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#sftc
notsafeforhumans · 9 months
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Sleep paralysis demon but he’s, like, actually a cool guy. Asks if you’re doing alright when he first spots you planted face down on the mattress. Turns you around gently and sits on the edge of the bed so you feel more in control, seeing who's speaking to you. How long does this usually last? Ten minutes? Dude, that’s tough. Wanna hear some demon jokes while we wait for this to be over? Oh, right, you can’t laugh. My bad.
And every time you wake up in this state, he’s there, trying to make you feel better. Tells you about what he had for breakfast so you get bored and fall back asleep. Scratches your itches. Feels your aura of fear during the first few moments, and rushes close to assure you that everything’s alright.
The sad part is once the paralysis wears off, he’s gone, too.
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gendrqueergarf · 3 months
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a naga bf who worries when you aren't getting enough sleep, who lulls you into bed with his hypnotic eyes and coils tight and comfortably heavy around you, who whispers sweetly into your ear until you can't help but let your eyes fall shut
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sulieykte · 10 months
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had a Vision about sftc ….. it’s in one of the lab chairs (kinda like what we see grace/norm/jake record on the webcams nd all) teyam got u spread out on his cock and he’s jus languidly drilling up into u and you’re bouncing from each thrust nd you’re tryna hide in the crook of his neck … his hand squishes at the hollows of your cheekbones and directs your fucked out face back to the camera, tsking like “you know better”
much softer hc where teyam starts to record you doing just anything and ur jus like ??? teyam let me COOK IN PEACE??? (Bonus: jake and norm finding out about the relationship because they found a cute polaroid of the two of u)
I’m not kidding, I read the first part and my whole body went HOT I can’t even deal with it. Please sftc has so much potential for the hottest smut ever thanks to you!
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But please that polaroid idea I’m crying 😭 and he so would. He’s constantly teasing you for your obsession but then he becomes just as addicted to capturing everything
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Our "NO OPPS LEFT BEHIND" T-SHIRT featuring #CarmeloHayes are now available. Send a DM for more details.
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smartfusion01 · 3 months
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How to Choose the Best Industrial Equipment Suppliers for Your Business
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onismdaydream · 27 days
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a collection of drabbles of jujutsu kaisen characters based on nsfw twitter videos
✧˖°. — volume 1 [ ft. megumi, yuji, nanami ]
viewer discretion is advised: fem/afab reader. aged up characters. unprotected sex, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink [m. f.] | teasing, handjob, soft smut, m. sub [y. i.] | fingering, dirty talk, pet names, soft m. dom [k. n.]
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✧˖°. — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO (episode 1)
“baby,” megumi groaned, his hands squeezing roughly at your hips. “gotta stop doing that or i’ll cum.”
you felt so good around him, your tight walls clamping around his cock and dragging out low moans as megumi bit his bottom lip. lewd sounds echoed, skin smacking against skin and the squelching of your dripping cunt made the room even hotter. he could feel the sweat beading at his hairline, some of his dark strands already sticking to his face.
“it's okay. you can cum.” your voice is so sultry, so tempting as you bounce yourself on his lap, your breasts following the movement.
“‘m not wearing a condom, remember?” how could you forget though? feeling him raw was always the best for you, you could feel how hot his cock was, could feel each vein drag along your walls — and it's not like he ever complained about it either. but megumi would always pull out, choosing to release his load on your body instead of inside.
but you needed to feel him fill you up, wanted to feel him claim you entirely. “please, ‘gumi, cum in me. promise it's okay.”
“s-shit…” he breathed out, lips parted as he panted and watched you fuck yourself faster. you looked beautiful, so desperate as you kept whining and whispering little pleas. “can't. gotta pull out…”
but his hands were grabbing at any part of your body he could, groping your tits and holding your waist, not even trying to push you away. you could feel him twitching inside you, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm.
“please, wanna be filled. pleasepleaseplease,” you begged, practically crying for a creampie with the tears forming at your lash line. it felt so right the way megumi was deep inside you, you can't imagine him pulling out and leaving you empty and aching. “need it so bad.”
megumi wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him so he could plant his feet on the bed and thrust into you, setting a new and harsh pace as he chased his high. there was no way he could deny you, especially when your pussy felt this perfect. “shit, yeah, gonna cum, gonna fill you up.”
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✧˖°. — YUJI ITADORI (episode 2)
yuji couldn't help the way his hips bucked up, abs twitching and fingers flexing at the thin sheets underneath him. even with your thigh draped across his lap, he just could not stay still. every small movement made his entire body jump.
“does it feel good, baby?” you coo, fingers circling and rubbing over his cock head. the answer was obvious, a wet spot was forming at the band of his briefs and quiet moans kept leaving his throat, but you liked hearing it from him anyway.
“y-yeah,” yuji choked out, “feels really good.”
you hum, eyes flickering up to his face to see it twisted in pleasure. yuji always looked so cute like this, his cheeks flushing to match his hair and pretty lips parted as he panted. your hand continued to tease him, slowly drifting up and down his length, the occasional bit of pressure making him whine. 
you could feel his cock kicking underneath his underwear, each graze of your gentle touch adding to the damp patch on the fabric.
“you’re making a mess, yuji,” you tease, a sly smile pulling at your lips as you press on his sensitive tip. “look how wet you are.” 
“oh fuck…” he moaned, eyes rolling back and hips lifting off the mattress.
“so cute.” your hand moves down, cupping his balls and fondling them to make him squirm underneath you. he was so reactive, and it never failed to make you leak your own arousal. 
“gonna make me c-cum,” he gasped, voice hitching when you squeezed his shaft, “if you keep doing that.”
“it's okay, baby,” you pressed a soft kiss to his pink cheek, his skin warm to the touch. “you can come whenever you want.”
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✧˖°. — KENTO NANAMI (episode 3)
"you're doing so good, baby," his voice was smooth, deep in that way that makes you just melt into him, makes you do anything he said. though he would never take advantage of that. nanami was far too sweet and caring — too soft. but that doesn't mean he couldn’t treat you the way you deserve. he knew exactly what you need.
laying down on the bed, stripped down completely as nanami pressed two of his fingers deep inside your pussy, curling them just right to make you whine. he was still dressed in his work clothes, jacket discarded and tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, biceps flexing in the tight material. he didn't want to waste any time.
"k-kento," you gasped, your hands gripping at the sheets underneath you, knuckles turning white as you try your best to stay still. it's impossible, though, your body squirming and hips rising when his thumb brushed over your swollen clit.
"i know, darling," his fingers resumed to simply pumping in and out of you, a lazy rhythm that allowed you to suck in a shaky breath. "but you can handle it, can't you?"
it's not much of a question. he knew your body so well, like the back of his own hand, like it's an extension of his own flesh and bones. nanami knows when you hit your limit even if you don't — and he knows when he can push further.
you nodded your head regardless, biting your bottom lip to stifle any noises as he eased his other fingers, stretching you out even further. the slight discomfort was nothing you couldn't deal with, especially when he pressed against that spot and made more slick drip from your pussy.
“such a good girl for me, hm?” his fingers were so much bigger than your own, reaching further than you could. they were covered in your arousal, too, glistening and shining each time he pulled them out.
you could barely think, could barely do anything other than whine and cry, with the nearly pornographic sounds of his fingers fucking into you. you didn't even know you could get this wet.
“look at you, taking my fingers so well.”
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cloudcutter · 1 year
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SMILE FOR THE CAMERA - p. sunghoon
in which you don’t believe sunghoon could have feelings for you so you challenge him to prove it before you both graduate
- student!sunghoon x student!reader
- rivals(entirely one sided) to lovers
- smau with lots of written inclusions
featuring: enhypen members, ryujin of itzy, soobin of txt, wonyoung of ive, vague mentions of other idols i like as background characters
warnings: probably some lame humor, swearing, potentially inappropriate jokes (they’re high schoolers what do u expect), sunghoon has no game, everyone makes fun of him and jake bc they’re losers (affectionate), ryujin is gay bc she’s my wife, wonyoung and sunghoon are bffs bc jangkku heart said so. lmk if there’s more!
taglist: send an ask to be added !!
start: 15122022
end:
status: ongoing!
update schedule: at minimum, two days a week
author note: hi this is my first work and my first smau like literally ever ??? i’m super nervous to post this but i’ve had this idea in my head for the longest time? i wanted to write a whole fic but i thought making it a weird written + smau combo would help my writing process a little bit and help avoid writers block … so i’m gonna try and hopefully finish this !! please enjoy :D i also have never posted much on tumblr so i truly have no clue what i’m doing … so um i hope this works. be patient with me please :))
PROFILES
y/n’s models (the gorls) (everyone else) | 02z hate club (the 02z) (niki + the gays)
PROLOGUE: park sunghoon’s challenge
CHAPTER LIST:
chapter 1 - grave mistake
chapter 2 - tame first dates
chapter 3 - sunghoon has one fear
chapter 4 - kinda mid?
chapter 5 - stay strong !!!
chapter 6 - for me to make me happy
chapter 7 - another study date (?)
chapter 8 - feeling threatened by one choi soobin
chapter 9 - sunoo is mr. steal ur girl
chapter 10 - who want me *silence*
chapter 11 - new project
chapter 12 - lemme see lover boy
chapter 13 - you are incredible
chapter 14 - sunghoon x a brick wall ?
chapter 15 - not so incredible now
chapter 16 - call me wony <3
chapter 17 - going bonkers bananas
chapter 18 - new best friend !!!
chapter 19 - later hoon :)
chapter 20 - bae this isn’t ur priv
chapter 21 - yeonjun’s rager
chapter 22 - odi misses his aunt D:
chapter 23 - welcome to the club
chapter 24 - wonie misses the drama
chapter 25 - cocky, stuck up jerk
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bugsinthebayou · 2 years
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i need. to wtite mores. wlw tjings
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whiskyblog · 11 months
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Edradour Whisky SFTC 10 y.o. Sherry Cask
This whisky is matured exclusively in sherry casks, which give it its characteristic taste and colour. The name "SFTC" stands for "Straight From The Cask", which means that the whisky is bottled directly from the cask without dilution or filtration. As a result, it retains its full intensity and rich flavour.
