someone might come along.

           “Right, right, more helping, less talking,” Wade said, going over and inspecting the chains. “I need a key. Hold on, I think I killed a guy with some down the hallway. Don’t go anywhere, sexy!”

           “Where am I meant to go?” Peter growled after him in frustration.

           He sat there with Taylor Swift stuck in his head while he waited for Wade to return and rescue him. This pretending to be helpless thing was the worst. He was about to just break the chains and claim a rat ate them when Deadpool reappeared. “Fancy meeting you here!”

           “What are you even doing here, anyway?” Peter asked as Wade unlocked the chains. “I doubt you came here just to save me.”

           “I mean, if I had known a cutie like you was in peril I would have done this job pro-bono, but Justin Hammer paid me a lot of dineros to sneak in here and steal some science-y information, and also kill a bunch of people. But, since you’re here and I’m here and I’m about to be filthy rich, why don’t you and I do dinner?”

           Peter shot Wade an absolutely baffled expression. “Does this really seem like the time to be asking me out?”

           “No time like the present, baby boy,” Wade said with a shrug. “I don’t wanna wait for our lives to be over!”

           “Please for the love of god, stop singing,” Peter begged, looking up and down the hallway to try and figure out where his camera might be stashed. He supposed he would just have to go room by room, which would be much quicker if he could lose Deadpool and go about it as Spider-man.

           “Not a fan of the creek, huh?” Wade asked, following Peter as he took a left and began opening doors one after the other. “How do you feel about Golden Girls?”

           “Wade,” Peter said, walking over and putting his hand over Wade’s mouth. “Is there anyone alive left on this ship?”

           Wade shook his head no.

           Peter groaned. “Shit! This is going to take forever to find my camera.”

           “I saw a camera!” Wade said as soon as Peter removed his hand and began his search again. “Come with me!”

           Wade grabbed Peter and hauled him over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of potatoes. “I can walk you know!” Peter said, huffing indignantly.

           “I know,” Wade said with a grin that stretched his mask. “I just wanted a close up look at that ass. Do you do yoga? Pilates? It’s fairly toned for such a nerd.”

           “Wade?” Peter said as evenly as he could.

           “Yeah?”

           “Get your hand off my ass.”

           “Whoops.”

                                                                       ***

           Once he got back to his apartment, Peter posted the pictures on the internet for free, not wanting the hassle of fighting with Jamison over them. At least the word would get out about what Oscorp was doing. More than anything, Peter just wanted to put the whole ordeal behind him.

           Which was extremely difficult to do considering Deadpool was currently breaking into his apartment through the window, and making a fuck ton of noise while he was at it.

           ‘Hey Petey!” Wade said, tumbling into Peter’s bedroom.

           Peter watched Wade scramble to his feet. “So you found out my name, huh?”

           “Yup!” Wade said, strutting around the room like he was proud of himself. He wasn’t in his full Deadpool gear, just sweatpants and a hoodie with his Deadpool mask.

           “And you’re here because…” Peter gestured for Wade to fill in the blanks because Peter really had no clue.

           “I’m your new bodyguard!” Wade said, puffing up his chest. “And don’t worry, I know you’re a struggling college kid, so you’ll only have to pay me in food. Or kisses. Whichever one you prefer.”

           “Why do I need a bodyguard?” Peter asked, watching Wade walk about his room and rifle through his stuff.

           “Word on the street is that Norman Osborne is pissed about the pictures you took and posted online,” Wade explained, holding up a pair of Peter’s underwear that had Cap’s shield on them. Peter jumped up and shoved them back in the drawer before closing it forcefully. “So I’m here to offer my services.”

           Peter chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. If Osborne was gunning for him then it might not be a bad idea to have some backup. Getting abducted had been really stupid and at least with Deadpool around the chances of that happening were significantly decreased.

           “Fine,” Peter said, holding his hand out to Wade. “You’re hired.”

           “Oh Petey!” Wade said, ignoring his hand and pulling him into a bear hug. “You won’t regret this!”

           Peter doubted that very much.

                                                           ***

           It had been three weeks of round the clock Deadpool and nothing had happened. No attacks, no retribution, no nothing. The worst part of all was that Peter was kind of starting to…like Wade? Having him around wasn’t quite as annoying as he had thought. It was actually nice to have some company for once and despite what he had said, Wade was the one who provided the food most of the time. He did mention the kissing more than a few times but it obviously never amounted to anything.

           Which is why Peter really hated what he was about to do. “There was no threat against my life, was there?” he asked, already having a feeling about the answer.

           Wade looked around for a moment to avoid answering the question and then slumped down. “No,” he grumbled.

           Peter huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I mean, I’m relieved but why did you lie?”

           Wade shrugged. “I wanted a reason to see you again.”

           Peter laughed. “We could have just hung out, Wade, you didn’t have to make me fear for my life.”

           “People don’t really hang out with me if they can help it,” Wade informed him unhappily.

           Peter figured that was probably true. He thought about all the times he had blown Wade off as Spider-man, declining his offers of epic team ups. Maybe Wade had a point and it was kind of hard for Peter to stay mad at him.

           “Hey Wade,” Peter said, scooting closer to him. “You can come over whenever you want. Just no more busting in on me in the shower, okay?”

           “I had to make sure you were safe!”

           “We just established that I wasn’t in danger!”

           “Better safe than sorry, Petey.”

                                                                       ***

           Peter was a little offended when Deadpool kissed Spider-man, which made no fucking sense because he was Spider-man. But Wade didn’t know that and something about that hurt. Like Wade was cheating on him with him, and the whole thing made Peter’s head hurt.

           Peter had texted Deadpool for help patrolling the city one night, wanting to see Wade and figuring he could make up excuses to see him. It only seemed fair. They’d stopped a bodega from getting robbed and a purse snatcher. It hadn’t been the most exciting night but it had been fun. When they sat down on a roof to eat their hard earned tacos, Wade had pounced the moment Peter had rolled his mask up.

           Peter found himself flat on his back on the roof with Wade’s tongue slipping into his mouth. He would have enjoyed it if he hadn’t been so offended on behalf of his alter-ego.

           “Mm, Petey,” Wade murmured, sucking on Peter’s lower lip.

           “Wait,” Peter said, shoving Wade off of him. “You know?”

           “Puh-lease,” Wade said, rolling his eyes. “Like I wouldn’t recognize that Spider-man and the guy I’ve been spending all my time with lately are the same? Not to mention that ass.”

           “Oh,” Peter said dumbly, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well, that’s okay then.”

           “So we can go back to the kissing part, then?” Wade asked, crawling back over Peter. “I mean you do owe me for three weeks of service.”

           “You didn’t do anything!”

           “I protected your sweet ass, Petey,” Wade said, nipping at Peter’s chin. “Made sure it wasn’t violated by nefarious persons unknown.”

           “The only nefarious person my ass was in danger from was you,” Peter quipped, capturing Wade’s lips again.

           “Mm,” Wade hummed, cupping Peter’s face in his hands. “I’ll violate that ass any time, baby boy.”

           “If I let you do that I’m pretty sure that makes me a prostitute,” Peter said, laughing softly. “Selling my body for good and services.”

           “It worked for Julia Roberts.”

           “Are you going to scale a fire escape with some flowers and profess your love to me?”

           “Any time, any place, you just name the day, Petey.”

           “White limo too, or it doesn’t count,” Peter teased, wrapping his legs around Wade.

           “Obviously,” Wade said, kissing Peter breathless. After several moments he pulled back. “Although I think our story is more like The Bodyguard.”

           Peter laughed. “I’ve never seen it.”

           “What??” Wade shook his head. “Whitney Huston? Kevin Costner. And I-I-I will always loooove youuuu.”

           Peter grinned. “Wanna go home and not watch it while we make-out on my couch?”

           Wade matched his smile and then stole Peter’s breath away with another kiss. “I fucking love you.”

           “Love you too,” Peter said, pressing kisses against Wade’s scarred cheek. “I don’t know if I ever said it but thanks for rescuing me.”

           “And you rescued me right back.”

           “Nice Pretty Woman call back.”

           “It’s what I do, Petey.”

           Peter gently pushed Wade off of him and grabbed the bag of tacos. He put his arm around Wade’s waist and held him close. “Come on, let’s go home.” Peter shot out a web to the building across the street and took of swinging in the direction of his apartment with Wade signing “Rewrite the Stars from the Greatest Showman in his ear the entire time.

           Peter couldn’t even find it in him to mind it all that much.

#spideypool #i write things #peter parker x wade wilson #fluff #flirting #movie references galore #long post #anon prompt

[bountybossier]

Deblighted to Meet You II Josephine and Nicodemus

It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.

With: @saintjosaphime

Life, sometimes, came down to two choices: investigate, or do not investigate. This was the fork that Josephine had come upon when she’d taken a simple stroll through the woods and heard-- and felt-- something amiss. Any normal person would probably leave it and go, but Josephine was anything but normal. So, gathering herself, and the little dagger she kept with her, she crept off the path to investigate the noise. Rule number one, she had told her sister, ages ago, do not investigate. But that was back when they were human, squishy. Well...back when she was human. Now, the only death she could have was given to herself. Voices up ahead, low and gruff. Well, one voice. One voice, one wave of anger. Josephine made her way through the bushes, too inexplicably drawn the by the call of the emotions to stop herself, or to realize that something was following her-- until she reached a clearing, and down by the bank of the river-- a person. Slumped over something dead on the ground. But despite being an immortal being, Josephine could not see well in the dark, so the figure on the ground was lost to her, even as she came closer. The figure was a hunter, probably. Her opinion was not swayed by species, though-- it was only the anger inside of them that drew her in. A twig snapped behind her and her head spun to look behind her-- but it was too late. Whatever it was was already on top of her with a heavy, liquid thump! Her back hit the ground. This was altogether embarrassing, Josephine though, as she struggled. “A little help!” she finally called out, hoping the person down the hill would at least have some sense of moral duty to help an “innocent” stranger.

Joke was on the ahuizotl: Nicodemus didn’t give a shit about babies. Back home, he had developed a distaste for the river demons and it had stayed with him long into adulthood. If a bounty ever came up for him, he snatched it with vigor and determination. And maybe a little bitterness. They were among the first creatures that his grandfather had him get acquainted with. When it came to dismantling them, the hunter had keen precision and efficiency. He muttered to himself as he worked, setting aside the pieces he did or didn’t need into separate piles. The hand was what he really needed, but the innards could be used for some coveted delicacies and mixtures he had familiarity with. The muttering stopped as something drew near, likely someone. His ears figuratively perked up and he straightened his crouched posture. That flare of annoyance in his chest grew. Always someone in this town to happen by, it seemed. His trained ears heard the voice well enough, but he made no immediate move to offer assistance. Something was on them. He couldn’t likely tell what from anything else nearby that caused his skin to crawl and his pupils to dilate. Standing still into obscurity wouldn’t work. The stranger already knew he was there. The hunter swore and stood up, wiping his hands off on his dark pants as he stalked up the lake edge in no particular hurry. “What’d you need?” He was met with what looked like a blob of blood converging on someone. Groovy. “...The fuck is that?”

“My dog,” Josephine said in a huff, fighting to keep the thing from crawling onto her face. It was hard to get a hold of it, it felt like a wet burlap sack full of jelly. Fingers clawing to get it off, covering themselves in blood and the like. Gross. And this was a newer jacket, too. She clawed at the thing, when suddenly, it seemed to change directions, falling off of her and lunging for the person who had come up to very poorly try and help. Josephine scrambled away, wiping her hands on her now ruined jacket and pointed at the thing as it scuttled towards him. “Do I look like I know what that thing is!?” she hissed, kicking at it as it squelched along. She’d never seen something so disgusting in her life. As gross as it was, though, it sure was slow moving, pulling itself along by moving its flesh over itself. It kind of looked like how a slug moved, stretching along and pulling itself back in. “It looks like a sack of organs.”

The hunter’s expression withered. It wouldn’t be hard to turn around and go back to pilfering through ahuizotl organs. Nicodemus readied himself to make a remark about not being shocked by blood dogs when suddenly it did become difficult to organ harvest. “I don’t know your life, la--” His hands came up to his face defensively, his instinct to protect his eyes and mouth outweighing the need to snark. Another time then. The blood bubble squished around his hands and the smell was nearly overwhelming. “What in the hell?!” His voice was a garbled mess behind the blob and he tried what she had, clawing and grunting. It was hell to try and grab. A good enough grip of at least half of it was enough to pull it off his hands and frisbee-toss it downhill. Bits clung to his fingers. Undeterred, the blood regrouped and crawled up the wet grass. Whatever it was, it had a goddamn mission. “Well, I can’t shoot that,” he said, almost despairingly. Mostly annoyed, a little furious even. “Where the hell did it come from?”

