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#was anyone waiting for this idk but it's here
eiightysixbaby · 2 days
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hi there! i'm OBSESSED with your eddie works and I had a lil request for u!
(if this is out of your comfort zone, I totally get btw, i'm just actually hormonal rn)
thinking about reader and eddie while she's ovulating and absolutely, positively feral... maybe they've only been together for a little while and they've fucked before, but he's never really seen that side of her... idk i'm just thinking a lot of thoughts rn
thanks! 💞
hi angel! thank you so much!!! 🥹🫶🏻 i hope i did your request justice 🩵
18+ only plssss. fem!reader, unprotected piv
The clock ticks obnoxiously where it hangs on the wall, marking each passing second that won’t pass fast enough.
It’s not unusual for a shift at the library to go slowly, but today time feels like it’s trudging through thick molasses; barely crawling by. Or maybe it’s just going backwards at this point, who knows.
You chew at the cap of your pen, reading the same sentence of the novel in front of you over and over yet not fully comprehending it. Trying to ignore the desperate ache between your thighs, the heat that pools in the pit of your stomach. It had been a relentless desire for the last couple of hours, a hunger that couldn’t be sated just yet.
But the promise of seeing your boyfriend after work had you chewing-through-your-leash desperate for your shift to end. You know Eddie had a nice dinner planned for the two of you tonight, but all you can think about is how badly you need his hands on you. It makes you feel bad, but you can’t rid yourself of thoughts of his lips on your neck, his fingers splitting you open, your hips grinding against him. This always happens when you’re ovulating, only this time… you’re not hiding it.
The last couple of times, you’d made do with your vibrator at home; embarrassed to let Eddie see this side of you. Your relationship was still quite new, and you weren’t sure if ripping his clothes off any chance you got would scare him away or not. This time, though? You can’t hold back any longer.
The end of your shift arrives at long last, and you practically fling yourself from your receptionist chair. You gather your belongings with haste, throwing everything into your shoulder bag before hightailing it out the door. Your keys jangle as you fumble with them, searching for the correct one to unlock your car. Eddie will be expecting you, although maybe not expecting you in the state that you’re in.
It doesn’t take long to get to the trailer park, your thighs pressing together in an attempt to provide even the smallest amount of friction as you drive along familiar roads. Your car is barely in park before you’re killing the engine, ascending the few steps to his trailer door and swinging it open without a knock to alert anyone inside. Wayne isn’t home anyway, so really what do you need to knock for?
Eddie’s frame appears in his bedroom doorway down the small hallway, his face brightening at the sight of you. You feel like you’re sweating just looking at him, your clothes suddenly too tight as the space between your thighs vibrates with need.
“Hey, baby. I didn’t expect you so soon, did you fly over here?” Eddie asks, a lighthearted joke, but he’s not far from the truth.
You don’t even answer him, slipping off your shoes before you’re trodding down the hallway, throwing your arms around his neck when you reach him.
“Baby, what’s—” he starts to speak, only for you to cut him off with a hot kiss to his lips. His voice dies against your mouth, fizzling into a soft whimper as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth.
“Missed you so bad,” you murmur. Your nervousness over how he’d react is tossed out the window, unwilling to wait any longer. “And I’ve been wanting you all fucking day,” you ramble, kissing him between words. “I need you,” you plead, letting a hand fumble with his belt buckle.
He makes a sound that’s halfway between a gasp and a laugh, kissing you before speaking. “Do you not want to go to dinner?” he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side.
“I do,” you admit with a pout. “But I need you right now.” Your hands are on a mission, palming him urgently through denim as if he might disappear any second, never to be touchable again.
The corner of his mouth twitches up in a soft smirk, his thumbs rubbing over your hipbones where his hands hold them.
“I’ve never seen you this needy, sweetheart,” he teases you, brushing his lips across the shell of your ear before he bites at the lobe. “But I like it.”
You whine at this, the slightest touch, and he breathes a quiet laugh.
“Please, Eddie, don’t tease,” you beg as he noses your chin up, kissing at your neck.
He doesn’t listen, taking his time trailing kisses down your soft skin and letting his hands wander but never close enough to where you need him. You can feel yourself dripping, making a mess of your panties. His big hands squeeze your ass, taking greedy handfuls. You let out a moan, louder than you’d intended, earning the nip of his teeth against your skin. Taunting.
You’re riled up, frustrated beyond belief, huffing where you stand before you decide you’ve had enough.