The Edradour Whisky SFTC 10 y.o. Sherry Cask has a dark, golden colour and a rich aroma of sultanas, dried fruit, caramel and a slight hint of smoke. The palate is full-bodied and intense with a sweet, fruity taste of sherry and honey, accompanied by a subtle spiciness. The finish is long and pleasant, with hints of oak and vanilla.
Region : Highlands 59,1 % alc./vol. 0,5l not chill-filtered Type of cask : Sherry Butt Cask no. : 438 Distilled : 12.11.2011 Bottled : 14.02.2022 Bottle Quantity : 929
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musiclicensingstock · 19 days
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Softchoice Corporation (SFTC) Discloses Q2 Dividend: What Shareholders Should Know https://blog.tipranks.com/softchoice-corporation-sftc-discloses-q2-dividend-what-shareholders-should-know/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr
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kitasango · 1 year
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🌄長野県松本市よりInstagram&Facebookの皆さまおはよう✌️😃❗ 今朝の長野県松本市の天気は晴れ☀️です🤡 さあ、今日も張り切って頑張りますので、どうぞよろしく😉👍🎶 やればやるほど面白くなるのが仕事です🕴️ 🧠脳はあなたが期待した通りの答えを導きます‼️ コロナに負けるな‼️ #おはよございます 🌟【先延ばしを改善するための9のしないこと】 1. 夜更かしをしない 2. やる気が出るのを待たない 3. 長時間がんばろうとしない 4. 難しい課題から始めない 5. 自分に厳しくしすぎない 6. デスクを散らかさない 7. 失敗したときのことを考えない 8. 悩みを一人で抱え込まない 9. 挑戦をためらわない https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn5N17-SftC/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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canuckdoorsystems · 2 years
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Folding Partitions & Accordion Doors
Folding Partitions or Accordion Doors is a great solution to schedule multiple customers in a conference room at the same time. Also, it creates numerous meeting rooms in a small office when you need them or to keep an office floor open when you don’t.  Moreover, they help eliminate noise between two spaces. It’s an excellent choice for restaurants, churches, daycares, offices and assisted living centers.
Series 3300 Acoustic Folding Partitions reduce distracting noise and help keep the room’s temperature-controlled using acoustic lining and a perimeter seal. Also, the 3300 partition is sound rated at SFTC 33 and represents the best value in sound rated partitions. Moreover, the rugged design incorporates the Series 3300 partition forming a double-walled acoustic partition. Besides, with an exclusive heavy-duty hardware system, this dual-walled partition is as at home in offices or religious facilities as it is in restaurants or hotel meeting spaces needing moderate sound control. Finally, series 3300 folding partitions are available in a variety of attractive hardwood and Vinyl-Lam finishes, and can be ordered with differing finish materials on each door face. Series 2100 Acoustic Folding Partitions are more than just a visual barrier. Also, they are sound rated. Series 2100 has top and bottom seals with a sealed track to prevent noise transmission. Moreover, the partition also helps preserve the heat loss of air exchange between sides. Plus, the Woodfold makes them best suited to classrooms, meeting rooms, temporary office environments and music/rehearsal rooms. Moreover, the hardwood finishes yield a warm and clean look. The Vinyl Lam is the most economical choice of acoustic folding partitions.
Series 240 folding partitions are the most popular in the entire product line. Also, architects, designers, and builders specify them more than any other product. The reason is the flexibility that you have to configure the Series 240 to meet most design needs. Moreover, options include curve tracks, magnetic locks, key locks and options for bi-parting and multiparting partitions. The Vinyl Lam is the most economical choice for a superior finish to your project.
Canuck Door Systems Co. offers a comprehensive range of partitions and accordion doors. Also, Canuck’s technicians install the product across Greater Toronto Area and Southern Ontario. Moreover, For over 40 years, we have assembled a fine team of qualified and innovative people to guide the Company to the premier position it currently enjoys.
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morvantmortuary · 2 years
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and the dead start to dance in their masquerade (pt. II) -
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(summary: You arrive at the masquerade, and everything goes right to hell.
warnings: no smut but 18+. discussions of past suicidal ideation on the part of the reader, discussion of depression, brief mention of an eating disorder, allusions to parental abuse, gore. general angst. be advised, shit gets heavy.
general: Reader is they/she non-binary, no mentions of skin or hair, no use of y/n as always.
thank you for your patience, beloveds. 🖤 after this it’s one more chapter, so hang on with me until then. 😘 I’m delighted and thrilled to have you all still here, even if it’s a few days late! but I got a hiccup with my exams stuff fixed yesterday, so I’m hoping for smooth sailing from here!
okay, here we go ✨)
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After another moment’s hesitation, Rora took the first step inside, tossing her hair over her shoulder and walking in on her silk shoed-feet like she owned the place. Maxi followed after her, you at his side, and Hector followed behind. Over your shoulder, you caught him checking the corners, the exits — trying to find the best way out.
In front of you, Rora walked to the edge of a circle of gas lamps on posts, stopping right at the flickering edge of a long black walkway that seemed to glitter faintly in the moving flames. At either side of her were two massive gilded mirrors, supported - again, to your faint shock - by two be-suited skeletons on either side, somehow managing not to crumble under what appeared to be their immense weight.
Rora looked with an irritated expression to the one flesh-having person standing just before the mirrors (though the flesh had definitely seen better days, going gray and a livid purple in some spots). The revenant waved her through, and as she did so, you could just make out the slightest glint of green - her green, as you were coming to think of it - in the mirrors on either side of her.
Watching her walk through, you noticed a slight discrepancy in each of the reflections in said mirrors. In the one on the left, you saw the faint shadow of someone a touch shorter than Rora - a young girl, you estimated. From what you could see where you stood, it was a young woman in a white lace dress, a slightly differently proportioned figure. The same green eyes, in a face maybe just out of high school…
Wait.
You glanced to the other mirror, seeing something quite the opposite: a corpse well into in the later stages of decay, with bloating in the upper torso, and a rupture in the stomach that spoke to the breakdown of the major intestines and the deflation of the lungs. Where there should have been a face, there was only exposed and dried musculature barely clinging to the skull, eyes covered in a white film staring sightlessly at nothing as the teeth were exposed in an lipless rictus grin.
Oh. Shit.
You noticed Rora pointedly not looking to either side of her, keeping her gaze resolutely ahead. For a moment, her step faltered, and you swore you saw her start to look to the mirror on her left towards the young girl — but she turned her head sharply forward again, walking swiftly past the rest of the mirror and only turning around once she was definitely out from between the two. She pointed to Hector, beckoning him forward with a single elegant finger despite the fact you thought you saw her suppressing a shiver.
Hector nodded, then looked to you and Maxi. “You shouldn’t have anything to worry about, Querida.” He gave you a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his dark eyes. “This is more for… us.” His eyes met Maxi’s, and looking between the two, you swear you saw them exchange a concerned glance.
Hector turned, walking towards the mirrors, but stopped not far from the pair of you as if hesitating.
“Hold on, darlin’,” Maxi said quietly, kissing your hand briefly before letting go of your arm to go stand next to Hector.
You kept your distance, trying to be respectful, but it wasn’t hard to overhear them as they seemed to be apprehensively considering the mirror checkpoint together.
“You’ll be fine,” Maxi murmured, but Hector frowned, shaking his head slightly. “…Look, I haven’t done this in forever either,” he said, nudging Hector gently in the ribs. “But it can’t be that bad… right?”
You watched as both men glanced from each other to the mirrors again, Maxi folding his arms across his chest and Hector shoving his hands roughly into his jacket pockets.
“One’s gotta be wrong, remember?” Maxi tried again, looking at Hector.
“Yeah,” Hector sounded skeptical. “But we don’t know which one.”
“…Look,” Maxi said quietly. “If they both scare you, we’ll… I don’t know. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”
Hector looked from the checkpoint to Maxi again. “At least you know you have an option that doesn’t suck.”
Briefly, the two of them glanced over their shoulders to you, where you immediately did your best to seem like you weren’t watching them this whole time.
Maxi smiled just a little. “Yeah, well.” He looked back to Hector. “We’ll see if I get to keep it, won’t we?”