Josephine had half a mind to turn around and leave as soon as it was off of her and on the hunter, but as angry as she was, she couldn’t not help someone in trouble. She wasn’t heartless. She was Justice. And she was angry. As the hunter finally tossed the creature off, she watched it land in the grass and immediately begin crawling its way back up. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to stop. They needed to stop it now or it would probably follow them both till their deaths, and Josephine didn’t much feel like ruining a jacket a day for eternity. “Did you try shooting it?” she asked with a little huff, taking a step back. “Like I know! I was just out for a walk when I heard a noise. Noise led me to you, gutting an ahuizotl, and then this thing showed up. So it’s probably your problem.”

Nicodemus took in a lifetime’s worth of breath through his nose, his nostrils flared out as a mossy anger crept up his ribs. He just wanted the organs. That’s all he wanted and he couldn’t fucking get even that. If rage alone could burn a city down, he could very well have been the match at that moment. He turned the safety off his handgun, readied it, and emptied the majority of the clip into the crawling sack of blood and tissue. And still, it crawled. “I tried now,” he grunted. So the first choice didn’t work. Fine. They weren’t out of options. “I was guttin’ it for a reason, not for fun.” That didn’t exactly pertain to the situation at hand but he said it anyway. “That can’t be reason enough for it to--Hmm.” His thoughts cut off his speech. He searched them and backed up. The vague notion that he might know what it was crossed his mind’s path. Then again, he had dealt with a lot of shit throughout the years. Before he could speak up again, the blood launched itself like a cat and the hunter reflexively ducked into a roll. The wet grass caused him to slide some but he righted himself quickly. “Think it might be yours too!

Josephine stood by as he emptied a whole clip into the thing, and once he was done, it sucked all of its scattered bits back up and kept crawling towards them. Gross. Josephine liked to believe she knew quite a bit about the otherworldly things that took up residence in White Crest, but this? This was something she didn’t know too much about. A sack of organs that seemingly couldn’t die? A swell of anger pulled her from her thoughts. This hunter was just so full of it. God, just standing here made her feel strong. His anger was like a shot of adrenaline. She grinned. Couldn’t help it. Watched him duck out of its way, watched it crawl its way towards her again. This time, she simply lifted her foot and stomped her heel into it, the sharp end of her shoe jabbing into it. It cried out a bit, but kept moving, dislodging itself from under her foot. She frowned. “Hmmm what? Do you know what it is, other than annoying?” she asked, backing away as it once again tried to leap onto her. Once it landed back on the ground, she kicked it back towards the hunter, feeling it separate on impact, spilling blood all over her shoes. “And disgusting.”

“It’s coming to me, hang on,” Nicodemus grumbled, eyes on the prize as he contemplated. “Been awhile since I’ve seen one. I know they’re pissed off about something and stick to that something until they, well, kill. I’ve seen that too. The aftermath of it.” It wasn’t just vampires and werewolves that came for hunters with a grudge match in mind. Sometimes it was a vengeance-seeking pile of organs that couldn’t be stopped through conventional means, only avoided until the legs got tired and a mouth opened to take that breath the lungs so desperately needed. Death didn’t take long to appear after that. He would take a wolf any day of the week. Now, it was just unfortunate. A wry smile spread on his face. “Can’t be bargained with, can’t be reasoned with,” he added. It probably wasn’t something to smile about, but he couldn’t help it. It was a reflex. “Other shit you can at least deal with.” It congealed itself together at his feet and with a garbled sound of annoyance, he stomped on it with both feet. Maybe if they kept stomping it, it would get the idea. Not likely. He didn’t think organs could be drowned, but he glanced at the lake regardless. “Think there’s a jar nearby or somethin’?”

Can’t be bargained with, can’t be killed. Both of Josephine’s go-tos. She watched with a groan as he stomped and stomped and stomped on the thing, but it kept reforming itself and coming back for more, tossing between the two, wondering which one it wanted to kill first. Well, it wasn’t going to have much luck with Josephine. Maybe it could sense that. Maybe it could sense its chase of her was just as useless as the hunter’s attempts to stomp it out. They were at an impasse. But this was getting annoying, and she wasn’t looking to adopt a blood puppy. “Oh, yes, a jar. We can just grab one at the jar store they put up in the middle of the forest. Perfect!” She glanced around quickly, spotted a larger rock, and raced over to it. The thing turned its attention quickly to her, not wanting to let its primary victim get away, and scuttled towards her. When it was close enough, she summoned all her strength, and rolled the rock right on top of it. The sound was like dropping a rock into a puddle of mud. Blood spreading out around the base of the rock, leaking out. “There, dealt with.”

“You can find all kinds of weird crap in the woods, people litter all the time,” Nicodemus remarked offhandedly. People also apparently left hemoblights--that’s what it was--in the woods all the time. It wasn’t lost on him what that meant. Regardless, it didn’t cause him to cast any side eye. It only made him awfully curious. As he thought about it, he watched as she plopped a rock right on top of it. It was funny to look at, as if they were suddenly giants and the rock had fallen on some unsuspecting passerby. “Huh, not bad,” he said, mildly impressed. Far more conventional than trying to find a jar, or Nic’s second option of a flamethrower, in the woods. “Guess that’s that then. See you around.” He dusted his hands of it and shrugged. He could get back to his guts. The hunter offered a half-hearted two-finger salute and turned on his heel. That squelching sound returned only steps later. His fists clenched as he started to turn around. “Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ joking m--” Before he could finish, the blob launched flung itself to try and hug his face.

Josephine rolled her eyes. But the thing was taken care of, and whatever this guy had been up to didn’t matter. She’d keep his face in mind for later-- and his anger-- but he didn’t matter to her. He wasn’t the kind of person she made deals with. “Guess so,” she said, already taking her leave, wiping her hands on a handkerchief in her pocket. But then a gurgling noise made her swerve around, already ready to swat it away, only to find it barreling for the hunter’s face, trying to stuff itself down his throat. Oh, ew. Oh, wait-- she knew what this thing was. She’d heard about something like this before. Something about vengeance for...something. Cynthia had told her about them, to be careful of them. Dammit. Dammit! Josephine raced over, clawing at the thing, trying to help remove it from his face. It held on tight. She dug her hands in and yanked, pulling chunks of it off, stumbling backwards with the force of her motion. This thing was never gonna stop, was it? “Dammit! Get it off! I have an idea!”

Pure, unbridled hate rolled out of Nicodemus’s every pore. Now if only he could self-immolate and ignite the son of a bitch. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in his deck and all he could do was play slap hands with blood. A split-second sensation of something like gratitude happened when the woman came back. Later, when he wasn’t getting face-hugged by bloody vengeance, he could appreciate her efficiency and altruism. He ignored the slight pain when her hands dug through the blood and met skin, but at least it peeled the fucker off enough for him to talk. “Where’s the fuckin--” His speech muffled under the blood until he pulled it off again, enough for him to finally look at her with burning eyes. “Devil when you need him? Fuck, what is it?”

Josephine stumbled back a little, waiting for him to get the rest of it off. She stomped once for good measure on the bits trying to put itself back together on the ground before turning back to the hunter. “We’re going to make a deal,” she said, pointing at him. “You’re going to think about how much you hate this thing for whatever reason-- maybe it interrupted your peaceful night or because now you have to get tested for HIV since it stuffed blood in your mouth--” she gave a shrug, “and then you’re going to shake my hand and tell me you want it gone. Forever. And in exchange, you’re going to promise to never speak to anyone about this. Deal?” It wasn’t really a question, though. The way her eyes bored into him. It was this, or she would leave to let him die. He was a murderer, it seemed, anyway. No sweat off Josephine’s back.

“Yeah?” Nicodemus replied, immediately put on edge. Few things in the world could make deals like that and everything he had ever learned as a hunter was roaring at him, wearing the face of his grandfather. The very idea of it put a shit taste in his mouth and it wasn’t just the blood. All he wanted to do was get the guts and go, but nothing in White Crest ever seemed to come cheap or easy. To hell with it all. Eyes like pitch met hers and his expression hardened. It wasn’t hard for him to imagine how much he hated the blood congealing in front of him. Confronted with vengeance, he had no reason to consider sympathy. Kill it again and be done with it. “Fine, we got a deal,” he said through grit teeth. “I want this thing to fuckin’ burn and I want it gone, to hell or whereafter.” The hunter stuck out his bloodied hand and smiled like a grimace. If it didn’t go for him, it would go for her and on they would dance. Blood called for blood and few people knew the tune it sang. “From one bloodletter to another.”

Josephine didn’t much like the fact that he felt they were somehow equal, simply because this gross creature had decided to come after both of them. Hunters often thought what they did was for the greater good, but having a prejudice based simply on species reminded Josephine too much of the people she’d grown up with, who spat at her and her sister simply because they were black. Or women. Or queer. But, she supposed, she couldn’t blame them too much. They were just doing the job the universe handed them, and if she had the right to stick so truly to hers, then they should, as well. It was a hard thing to balance, but if they stayed off her radar, then she supposed it didn’t matter. It simply meant, she would not hesitate to take one out lest someone wish it. She frowned. “Deal.” Raised her hand, and snapped.

The blight, almost fully formed on the ground, ignited. It screamed, somehow in pain, despite not having the ability to feel it. “To hell, or whereafter,” she repeated, staring the hunter straight in the eye, as the blight crumpled, burned. Something seemed to reach through the ether and grab it, pulling its existence completely from this plane, leaving behind only a stain of red in the grass to prove it had existed at all. She felt the deal settle nicely in her stomach, though her mind soured at the idea of it. It wasn’t the kind of deals she liked making, especially with someone like this. But it would do for now. “Thanks for the help. I’ll leave you to your monster guts, then.”

He looked from her eyes to the blood sack-turned-inferno. It was satisfying to watch and his head tilted. Nicodemus had heard little about dealings that could cause a blaze, but having something like that for his first time....The one word that could summarize it was neat. And he would keep it in mind like a nugget of something valuable. The concept of a deal that didn’t neatly stack like fresh dollars grated on him. However, not getting mauled anymore was as pleasant of a conclusion as they could come to for the time being. He could go back to his guts and she could go back to wherever her path was taking her. Yet for that brief blink of time, something found it worthy to judge them. And that was a curious thought that weighed on him, one that he wrung between his hands as he backed away. “Sure, anytime,” he said with a knowing nod. “Good luck and be seeing you.”

#wickedswriting #chatzy #c: josephine #deblighted to meet you

[angstmatsuscenarios]

An scenario where ichi has a fight with one of his brothers and leaves the house angry and walks around the city but he spaces out and trips and falls over a river bank and sprains/breaks his ankle and can’t walk. He doesn’t come back home that night and the brothers get worried they look for him

I altered this just slightly but here you go, hope you enjoy!

Ichimatsu was seething.

He kept his head low as he stormed down the sidewalk, hands balled into fists in the pockets of his sweatpants. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, and he didn’t care–he was pissed and needed to cool off somehow, far away from home. Or at least, far away from his shitty oldest brother.

How dare Osomatsu eat the dried sardines he’d bought for his cats with his own money, and then blame Ichimatsu for not hiding them better? They’d been tucked far in a corner of the highest cabinet in the kitchen, and he’d even taped a note to the front labeling them as his–not Osomatsu’s. Apparently Osomatsu lost all ability to read when he was hungry, because he claimed to have missed it entirely when rooting through the cabinets for a snack.  

If Osomatsu wasn’t such a selfish pig always looking to fill his stomach this wouldn’t have happened…

It wasn’t like this behavior was unexpected in the oldest, but Ichimatsu was sick of it–and when it happened again today, he’d snapped. He’d yelled at Osomatsu, and Osomatsu had the gall to get angry and yell at him in return, even though he was entirely at fault. With no other brothers around at the time, there’d been no referee to get them to call it off, so it had dragged on longer than it had needed to (Osomatsu was just lucky Ichimatsu hadn’t hauled out and punched him in the face with no witnesses around). It had ended when Ichimatsu had declared Osomatsu was a horrible excuse for a brother, and from there he hadn’t even let himself see the reaction on the other’s face. He’d just bolted out of the room, out of the house.

In hindsight, it might’ve been too much. But whatever, he didn’t even care. Let Osomatsu be stung, he’d earned it.

Ichimatsu entered the park without much thought, heading directly for the clump of woods on one end of the park. At least he’d have some privacy there. Maybe he could punch a couple of trees to release this pent-up rage or something.

The woods weren’t too dense, but they were dark, secluded as they were by the trees and overhang of leaves that blocked out the sun. Ichi forged his way through some bushes, straying off the path slightly, just to get away. At least he could be reasonably sure Osomatsu would never find him out here should he venture out to look for him.

Not that he actually would, that lazy, self-entitled, good-for-nothing sack of—

Ichimatsu’s internal venting was cut off when he stumbled abruptly, tripped up by a gnarled tree root protruding onto the path in front of him. His sandal flew off as he fell face-first into the dirt, just barely managing to brace his fall with his hands.

He grimaced at the stinging pain in his palms, which were no doubt scraped up. Dammit. Figures that I’d hurt myself thinking of Oso, something’s always his fault even if he’s not there…

He attempted to push himself up and carry on with his walk….only for a sudden, sharp pain shooting through his ankle to cause him to stumble again, landing on his behind.