You press your hands to his chest, pushing him off of you. He’s surprised by the action, giving you the opportunity to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him over to his bed and letting him fall onto the mattress. He sits on the edge of it, looking up at you equal parts dumbfounded and turned on. Your hands hurriedly undo the hefty buckle on his belt, unzipping his jeans as you start to straddle his lap. His cock is throbbing, leaking as it lays in waiting in your hand once you retrieve it from its confines.
“Told you not to tease,” you say. His big brown eyes roam over your face, his pretty lips parted just slightly in a state of awe. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”
“Yes ma’am,” he obeys, but it’s less him doing the work and more you taking control.
You ruck your skirt up, pushing the fabric of your panties to the side and lining yourself up with his cock, sliding slowly down onto the length of him. Your name escapes his lips as his leaves yours, already starting to rock your hips against his.
He holds you firmly in place on his lap, guiding your movements to the best of his ability. The stretch he provides you with is delicious, exactly what you’d been craving, the entirety of him filling you up perfectly.
“You’re so fucking soaked, baby,” he remarks, bringing one hand up to briefly run through his messy curls, his cheeks already flushed pink. “Feel bad you had to wait so long for me while you’ve been this worked up.”
He’s teasing you, kind of. Pitying you in a way that only makes you ache further. You bounce faster on him, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. He’s cursing under his breath as you’re fucking yourself on his length, riding him with a fervor and determination he hasn’t seen from you yet. He finds it hotter than he’d have ever expected, seeing you in such a state, and it’s taking everything he has not to finish early.
Lucky for him you aren’t far behind, desperate to cum after waiting all day. He lets one of his thumbs lazily circle your clit, sensing your desire to let go in the way your brows furrow in concentration.
Strings of moans tumble from your mouth, curse after curse of his name as you quicken your pace. Your head tips back, pure ecstasy coursing through you as you take what you want from him unashamedly. The rough pad of his finger on your clit makes you feel like you’re on fire, ablaze beneath his touch. His hips buck to meet your bounces, the tip of his cock pressing over and over against your sweet spot.
“Eddie—” you gasp, just as you fall apart on top of him. Your walls grip him like a vice, making him bite down on his lip.
He works you through your high, pulling out when he can’t possibly hold off his orgasm any longer. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before he spills against your skin, cum dripping down your pussy.
Both panting, sweaty messes, you meet each other’s eyes and laugh.
“Feel better now, sweets?” he asks, lips pressing against yours in a heated kiss.
You break away momentarily, cradling his face in your hands. “You have no idea.”
He smiles. “Well, for what it’s worth, you have permission to use me whenever you need me.”
“Thank god,” you sigh, smiling against his cheek. “Cause I don’t think I’m done for the night.”
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lushaletta · 1 day
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the dark lord and his distraction / tom riddle
pairing: fem!reader x tom riddle
content: muggleborn!reader, swearing
summary: you distract tom from his plans. and he hates it.
a/n: this is my pt. 2 to the lamb and her wolf! idk if i like this but i kinda do but Arghh idk. there will prob be a part 3. love u guys!
read part one here!
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⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.゚ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗
“Hello!” you chirp, skipping over, books in hand.
Tom’s not looking for company. In fact, he was actively avoiding it. He couldn’t continue to be distracted by you. He had work to be done, meetings to be held. But he’s a weak man recently. “Hello.”
You set your things down and lace your arms around his neck suddenly. He’s absolutely horrified. “Thank you for your help studying, Tommy, I’ve passed my exam with full marks!”
He clears his throat and you leave a patch of goosebumps in your wake. “You’re welcome,” he drawls. “You wouldn’t have to spend so much extra time revising if you’d only paid attention in class.”
Tom knows you’re merely a distraction, an inconvenience to be ignored. Deadweight to his plans. You’d be a mistake. It’s obvious what he should do. He should send you off on your merry way and end whatever friendship has blossomed between you, so you at least have a chance at living. For someone so obsessed with immortality, Tom knew he was a dead man the moment you strut into his life, all smiles and Mary Jane’s. But he’s selfish, and so you were dead right with him, that very minute.
He doesn’t like anything you bring. He doesn’t like the reactions you elicit from calling him Tommy and he doesn’t like how you make him happy. Or hopeful. There is no hope for him. He’s destined to live a half-life and he doesn’t like that he wants to make you live that life too.
And you’re not entirely stupid. You know there’s something strange about him and that’s exactly why you come every day with your books and snacks. You’re curious. He’s haunting— a concoction of allure and fear and it’s all but enticing. “Well, who wants to do that? You’re a far better teacher.”