Hector seemed to consider this, turning back to the mirrors with grim acceptance. “Guess so.”
Maxi seemed to hesitate himself a moment before, slowly, he reached up to place a hand between Hector’s shoulders.
Hector looked at him, seeming genuinely surprised by this… before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. After returning Maxi’s gesture with a soft play punch to his ribs, Hector walked forward through the mirrors.
He also kept his eyes resolutely ahead, though the reflections in each of his mirrors from where you could see them seemed a lot less clear than Rora’s. On his left, you could see a slightly blurred reflection not too different from his actual self, the bright purple magic emanating from him in more of a wispy aura than Rora’s solid glow. It was weird - he seemed somehow out of focus, like a photograph that had come out wrong. Like the figure in that mirror was moving too much, too unsettled, to really be recognizable. Every so often, you could swear you saw it trying to press a hand to the mirror, but even his hand was just a shape - a shadow of a person, rather than a person itself.
The right mirror, however… there was something there that definitely wasn’t Hector. Not as you knew him.
A spectral shape you could only describe as wraith-like moved across the long right mirror, no part of it at any point seeming to touch the ground. There were soft crackles of the purple color you’d come to associate with Hector, but they came sparingly, like threads in a much larger, darker form made of the night itself. Where its eyes should be, in some semblance of a face, you could only see two endless black voids that made you oddly nauseous the longer you stared at them.
As Hector crossed between the mirrors, you could see his shoulders hunching upwards, as if he was trying to shut something out. He had to fight not to jog the last few steps to safety, but as he got closer, Rora got as close to the mirrors as she could without actually entering them again and held out her hand.
Hector kept his eyes on her, seizing her hand as soon as he was in range and the two of them half-pulling each other out of the reflection’s range. Hector also shivered, and the two of them stood together, whispering quietly as they looked back to you and Maxi.
Maxi had come back to you as soon as Hector had left, taking your hand again to watch his cousin’s pursuit through the checkpoint. He looked down at you now, and you recognized that look when he was trying to keep his real feelings off his face. “I’ll go next. You’ll go last - you’ll be okay,” he whispered to you, his thumb tracing across the back of your hand again. “This should be pretty mild for you. Just… a bit unpleasant, when you go through.”
“What is it?” You looked up at him, feeling anxiety rise up into your throat like bile.
“…You ever heard of Three Kings?” Maxi asked quietly. You shook your head, and he nodded towards the mirrors. “Mortals treat it like a game, sometimes. But we do this… or are supposed to do this,” he added uneasily. “Every year. You’ll see two versions of yourself - one of which is a possibility, a future should the right thing come to pass,”he said quietly. “The other is a lie.”
“And you don’t know which is which,” you echoed Hector had said, feeling your stomach sink like lead.
Maxi nodded. “They’re both goin’ to try to get your attention,” he said. “But just keep walking, and don’t look either way, no matter what they say to you.” He squeezed your hand. “We’ll all be on the other side. Just keep your eyes on me, okay?”
You returned the nod, trying to ignore the clammy feeling creeping through your hands. “Okay.”
“It’s gonna be fine, darlin’,” he promised, planting a kiss on top of your head before letting go of your hand. “Just look at us, nowhere else.”
You nodded, your arms folding across your chest as he walked away from you.
He gave you a last look as he stood before the two mirrors, taking a breath and seeming to try to settle himself. With a last attempt at a smile, he turned to face Rora and Hector, passing down the reflective corridor.
You didn’t recognize Maxi in either mirror.
On the left, you saw a man decades older, with hair gone fully gray and a well-trimmed silver beard. His face showed signs of an eventful life, with dark shadows and slightly noticeable crow’s feet around his eyes that made you wonder if they were from laughter, or something else. But the eyes themselves… they were pure black. As though his pupil had subsumed his iris completely, something not quite hollow like Hector’s wrath, but staring endlessly in their fathomless darkness. The suit the figure was wearing, at least, wasn’t torn - in fact, it was well-tailored and bespoke, making the old man in the mirror look like a distinguished Gentleman Death. You couldn’t tell what he was saying, but the way Maxi was having to keep his eyes stubbornly ahead made you desperately wonder what it was - good or bad.
Hesitatingly, you looked to the right mirror again - the one you’d immediately looked away from, when the reflection had first appeared.
The man in this mirror was also completely unknown to you. His hair was shoulder-length, somewhat darker than Maxi’s and definitely more unkempt. This man had four long gashes marring the right side of his face - like someone had dug in their nails and dragged forcefully down, deep enough to tear skin and sinew. He had a dark beard that grew around these scars, and on top of that, he was worryingly gaunt. A torn undershirt over his torso highlighted the way his scapula emerged from his muscled back, his bare arms also sporting several noticeable scars. You thought you recognized the trousers as suit pants put through hell and back, as though something awful had happened and he simply hadn’t bothered to change.
What worried you most was the fact that this man wasn’t carrying a weapon of any kind, but his right hand was definitely gone - replaced with something that you swore looked like a horrifying mixture of metal and human bone.
This version shared the black eyes of the other, but there was something wilder to them. A viciousness you had never seen, like he had forgotten all else.
Maxi seemed to be ignoring this one the most, if anything almost giving the right mirror a wider birth, though he did make sure at one point to swerve away from the left mirror too… as if worried something would reach out and grab him if he got too close.
Hector and Rora were both waiting for him at the end of the hall, and when he got close enough, both of them threw their hands out, nearly pulling him off his feet when they yanked him forward. You watched as he visibly shivered - something all three had done without fail - and he ran his hand nervously through his hair to push it away from his face. The three of them huddled for a moment, Rora with a bracing hand on Maxi’s back and Hector nodding quietly as Maxi relayed something to them both.
Then, finally, all three of them turned back to you, and you knew it was your turn.
You approached the mirrors, looking nervously at the revenant who manned the checkpoint. The revenant, for the first time since your arrival, seemed to open its eyes a little wider, surveying you with a critical, almost cruelly amused expression before it seemed to mockingly wave you through. You felt yourself straighten your spine, not to be cowed by some rude dead dude, and with a deep breath in and out, you fixed your eyes on the three Morvants waiting for you.
Before you could think about it too long, you stepped in between the mirrors.
It took you a minute before you realized that everything was suddenly silent - you hadn’t noticed how much of the party you’d actually been listening to, the distant chatter and music, the clink of glasses. Now it felt, oddly, like the silence around you echoed, a bubble that bounced everything back in on itself.
You’d only made it a few steps in before you felt like you weren’t alone.
“Ah,” said something to your left, in a voice that was yours but wasn’t. “So I see you’re still alive. Interesting choice.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. You knew that voice.
That was your head at 2 am on your worst nights. On the nights where you’d kept a hand towel by your bed because too many tissues in your trash would give you away, and it helped muffle the sound of sobbing. On the nights where you thought the sun would never rise, and it would just be you in those four walls, in the dark, for the rest of time. The nights where you couldn’t quite justify to yourself how to face the next day as you were right at that moment.
“How’s that going then? Everyone still thrilled you’re around?” You didn’t dare look, but you swore that version of you was smirking - it sounded sharp, cold. Like it thrived on the acid that dripped from its own lips. “Does that boyfriend of yours know what he’s saddled himself with? You think your friends will tell him, if you ever let them meet each other? Is that why you’ve been keeping them apart?”
Already tense, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard something dragging against the right wall - the sound of a knifepoint on glass, shrieking softly as it was pulled by something else.
“So it wasn’t what we expected,” the other you said. Their voice was softer, older - there was a gravity to it you didn’t recognize yet in yourself. “But I promise you, we are more than we thought.”
This would have cheered you considerably more than the left voice… if you hadn’t sworn, out of your peripheral vision, you could see bright splotches of a viscous red on whatever it is Other You was wearing.
“Is it gonna be worth it for him, to go through all this just to keep you?” The left-hand you whispered, even though it echoed around you like a shout. “Is he going to get to the end of putting his neck on the line for you and figure out that you weren’t what he wanted?”
“I know exactly what I am,” said the right-hand you, soft and steady despite the dragging point of whatever was scratching the inside of the glass. “Can you say the same? Can you look at me and recognize every part of yourself?”
Fucking hell, you swore these mirrors had stretched another thirty feet since you’d walked inside them.
“If you were willing to give up on you,” Left-hand you went on. “What’s to say he won’t decide the same?”
“Can you look at me, and acknowledge the parts of yourself you don’t want to?” Right-hand you placed a hand to the glass, and you had to force yourself to keep your eyes on your boots for a moment to let the urge to turn your head pass. “Can you look and see that I’m free of all the mortal things that scared you so? All the little petty things you thought were important once?”
“You made a mistake, letting yourself be seen by him. You were safer alone. Better alone.”
“Are you going to be brave enough to be me, when it’s time?”
It didn’t help that as you walked between the mirrors, it felt like they were pushing closer together. The cold of the glass was etching itself onto your skin, the silver-backed world around you making you feel closed into some sort of prism. A specimen in a glass box.
“It’s all going to end in the same place. You’re going to die alone. You’ve been mine all along, as much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise.”
“Will you be strong enough to take the knife when it’s offered to you?”