Well, shit…that’s not good.

Slowly, Ichimatsu wiggled his foot, then hissed as pain throbbed through his ankle. Crap, that hurt. He could see it was already swelling, too. He must’ve sprained it when he fell. Probably wasn’t a good idea to trek through the woods in sandals…

Panic stabbed at Ichimatsu’s heart as sudden realization set in–there was no way he’d be able to walk home like this, not when he couldn’t even stand up. He didn’t have a phone on him, and his brothers wouldn’t even know where he was because he hadn’t told anyone. He was too far now from the main path for anyone to hear him call for help.  

No…shit, no, this is bad…

Maybe it had been foolish to storm out of the house like that. Maybe he should’ve at least told Osomatsu where he’d be and just told him not to follow. He wouldn’t have been in this mess if he had.

Fear and frustration mingled within him, making his heart race and his chest tighten. He called for help, just in case anyone was near enough to hear, but his cries were met with silence.

His heart plummeted when he realized the sun would be setting soon and he’d be stuck here, all alone, until who knew when.

I’m so screwed.

—————

At first, Osomatsu hadn’t thought much of Ichimatsu’s absence. It made sense he’d leave for awhile to cool off after their fight, that was how a lot of them blew off steam. Osomatsu had been too pissed at the time to overthink it…though over time, he did have to admit to himself maybe he’d gone too far when he had, in fact, been the one to eat what he knew belonged to Ichimatsu.

But as hours passed, the sky darkened, and dinner came and went without the fourth son, he began to worry. He wasn’t the only one either.

“It’s not like Ichimatsu to stay out so late,” Karamatsu commented, frowning as he peered out the window. “Where could be be…?”

“Do you think he could be feeding the cats at this hour?” Todomatsu asked, biting his lip pensively.

Jyushimatsu shook his head, his smile having vanished at the first worried mention of Ichimatsu’s disappearance. “He does that early so he doesn’t miss them—some of them leave at night, and others are sleeping, so he wouldn’t want any of them to skip a meal accidentally.”

“But where else would he go?” Choromatsu couldn’t disguise the anxious tone in his voice.

Osomatsu chewed on his lower lip nervously. “I mean…he’s probably just hanging out at Chibita’s stall or something, right…?” He had to say something like that, some suggestion to soothe his frazzled nerves and let himself believe he was somewhere safe.

Todomatsu cut a sharp glare in Osomatsu’s direction. “If you hadn’t screamed at him earlier, he wouldn’t have left! This is your fault!”

“Why’d you have to go and take his dried fish anyway?” Jyushimatsu added, uncharacteristically accusatory. “You know those are his! Of course he’d get mad at you for taking them!”

“Look, I know!” Osomatsu snapped. “Don’t you think I regret that now? Don’t you think I’d rather have my little brother home safe and sound right now?”

Silence followed Osomatsu’s outburst—it was clear now, all of them were worried about Ichimatsu’s whereabouts. Hostility toward the eldest lingered in the air, a dark and dismal cloud hovering over their heads. Osomatsu hated it, even though not so deep down he knew he deserved it.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, just sitting around waiting and worrying. Ichimatsu could be in danger for all they knew…and if anything awful happened to him, Osomatsu knew he’d never be able to live guilt-free after that.

With sudden determination, he rose from the couch and declared, “I’m going out to look for him.”

There was a pause, as if no one believed he would be willing to do it. Then, at last, Karamatsu cleared his throat and stated, “If you’re going, I’m going with you. It’s too dangerous to go alone.”

“I’m going, too,” Choromatsu rushed in. “It’ll be safer with three instead of two.”

Osomatsu gave a quick nod, not wasting time to argue. He knew he should go out by himself, because it’s what he deserved, but that would lead to a drawn-out debate they didn’t have time for.

“You two stay behind, in case he comes back while we’re gone,” he told the youngest two, who nodded quickly in agreement.

Then, armed with flashlights and Totty’s phone, just in case, the oldest three brothers set off. The whole time, Osomatsu’s mind raced.

Please…let Ichi be okay.

———–

They searched for over an hour to no avail.

They checked every alleyway Ichimatsu was known to frequent, but came up empty. They checked in with Chibita, but he reported that he hadn’t seen Ichimatsu at all that night. They checked local late-night convenience stores, just in case, but there was no sign of him.

Osomatsu felt sick to his stomach.

Where could he be?

“I don’t know where else we can look,” Choromatsu said, voice shaking like he was on the verge of panicking.

If something happened to him, I’ll never forgive myself.

“You don’t suppose he’s with that couple, do you?” Karamatsu proposed, clearly wracking his brain for any ideas. “The one he met at Christmas?”

Choromatsu shook his head. “I don’t think so…he likes to be alone when he’s mad. Anyway, I don’t know where they live, or their number, so we wouldn’t be able to check…”

Look…your brothers are freaking out, worrying about Ichi, all because of you. If you don’t find him, you’re the worst brother ever. Maybe Ichi was right….

“Maybe…we should check the park.”

Karamatsu and Choromatsu turned to look at Osomatsu, their expressions partially doubtful. “Why would he be at the park so late at night…?” Choromatsu asked.

“Why would he be anywhere this late at night?” Osomatsu countered. “And there’s that patch of the park going into the woods, he goes there sometimes to check for strays.”

Karamatsu thought silently for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Alright…it’s worth a try.”

“If nothing comes up here…” Choromatsu swallowed hard, gulping down his fears.

“We won’t know until we look,” Osomatsu stated gravely, brushing past the two and taking the lead. “Let’s go.”

Please…please…as long as he’s okay, I don’t care if he calls me the worst brother ever for the rest of my life.

I probably deserve it anyway.

—————

It was hopeless.

Ichimatsu’s throat was raw and sore from a combination of crying and calling for help. His ankle was killing him. He was cold, hungry, and terrified.

How long will I be out here? All night? Another day…a week? All because I had to be a baby and storm out…stupid shitty Osomatsu…

But he didn’t want to keep blaming the oldest for his predicament, even if he was partly at fault. At this point, he would’ve given anything to see Osomatsu, or any of his brothers. If only he hadn’t been so stupid…

“….Ichimatsu…!”

Ichimatsu’s ears perked up suddenly. Did someone call my name? He was sure he had to be hearing things…maybe fear was making him delusional.

“Ichimatsu…! Are you out here….?!”

The voices were clearer now, and with a start he realized he recognized them. They were overlapping each other as they called, but he could tell they belonged to Karamatsu and Choromatsu.

“Ichimatsu…please, if you’re out here, tell us…!”

That last voice…it was unmistakably Osomatsu. So he had joined the search party, too. And his voice, tinged with concern, sounded genuine and real.

Ichimatsu drew in a deep, shaking breath. He wasn’t alone, after all. They’d noticed, they’d cared, and they’d found him. Feeling ready to burst into tears, he shouted with what little strength he had left.

“I’m over here!”

—————-

Back home everyone fussed over Ichimatsu, making sure he was okay. Choromatsu tended to his wounds and bandaged his ankle, Jyushimatsu fixed him some leftovers from dinner, and Todomatsu and Karamatsu set him up comfortably with blankets and pillows.

The only one who hung back was Osomatsu. He was sure none of them wanted him around, least of all Ichimatsu.

He could only stay back for so long, though. The memory of what had happened earlier that had driven Ichimatsu out of the house in the first place gnawed away at him, and he knew he had to apologize.

He waited until the other brothers had finally left, before moving in. “Um…hi,” he greeted Ichimatsu weakly.

“Hi.” Ichimatsu didn’t quite meet his gaze, but his tone wasn’t venomous as Osomatsu had expected either.

“I…I have something I need to say to you.” Osomatsu took a deep breath, sitting cautiously on the edge of the couch beside Ichimatsu. “I just…want to say I’m sorry for what I did earlier.”

Ichimatsu opened his mouth as if to say something, but Osomatsu rushed on. “I know I shouldn’t have done that, that those dried sardines were yours. I guess I didn’t think it would be that big a deal to you…even though I know it is, and for good reason. It belongs to your cats. So you have every right to be mad at me.”

Osomatsu wrung his hands, his breath shakier now. “And…and because of something stupid I did, you got hurt, and couldn’t get help. I’m so, so glad we found you, Ichi…if we hadn’t, I don’t…I don’t know…”

Osomatsu was on the verge of tears, and he furiously blinked them away, still gazing downward.

Suddenly he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and glanced up in surprise to see Ichimatsu had scooted just a little closer, though he wasn’t making eye contact either.

“It’s…it’s okay, Osomatsu. Yeah, I got pissed, because I’ve told you not to do that so many times now…but I probably could’ve reacted better too. I shouldn’t have gone off like that without even telling anyone where I was going.” Ichimatsu sighed. “So…I guess I’m sorry too, for making everyone worry. And, uh, thanks…for coming to find me. You…you are a good brother. At least, sometimes.”

Osomatsu blinked, stunned. “You…really mean that..?”

“Yeah.” Ichimatsu finally glanced at Osomatsu. “Just…don’t tell the others we had a sappy moment, okay?”

Osomatsu nodded, smiling slowly. He could totally tease Ichimatsu right now, try to get him to call him “nii-san” or something cute…but no, he didn’t need to. Better to let him stay in this more calm mood than piss him off again.

“I won’t. Promise.” And with that Osomatsu couldn’t resist the impulse to lean in and hug Ichimatsu, being careful not to hurt him again.

To his surprise, Ichimatsu hugged him back.

#osomatsu san #osomatsu san angst #parkamatsu #fighting #getting lost #injury

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter one (the girl in the gutter)

“White on white translucent black capes, back on the rack.  Bela Lugosi's dead. The bats have left the bell tower, the victims have been bled. Red velvet lines the black box... Bela Lugosi's dead.” -”Bela Lugosi’s Dead”, Bauhaus

October 12, 1988. Oswego, New York.

“Kill me now,” is what I say as I stare out the window.

The rain is my one true friend now. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to make a good friend on top of this--I’m sure everyone knows about it, the whole thing where if someone, and by someone I mean myself, wasn’t en route to a college or a university, or working a job already, they were kind of left out in the cold. Sure, there have been plenty of acquaintances, but as far as someone I could sit with and feel myself to be true with them, it’s been a while. The whole twisted thing about everything that happened was that it happened so quick. It was four years ago Scott and Frank told me I could hold the microphone in my hand. Four years ago, and last year we may as well have hiked up to the North Pole and stood up a big black flag with the word “NOT!” emblazoned on it, beholding the fact we had conquered the world in the wake of Cliff’s ashes. We rose up like the phoenix, and I was the man on fire.

There is absolutely nothing like standing out in the rain with all of your things taken out from the studio, slung over your shoulder, and your old band mates were the ones throwing you out there into the darkness while the gutters overflow over your head. There isn’t a feeling like it.

And if anyone believes that I had had enough, know for a fact I was asked to leave. I had vowed to rid of the problem, to replace all of the booze with black coffee. I mean, Jesus, I like to have fun with this sort of thing. What’s the point of doing it if I’m not going to have a little fun with it all every now and then? And it’s not like I was drinking a ton so to speak--at least I wasn’t doing those drug loaded pirate raids the four of them would do with Skid Row and Ratt. But I specifically recall telling Scott, verbatim, after he threatened to leave if I did nothing, that I would not have a sip of alcohol as long as I was a member of the band. And yet, for whatever reason, that promise did not suffice or click with any of them.

I think the sound of my phone ringing this morning and waking me up will haunt me for as long as I live. I still hear Jonny’s voice on the other end, telling me it was official. They had made the decision behind closed doors and I had been thrown out on my ass as of that morning, but he never elaborated why.

The next thing I remember was asking him why and the sound of the other end hanging up. No, Jonny, come back. Come back!

Fuck.

I lay there for a minute on my recliner before I even hung up the phone myself. I just reposed with the mouthpiece of the phone pressed to the side of my face, and the cord laying on my neck while I heard the drone of the dial tone right in my ear. They were like my friends, my first friends in a long time following high school, and yet they still showed their dark face to me. Something told me I stood at fault.

It was my fault. It was my fault the band was in turmoil and Frankie and Charlie had that massive blow up that day. It was my fault the new album coasted on the success of Among the Living. It was all my fault.

Once I hung up the phone, I could only crawl back into bed. I only did it for a bit because I refused to mope and wallow in my misery. Even as I took a walk outside, jacket zipped up and hands in my pockets, struggling to hold my head up high even though I sustained a huge punch in the stomach and slap in the face, within time, the lake began weeping with me. There’s a trail that runs along the water’s edge and when I’m in a depressive mood such as this, I take a walk along the soft earth there--I’m half Indian, I feel the cold earth deep within my soul. It’s a part of me. It’s my heart. Since it’s October, and the eve of my twenty-eighth birthday, the lake effect makes its way here, and often when I least expect it.