His face casts the ghost of a smile. “Don’t you have chess club in 15 minutes?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there,” you say, easily. Then the realisation dawns on you: You’ve never given him your schedule. “Wait a second,” you laugh. “How do you know that?”
He holds an even tone. “Not hard to guess.”
You blink. Change the topic. “You’re very pretty, you know?”
His knees almost give out and he’s seated comfortably on a chair. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying hard not to sound surprised. He’s not unaware of his good looks, but how anyone could be so casual about it is beyond him.
You’re an aberration, he thinks. No, he’s sure. You write notes in the margins of his textbooks and fall asleep on his shoulder. And when you do so, you let out the cutest little snores and purr. Like a fucking kitten. It drives him to insanity and even deeper into his spiral.
“No, like, you are super pretty. It’s kind of otherworldly.”
He’s not too sure what to say. He’s never rendered speechless by anyone, but fuck, you’re his exception to just about everything. Instead, he stiffens and breathes out a small, “That’s kind.”
Your cheeks dimple and Tom swears he sees his future. But that’s crazy. He has to remember who you are and hell, who he is. He’s the Dark Lord, evil, no matter how you see him in that pretty head of yours. And you’re a filthy Mudblood.
It’s been two days and he hasn’t seen you anywhere. He’s starting to think there *is* no cure to his hysteria because he acts crazy in both your presence and absence. He thinks about you too much in both. He’s looked everywhere; in all your classes and even your dorm that he’s managed to find.
He’s about giving up. There is no point because you’re meant to be temporary.
“Hi,” you say, breathlessly as you appear behind him, startling him into oblivion. He’s a skilled Legilimens so he should’ve heard your thoughts as you creeped up, but he was too busy with his own about you.
He conceals his relief and narrows his eyes. “You have been gone.”
You look a little disheveled but beautiful as ever. Tom doesn’t sweat, but it feels like he’s going to. “Family stuff. You know how it goes!”
Tom doesn’t know how it goes. He’s used to abandonment and lonely holidays. He doesn’t know how it goes but he knows how it feels to dread the Christmases and Easters and summers because all he can look forward to is disappointment.
He winces. You notice and cringe. You don’t know much about his family but judging by that reaction, it’s no good. “Mm,” he manages. It’s silence for a bit. Comfortable silence. He’s secretly relishing in your company. “I didn’t like it when you were gone.”
What a fucking tool.
The corners of your lips curl into a soft grin. “You are adorable!” you giggle. He’s mortified.
You haven’t really told any of your friends about your blooming acquaintanceship with Tom Riddle. After all, he’s not really known for his friendliness. But you trust Camilla. And you’ve used up the last of your excuses for bailing on meals to study with him.
“Riddle. Are you joking me?”
Your eyebrows quirk up. “No. He’s a breath of fresh air from the Hogwarts hustle. Not much of a talker though. I do most of that.”
She smiles a little like it’s expected of you but it fades once she refocuses. “He doesn’t like us Muggleborns, you know.”
“That’s silly.”
“Only true. I heard Mulciber whispering about it. Like, they really don’t like us. No wonder he’s such a git towards me in class.”
“Have you ever actually spoken to Tom, though?” You fold your arms over your chest. You’re not too sure why you’re being defensive.
“Well, no—“
“That’s what I thought! You don’t give people chances, Camilla. You rely on gossip to fuel your opinions,” you spit.
Camilla puts her hands up in surrender and starts talking about the cute Ravenclaw boy she’s planning to ask out.
“Oh! And I think Murphy fancies you! He asked me to ask you how you felt about him.”
You thought about him for a moment. He’s nothing special but he’s attractive and you’re honestly willing to give it a shot.
Tom is fuming, hearing what you think. Listening from around the corner and it’s creepy and borderline stalker-ish but he’s begun to feel a strange protectiveness over you. Frenzy and all that.
So, yes. You’re merely a distraction, an inconvenience to be ignored. Deadweight to his plans. But… you were a desire. A selfish, greedy desire.
And Tom always gets what he wants.
taglist for this series! @helalokithor @mli345 (can’t find ur blog so sorry!!) lmk if u want to be added!
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somerandommess · 2 hours
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Maxiel au 1400 words
Spies? Hitman? one of them. Idk where this came from but I really want to see what happens next, sadly I’m the one who has to write what happens next. Also, the maxiel is kind of implied…imaginary, almost. Pre relationship kind of. Squint while using a magnifying glass and you’ll see it.
inspired by the adore you verse (@onboardsorasora ) literally so good.