You looked up, trying to take a breath, trying not to let the tears in your eyes overflow. You didn’t want either of these. How could one of them really be you?
And what did it say about you that you didn’t know which one was the lie?
It was then that a movement ahead of you caught your eye, and you looked ahead for the first time since you’d entered the mirrors.
Maxi was standing there, his feet as close as he could get to the edge of the walkway with both hands outstretched. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but you could see the look in his eyes - open and dark. Warm.
It wasn’t until you felt your shoulders relax that you realized just how tense they’d been.
He wasn’t so far away. You could do this.
You kept your eyes on his, trying desperately to read his lips, to hear the voice that was calling to you over the growing din of the versions of you on either side. With all the ruckus they were making - whispered threats into screams, calm reasoning into howls - they apparently hated to be ignored.
But you kept your eyes ahead, and you rooted yourself in his eyes as he looked at you. The way they crinkled a little bit at the edges when he smiled at you, rooting for you even when you couldn’t hear him. You felt your hands stretch at your sides, already thinking about how his would feel when you took them. As cool as they were, they would be warmer than the mirrors around you. They would be solid, real. They wouldn’t let go until you asked him to.
In the deepest recesses of your skull, you wondered if this was how Eurydice felt when Orpheus looked back. Not with the sickening jolt of fear, realizing that she was damned. But like she was seeing something more certain than the sun at the mouth of seemingly endless darkness.
You reached out to take his hands in yours.
It wasn’t until his fingers closed around yours that the noise of the world came crashing in around you - the party noise carrying on as though you’d only been gone for a minute, rather than the seemingly endless stretch of time it took to walk between the two. Disoriented at the rush of warm air and sound, you let Maxi pull you hard against his chest, spinning you quickly away from the mirrors before setting you down safely on the ground. His voice was still somewhat distant in your ear, but you could feel yourself beginning to breathe again, your ears clearing like you’d just come up from fathomless depths.
“—‘re alright, darlin’, you did so well, I’m so proud of you,” he was murmuring above you, his hand smoothing as carefully as it could over your hair so he didn’t muss it but was still comforting you.
“Are they okay?” You heard Hector somewhere nearby. “Here, I wanna see them—“ You saw a figure in your peripheral vision peering over Maxi’s shoulder. “Aww, look, they’re not even shaking. I knew they’d be tough.”
“What a brave little mortal,” you heard Rora purr, her freezing hand coming to rest on your back somewhere near Maxi’s merely cool one. “You didn’t flinch once, sweetness. Way to stick it to them.”
“…What the fuck,” you managed, your voice coming out like you’d been holding your breath for ages. “Was that?” You moved as if to look over your shoulder at the mirrors, but three hands gently rested on the back of your head, your cheek, under your chin, holding you fast to keep you from doing so.
“Nope, no need to do that again,” Hector said, coming into focus in front of you. He smiled at you, still looking a bit drained himself. “Stay with us, okay?”
Maxi tilted your chin up to look at him, carefully examining your eyes before smiling in relief. “I knew you could do it,” he said, hugging your waist tightly to him. “I told you they could,” he added, glancing to Hector and Rora with a note of pride in his voice.
“Mm, well. I wasn’t about to bet against you,” Rora guided you by your cheek to look at her now, inspecting your face with a cool remove before allowing a flicker of a smile. “And you took it like a champ, too.”
“There’s absolutely a jinx on that to make it longer,” Hector muttered, as if irritated by this. “I’d bet you my best camera. It’s shitty showmanship.” He stood with his arms folded, but he stood close to where Maxi was holding you, enough to brush your side with his elbow when he moved.
“Speakin’ of that,” Rora sighed, looking over everyone’s shoulder.
You realized the party had gone silent again, and when you timidly looked around Maxi’s shoulder, you learned it was because the revelers had all stopped to stare at your little group. Even the band had gone quiet, the lone man on a stage surrounded by instruments holding themselves upright staring with wide-eyed fascination over an old-fashioned microphone.
“…Well,” Maxi sighed, looking down at you again. “You ready to give ‘em a show, pretty?”
Carefully, you moved yourself away from his waist, letting his hands linger on your shoulders as you found your balance again. Once you felt steady, grounded, you nodded. “Let’s give the nosy bastards what they came here for.”
At this, the three Morvants couldn’t help a smile, glancing at each other with an understated pride that made your chest feel like it would glow from the inside with warmth.
“C’mon,” Rora said, taking the lead again. With another toss of her hair, she stepped into the black glittering walkway. She passed a man dressed in an understated sort of formal wear, and you realized what his job was when he cleared his throat.
“The Morvant House,” he called, his voice echoing through the cricket-chirps in the courtyard as the group of you passed him as well. “Maximilien Vincent, the Reaper. Hector Emile, the Summoner. Aurore Maria, the Maiden. And—“ You heard your own name, followed by something you weren’t sure troubled you or not in its bluntness: “An Obsession.”
If Rora had looked irritated at her own title, you saw her glance at you hastily over her shoulder at yours. Hector was scanning the crowd, his eyes wary as he did so. Maxi kept one arm firmly around your waist, and you appreciated how his height seemed to act like a shield for you, keeping you from a good portion of all the eyes that would’ve hit you at once.
The crowd looking at you was… beautiful, to be honest. People dressed in opulent finery of another time, glittering in candlelight as they must have for centuries. Some of the people closer to the age of your group had also opted for dramatic makeup in place of masks, and some older members still had full face masks of every color, like Venetians at Carnivale. You could see birds, skulls, lions, monsters, beautiful women, all preserved in everything from what looked like plastic to porcelain. One or two of the masks gave you pause, their crinkled texture in the light making you wonder if they didn’t look a bit like leather. Like some sort of skin. Sometimes, if you let your eyes linger on someone for too long, you thought you saw a cape that looked to be made of the same material, or a necklace or brooch that looked a little too similar to polished bone for your comfort. You realized there must be colors unique to every family, as many clusters of people standing close together seemed to coordinate with one another. Curiously, Pierre seemed to be the only one wearing his unique shade of cobalt. You wondered to yourself if that was because he had outlived his original family, as Hector and Maxi had implied. For a moment, despite his smug-ass expression, you almost felt the tiniest bit… sorry for him. As scared as you were, you had Maxi, and Hector and Rora. You couldn’t imagine having to do this with no one, every year, for god knew how long.
The gas lamps and candelabras on every available surface made everything look like you were in the thick of a dream, shadows shifting heavily as you moved through the crowd. Towards the front, where you were heading, you saw Pierre from the House, dressed in a deep blue coat that wouldn’t have looked out of place at eighteenth century Versailles. He stood with perfect posture, his hands folded behind his back, his eyes seeming to linger on you as Rora led you all straight to him.
You felt another set of eyes, as well — turning slightly, you looked to see a very pale man with shoulder-length blonde hair watching from along a wall. He had no mask on to speak of, instead holding it in his hand as though he’d simply needed a break. He looked to be about Maxi and Hector’s age, maybe a bit older, with gray eyes that surprised you and a sharp nose.
When he realized you were looking at him too, he smiled - but it was crooked, as though his lips couldn’t quite fit around his teeth. He looked back down to his mask, as if to excuse himself from your gaze, but the fact that he was outside the crowd and not among it made you quietly curious. Maybe you weren’t the only one here who wasn’t supposed to be.
Maxi squeezed your hip slightly, and you stopped, taking his arm again when he offered it to you. Hector loomed in front of both of you, his own hands folded behind his back in a stiff posture that didn’t look quite right on him. He kept his eyes on Rora, who walked up to Pierre with the languorous strut of a woman perfectly in her element, but you knew from the set of her mouth that she was doing her best to keep her cool.
“Monsieur Guidry,” Rora intoned, her voice like silver. She offered him her hand, which he took reluctantly, bowing his head towards it. “I thought I told you what my title was when we last met.” She smiled, and it reminded you somewhat of a plant waiting to close around an unsuspecting fly.
“You suggested one, Miss Morvant,” Pierre smiled at her, but it was a poor facsimile at best. “But alas. Until matters with your family are… settled,” he said, examining his nails for a moment. “Then I’m afraid we must keep to what we know. Since there’s so much They Who Decide have failed to be informed of,” he added, his eyes falling over Hector, Maxi, and yourself. “We, of course, have been waiting with baited breath for the arrival of the rest of the Morvant House all night.”
You frowned. The rest of…?
Maxi seemed to catch this too, his free hand moving to cover yours where it rested on his arm. You glanced up at him, and he looked down at you, the two of you exchanging the same concerned look. This couldn’t be good.
“Well, here we are,” Rora said, her smile like a jagged edge of broken glass. “Shall we get on with things, then?”
Around you, the crowd pushed forward slightly at this suggestion, as if eager to see what would unfold for themselves. Maxi angled you away from them, Hector seeming to hesitate between moving towards you or towards Rora as he nervously eyed the people watching behind intricate masks and makeup.
“On the contrary,” Pierre said, affecting faux hurt. “It would be terribly rude of us to just jump into business, after one of our oldest families has been so long absent. Wouldn’t it?” He turned to the glittering masses, as if to get their approval.
There where murmurs of agreement from the families around you, in various languages. You felt your free hand move briefly over the pockets in your tunic, feeling what Rora had asked you to bring for her. Would you need it soon? Was this it?