At one point during my walk, I noticed those feathery plumes emerging from the top of the water. I could feel the cold wind running through my hair and upon the crown of my head. I had to stop in place right next to boulder twice as large as me to better feel the cold. I had faith they were the act for me, such that I felt it in my bones. There’s nothing like this very feeling here.

They say someone is most themselves when they’re alone. Well, if the tears welling up in my eyes due in part to the pain in my chest or the incoming frigid rain should note anything, it’s that I’m alone.

When I came back to my apartment, I crawled inside of my own kitchen and a tiny box of Mike n Ikes for a bit. It’s not enough. A hollow skinny man needs to be filled up again. Maybe when the rain clears up a bit I’ll walk down to the Bitters for a cup and something of substance—a cup of Joey rather. It is a few hours before I turn twenty-eight, after all.

Twenty-eight years old. I joined Anthrax when I was twenty-three. It feels like a thousand years ago.

If there’s anything my mom taught me it’s to not bar grudges, though. No. I’m not like that. I don’t want to be like that. The very thought of such a thing nauseates me and leaves me feeling nothing more than disgusted with myself.

Oh... my mom. The very thought of her eases the pain and warms me up from within. It’s like eating soup on a freezing day: the room may be cold but the belly’s warm and that’s all that matters.

She and my dad are out of town right now, and I have no way of telling them I was fired because I don’t know if they left their hotel and are on the road at the moment, or not.

Twenty-eight years old and I’m spending it by myself. I live alone. I’m sitting here on my window sill looking out to the courtyard down below and watching the rain streak down the window pane. I feel the earth in my soul and she’s crying for me.

I don’t think this rain will let up any time soon and this candy is doing nothing. It’s not soup. And so I get up and head into my room for a change of the clothes and a warmer jacket: yeah, I should probably get out of this pajama shirt.

I’m taking my clothes off and out of the corner of my eye, I see my reflection in the mirror on my closet door. I’m standing there in the middle of my room in my underwear and holding a pair of jeans by the waistband, and I so happen to see this scrawny young guy staring back at me.

Not even a few hours after my release and I can see I’m wasting away, turning into nothing more than a skinny little sack of bones. My stomach is so slim, it’s like the top of a table. No, it’s like a broken, caved in surface of a table. I touch my skin, which is like touching a soft thin layer of cotton piled up on hard plywood. I need to eat something. No drinks, though: I’m not that cowardly.

I put my pants on and, once I’m zipped up, I run my fingers over my waist again. So thin.

Funny, it wasn’t more than a couple of years ago when we were in that warehouse filming the video for “Madhouse,” and I could look at my own face in the mirror across from me and feel like I had a lot going for me. I had a baby face, all round and sweet with these brown eyes and all of this black hair piled about my head, all of it as tightly coiled and coarse as the mane of a horse, and some of it springing up over the crown of my head. Now, I look like I aged about twenty years in no more than thirteen months. One of the many problems of being indigenous: I’m still just a young buck but I look like a senior with my skin sinking in and forming these odd lines. The fact I’m as skinny as I am adds to it.

I don’t feel like putting a shirt on. I changed out of my shirt for no shirt, how ‘bout that! So I put on my sweater over my body instead followed by my leather jacket. I’ve got this down.

I leave the apartment with the keys in my pocket and the hood pulled over my head, the sweater under my black leather, and my hands in the upholstered pockets. Even though there are clouds blanketing the sky overhead, I can tell the sun is setting and the light is fading. It’s a bit of a walk down to the Bitters but I’m hungry enough—I can walk there in time to get some food in my stomach and then boogie back with the last bus ride back to the complex.

Until then, I’m the man in black on this chilly evening, the tall wiry shadow making serious headway two and a half miles down the road. I have my head bowed to keep the rain out of my eyes. Maybe if I got the hell out of this town and wormed my way into the city like the little parasite that I am, Scott and the boys will take me back. I was the strange one after all: Scott and Danny had wives, Charlie and Frankie had girlfriends, whereas I went home alone. They were the essence of the city, I stood there pulling corn kernels out of my teeth. But on the other hand, out here in the sticks, I have no doubt this is home. It may not seem like much and there is a lot of bullshit to go about especially if it’s not living up near the colleges where my complex is, but for me, it’s home. I was born here, my parents live here, and my grandparents are buried in the cemetery.

I reach the corner and I feel the candy having not done enough for me. I can’t make it to the Bitters like this with my own stomach eating away at me.

I stop in place to catch my breath. I can’t do it. I need to get on the bus.

I glance to my right at the sight of the bus stop itself on the sidewalk up ahead and I take that opportunity; once I reach that glass case, I have both hands resting on my belly, I am absolutely starving.

It takes my boarding the bus and taking the seat next to a woman with long dark hair and wrapped in a raincoat when I realize this thing is taking me all the way out to the golf course and the country club. Oh God.

My stomach is killing me, and it only gets worse with the woman next to me stepping off before the interchange onto the highway. I have my back against the wall and my hands all the way into pockets, and my fingers up against my belly. The one thing separating me from my own skin is a small piece of flannel. I’m losing it, that is if I haven’t already lost it.

I’m watching the lights from the wharf illuminate the clouds overhead with the color of an orange creamsicle. The hunger and the candy having done enough is killing me. The country club is this way, and I think there’s also a bar nearby. Not that I want a drink but it’s one thing to bear in mind. Once we lumber closer to those low lights springing out of the darkness, I ring the bell over my head.

Even with the lights glowing out from the wharf, I can see the lake effect further taking place right now, which means I need to get a move on to shelter. This rain is already ridiculous and my pants are getting wet. I have my head bowed to keep the rain out of my eyes, but even that’s not enough. I’ve got an ache in my belly and I’m cold, but I’m not too far.

I feel a chill run up my spine and then bring my arms closer to my body. That bar is here somewhere, but where? The chill is growing worse and no matter what I do, I continue to feel cold. Where the hell is it?

I stop when I notice the figure in black, full in the middle and taking the shape of an hourglass, and with nothing more than a wispy cloud over its head. My skin is practically crawling at this point from the rain, which I feel will turn into snow at any given moment, and it’s only made colder by the sight of her, the sight of Death. She points a skeleton hand at me, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“Are you dead?” she asks in a voice that sounds like it’s about a mile away on the shores of Lake Ontario.

“N-No,” I stammer out, although I feel like I could be dead given my friends shut me out, my stomach is in agony, and the impending snow might freeze me above anything else.

“You must be on your way,” she retorts.

“I swear to you—my hand on my grandfather’s ashes—that I am not dead.”

“What’s your name, then?”

“Joseph Anthony Bellardini.” My voice is strong despite the incessant shivering. “But call me Joey Belladonna.”

I watch her fade out into the shadows and the cluster of spruces, bones and everything, like she never existed. I stand there, my hands crammed into my pockets and my teeth chattering like crazy. Was that Death? And if it was, does that mean I can go where it’s warm? And I still haven’t found the entrance to the country club, much less the bar.

A noise catches my ear. It’s dark except for the glow of the harbor lights and the stupid power plant over in the hills; but I look about the street until I spot the faint silhouette of a woman sprawled over the edge of the sidewalk. I look around and I can see I'm the only other person to be seen here.

I tug on the edge of the hood and run up the wet concrete. The snow is upon us, and running up the sidewalk in Chucks is dangerous, but I know for a fact there’s no one else around. I can see her face and once she comes within my line of sight, I can see the rope tied about her ankles. Once I reach her, I take a look into her rounded pale face and her black hair. She looks familiar...

It takes me a minute to see it’s the woman next to me on the bus. How’d she get here? I set one knee down next to her on the wet sidewalk, which soaks my jeans even more, but that’s the least of my problems right now.

“Hey! Hey, are you okay?” I ask her in a gentle voice. I reach for her face to look right at her.

“Are you okay?” I repeat. In the dim light, I see her part her lips but she never opens her eyes for me.

“He—Help—”

“It’s alright—it’s alright.”

“Help me—″ she sputters. I hear her groan in her throat and I knew something had happened that had to do with Death back there. The rain is relentless and my body is aching from cold and hunger but I know the club and the bar are not too far from here. I put my arms around her: she’s heavy! And the rope around her ankles only makes it harder for me. But I lean her head and shoulders against my chest, and once I stand to my feet, I clasp her to my chest with my right hand and brush her wet hair from her eyes to examine her face with my left. Even in the darkness, I can tell she’s gorgeous.

I glance around the block until I spot something on the other side of the street, like tucked behind something else. That’s either the bar or something else.

“Come on—come with me,” I coax her gently as I scoop her off of the sidewalk: my aching belly pains me even more, but I need to help this poor lady. “It’s okay—I’ve got you.” I adjust myself so that I can carry her without my back hurting on top of everything else.

“I'll take you where it’s warm,” I promise to her over the roar of the rain.

“Please—” her voice slips out from her lips like a piece of wind; “don’t hurt—me—”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise.” I hold her close to me as I guide her down the sidewalk: it’s tricky because of the rope but I don’t think I have my pocket knife with me.

God dammit.

I reach the corner and I stop to move the hair from her face again. The light is a little better and as a result, I make out a narrow dark crease the length of my pinkie finger on her forehead. Whoever left her there must have left her there to die, hence my encounter with Death.

“What’s your name?” I ask her as the rain patters even harder around us. Even though I have her head against my chest, I smooth her hair back from her face even more. I just have the glow from the lights of the club nearby as my guide, but I can look right into her face. “What’s your name?”

“Maya,” she almost breathes it, her lips parted not even by a hair.

“Maya?” I repeat it because everything is so loud.

“Yes--” She’s fading fast. I slide my other arm under her thighs to better carry her. The dead weight of her body pulls me down like an anchor. I’ll starve to death before I let this woman die out here in the cold and wet.

“Okay, Maya. I’m Joey. Let’s go where it’s warm.” And without another word, I run across the grass to that little building tucked out of sight. I hope it’s the bar and not something else.

#joey belladonna #anthrax #heavy metal fanfics #fanfic #new fic #fanfiction #noir au #gothic horror #halloween stories #southern gothic #upstate new york #80s goth #thrash metal #heavy metal #writeblr #blackened dark flowers #after the watershed #chapter 1 #text

[goldenclosethq]

Chapter 1

Today was just like any other morning. I just gave the barista my order of cranberry juice, which was one of the only few things I could order in this café since I hated caffeine with a passion. I kept checking my watch literally every second while waiting for Jungkook to enter the door.

This was the usual time that he would come in here, and as of this moment, he was a couple of minutes late. I hope he would come. I could feel myself starting to panic, thinking of all the reasons he might not show up today. What if he decided not to go to work? Would that mean I wouldn't be getting a glimpse of him across the street the whole day?

When the barista finally gave me my order, I heard the glass door’s chimes open. I instantly looked up, my face ready with a hopeful smile.

There he was, looking even more handsome than he did the day before. This time he was wearing a plain white long-sleeved shirt, which made him look so hot. It was simple, yet appealing. Hell, the guy could wear a potato sack and he'd still look so damn attractive.

Say hi, Y/N. Just say hi, I told myself.

Before I could even step an inch closer to his table, a girl with straight, long blonde hair walked up to him and kissed his cheek.

My whole world stopped for a moment and I just froze there in the middle. A couple of seconds later, I realized I looked kind of stupid so I grabbed the newspaper nearest to me and tried to cover my face with it while sitting on the table across them. Why did she kiss is cheek? Were they dating?

It was hard to see everything while covering my face with a damn newspaper. Maybe I should cut small holes in this shitty thing.

I saw Jungkook touching her hand and smiling at her. Later on, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Wait, what? I squinted my eyes. They were still kissing.

No. This can’t be happening. Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend. He can’t have one. The last time I saw him this sweet and cozy with a girl was almost two years ago when I first moved here. I never ever knew of this girl’s existence until today. Did she just magically appear in his life? Can I magically make her disappear as well?

Oh god, I felt like throwing up. I stood up and left my drink untouched on the tables as I rushed out of the cafe. I looked back for a second...he didn’t even notice me because he was too busy with that girl.

I rushed straight to my car and drove to my apartment as fast as I could. I was supposed to go straight to work after, but right now I didn’t care. I felt like my world was just shattered right in front of my eyes and all I wanted to do right now was drown myself in a bucket of tears in my bed while eating everything in the fridge.

I go to my apartment in just five minutes and nearly broke down the door when I burst right through it, almost forgetting to unlock it first.

Right next to my bed, I had a full-length mirror - and that’s where I was standing in front of right now, wondering what the heck that bitch has that I didn’t . She was everything that I wasn’t. She was slim and beautiful. Her shiny blonde hair looked flawless, as much as I would hate to admit it.

Just by staring at her for a few minutes I already saw the perfection in her face and body - everything I didn't have.

I mean look at me. I was fucking short. I looked like dwarf in Cinderella. Well fine, I was a lot taller than them but that was a good comparison. I didn’t have blonde hair like her. In fact, I had the opposite. My hair was messy wave of highlight purple. Not to mention the roots of my natural black hair were starting to grow back.