“It’s been too long, Morvants,” Pierre turned back to Rora, then to the rest of you, sweeping a hand in a delicate silk glove of deep blue towards the crowd. The crowd, to your greater concern, seemed to back towards the walls, making space. “I know many of us were hoping you would lead us in the first dance.” There was something about the way he smiled now that made your stomach twist, something too wide about it. “Especially given it’s rather your time of year.”
You looked between the three of them, trying to figure out if this was code for some sort of threat. Was that elite magic user speak for ‘we’re about to ritually sacrifice you to our demon lords?’
Instead, Rora seemed to just barely restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “Well,” she said, glancing at Hector and Maxi. “If it would so please the assembled.”
“But of course!” Pierre’s smile stayed manic, and a few of the older men in the crowd sent up whoops of agreement. “I dare say it would be a treat, given how little we’ve gotten to see of you. Especially you,” he added, giving Rora a very deliberate once over. “Considering your… absence.”
Hector stepped forward, clearly displeased by this, but Rora held up a hand to still him. “Fine,” she said, with the slightest of sighs. “If it’s so wished by the Council.”
“Wonderful,” Pierre turned to gesture to the band - as in, the lone singer on stage. The instruments surrounding him, to your surprise, seemed to float into position… and after a moment, their players materialized, vaguely transparent despite being full-bodied apparitions of men and women in dark clothes. The singer, a young man with deep brown skin in a smart steel colored suit, straightened his bow tie, and leaned into the microphone.
Rora, as she was walking back towards the rest of you, plucked a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and downed it in nearly one go without faltering once in her steps. She handed it to a portly gentleman in a suit a deep ochre color, ignoring his sputtering surprise as she took Hector’s hand in hers and immediately led the rest of you towards the widening space that you realized was a dance floor.
“I’m goin’ to guess it’s one dance,” she muttered to you all. “And then we get ready for everythin’ to go to hell.”
Effortlessly, she and Hector fell into position when they reached the floor, looking like they’d done this all their lives. Which they probably had, when you thought about it.
You looked to Maxi, who looked to you, both of you doing your best not to look as nervous as you felt. “This is easier than you’d think,” Maxi whispered to you, his hand finding your waist as yours found his shoulder. “Don’t worry if you think you’re messin’ up — they won’t be lookin’ at us for too long, anyway.”
You nodded, taking a breath and straightening your posture. “I’ve never done this before,” you whispered. “Not like this, anyway.”
“You’re better than you give yourself credit for,” Maxi winked at you, and you stifled a laugh, realizing he must have seen you dancing drunkenly with your friends that night long ago. “You’ll have to forgive my two left feet, though.”
“Hey,” you smiled at him. “It’s not like we do this on weekends or anything.”
“And I don’t think we’re about to start, after this,” Maxi smiled back at you, before nodding to Rora.
Rora looked to the singer onstage, lifting her hand and gesturing casually like this was nothing.
The music picked up, and when the man uttered the opening notes of his song, you had to turn and look at him a moment in wonder. You’d heard of sirens before, but the singer’s voice was something otherworldly. He was a choir unto himself, moving through ranges you didn’t know was possible for just one person. The music itself was haunting - too quick to be a dirge, but too full of sorrow and longing to be without a mournful quality.
If this was going to be your last dance, the song was honestly rather appropriate.
Your gaze snapped back to Maxi as he took the first step, and the two of you moved across the floor in a mirror image of Hector and Rora - who, admittedly, were moving a lot more confidently than you two. But you and Maxi were holding your own, him leading as steadily as he could and you following his steps without hesitation. He was honestly better than he gave himself credit for, but you knew dancing period made him shy and self-conscious, so you were doing your best to offset this by being as calm as you could and hoping he could feel it somehow. Your hand was solidly in his, and for what you lacked in fluidity, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so comfortable being in the center of a room with someone else.
It was the first time he spun you that you realized something was happening on the floor around you.
As you whirled out and back, you saw blurry figures starting to take shape on the dance floor — like photo negatives, projected into thin air. As the dance picked up speed, Hector and Rora whirling past the two of you, you realized that the figures were beginning to define themselves. Slowly, one to another, they all seemed to float towards a partner. It was only when the figures met that they seemed to unfold into full apparitions - skirts of dresses materializing from fog, shoulders suddenly standing out in the light as partners bowed to one another. The faces, however, remained shifting and indistinct, as though hundreds of blurry photographs were being overlaid in their projection. Like people who had been gone too long to remember who they were.
As the two pairs of you moved, you realized the ghosts that had joined you were moving in time as well, and the floor was suddenly full to bursting with other couples. As you spun in across the floor, you could glimpse the bright firings of sparks from Maxi’s fingertips, the purple that seemed to swirl around Hector like his own private storm system, the bright green footsteps that followed Rora wherever she went in the complex patterns of her footwork.
You realized that this was them. They — however they were doing this, consciously or not — were not only leading the first dance, but had conjured echoes of their bloodline had come from endless pockets of years past. These could have been members of the family from centuries back, summoned for a dance with the last relatives left alive.
The lights of the living Morvants seemed to bounce off the reflective figures of their late rkin, and as you watched, you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it was. The ghostly figures as they moved would solidify for an instant in your eyeline, and you would recognize a familiar nose here, a set of the mouth there. You smiled to yourself, finding echoes of Maxi and his relatives in all of them.
As you looked up to smile at him, enjoying yourself for the first time that night, you realized with a rush of heat to your face that he’d been watching you this whole time, looking utterly enchanted with you.
You laughed shyly, despite the soft wail of the singer, and Maxi grinned, pulling you closer. Maybe this didn’t have to be so awful. Maybe it might even be okay.
“May I cut in?”
Fuck.
You nearly stumbled as Maxi froze, suddenly, and you turned to confirm what you feared about the speaker.
Vincent stood there, his face patchy but mostly recovered, his nose back where it should be. He looked almost handsome as he stared down at you, in a deep black suit that couldn’t totally escape the look of having been just dragged out of the attic. His mouth quirked in a cruel imitation of Rora’s smile, and you marveled quietly at how something that could look wry and lovely on her just looked hard and cold on him.
“…I’d like to keep my current partner,” you said, keeping your voice low and even. “Thank you.”
“Oh, come now,” Vincent waved an elegant gloved hand dismissively before offering it to you. “The boy’s got two left feet, bless his heart. You’ve got potential, though,” he added, his smirk taking on an uncomfortable edge. “I bet in the right hands, you’d really be something special, little mortal. You just need a partner with more… experience.”
“They said no,” Maxi said, the honey in his voice frozen into something you’d never heard before. “You can either be graceful about it or not.”
“And what would you know of grace?” Vincent’s eyes moved languidly to Maxi, as if bored by his presence. “You certainly didn’t get it from me, or your dear ridiculous mother.”
Out of the corner of your eye, a pale figure in the spectral crowd stopped spinning, coming to a stop somewhere over Vincent’s shoulder.
“What do you want, Dad?” Maxi asked, holding his ground.
“The family’s leading, Max,” Vincent said, gesturing around like this was obvious. “I thought someone competent ought to step up, show everyone here how things are really done.”
“Yes, because you’re really the shining example of that.” You turned to see Rora arriving at your other side, with Hector just behind her. Around all of you, the ghosts stopped moving, seeming to flicker for a moment in their uncertainty. When the music died, you didn’t really notice.
So much for one dance.
“My dearly departed daughter,” Vincent smiled as he took Rora in, but there was something vicious in it. “It’s so unfortunate how much you favor your mother, when clearly, you take after my side of the family.” The smile fell off his face like a dead leaf. “You must, considering how you shoved me down the basement stairs and slashed the tires on the last car in the driveway.”
“You always said I was resourceful,” Rora said, her face perfectly neutral.
“You were precocious for a child,” Vincent said, with a subtly nasty inflection on the last three words. “If I’m being honest, most of when I mourned you was mourning what you could’ve been.” He shrugged slightly, as Rora did her best not to visibly recoil from this. “You had the decency to die with everything in front of you, before you could fail me.”
“You got murked by an anxious twenty year old with an eating disorder, dude,” Hector spoke up from behind Rora, stepping forward to put himself between her and Vincent. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Maxi, briefly giving him an apologetic look before looking back to Vincent with a repressed fury you’d never seen on him. “You’re not the one to be setting yourself up as hot shit, here.”
“Oh. Emile’s boy. You’re still here.” Vincent barely glanced at Hector before looking to Maxi, leaving Hector bristling and furious. “No, you and I do have a score to settle, don’t we, son?”
“I don’t know what you think I didn’t settle,” Maxi said, ice behind every word. “But I will happily put your ass back in the ground.”
“Please, spare me,” Vincent snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You can’t even kill that.” He glanced at you, and that was the last straw. “And she’s practically been beggin’ you for it.”
“If you don’t fucking stop talking to them like that,” you said, your voice as steady as you could keep it as you stepped towards him. “I’ll take your fucking tongue.”
Vincent’s face split into another toothy grin. “Aren’t you precious, though?” He was laying on the drawl quite thick, stepping closer to you with his hands folded behind his back. “Last I checked, no one can kill what’s been brought back by They Who Provide… least of all you.” He extended a boney, leathery finger, tracing a line down your cheek even as you tried to lean away.
“Don’t you dare.” Maxi snarled with a venom that sounded utterly foreign to you on him, storming towards Vincent with one hand in the lining of his jacket to pull out a scalpel with a long, wider curved blade - for wide incisions in soft tissue, he had explained to you once, and you braced for a splatter of blood or ichor or whatever it is that came out of living corpses—
He was given pause, however, by the ring of blue fire that suddenly exploded around the group of you, penning you all in against the onlooking masked spectators.
The crowd pressed in around you again, as if this was some sort of signal. Their masks and faces reflected the flames eerily, reflecting off eyes and teeth bared in grins in a ghastly manner. The last of the ghosts trapped inside and outside the circle started to flicker into nothingness around you - like an old-fashioned film projector on the fritz. You watched some of the silver figures seem to dissolve from the inside out, disappearing like a corroded film strip.
Only one lingered, barely, hovering somewhere over Vincent’s shoulders. It was a woman in a long white gown, her face swimming in and out of view.
Maxi took your hand in his free one, the other one still clutching his scalpel as he looked around with alarm. Hector was edging nervously away from the flames, trying to divide his gaze evenly between Vincent and the boundary of fire. You looked Rora, waiting for her signal, but she kept her eyes locked on her father and her face as still as glass.
You prayed she’d planned for this, somehow, because you hadn’t.
Pierre sauntered up behind Vincent through the fire like he was entertaining a chat with old friends at a country club, twirling a lick of pale flames around his index finger on one hand. “It’s very interesting,” he said slowly. “Because I could swear I told y’all to bring your father with you.”
“Our car could only hold four,” you snarked, fixing him with a dry look.
“Then perhaps they should have put your body in the trunk where you belong.” Pierre looked at you with all the cool remove of a man sizing up prize cattle. “Honestly, Maximilian.” He turned to Maxi. “You’ve been drawing this out for far too long.”
“On that, we agree,” Vincent glanced to Pierre before looking back to you, narrowing his eyes. “This is gettin’ embarrassing, son.”
Maxi pulled you behind him, staring the two of them down. “It’s not happenin’,” he said, moving the point of his scalpel warningly between the two. “And if you try, I’ll make it either of you instead.”
“I’m not giving him up,” you added, pulling your own knife from the inside of your tunic lining and flipping it open. It wasn’t much, and maybe you weren’t the most confident handler of the group, but you weren’t about to stand there and not fight for the man who was yours. “So you’ll have to take him from me.”
“It doesn’t even need to be him!” Hector stepped forward, towards the center of the circle. “I’m right here and willing. Just give me time.” He glanced briefly to Maxi before looking back to Pierre. “I’ll do whatever it takes. I just need to finish.”
“I did not,” Rora snarled, stepping forward as well. “Drag myself through Hell and tear off the face of my own corpse to have you tell me I’m unworthy of this. Any of you.” She looked between Vincent and Pierre, before gazing to the crowd beyond as well. “This is the Council’s last chance.” She fixed her gaze back on the man in blue, flames still moving over his gloved hand like a beloved pet snake. “You have options. Pick the right one, and we won’t make this worse for you than it already is. We may need They Who Provide,” she went on. “But They Who Decide need us. And they know that.”
Pierre tilted his hand, watching the flames slither around to his palm as if considering this before looking back up to the group of you. “…Personally,” he said quietly. “I’ve been advocating for just killing all of you.”
He snapped his fingers, and the flames rose higher and wider, obscuring himself and Vincent and pushing the four of you closer together in the center. Maxi stubbornly held onto your free hand, with Rora and Hector positioning themselves at your backs.
You looked to Maxi, who was watching the flames with a wariness that just barely concealed fear.
“What do we have?” Pierre’s voice rang through the flames just as it had in the House. “We have a Summoner who keeps fucking up his Chain with his carelessness and mistakes because he keeps losing himself to bloodlust.” The flames snared around Hector’s ankle, dragging him down to the ground and away from the group despite Rora desperately grabbing for him, Maxi managing to kneel fast enough and seize his hand just long enough to stall the process for a moment before he was sealed away from the rest of you in a separate wall. “A Ritual that countless generations before him have completed without a hitch, by the way,” Pierre added with a sneer. “So it’s not like it’s hard.”
Hector was looking between you all and the fire in front of him, nervously edging away from the flames as they arched over him, as if to create a prison cell straight from Hell. You could hear distant overlapping wailing, the screams of people - first a few, then maybe tens, enough to form a chorus of the dead - incoherent in their fear and pleading, the sheer volume of their howling causing your ears to ring slightly.
Amidst the strangers pleading for their lives through their final moments, trying to appeal to the emotions of whoever had them at their mercy, you detected a familiar voice.
“Please! Please, I’ll tell you where she is, you can have them both, I don’t want any part of this, please just let me go, I’ll do whatever you want, just PLEASE—“ Sky.
You looked at Hector, realizing these must be his victims. He seemed to be overwhelmed at the number of them himself, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he was hit with them all at once.
“Then,” he continued, and you felt Maxi pull you against him, he and Rora linking arms protectively on his other side. “We have a wannabe-visionary Resurrectionist who ruined her own Ritual on the first go, didn’t even succeed in her second kill before she choked in the attempt and died because she couldn’t handle her own magic.”
You and Maxi both turned to grab Rora, but an arm made of flame emerged with a crack through the black tile of the courtyard, seizing her suddenly by the throat. The arm lifted her vertically from y’all’s reach, Rora clawing at it desperately as her feet were lifted from the floor.
“But then,” continued Pierre. “She comes along and thinks that just because she’s the first one to break the rules successfully - rules put in place to protect all of us, by the way, by the very deities that gave you those powers,” his voice got quieter, his sneer now a hiss. “She thinks she’s entitled to another try.”
You could see the light dancing off the scars on her body, the Y-incision, the line that circles her cheeks and chin, leaving them glinting weirdly as if threatening to melt whatever spell Rora had placed on them. You heard just one high-pitched wail this time, a blood-curdling scream of an older woman, one you’d never met before. Somewhere under that, you heard the sobbing pleading of a boy on the cusp of manhood. “Rora, I told you not to, not without me! Please come back, please, please don’t leave—“ Maxi. It had to be. You looked between him and Rora, your heart breaking, both of them wide eyed and panicked as they relived the moment of their seemingly eternal separation.
Maxi pulled you entirely to his chest, and you hugged his waist, him pointing his scalpel over your shoulder and you trying to keep your hand from shaking as you extended your knife behind him. You didn’t know what good it would do, not against this… but it was the only thing you could think to do.
“Somewhere, in the middle of this,” Pierre said. “We get the mortal who thinks that they, of all people, are somehow meant to be more permanent than they ever have any right to even dream. Even when they know deep down they’re just a match to be lit, to ignite a chain of events that’s bigger than they could ever understand.” Something yanked back hard on your hair, and your neck arched to follow, feeling yourself scream as it dragged you away from Maxi despite his desperate grip on your arm, then your hand as you slid away, something dragging you bodily across the floor to leave him standing in the middle of the circle alone.
Something pulled you roughly to your feet, and as your neck was pulled even further back, you saw the flaming face Pierre had first shown you back at the House, his hand feeling like mere bones as the cruel bare points of his fingers scratched harshly against your scalp. “You’re lucky you made it this long,” he whispered, staring down at you with eyes that were pure white. “I cannot overstate just how lucky.”
He threw you forward hard, and you were sent crashing onto the stone tile, gasping at the searing pain that coursed through your ribs as you landed.
“Then there’s you.” There was a new voice now — someone walked forward through the flames, stepping over you as though you were nothing, and you realized when you saw the moth-eaten hem of the trousers that it was Vincent. “And oh, son, do we have some catchin’ up to do.”
Maxi was trying his best to hold his ground, looking between you and Vincent as if he was trying to figure out how to get around him to you.
“For a moment - probably the most brilliant of your miserable little life, let’s be honest,” Vincent said, his hands folded behind his back as he strode forward. “You finally got the spine to overthrow me. And I admit, I was pissed,” he said, shaking his head. “But I was also, in that last gasp of oxygen, proud. So proud.” You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear that damned smile in his voice. “At last, my boy was makin’ somethin’ of himself. He wasn’t the disappointment I’d taken him for, for all those years.”
Maxi tried to lunge forward, to slash Vincent’s throat when he was in range, but you watched him stumble, flames encasing his feet to hold him still as they had at the House.
Vincent circled around behind him as he fought against it, only to shove him down hard to his knees. “And you had such potential, too.” Vincent lingered behind Maxi with his hands on his shoulders, staring dreamily into the distance for a moment as Maxi desperately tried to throw him off. “Truly, I thought you were goin’ to take the title the whole time. You did so well with your Chain - not a single one out of sequence, not a slip-up to speak of.” You heard the familiar echoes of screams, men, women, and others, bleeding together in the hysterical terror of their last moments. You heard a low laugh somewhere under all of these, which grew louder, more manic until it was hysterical in itself, and you realized with a pained breath it had to be Maxi.