Though I liked it that way, Jungkook probably didn’t. Maybe that’s why he never even dared to ask me out, because I was too different for him. He only liked slim whores who looked like they were willing to strip anytime and anywhere for him.

I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled out a large of treasure box. It was filled with two years worth of photos, and he just seemed to look better in every shot. There were a couple of pictures of him where he was just walking out of their studio, or where he was just sitting by himself on a bench while texting. The best ones were the ones where he was in his car because he just looked so hot whenever he drive.

Everyday before I would go to work, I would always look at some of the photos because they would make me happy. Right now though, they made me feel miserable. This perfect and gorgeous guy finally gave his heart to someone - and that someone wasn’t me.

I thought I was going to pig out and watch sad films all day, but instead, I just laid there on my bed and cried myself to sleep.

Most days it sucks to be me.

----

The sound of my phone ringing made me fall of my bed in surprise. Oh God, what time was it? When I looked at the screen, I saw I had only been asleep for an hour. It ridiculously felt like the next day already.

“Hello?” I groggily answered.

“Hi, Y/N!” Jin chirped on the other end of the line. “Are you coming in today?”

No. I don’t want to go to work. Not now. Maybe not tomorrow. Or maybe never. I’m just going to lock myself inside my goddamn apartment until I’m old and gray since no one would ever want to be with anyway.

“Uhh, I’m feeling a bit under the weather today.” I lied, faking a groan. “I’ll probably come in tomorrow.”

Or a week from now on.

“Oh, alright. Well that’s fine I guess.”

“I’m sorry. I hope you guys won’t need me too much.”

"It's fine, go rest. I know how to operate the equipment in case someone comes in for a shoot. I'm not a professional like you, of course, but I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you can nail it," I assured, before covering my mouth and letting out a yawn.

"Yeah, thanks. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

"See you, Jin.” I mumbled, before throwing my phone on the bed.

I walked back to the mirror and straightened my shirt while using my other hand to comb my tangled hair. I looked too stressed out.

Fresh air - that's exactly what I needed. I grabbed car keys and headed out of the room.

It took only a few minutes to get to the park where I would always hang out at whenever I felt shitty - which was almost everyday. When I was about to step out of my car, I saw a familiar face just a few feet away from me.

I looked closer and saw that it was that slutty blonde girl...talking to no one else but Jungkook of course. Wow, what were the odds that I'd see them here again after I went out to get some fresh air because of them.

They didn't look like they were just talking. They looked like they were yelling at each other. The girl was flinging her hands wildly in the air while Jungkook seemed to be pushing it down. He had a furious look on his face, almost as if he wanted to hit her.

Go hit that bitch, baby. Hit her!

But of course, he didn't. Just minutes later, I saw him stomping back to his car, without her. I saw her marching away like some whore in her ten thousand inch stilettos while flicking him the finger.

I shifted my attention back to Jungkook, who just stepped on the gas pedal like as if he wanted to kill himself. He sped out of the sidewalk in just seconds, leaving me staring there with my mouth open.

Follow him, Y/N. Follow him.

Without hesitating, I started my car again and drove as fast as I could to keep up with him. Where was this guy going? It wasn't the route to his workplace, or apartment, which I would know, of course.

But I didn't care. I just continued to drive behind him.

I saw him make a quick left turn, so I followed. This was the way out of the city.

A few more minutes have passed, and here I was following his every turn. All of sudden, the rain started to pour really hard. I could feel my wheels gliding on the highway as I chased his car. I hope he didn’t notice I was following him.

After following a couple of his left turns, I realized we were the only cars in the road. I squinted my eyes and tried to look through my misty windshield. I could see him really speeding off in front of me. It was actually almost too fast that I was tempted to beep at him and make him stop.

Was he trying to kill himself??

Just as I was about to attempt to cut in front of him, his car suddenly lost its control and smashed right into the post.

What the fuck just happened here?

I left my car parked right in the middle of the road and ran towards his car, which had smoke already coming out of its engine.

I saw his head leaning on his steering wheel, with his eyes closed. My heart started to race. I had nofucking idea what to do. His door was locked, so I ran to the door of the passenger seat to check - and thank God, it was open. I crawled inside the car and pushed him off the wheel. There was a small cut on his forehead, but it didn’t look that deep. In fact, there wasn’t much blood, but he was definitely unconscious.

This was probably the closest I ever got to him, and as much as I wanted to stare longer, I knew I would be an idiot if I didn’t call an ambulance as soon as possible. So I dug my hands in my pockets, only to realize that I didn’t have my phone with me.

Damn it, I left it on my bed, of course. How stupid of me. I paused for a second before deciding to put my hand inside his front pocket to get his phone. Geez, these jeans are fucking tight.

When I finally had it in my hand, I immediately pressed the home button - only to find that his phone was dead.

Great. I was stuck here in the middle of a storm, with the love of my life. It was almost the perfect scenario to a great movie, except he was freaking knocked out.

So I did what I had to do. I gathered every single strength that I had in my body and pulled him out of the car. Fuck, he was quite heavy. I would always have daydreams of him carrying me, but I didn’t think I’d be the one carrying him first. I nearly fell on the ground trying to open my car door with one hand, and thankfully, I was able to open it and push him inside the backseat.

I took one last look at him before driving away. Holy shit! Here I am driving my car with the absolute man of my dreams lying unconscious at the backseat.

I think I need someone to pinch me.

---

I’m a selfish, obsessed moron. That’s what I am. It took me forever to decide whether to bring Jungkook straight to the hospital or to my apartment.

Of course I went for the latter.

I’ve been staring at him for the past hour, just watching him sleep on my bed. I never thought the day would come when I would actually see him sleeping on my very own bed. In my daydreams, I would be sleeping with him but then of course that’s a different story.

He was so beautiful. I could stare at him for days, maybe even for the rest of my life. I could just sit here and literally just watch him sleep. I wanted to wake him up, but then I was afraid that if I did, he’d just leave.

I started to feel hungry, so I brought my food in the room with me and ate it while watching him. I was so tempted to take a nap, but what if I woke up and he was gone?

When I was about to take a second bite of my pizza, I heard a loud knock on the door. Oh God, I barely knew anyone, so it could either be Jin or Hanna, two people I didn’t really want to see today.

I tiptoed outside my room and closed the door behind me. It took me forever to walk to the door, and the knock kept getting louder.

“Oh god, what do you-” I said, before seeing Jin’s impatient face in front of me.

“Great.” I muttered under my breath. “What is it?”

Jin stormed inside the room, looking like he was about to faint. “I can’t do it.”

“Do what?” I staggered. The thing with Jin is, he was probably the weirdest person I’ve ever known. I know I’m weird in my own way too, but he’s just really - different. Hanna thinks it’s cute and adorable, but I just think it’s plain peculiar, end of story.

He sank on the couch and gave me a pathetic grin. “I can’t propose to her without shitting bricks, Y/N.”

“Wait what?! Propose??? You’re proposing to Hanna???” I gasped softly, making sure I wouldn’t wake Jungkook. “What the actual fuck, Jin? You never told me about your plans of proposing!”

“I told you a million times.” He pointed out, giving me a weird stare.

“You did not.” I crossed my arms while raising my eyebrow.

“I did.” Jin rolled his eyes. “You were probably just too busy daydreaming or whatever it is you do when you completely snap out of reality.”

I slowly sat on the empty space next to him, still trying to process what he just told me. “So….you’re proposing to her today?”

“Tonight.” Jin nodded. I could see the beads of sweat forming in his forehead and neck. “But fuck, I just keep thinking of delaying it.”

“Why? She loves you and she will obviously say yes.” I whispered.

Jin gave me a puzzle look. “Why on earth are you whispering?”

Because Jungkook is lying unconscious in my bed and I wouldn’t want you to find out and possibly force me to bring him to the hospital or wake him up. Hah.

“U-uhmmm…” I started. “I’m just not feeling well, remember? My throat hurts, so I’m trying not to strain it.”

“Oh.” Jin blinked. “Okay, anyway, so yeah. What should I do?”

I paused for a moment, trying to think of decent answer to give him.

“You’re seriously proposing?” was all I could say.

“Yes I am, God! I need opinions.” Jin groaned, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.

I sighed. “Okay, okay. Well, I’m not worried about what Hanna will say. I know he loves you more than anything and she will definitely say yes.”

“But?” Jin asked. “I know there’s but, so just get on with it.”

“But I just can’t imagine you getting married at this age.” I blatantly said.

“The fuck? Getting married at the age of Twenty-Six is perfectly normal, I believe.”

I got up the couch and put my hands on my hips. “Yes, but you don’t seem so mature yet. God, the other day you were having a conversation with a drunk, homeless man about ponies, and when we asked you to come back in, you stomped your fucking feet in front of everyone and-”

“Oh wow. Let us not name each other’s peculiarities okay, because I have a long list of things I can say about you.” Jin made a face, looking slightly offended.

“And that one time when you totally ruined my dress by putting food coloring in the washer instead of soap.” I went on, lifting a finger to make him shut up. “Like who the fuck mistakes something liquid for powder???”

"How does that make someone not ready for marriage? It was an accident," he snapped. "Let's not even begin with you and your silly obsession with Jeon Jungkook.”

My eyes almost popped out before I hissed at him. "Keep your voice down!"

"Huh?" Jin said, looking baffled. "I thought only you had to whisper because of your voice?"

Before I could answer, I heard the sound of a glass crashing from my bedroom.

Uh-oh. Someone's awake.

"What was that?" Jin asked, turning around to face my room.

"Nothing. You need to go," I said while pulling him towards the door.

"What was that, Y/N?” he repeated curiously.

"It's none of your damn business – "

Jin frowned at me and held my hand down. "Of course it's my business too, you're my sister-in-law. Who the fuck is in your room? Is there something you're hiding?"

"Exactly, Jin. You’re only my brother-in-law, not my dad.” I retorted. "Now go and propose to your girlfriend, I don't care anymore."

“Don’t change the topic, Y/N.” Jin smirked at me.

"It's a fucking cat, okay?" I lied. What the fuck did I just tell him? I did not plan that at all. "I found him on the streets and he looked really hungry and homeless and I just need to keep him calm and rested for a while before I let him go."

Of course I had to invent a goddamn story, holy hell. He better not look for the cat.

“I want to see the cat.” Jin said blankly. God, this boy. Someone shoot me.

“No. You’ll scare him away! You’re a giant!” I scoffed, pushing him out the door.

"Fine, whatever. Go and attend to that cat of yours."

"Thank you. Have a nice day," I beamed sarcastically, before closing the door in front of him and locking it.

I rushed back to the bedroom, slowly opening the door, only to find Jungkook standing by the end of the room, looking quite dumbfounded. Oh my god. Now I had no idea what to do.

"H-hi," I stammered. "Uh, are you okay?"

Jungkook looked at the broken glass on the floor before shaking his head. "I didn't mean to break it."

I swallowed hard. Okay, he wasn't wondering what the hell he was even doing here? Weird.

"That's okay," I nodded, trying my best to sound calm. "I'll clean it later. Are you feeling better? How's your head?"

He looked like he was about to pass out. He started to pace around the room while pulling his hair with his hands. His bandage was starting to come off, and I could still see a bit of dried blood on his forehead. God, did it bleed again or did I not do a good job cleaning it?

"Um, I'll clean your wound," I said, pointing towards his forehead.

"No, no, don't do anything," he placed both hands in front of him as if to tell me not to come closer. "I need to..."

"You need to what, Jungkook?” I asked softly.

“Jungkook?” he repeated, giving me a bedazzled look.

"Uh, yes?" I bit my lip. What the fuck was this boy saying? As confused as I was right now, I also felt like melting and screaming. This was probably the longest conversation we've ever had. I had to write down today's date.

He dropped on the floor, burying his face on his hands. "Who the fuck is Jungkook? Where am I?” he nearly yelled.

Oh...my...god.

No fucking way.

“You don’t remember anything?” I whispered, bending down to face him.

Jungkook shook his head. He was breathing heavily, like as if he was about to throw a tantrum, and I was starting to panic again.

What the fuck was I going to do? Think, Y/N, think. Of course, knowing myself, I had to think to my advantage. The love of my life was in my bedroom, and he doesn’t remember a single thing about his life. These were the kind of situations that I would secretly wish for.

“Who are you?” Jungkook finally said, looking up at me.

I felt the whole world stop right then and there. He didn’t know me. Holy shit, was that a good thing or a bad thing? Was this my chance to maybe act normal and cool like any other girl out there? Maybe he could finally like me this time? A million thoughts started to race in my thoughts, and I felt like the room was literally spinning around me.

He sighed and gritted his teeth. "Tell me who you are."

I took a deep breath before finally snapping out of my system.

"Um... I'm..."

"Tell me who you are," he repeated, sounding a lot more calm.

"I'm your wife, Jungkook," I blurted out. "We're married."

#jungkook #jungkooksmut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #btsimagine #smut #cutefanfic #fanfic #bts jin #kim seokjin

[erratic-erotica]

Hard Night: The Penising

‘Kay, so.