He stopped struggling, staring at the floor with a distant, pained look as the sound of his own laughter washed over him.
“And then,” Vincent sighed, leaning on one of Maxi’s shoulders to examine his own nails with a bored expression. “You get cold feet. You decide you don’t want it anymore — heaven knows why, when it was the only thing you had goin’ for you.” He gestured vaguely, as if this was incomprehensible. “You back away from the thing you were born for… for this,” Vincent gestured to you, and you tried to sit up, to glare him down — but your breath was impossible to catch in all this heat, and you felt yourself gasping.
“Think about it, Maximilian,” Vincent said, his hands square on Maxi’s shoulders as he leaned down to talk into his ear. “You’re gonna give up eternal power, livin’ years beyond your mortal life span, for this? For some mortal?” He reached up, his own hand glowing a deep rust color as he pressed two fingers against Maxi’s temple.
Maxi gasped, and as hard as he tried to shake Vincent off, you saw the rust spread to his eyes, causing his pupils to expand so they were perfectly pitch black. It was a haunting sight, and as he looked up at you, you had to fight to keep the fear off your face.
He was still yours. You couldn’t let this just happen.
Slowly, you took a deep, painful breath, and started, keeping low to the ground.
“What on earth made you think you could ever make someone stay for you?” Vincent seized Maxi’s chin, forcing him to look up at him. “Think about it. Everyone you’ve ever loved has left you, boy. Gone on to better. Hector stayed away for years, because you weren’t enough to convince him to come back. Aurore died because she didn’t think you’d be strong enough or brave enough to help her. Hell, your own mother couldn’t stand it when her favorite child passed and just withered away, despite all your cryin’ and carrying on. You weren’t even enough to keep her alive.” He threw Maxi’s head hard back down towards the ground, and he fell most of the way, doubled over with his shoulders heaving. “And you expect someone to care for you? To want to put up with you for the rest of their fleeting little lifespan?” Vincent kneeled down, grabbing Maxi’s hair to lift his head slightly so he could speak into his ear. “You were made for this, son. Stop tryin’ to hide from what you are. All you were ever gonna be.”
Vincent, ever the showman, had been so intent on swaying Maxi, he’d missed you inching your way forward across the tile. You kept your pace steady, shuffling around low enough on your hands and knees that it looked like you were just writhing in pain.
As you got close enough to see both their faces, you watched Maxi’s head fall limply forward as Vincent let go, his hair loose and obscuring his eyes. For a moment, you didn’t know what was happening - until, slowly, you saw a soft aura start to form around his figure, the familiar red building to a blinding level you found yourself squinting against.
“There we go!” Vincent clapped his hands together near his knee, grinning. “That’s my boy. Look at you, finally doin’ the sensible thing for onc—“
Vincent was so busy staring at Maxi, he didn’t notice you right in front of him.
Not until you took your knife and shoved the blade straight into his cheek, the soft flesh there parting like that of a peach.
The following was a blur: Vincent screaming, thrashing, striking at you as best he could as he was blind with pain. You held your knife as steady as possible through this, planting your second hand around the hilt and pushing hard towards his ear. It was surprisingly quick work, cutting through flesh and muscle like that. But you split the skin of his face wide open, part of his cheek flopping away uselessly to expose the teeth and gums of a corpse revived.
“You LITTLE-“ Vincent howled, his hand tangling in your hair again. But when he went to pull you backwards, you pulled your knife from his cheek with a sucking noise, and drove it hard into the middle of his throat.
You were surprised with how warm the spray of blood was as it hit your face.
Vincent dropped you and you shuffled hard backwards, your hand falling again into the lining of your tunic. Rora hadn’t given you the signal yet, but it was now or never.
“HECTOR!” You turned, throwing an antique, silver handled magnifying glass in his direction.
For a moment, you were afraid it would just shatter uselessly against the ground, watching it arc through the air — but you saw his hand shoot out from between the pillars of flame, seizing it before it hit the floor.
”RORA!” You pulled the soft velvet bag from the concealed pocket Rora had sewed for you, tossing it in the direction of where she was still limply hanging from the hand. You were scared she’d passed out by this point, having been held there for so long, but you saw her hand fly towards the bag, snatching it from the air almost as though it was effortless.
As soon as she worked her fingers inside it, you saw a flash of bright green, and the hand of blue flame dissolved, dropping her so she landed hard on her knees next to you.
Hector’s cage fell around him, and as you watched them both climb unsteadily to their feet, you turned, getting up yourself to run towards where Maxi was still kneeling.
“No!” Rora caught you hard by your upper arm, pulling you back towards her.
“Let me just see him, let me talk to him,” you begged, trying to pull away from her. “I need to go—“
“It’s too late,” she shook her head, watching Maxi with open fear. “We can’t help him right now.”
“Then what the fuck do we do?!” You looked at her, incredulous.
She nodded towards where the blue circle was extinguishing itself around you, Pierre storming through as a still-bleeding Vincent was kneeling and retching on his own blood on the floor behind him. “We handle this first.”
“Of all the ridiculous, insolent—“ Pierre was snarling, and you saw his eyes were still white even in his human face. “You really are insisting on justifying your execution, aren’t you?”
“I told you, you had options.” Rora shook her head, shoving her hand into the black velvet bag again. “You still picked the wrong Morvant.”
She hurled a fistful of crematory ash into the air, and you saw green sparks zip through it like lightning bugs, connecting pieces of bone in macabre constellations. As they fell to the floor, they began to assemble themselves, and you saw skeletal arms forming from fragments of knuckle bones, legs building themselves into materializing pelvises, teeth forming anew only to set themselves into skulls that bloomed around them.
It was the most fucked-up garden you’d ever seen, and it was beautiful.
The skeletons, whether partial or whole, turned, still glowing a bright green as they converged towards Pierre.
Pierre snapped a finger, and you heard an enormous crash behind you as the two mirrors fell, the skeletons supporting them marching forward with their eye sockets glowing blue.
“Nope, those are mine too.” Rora threw her hand out, a tendril of green magic extending from her hand like a whip, and she hurled it at the oncoming battalion, striking them in the eyes so the blue was immediately replaced with her green.
You saw other figures starting to form out of purple mist around you on what had been the dance floor, and looked over your shoulder to see Hector aiming a glowing purple orb in his hand through the magnifying glass you’d tossed him. He was focusing hard on what you realized, after squinting hard, were the faintest outline of the family ghosts, drifting through the air like the hints of an afterimage after a bright light. When Hector focused the lens in a specific way, you saw the floating fragment suddenly fill with the deep purple color you had come to known as his. They seemed to solidify, to gain not only details, but a defined face - a memory more than the earlier echo, given life again by someone who remembered them, but by each other, seeming to gain even more clarity as they noticed each other around the room, inspecting one another as if for the first time in ages. Some were still fuzzier than others around the edges, but you realized that was only because they were older, maybe less remembered by the rest of the group. But as they grew in numbers, you saw them turn on Pierre, who was doing his best to mow down Rora’s stubborn skeletons with blue flame even as they reassembled themselves like jigsaw puzzles. The purple parade of the dead converged as one, their echoing voices raised in a single haunting battle cry of Morvants past, and soon, Pierre and what few bemasked guests had come out to defend him were being bombarded by battalions both bone and spirit.
You dodged through all this once you were sure Hector and Rora were safe from any other assaults, your eyes on the red light that radiated from the edge of the floor. You ducked a skeleton that was being hurled through the air with a somewhat permanently shocked expression, having no eyebrows or teeth, and slid on your knees under the scuffle to where Maxi was still kneeling, unmoved, on the tile floor.
“Baby,” you reached up, trying to brush his hair away from his eyes. “We gotta go. Rora and Hector have set up the distraction, the next step is to get out of here.”
Nothing. He continued, staring, black-eyed at the floor.
“Maxi?” You pleaded, shuffling closer on your knees to take his face in his hands. “Maxi, we have to clear out while we can. We can leave, we just have to go now.”
Still nothing. For a moment, even in the chaos, you found yourself straining to hear breath.
“Maxi,” you found yourself turning cold, your stomach twisting in knots. “Please talk to me. It’s me, baby, come on.” You leaned forward, reaching to take his hand in yours.
You were slammed back against the tile floor, the wind knocked from your lungs again as his eyes, still black as pitch, stared into yours.
You only just managed to stop the scalpel from plunging into your chest as you caught the blade with your hand, unable to help a scream as it split the skin of your palm and your own blood gushed briefly between your fingers.
Hector slammed his shoulder into Maxi’s, knocking him away from you and causing the scalpel to slide through your hand the other way. You hissed, curling into a ball as you tried to see straight through the black that crept around the edges of your vision.
You felt a cold hand touch your face, but something about it wasn’t solid enough to be Rora. Panting slightly through your nausea, you turned slightly to look, apprehensively twitching away in case of a threat.
A lone ghost, still white — the woman from earlier. The one who had stayed, lingering behind Vincent. She was kneeling at your side in a spectral skirt, touching nervously at your face, your temples.
You realized, as you gazed up at the ghost of their mother, that Maxi had inherited the shape of her eyes, and Rora had gotten her nose. You knew, though you weren’t sure how, that if she smiled you would see where he got that too.