I don’t, historically, do the tamblr thing. But I’mma try it out anyway, because why the fuck not, right? Also because my friend, Fry, literally made a tumblr for me because I am a luddite and also a tiny frightened baby bird. But Fry shoved me out of the nest with a loving, “FLY, BITCH” and so here I am.

You don’t care about me, and that’s fine. But let me tell you a quick story before I kick things off here.

So my boyfriend (hereafter referred to as Boyfrienddicks) came home the other day from his work at a hotel. He brought with him a large sack, and dropped it on the bed, and said, “You like to read, right?”

BOY HOWDY, DO I EVER.

Boyfrienddicks continued, “So there’s this ladies’ readers group that meets at my hotel every so often, and tonight they dropped off a couple of sacks of books at the front desk. So I grabbed a sack and brought it home for you.”

As you might imagine, I was rubbing my little hands together in absolute glee, because it was shaping up to be the best day of my life. FREE BOOKS?! HELL THE FUCK YEAH, SIGN ME UP. THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS ARE EXPENSIVE.

So I did my gimme-gimme hands and he kindly passed me the sack, at which point I simply shoved my hands into it, the better to fondle my new treasures. With no small amount of glee, I lifted the first one from the confines of the sack and held it up into the light like Simba on Pride Rock.

And then I faltered.

“This is smut,” I said aloud, somewhat feebly.

“What?” asked Boyfrienddicks.

“Smut,” I said, flipping the book around to show him the nearly-naked dude on the cover. “Sssssmut. Ladyboner material. Trashy romance novels.”

“Oh,” he said. “Is…is that one called Hard Night?”

“It sure is,” I replied.

He cackled for a solid minute and then insisted I read it and tell him about it.

So I did.

Anyway, Fry (and others) were amused by the prospect of reading Random Smut That Totally Didn’t Fall Off the Back of a Truck or Anything, so Fry helpfully created this…I don’t know what you call it, tumblr group? For the reading and reviewing of – not carefully selected and deliberately chosen romance novels, but literally whatever random romances we can find.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about that. Take from it what you will. Or don’t. It’s no skin off my nose.

Here’s my review of Hard Night, by Jackie Ashenden. I want to preface this by saying that it took me two whole days to finish this book because I did not want to finish this book. And not in the “I wish this would never end” sense, but rather in the “I wish I had never started this” sense.

JUST LOOK AT THIS. DISCRETION. SKILLS. SECRETS.

Hard Night starts off with our (ostensible) hero, Jacob Night, looming over our ill-fated heroine, Faith Beasley (aka Joanna Lynn), as she lies in her hospital bed, unconscious and emaciated.

She’s the only key to reuniting with his long-lost brother, because of course she is. And she’s also probably his brother’s lover. Or something. But he found her too late, and now she’s clearly been roughed up, and, as a result, has developed amnesia. Because of course she has.

What’s a fella to do with that, except to claim he’s her cousin and take her home to live with him, which, miraculously, absolutely no one questions. Did I mention he’s the one who told everyone her name is Faith Beasley? Because he did, and it’s not her name. Sergeant Doucheyacht literally took it upon himself to name this poor lady.

Anyway, not even “Faith” questions this miraculous turn of events, which is good for the plot, but bad for anyone in real life. DO NOT GO HOME WITH STRANGERS WHO DEFINITELY CANNOT PROVE THEY KNOW YOU OR THAT YOU ARE IN ANY WAY RELATED. That’s just some solid life advice from your friendly Vodka Aunt Dragondicks.

Captain Dudebro also helpfully gives her a job doing things and they rub along relatively smoothly together, despite both being tightasses of the highest caliber. Also despite the roiling sexual tension, since Jacob is constantly thinking of how awesome “Faith’s” ass looks in her tight pencil-skirts.

But he would never act on those impulses, of course.

Until one day, for no reason in particular that I have been able to ascertain, someone starts shooting at them. So off they run from sunny San Diego, all the way up the Pacific North West, where they hide out for a bit in Major Dickhead’s convenient bunker.

They spend about a day there before Jacob startles Faith in her sleep, and she just fuckin’ flips him and lays him out. Which, you know, cool. I like strong heroines as much as the next person.

So Genius McSmartypants deduces she’s probably Special Ops, just like he was before his mercenary days, and he’s like, ‘Hey. I like strong women.’ But also he’s a douche about it because he’s also like HEY BITCH YOUR REAL NAME’S JOANNA AND YOU HAVE TO REMEMBER THAT NOW TO SUIT MY PURPOSES. BECAUSE I NEED THAT INFORMATION IN YOUR HEAD.

Dick. But I digress.

So now it’s combat training time, because maybe that’ll jog loose some memories (that Joanna/Faith clearly doesn’t want to remember). And of course, Dickheads gonna Dickhead. Somehow, fighting mysteriously turns into fucking. Fightfucking. Fuckfighting? I don’t fucking know, but there’s a lot of it in this book. Like, we took a fifty-goddamn-page fuck-break on page 86.

Eventually, however, it appears that our Noble Author realized, “Oh, shit, wait, this was actually supposed to have a plot, too.”

And the story continues. Faith remembers she’s really Joanna. And that she sort of also shot General ConstantBoner’s long-lost brother, Josh. And that she’s a Secret Badass. Also that she was never romantically involved with Josh, which is good news for Rear Admiral Knobjockey, who probably does not want to become Eskimo bros with his actual bro. Probably.

But that’s not important because we have more penising to get to.

Of course, Jacob confesses to a Tragic Past: a parade of foster homes that he was subjected to because he stabbed his pseudo-stepfather for molesting his younger twin brother, whom he really, really wants to reunite with.

Anyway, eventually Faith/Joanna realizes that telling Lieutenant Arsebarge that she totes shot his brother is probs gonna go down like a lead balloon, so she fucks off back to San Diego, because it totally makes a fuckload of sense to head right back to the same city where you got fucking shot at just a couple of days ago.

Of course, Corporal Fuckwad catches up with her in a motel, because he’s somehow GPS tagged her clothing. How? Don’t ask me. I don’t fucking know. It’s explained as “new technology.”

Anyway, more fuckfighting (fightfucking?) ensues. This time, with spanking! Scandalous! Faith also confesses to shooting his brother, because bro was part of her Special Ops team and he betrayed them for money, or whatever. To which Jacob replies something like, “Meh.”

Commandant Thundercunt realizes that they’ve been found out – there’s a car stationed right outside their motel, and this is clearly bad news. But Faith is just like, “Hey, you know what? I bet I could offer myself up as bait to those guys who have already tried to kill me. They might have info on your brother who might not actually be dead, idk.”

Of course, Colonel Fucknuts is having none of that. But she cold-cocks him and goes anyway, so it’s whatever.

But surprise surprise! Jacob’s little bro was actually the Evil Twin all along! Because he’s there with the real bad guy, whose name I disremember because I was pretty checked out by this point, not gonna lie. Started with an F. Pretty sure.

Anyway, of course Warrant Officer Fucktrumpet Supreme turns up to rescue his lady, and for reasons, Evil Twin helps them escape. Go team!

But Brigadier General Fuckface has just enough time left in the book to have a Crisis of Conscience! He is just no good for Faith! He’s a Bad Man! He has done Bad Things! He doesn’t deserve the Love of a Good Woman!

Faith, of course, drowns her sorrows in whiskey for a couple of hours before one of Chief Petty Officer First Class Bumblefuck’s friends (yes, incredibly, this man has friends) shows up to be like, “Hey. He is actually a Good Guy. I know because I know many things. You should totally just hop right back up on his dick.”

And Faith is like, “Time to get my man back,” or some shit. So off she goes, to confront Ensign Twatwaffle in his natural habitat. He’s taken aback, of course, but powerless to resist her charms (and vagina, presumably). There is more fuckfighting, and probably spanking, and then there’s THE END.

Did I mention this book was dedicated to Darth Vader, because of the author’s love of “dark heroes”? I don’t think that means what she thinks it means.

I AM NOT EVEN SHITTING YOU.

Remember, kids. I read it – so you don’t have to.

Love,

DD

#romance novel

[ifridiot]

Honey, Don’t Feed It

Sometimes you can’t help people, even when they’re the ones you most want to.

Naia meets a young Stryfe. 

Naia is not a babysitter.

Fact of the matter is, Naia doesn’t like kids that much. Didn’t like kids when they were a kid, and now that that tenuous connection to that subset of humanity is gone, they would rather avoid them as much as possible, thank you so much for asking.

Okay, maybe that’s not fair. Naia might suck with babies (they’re too loud and the fact that they cry but can’t explain why they’re crying gives them anxiety) but once kids are old enough to communicate they can handle them pretty well for small doses. Little kids could even be endearing, once they got over their fear of Naia’s extra limbs and intimidating size. Kids usually did better than adults when it came to Spider-man rescuing them; they held on and stared in awe and then they ran back to their parents or to their siblings or to whoever came to collect them.

“I’m not a child.”

It’s teenagers Naia really can’t stand.

“Kid, you’re like twelve, hush.”

Standing between the kid and the cops, Naia has their arms spread in the traditional peacekeeping posture, one set of palms spread toward the boys in blue, one toward the telepathic kid on the edge of murdering a pair of bigots. Honestly, even if the kid wasn’t a kid, Naia knows who’s side they’d be on.

Cops are always wrong, and bigots belonged in the ground, but the issue here was more that it was seven in the morning and the kid is obviously strong enough to kill the assholes he’s got caught in some kind of telekinetic death grip but isn’t. Which means he’s not the bad guy.

Now to get the cops to put their guns down.

The crowd that has gathered around the scene is doing that collective silence thing that always makes Naia a little nervous. There are a lot of witnesses -- and potential victims, if the kid decides to go off. Judging by the fierceness on his face and the creep laying on the cement with blood trickling from his mouth, eyes, ears, and nose, the kid has a lot of power. Thus far he’s managed to reel it in -- the pavement-creep is breathing like it hurts, and from what Naia has gathered, he deserves it -- but if people start shooting, Naia doesn’t think self-control is going to be the first thing on the kid’s mind.

Ugh, telepaths. Kids and telepaths. This is gonna be the death of them, this exact bullshit. Kids and telepaths, they both want to get inside your head and then get mad when your thoughts aren’t the ones they wanted to hear.

Kid, they project, trying to remember how Mom taught them to do this. Shielding and trying to hold a private conversation is difficult and weirdly exhausting. You promise not to kill anybody and I’ll get you out of here. Take you somewhere safe, help you out as best I can. But you gotta put those guys down and come with me.

They wince, almost lose their shields, at the force of emotion -- rage and contempt and a sort of pain threaded through it that Naia is pretty sure they’re not supposed to pick up on -- that is slammed back at them. They insulted me! They deserve to die!

Someone makes a helpless noise of agony, and blood starts gushing from one of the asshole’s nose. The kid has them suspended in air and, as far as Naia can tell, the two humans can’t move at all. Now one of them has a broken nose. That’s pretty fantastic control for a kid.

Dangerous, too.

Kill ‘em and the cops start shooting. You’re gonna have the whole damn city after your ass, even if you can wipe all of us out. Public enemy number one.

Why shouldn’t I? The kid’s telepathic voice is cold, dripping with condescension, but the emotions that twist through the telepathy are laced with uncertainty. The kid is lost, obviously. Naia doesn’t know the whole story, is pretty sure they don’t want to know, but they do feel a sort of vague sympathy for the kid.

Whatever pain he’s working through, being insulted by a group of anti-mutant bigots was probably the least of it. He’s a very powerful kid, but he’s just a kid, one who’s been hurt bad by someone he probably trusted.

Naia sighs.

C’mon, kid. Don’t make me side with cops.

There’s a startled sense of amusement, which is a hopeful sign. A question curls around their brain, wordless, just the impression of consideration and hesitation. It wouldn’t be bad, except Naia can feel the kid peeling at their telepathic shields. He’s damn powerful, but no one’s evidently taught him subtlety.

I am so subtle! The kid snarls, and Naia smiles under their mask. The anger fades a little, replaced by curiosity. You can get me away from here?

“The kid is gonna come with me,” Naia says out loud, keeping a steady gaze on the cops. Unsurprisingly, none of them lower their weapons, but everyone’s hesitant to shoot Spider-man after he’d saved so many people. He was a symbol, and most of the cops knew you couldn’t publicly execute a symbol without good cause. “He’s gonna drop the assholes and we’re gonna go. No shooting necessary. No one dies, you can take the creep on the ground to the hospital, it all works out.”

Put the idiots down, kid. Show of faith, c’mon.

And wonder upon wonders, the kid does. He doesn’t do it gently; he drops them like the sacks of shit they are -- it doesn’t take a telepath to find a Neo-Nazi when the jackasses love to advertise their nationalist bullshit on their clothes -- and in another miracle, the assholes stay down.

Glancing at each other, the cops finally lower their weapons, and Naia nods. “We’re gonna go. Make sure the guy bleeding all over public property gets to the hospital. Or better yet, give him a ticket for littering. Public indecency. Whatever.”

That said, Naia moves quickly to the kid’s side. One of the assholes cranes his head up to glare at them, and he growls, “Fuckin’ muties.” Naia wants to put a boot through his teeth, but before they can move, the asshole screams, blood pouring from his eyes and his nose, altogether too similar to the one unconscious over by the cops. He collapses face first back against the pavement, hopefully just passed out, and Naia feels the prickly tingle of the danger-sense just before the sound of a gun being cocked reaches them.

“Goddamnit, kid,” Naia snarls, and before he can protest, they’ve got their right two arms around him, holding him against their body as they leap up onto the roof of the nearest building. He shouts, and shoves away as soon as they’re both on their feet.

“You can’t do that,” he says sharply, hands balled into fists, glaring.

“What, prevent your dumb ass from getting shot?” Naia snaps back, and it’s gratifying to see his mouth fall open, shocked. “Kid, I had you out of there scot free, and now your fuckin’ face is gonna be up all over the city as a dangerous mutant wanted, consider him armed and dangerous. Half those people down there were filming that. Gonna be all fuckin’ over YouTube now.”

The danger sense prickles again, and they half expect the kid to lash out, but his head twists toward the roof access door, eyes still wide. Naia sighs.

“They’re coming after us. So let’s get the fuck outta here. I can stash you somewhere for a while. Couple hours, ‘til the heat dies down some and you can get out of town tonight.”

“I have business here, I can’t leave!”

Kids. Fuckin’ kids and telepaths, Naia could just about scream. “Rain check your business, dipshit! Now can you use the TK to float or do I need to carry you?”

They’d seen Cable do that a couple times, but he was supposed to be super powerful or something. And he was old, had a lot longer to practice.

Looking back at them, the kid scowls. “I do not need to be carried.”

“Then float. Let’s go.”

Really, with the kind of attitude this kid’s got, Naia half expects him to obstinately stay put, or maybe run off on his own. He seems the sort of kid to refuse help on principle, but he also has that wide-eyed touristy look, and his clipped, formal way of speaking reinforces the idea that he’s not from around here.

As if the metal chest plate and cape thing wasn’t communicating that clearly enough.

He at least stops trying to pry into Naia’s head as they lead him into Brooklyn, leaping from building to building until they get to a quiet, rundown neighborhood. Most of the windows on the building they lead the kid do have been boarded over, and the place sucks to be stuck in during winter, but on a nice September day it shouldn’t be too bad.

“This building is abandoned,” he says, sounding disdainful. “You expect me to stay here?”

They sigh, prying open the plywood-covered maintenance door and holding it for him to go in first. “I know it’s not the Ritz, kid, but I’ve got food and a place to relax instead of being hunted all over the fucking city and getting your ass handed to you by one of the masked guys who don’t have a soft spot for idiot tourist kids.”

He stares again, but only for a second, before glaring and scowling, stalking into the building with a swish of his cape. “I’m not a kid,” he grumbles, and Naia finds it really funny that he thinks that’s the part of their assessment that needs correcting. They drag the door shut and hurry to get in front of him, leading him through the abandoned building to the ground-floor apartment they’d appropriated as a safe house. It was one of the only ones that had a door in the front room that hadn’t been kicked down or taken off its hinges.

“I can’t believe you’re happy your room still has a door,” he says, still scathing in that snotty way kids who grew up with nice things had.

“You should be glad too,” Naia says cheerfully, closing the door carefully behind them. “Means no homeless people have broken in and pissed on the couch again.”

It’s not the nicest safe house they’ve had, but it’s not bad. No electricity, but the broken down couch was comfy and there had been a number of cats locked in the apartment when they’d found it. Most of them and left and never come back when they’d left the windows open for them to roam, but one big tom, old and possessed of a rusty, broken meow, had stayed.

Presently he was curled on the center seat of the couch, sleeping. The kid stood looking at the cat like he wasn’t certain if he should chase it away or leave it alone.

“Cat’s not gonna bite, just take a seat,” Naia says, amused. “Luce is nice, but he doesn’t usually like strangers much.”

This was a lie, but Naia told it to everyone they brought here because it made them happy when Luce wanted to get in their lap or purred for them. And it’s really not a surprise that he perks up when the kid sits next to him, shoved up into the corner of the couch closest to the door. He stares at the cat for a moment longer and then looks away, folding his arms across his chest.

“You said there was food.”

Naia snorts softly, moving into the kitchenette. There was a useless (and ancient) fridge, but since there was no electricity it was more a pantry than anything. Somewhere to store stuff they didn’t want Luce (or any other animal who slipped in through the cracked window) to chew into. They pry it open and take stock of what’s available. “Yeah kid, just gimme a sec. You a picky eater?”

“No,” he says, and somehow makes it sound like he’s being gracious by telling them. “And my name is Stryfe.”

“Strife?” Their eyebrows rise under the mask, leaning back from the fridge to look at him. He is staring down at the cat, who is now sniffing carefully at the edge of his cape. “Is that, like, a code name, or…?”

“It’s my name,” he says primly, head held up and jaw set. “It’s spelled with a ‘y’.”

“Ah, okay,” they say, sticking their head back in the fridge. “So your parents just hated you.”

It’s meant playfully, but they can feel the sharp way he stares at them, and it’s like all the breath in the room went out. A raw nerve, and one they just kicked hard. Fuck.

“Uh, sorry, kid, that wasn’t… That was a bad joke, I didn’t mean anything by it.” The kid starts breathing again, and Naia thinks that’s okay then. They grab a couple ramen packets and a can of chicken and step over the the counter. “So, what’re you in town for?”

His silence is telling, and they can feel him in their head again, pushing at the shields they have up, prying into them, looking for some ulterior motive, some hidden threat. They wish they were better at this telepathic shielding shit, because as it stands, they’re out of practice and it’s exhausting.

“Kid, I want to help. I’m not cooking for you so I can stab you in the back later. You think I’m gonna call the cops on you? I’m Spider-man, me and cops don’t exactly go hand-in-hand.”

The mental pressure eases somewhat, but doesn’t entirely disappear. For a long moment, he’s quiet, and they think he’s not going to answer. That’s fine, it’s not really their business, and they’ve already had a long night. Then, he says, “I’m from the future.”

Naia tries not to feel exasperation. Time-travel shit is always exhausting. They rarely have to deal with it, but they’ve been dropped into enough parallel universes to know that they’re lucky in that regards. They get pan-dimensional bullshit, let the X-Men and the Avengers deal with the time-travel shit.

“Oh,” they say as tactfully as possible, pouring a couple bottles of water into a pot and setting it on the camp-stove. “So what’s brought you, uh, to the past?”

“I’m cleaning up other people’s mistakes,” he says archly. “That’s as much as you need to know.”

Silence swallows them for a while, Naia focusing on cooking the ramen and draining the chicken and making the meal as palatable as possible. They’re running out of supplies in this place, so they’ll have to stock up soon, but they figure, what the hell, and dump a can of mixed vegetables into the ramen as well. Kid looks like he could use the fuel.

The kid eats with Luce curled up in his lap, eating with that careful sort of control that says he wants to wolf it but feels that sort of display would make him look bad. Measured and obviously relishing every bite. It would be flattering if Naia wasn’t busy trying to think about how much the future must suck if instant ramen with some canned goods tossed in is that good to the kid.

When they do start talking, they don’t talk about much. He seems pleased when they tell him the cape is a nice touch, almost smiling as he sits up a little straighter.

“I find it important to make a visual statement,” he says. Naia raises their water bottle to that, and tactfully doesn’t make any comments about drapery. The kid looks at them where they’re leaning against the wall and frowns to himself, dragging his fork through the broth that remains in his bowl. “Why do you keep the cat here if this is not your home?”

Naia shrugs, pushing away from the wall and coming to take his bowl. “He was here first. I figure if he wanted to go to a different home he would. He didn’t like it when I tried taking him out of here, so I brought him back. I make sure he gets fed and he has his couch. Also possibly he likes to hang out with the ghost of whatever cat-hoarder used to live here. There were a lot of cats when I took this place over.”

“That sounds stupid. Ghosts don’t hang around to watch cats.” They laugh, and he goes on a very serious diatribe about superstition being the crutch of a weak mind. Naia wonders if 4Chan is still big in the future. Kid sounds like he’d fit in real well with those sort of pretentious ‘intellectuals’.

While they wash up the dishes and put everything away, making note that they’re going to need more water here next time they stock up, too, they pull up music on their phone and play it to fill the silence. The kid makes faces, but doesn’t complain.

It’s a little past noon when they try to get the kid to open up again about what he’s trying to do, and he very clearly doesn’t want any part of it.  

“I have the matter in hand,” he says heatedly, arms crossing again, until Luce makes a plaintive sound at the sudden loss of being pet. He scratches at the cat’s neck, glaring daggers at Naia. “I don’t need help.”

“Well, you sure weren’t doing super hot on your own when I found you.”

He scowls and they soften a little.

“C’mon. You’re new in town, and this is a big place. I’ve been in the city all my life, I know where everything is. I can at least point you in the right direction.”

They have a little staring contest for a moment, and it surprises Naia that he’s the one to look away first. “I have to do this on my own.”

“Fuck, gimme a break. You were talkin’ so smart a minute ago, don’t shove your head back up your ass, c’mon. More hands makes less work.”

He huffs, glaring at them again, mouth pressed in a tight line. “I am on my own to prove a point, I do not need help.”

“Everybody needs help, kid.”

“I’ve told you, my name is Stryfe! I demand you stop calling me kid!”

The mask does little to hide Naia’s grin at that. If the kid weren’t sitting down with a lap full of contented cat, they think he’d have actually stamped his little foot. “How old are you, kid? Thirteen going on three?”

“I am sixteen, I’m not some child.”

Naia gentles again at that, at least a little. It’s all right to tease, but he’s so vehement, it’s clear enough that this is somehow important. Probably something someone’s pushed the kid into thinking. “The future must really suck if sixteen is when you have to start being an adult.”

“The future makes sense.” He proclaims, and Naia doesn’t know whether to laugh or just shake their head. “Once I finish what I came here to do, the future will be perfect.”

Setting their head to one side, they watch him for a minute. He’s focused on Luce, stroking over the soft fur of the cat’s head.

“If you’d tell me what you’re trying to to do,” they offer, tone as gentle as the voice modulator will allow, “I would help you.”

He looks back at them, suspicious but almost hopeful too. “You wouldn’t. And I must do it myself. That’s the whole point.”

“I’ve already been helping you. Why would I stop now?”

“You’re not unknown in the future. You wouldn’t help me.”

It’s hard to argue with an evasive time-traveler, but that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. As much as they want to help the kid, he sounds a little like a baby villain. All brooding secrets and deep hurts, ugly intentions. “You gonna kill someone?”

“I have to.” He says it flat, like it’s the obvious recourse any sixteen-year-old would come to. “He… they ruined everything. I’m going to take care of it.”

“You can’t just kill everyone who wrongs you, kid.”

His face screws up, angry, furious even. “Can’t I? That’s what you do, isn’t it? What makes Spider-man’s judgement better than mine?”

He says it like it’s a gotcha, and it’s a little surprising, how hard the words hit. Naia wants to say something about how they’re at least an adult, old enough to throw their life away crusading against actual murderous assholes. Not everyone who upset them, not even everyone who injured them. They’d had experience. This kid was just angry -- justifiably, maybe, but… he needed help. He needed patience, someone to help him unlearn this arrogant shit he used to wrap himself up and shield him from the ways he’d been hurt.

But then he smiles, sharp and cutting, and says, “Or should I just call you Naia?”

The way he pronounces their name, it sounds like a taunt, like the sound of it is something to mock. His expression does nothing to disguise the threat implied in his words.

Really, Naia’s a little sick of it. They’ve been playing nice all day despite the kid’s shitty attitude, and Naia was never a patient, kindly person. They’re not a parent, they’re not a big sibling, they’re not required to put up with this shit.

"Kid,” they say, looking down at him, scowling under the mask as they square their shoulders, “your name is Strife-with-a-Y and you ‘ported back from the oh-so-enlightened future with the manners of a four-year-old and the fashion sense to match, so just because you picked my name out of my brain, don't act like you're superior. You’re angry, and I can respect that, but you’ve done nothing to give me any reason to respect you. Bullies ain’t worth shit."

They expect anger. Yelling, maybe a punch thrown. The kid’s obviously practiced in hurting people with his TK, so maybe something like that.

Instead, the kid looks like Naia punched him. His eyes, normally narrowed and angry, are suddenly wide and open. He looks startled, like he’s grasping for his anger but so completely unused to being spoken to like that that he doesn’t know how to handle it. Naia tries to imagine that, imagine going sixteen years without anyone snapping you back in place when you were out of line, about being that secure in your right to treat anyone and everyone like shit, and finds they can’t quite do it.