She leaned down, placing a freezing kiss to your forehead. “He’s still in there,” she whispered, her hand smoothing over the bloody scratches of your scalp. “He hears you. Keep talking to him.”
“I TOLD YOU NO!”
You sat up slightly, watching Rora run over to where Maxi had Hector pinned against the floor, the red sparks of his hand seeming to sap the life from where he had his hand shoved against Hector’s throat. Hector was kicking uselessly underneath him, clearly having been struggling to no avail.
Rora knocked hard into Maxi, shoving her own arm under his hand to free Hector’s throat. Maxi turned on her, one glowing hand tearing at her face as he tried to pull her closer by her arm.
Their mother watched this, her eyes wide and somehow overbright with nonexistent tears. “Help them,” she pleaded, looking to you. “Help them where I couldn’t.”
You only barely glimpsed her starting to fade away to nothing as you got up, forcing yourself to sprint even though it hurt to hurl yourself between the Morvant twins.
You were immediately entangled, Maxi now snarling as he tried to grab you while Rora took the sudden release as an opportunity to grab you and pull you back. For a moment, Maxi had hold of your wrist as Rora held your waist, and when you cried out in pain, you saw the black of his eyes flicker for just a moment.
You watched as the sparks coming from his hand found your scalpel wound in your palm, crawling into it and just barely beginning to knit the skin back together.
Hector came from nowhere, punching Maxi hard in the jaw and sending him sprawling before grabbing you and Rora. “Come on!”
The two of you got to your feet, and as you followed Hector, you realized the masquerade had dissolved into chaos. The fire had gone from glue in cases to red, spreading along the stage and the curtains surrounding it and turning everything to ash. People who had been spectating were now running, screaming, tables and chairs overturned as they panicked to get away.
As you ran towards the entrance, you watched the glut of people there and realized with the fire spreading as fast as it was, there was no way you were getting out.
Hector and Rora seemed to realize this too, the two of them slowing to a stop as they tried to figure out another plan in the chaos.
Over your shoulder, in your frantic search for another way out, you saw Maxi get to his feet, still glowing bright red. “What now?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Princess,” Rora called over her shoulder, her sarcasm unable to cover up the obvious fear in her voice.
Hector ran a hand through his hair, scanning the room again… and his eyes fell on the giant mirrors, now leaning haphazard and abandoned against the ground. “…Okay,” he said slowly. “I’ve never done this with other people before, but we don’t have a choice.”
“It better be fast.” Rora was watching over her shoulder as Maxi was making his way through the crowd.
“I trust you,” you called to Hector over the din, having to tear your eyes from your approaching possessed beloved.
Hector looked at you for a second with an unreadable expression before he grabbed your hand and Rora’s in each of his, marching you both over to the mirror laying on the ground. “Don’t let go of me no matter what, okay? And no matter what you hear, don’t turn around!”
“What are we doing?!” Rora looked from him to the mirror in front of you.
Hector looked over his shoulder and then back down, calculating how much time you had. “When I say so, we’re gonna jump into the mirror.”
“Hex, what the fuck?!” Rora looked at him, incredulous.
“It’s gonna work, I swear!” Hector called.
In your wrist, you felt a heartbeat speed up that wasn’t yours, so fast it felt like it might pop through your skin.
Hector began glowing a soft purple, his eyes expanding to ominous black, and he squeezed both your hands. “Now!”
Just as you caught the scent of Maxi’s cologne from behind you, you jumped forcefully into the mirror in front of you.
Rather than feel glass smashing under your boots, you fell through the glass as though into a pool, silvery cold and leaving you breathless from the force of it. Around you, white lights of various shapes - rectangles, circles, ovals - seemed to float suspended in an endless abyss.
In the darkness that suspended them, if you looked for too long, you could see other shapes.
Figures, seemingly aware of these intruders in their midst.
Hector seemed to focus on a vertical rectangle, yanking you and Rora toward it as you floated together in this limbo. You followed, not sure how you were propelling yourself, but hanging onto him for dear life or death or undeath or whatever it was you were on now.
As you moved faster, you heard whispers. People - or something else - noticing you there. Trying to get your attention.
You kept your eyes ahead on what appeared to be the Right floating rectangle, though how Hector could tell, you never knew.
You had to fight not to look back when you heard a familiar voice in your ear.
“Are you sure, honey? Is this what you want?”
Your great aunt Lula. For a moment, your heart leaped, and you wanted to turn —
Only to remember Hector’s warning.
You kept your eyes forward, as much as it pained you.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
You shook your head, hoping she’d understand.
She didn’t. “Look at me.”
You kept your head determinedly forward.
“Look. At. Me.”
Your blood went cold as something new crept into her voice - something you’d never heard from her before in life.
You realized then this wasn’t Lula. You didn’t know what this was.
“I SAID LOOK AT ME, YOU LITTLE LIVING BITCH.”
You felt something claw-like grip your ankle, and you kicked at it, terrified but still trying to avoid looking at whatever it was.
Not a moment too soon, though, the elderly woman from the apartment appeared, her hair floating around her like a silver crown to go with her glittering evening dress.
“Oh, never you mind that, darlin’,” she said, kicking it hard with her heel. “Those things are just pests. Y’all come on in!”
Before you realized what was happening, Hector was pulling each of you through the floating glowing rectangle —
And the three of you fell in a heap onto the dusty carpet, air slamming its way abruptly back into your lungs.
As you sat up, gasping for breath, Grandmere Morvant gave you an elegant wave from her mirror. “Y’all come back now!” She blew you each a kiss, before shimmering into nothingness.
“How long,” Rora panted, sitting up and shoving her hair out of her face. “Have you been able to do that?”
Hector was still laying on the ground, looking immensely relieved as the black cleared from his eyes and his glow faded from around him. “I experimented a lot in my twenties,” he glanced at her, grinning slightly. “For a while I thought I was just getting really high, until I realized it was actually real.”
“You’re an idiot,” Rora said, rolling her eyes slightly. “But you’re also a genius.”
“What about Maxi?” you asked, looking back through the mirror. “We just… we left him.” As everything settled in on you, you were doing your best to push the overwhelming feeling of your chest being underwater aside, but it was getting harder with every second. “I told him I wouldn’t leave him.”
“He would’ve wanted you to run,” Rora said softly, glancing back at the mirror. “He’s going to catch up to us anyway.”
“Which is why we need a head start.” Hector got to his feet, pulling up Rora and then extending his hand to you.
You took it, trying to look away to hide the fact that you were very definitely about to cry as you got up.
“Hey.” Hector squeezed your hand, and you turned to look at him reluctantly. “He told me if shit went south to get you out of there, okay? And shit went so far south it’s in Cape Horn.” He gave you a sad smile. “You didn’t abandon anybody. He’d understand.”
You nodded mutely, still feeling like a traitor in the very core of your being.
“Come on.” Hector turned, heading for the front door, and Rora followed. You grabbed your bag from where you’d left it next to the door as y’all were leaving for a quick getaway, getting dressed here already feeling like it had happened days ago and not just earlier that night.
You piled into the mustang, you in the back and Rora and Hector in the front. You folded your arms across your chest, hugging yourself out of desperation to feel the tiniest bit less like you were about to fall apart.
“There’s a jacket back there.” You looked up, seeing Rora watching you in the rearview mirror as Hector backed up and peeled out. “I found it in the trunk earlier. You can put that on if you’re cold.”
You looked towards the far side of the back seat, finding a leather jacket crumpled where it had been hastily tossed. You picked it up, shrugging it over your shoulders —
And you were immediately hit with the smell of Maxi’s cologne.
You paused, your chest aching so hard you thought it would split, and pulled the jacket back around to your front to bury your face in the collar.
It was going to be okay. You would make it okay.
It had to be okay, because you didn’t know what you would do if you couldn’t get him back.
The mustang roared through the dark, and you kept your face hidden in the leather, trying to figure out a plan.
Well, two: One for if you succeeded, and one for if you failed.
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sulieykte · 10 months
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Another sftc concept that cracks me up is Neteyam not understanding what an SD card is and that since he had been able to stumble across your spicy pics, you’d started storing them separately. So when poor Lo’ak is just wanting to see pictures of his new baby nephew/niece (don’t talk to me about uncle Lo’ak I have feels) he gets scarred for life, but how was Neteyam supposed to know?? He’d been looking through the camera the day before and they were all of the baby! Queue debate of who’s fault it actually is while Lo’ak escapes with their newborn telling them that their parents are sexual deviants.
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smartfusion01 · 3 months
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Hypertherm Plasma Cutter Suppliers: Finding the Right Partner for Your Needs
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Among the cutting-edge tools that have revolutionized the industry, Hypertherm Plasma Cutters stand out for their exceptional performance. Finding the right supplier is crucial for any metalworking arsenal.
Let’s explore the key factors to consider when searching for the ideal partner and fulfilling your plasma-cutting needs.
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onismdaydream · 22 days
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My request is continuing the fics based on links 😭😭 I like the series
im glad you like it! i was worried it was gonna flop so hard :(
i DO have some videos saved, with the next batch probably containing yuta, choso, and gojo. i was gonna try and write a few things in between so i can space it out a bit!
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