“Less than a decade from now, you die a failure,” he hisses after a moment of that stunned shock. The viciousness of his tone is especially taut, the sort of tone used to mask pain with anger. He wants to lash back and hurt them. “You die ugly. Slow. And it doesn’t even matter.”

“Yeah?” Naia snaps back, nowhere near as mild as they’d like to be. “That supposed to make me, what? Stop? I might die as a loser, but I sure as shit don’t live like one.”

In a second, the kid is on his feet, Luce hitting the floor with a noise of feline offense and rushing off to the other end of the safe house. “I should kill you myself,” He says, hands balled into angry fists Naia knows he wouldn’t bother to use. He’d do for them with the TK to keep his hands clean.

“It make you feel better, threatening the only person you had on your side in this era?”

Their head bounces loudly off the wall. They hear something crack and hope to any god listening that it’s the drywall and not their skull. Collapsed on the floor, they have a hard time getting their eyes to focus through the mask, blackness lancing through their vision. They feel more than see Stryfe looming over them, and grin crookedly at him from where they sprawl.

“You’re not worth killing.” He says, savage. “Me killing you would honor you.”

They want to say something. They’re not even sure what; a dozen tones dance through their head, ways to play what just happened out to distinct, impactful ends. There’s a part of them that wants to push the kid to doing it, but they don’t know if he’s really still moral enough to get the satisfaction of his feeling bad about doing it. And thinking that makes them feel weirdly guilty. Guilty for doubting that a kid could be so devoid of humanity, for thinking he might be so far beyond help.

He makes a sharp noise at that, and they can feel it, when he finally withdraws from prying at their mind. His cape snaps at the air when he turns sharply away.

Really, a good hero would shake off the likely-concussion, get up, say something clever and thoughtful that would get him to stick around. They would try to stop him, try to save him.

Naia stays on the floor, eyes closed, and carefully shore up their telepathic shields. It’s easier to make them strong when you’re not focused on other things, like standing.

The kid’s boots click importantly against the tile, and when he shuts the front door behind him, it’s slammed sharply in place.

#neoma writes #stryfe #byfe (baby stryfe) #naia leadley #spidersona #into the spider verse

[stupidtwinkmac]

you asked for my full psychology notes so here they are

i rewatched the entire series and wrote down all the things i thought were relevant to the characters’ psychology, theres probably some stuff missing so message me if you think i should add anything

S1e1- “The Gang Gets Racist”

Dennis wants paddys to stay a gay bar bc he likes getting validation from gay boys

“They’re really more of a blue-green”

S1e3- “Underage Drinking: A National Concern”

Dennis talks about how popular he was in high school and cries a bit when mac and charlie tell him that tim murphy slept with his prom date which is like pretty normal but it foreshadows the high school reunion episode

-

Dee goes out with a high schooler just for the validation and to live out shit she couldn't do in high school

“Wait but ive never statutory raped anyone before”

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Mac and charlie give high schoolers a keg bc they said that mac and charlie were cool

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Mac gets jealous that everyone got asked to a high school prom except for him

S1e7- “Charlie Gets Molested”

Mac gets jealous that he didn't get molested

“If the McPoyles got blown, and Charlie got blown, then why didn't I get blown?”

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charlie got molested by his uncle

S2e4- “Mac Bangs Dennis’ Mom”

Dennis gets pissed that people's moms wont fuck him

“Is everyone getting laid but me?”

S2e7- “The Gang Exploits A Miracle”

Dennis starves himself for three days because Dee said his face looked fat

S3e1- “The Gang Finds A Dumpster Baby”

Dennis pretends to be a hippie just to fuck some guys girlfriend because he insulted his quaff and called him a narc

S3e2- “The Gang Gets Invincible”

Dee pretends to be a guy to try out for the eagles just to prove that she can

s3e5 - “The Aluminium Monster Vs. Fatty Magoo”

Dennis goes on a Whole Thing to prove that he’s a winner and that he hasn't peaked

“I haven't even begun to peak”,  “make it work dennis… make it work”

S3e6- “The Gang Solves the North Korea Situation”

Dee does the talent show every year to validate herself

S3e11- “Dennis Looks Like A Registered Sex Offender”

Dennis obsesses over his jawline and his weight when people tell him he looks like wendell

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Mac’s dad gets out of jail and we can see how neglectful his parents are

S4e3- “America’s Next Top Paddy’s Billboard Model Contest”

Dennis desperately tries to prove that he’s still hot enough to be on the billboard

“I was sculpted to the proportions of Michelangelo's David”

“I realized that i don’t need validation anymore”- proves that he was just doing the billboard stuff bc of a bpd need for validation.

S4e4- “Mac’s Banging the Waitress”

Dennis gets unreasonably upset when he finds out that Charlie doesn't think he’s his best friend

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Mac bangs the waitress to get back at Charlie for smashing his project badass tapes

S4e5- “Mac and Charlie Die Pt 1”

Dennis gets more upset that Mac and Charlie didn't include him in their suicide pact than he is about them being “dead”

S5e2- “The Gang Hits The Road”

Charlie doesn't want to go on the road trip because he’s never left philly before, he asks dennis to comfort him about his fears of bad things happening and people being assholes, he eventually freaks out and asks the hitchhiker to drop him back off at the bar

S5e10- “The D.E.N.N.I.S System”

Dennis believes that his manipulation actually makes girls fall in love with him

S6e2- “Dennis Gets Divorced”

Charlie gets real uncomfy when uncle jack tries to hug him

S6e5- “Mac and Charlie: White Trash”

Dennis tries desperately to prove that he’s high class

S6e6- “Mac’s Mom Burns Her House Down”

Charlie’s mom has OCD and Charlie also starts to pick it up

“Why are you doing everything in threes?” “Oh. So Charlie doesn't die.”

“...just playing it safe. She's been doing it. I'm still alive. Can't be crazy” “ It does feel good to do stuff in threes.”

S6e8- “The Gang Gets a New Member”

Dee gets incredibly insecure when she opens the time capsule and hasn't done what she wanted to do when she was a kid

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Charlie gets super insecure when he thinks smitty is replacing him

S6e10- “Charlie Kelly: King of the Rats”

Charlie doesn't like leaving the bar and going out into the world

“Dee, I go to a movie or a spaghetti place with you, and out there, I'm the rat.”

Charlie has a panic attack in a sauna

“I'm trapped like a rat, aren't I?” “No, you're not, Charlie.” “ I'm a rat in here! I'm a rat! I'm trapped like a - I gotta get out of here.” “I'm tired of being in weird places, Frank, 'cause I'm trapped like a rat.” Just bash me like a rat! Bash me like a rat and get it over with!”

S6e11- “The Gang Gets Stranded in the Woods”

Charlie has to be knocked out with a sack over his head to be able to go to Atlantic City

“This is why i don’t leave philly alright cause when you leave philly, bad shit happens”

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Mac starves himself for chase utley

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“If animals have taught me anything it's that you can die at any time very quickly by the side of the road”

S6e12- “Dee Gives Birth”

Dennis yells at a nurse about Dee’s stories like he’s a god

“I will come down on this hospital like the hammer of Thor. The thunder of my vengeance will echo through these corridors like the gust of a thousand winds!”

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Dee berates guys until they have sex with her

S7e1- “Frank’s Pretty Woman”

Mac gains a ton of weight and calls it packing on mass

“I went from tiny twink to the muscle bound freak you see before you”

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Dennis admits to starving himself and literally constantly working out

“I may look relaxed but im incredibly tense at all times”

S7e2- “The Gang Goes to the Jersey Shore”

Mac knocks carlie out with chloroform to get him to the jersey shore

S7e6- “The Storm of the Century”

Dennis writes a contract for the girls he plans to invite to his rape bunker

S7e7- “Chardee Macdennis: The Game of Games

Mac says that Dee tried to kill herself

S7e10- “How Mac Got Fat”

Charlie gets overwhelmed and goes in the crevice

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Mac blames everyone else for making him fat

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Dennis does dumb shit because he’s self conscious about getting old and looking bad

“I was just trying to live up to all of your expectations of me” “what expectations?” “physical perfection”

The entire chemical peel scene is a good representation of his mental disorders

S7e12- “The High School Reunion”

Dee tries to be friends with the popular people from school to validate herself

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Mac got bullied and dealt drugs in high school

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Charlie got bullied in school and huffed glue in the bathroom

“Everyone wants dirtgrub i'll give them dirtgrub okay i'll get high i'll get sad people can laugh at me i hate highschool man”

S7e13- “The High School Reunion Part 2: The Gang’s Revenge”

The entire golden god meltdown

“Its fetish shit i like to bind i like to be bound”

“You would just come around saying shit about being a golden god or some other insane crap and referring to all of us as your minions” “You always acted like you were better than everyone else but then you would just go and hang out with ronnie the rat or dirtgrub under the bleachers”

S8e5- “The Gang Gets Analyzed”

Dennis tries to analyze the therapist

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Mac has some real severe mood swings

The therapist talks to him about body dysmorphia

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Dennis giving mac “size pills”

Dennis keeps psychology profiles on everyone in the gang, he started dee’s in the 2nd grade

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Dee’s entire “tell me i’m good” scene

S8e6- “Charlie’s Mom Has Cancer”

Dennis having trouble feeling throughout the entire episode until the “my mommy’s a skeleton” “i feel to much” scene

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Charlie being incredibly overwhelmed the entire episode, (rubbing his head at Dr. Jinx’s, Getting real upset at church)

S8e7- “Frank’s Back in Business”

Dennis pretending to be brian lefevre

“I want you to get off with me” “This is about crawling into another man’s skin”

S8e8- “Charlie Rules the World”

The entire “I Am God” sensory deprivation tank scene

Dennis blowing himself could also be symbolic but it could also just be a bit

S9e3- “The Gang Tries Desperately to Win an Award”

Mac getting really defensive about slight banter “i've had tons of orgasms i've had one with your mom”

S9e5- “Mac Day”

Mac is not okay with being upstaged by country mac when he jumps off the bridge and offers people weed

“there's nothing badass about breaking the law”

S9e6- “The Gang Saves the Day”

Macs fantasy is about everyone admiring his badass karate skills and dennis crying over his dead body saying that he loves him

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Dee’s fantasy is about killing every man in the room and finally being appreciated for her acting skills and marrying someone who doesn't call her a bird

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Dennis’ fantasy is about surviving a bullet to the head at point blank range and killing his idea of the perfect woman

S9e7- “The Gang Gets Quarantined”

Charlie’s mom got him vaccinated way too often and made him wear bubble boy suits during flu season, Charlie also still has the suits for some reason

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“I am in perfect control of my body, if i felt myself getting sick i would simply say SICKNESS BE GONE”

*sustains a perfect G5* “does that sound like a man who needs to be in the hospital”

S10e2- “The Gang Group Dates”

Dennis obsesses over his star rating on a dating app

“I AM A FIVE STAR MAN”

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Dee has one night stands with a whole lot of guys that she’s not really into just to give them one star ratings

S10e3- “Psycho Pete Returns”

Dennis does a whole psychopath monologue about skin luggage

“You haven't thought of the smell you bitch”

He gets diagnosed with BPD and gets medication

S10e6- “The Gang Misses the Boat”

Dennis’ whole range rover speech

S10e8- “The Gang Goes On Family Fight”

Dennis breaks down crying because of the buzzer

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Dee starves herself to look good for the camera

S10e10- “Ass Kickers United; Mac and Charlie Join a Cult”

Dennis tries to prove that he’s the best at manipulating people

S11e3- “The Gang Hits the Slopes”

Charlie brings up his agoraphobia shit again

“See, this is why I don't like leaving Philly, man. This is nuts.”

S11e4- “Dee Made a Smut Film”

Dennis got raped by a librarian in high school when he was 14

“I was in an older woman that’s cool right?”

S11e9- “The Gang Goes to Hell”

Dee manipulates guys into having sex with her

“So ill insinuate that it would be a shame if my account of what happened was different from his and he got a call from the sheriff”

S11e10- “The Gang Goes to Hell: Part Two”

Charlie has a panic attack about the boat sinking and dennis calms him down

“I knew I shouldn't have come on this cruise. I knew it! I mean, it used to be I would never even leave Philly! And then, you know, you guys drag me to this, you drag me to that, and next thing I know, I-I'm stuck in a box on a sinking ship!”

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Dennis keeps onions in his pocket so that he can cry when he needs to

S12e3- “Old Lady House: A Situation Comedy”

Bonnie doing everything in threes so that charlie doesn't die

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“I just can't enjoy it when the people being filmed, know they're being filmed”

S12e7- “PTSDee”

Charlie and dennis bonding over their trauma

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Dee tries to ruin a guys life bc he said she was his rock bottom

S12e8- “The Gang Tends Bar”

“I have big feelings, and it hurts”

#iasip #It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia #its always sunny #iasip charlie #iasip dennis #iasip mac #mac mcdonald #dennis reynolds #charlie kelly #frank reynolds #Danny Devito #charlie day #Rob McElhenney #kaitlin olsen #dee reynolds #glenn howerton #psychology #nobody cares mia