Max walked through the hotel corridors, tapping an envelope in his hand as he went. He kept his head on a swivel mainly to check if anyone was following him, but also to keep an eye out for the room he was looking for.
Suddenly a door opened behind him and he immediately tensed, turning his head around to see who it was. A man in a grey suit walked out talking loudly into his phone. The guy paid him no mind, but he still watched as he made sure he got into the elevator and the doors closed.
A minute passed and he tried to make himself relax. He brought his shoulders down from his ears and removed his hand that, on reflex, went to his gun holster.
He hadn’t always been like this. Two years ago you wouldn’t catch him using a gun. It made things too easy. However, recent events made him pick it up again. That, and the bullet wound in his arm made him decide that he doesn’t care if guns made things easy; getting shot fucking hurt.
He shook out his arms and continued walking.
330…331…332…
He stopped infront the door.
333.
He looked down at himself, his dress shoes had flecks of blood on them and his pants were a little dusty. He frowned but decided he looked good enough. He had stolen a shirt from house keeping earlier, but threw away the nameplate.
Sorry Jerry D. , but he needed to look presentable for what he was about to do.
He knocked on the door.
No answer.
He waited and leaned closer to try and hear if anyone was moving around.
Nothing.
He knows that there’s someone in there because the front desk said they hadn’t checked out yet.
He realizes now that the front desk could have been lying.
He knocks again. This time he hears a thud and mumbling. No one opens the door.
Max has had enough of this.
“Listen I know you’re in there. I have something you want,” he hears the click of a lock, and smiles a bit, “Daniel-“
The door flies open and he’s pulled inside and thrown face first to the floor. He couldn’t catch himself as it was so unexpected and he curses himself for it.
He rolls onto his back and reaches for his gun to shoot-
The gun isn’t there. It’s being pointed in his face.
He leans back on his elbows, “Daniel”
The click of the safety goes off.
Max gulps.
Daniel is in jeans and nothing else. His chest is badly bruised (broken ribs?) and he’s sporting a black eye. He holds the gun in his left hand while the right stays at his side, his trigger and middle finger bandaged together.
With his injuries Max expects his hand to shake, it remains steady.
“Did Zak send you?” Daniel asks.
“No one sent me. I came looking for you.”
“Bullshit”
Max tries to get up, but Daniel fires a shot in the space between his legs.
“What the fuck” he scoots back till he hits the wall, “Do you know whose hotel this is? You can’t shoot me!”
Daniel scoffs, “I didn’t shoot you. I almost shot you, there’s a difference. And Toto knows I’m here, he won’t mind” he waves the gun around before sighing.
He tucks the gun into the waistband of his jeans and sits on the bed. He passes a hand through his hair and looks at the floor.
“What are you doing here Max?”
Max gets to his feet and walks over to the doorway where the envelope he was carrying fell. He picks it up and hands it to Daniel. He doesn’t take it so he rests it next to him on the bed.
“Sebastian has an offer for you. A way out… Revenge.”
Daniel takes the envelope, “Revenge? Last time I tried that they broke my jaw”
Max puts his hands in his pockets, “You won’t be the only one. Fernando went rogue, took Stroll with him. Even George left. He blew up HQ to show he was serious”
He looks at Max surprised. “Russell George…” he murmurs.
Max turns and watches Daniel through the mirror by the door. He watches as he opens the envelope and pulls the paper out halfway. He averts his eyes from the paper but he doesn’t miss the fond look Daniel gives as he reads the letter. Seb has always shown his love for Daniel in his own way.
Daniel puts the letter back and closes the envelope.
“So, what do you want revenge for?”
Max blinks, “Pardon?”
Daniel gets up and stands just behind him.
“I know why I want revenge, and I'm assuming everyone is either getting out or wants revenge. Which one is on your to-do list?”
Max turns and faces him, “You know what they say about assuming,”
Daniel hums and turns to get a shirt from his duffel on the floor. He groans as he stoops and Max wills himself to stay put.
He pulls out a blue party shirt with pineapples and struggles to put it on.
Max can’t take it anymore so he helps him get it over his head. Focusing his eyes on anywhere but Daniels exposed body. When he’s done they’re standing eye to eye and he tries to convince himself that Daniel did not just look at his lips.
Max breaks the silence, “You getting your revenge is enough for me.”
They stand there before Daniel blinks like he remembers something.
“How long ago did George blow up HQ?”
“Yesterday?”
“You think since he you know…that Toto…” he trails off and looks around the hotel room.
“Might try and kill you? Yes” Max finishes.
“We should leave”
“Yes”
They move around the room like a well oiled machine. Max gathering anything belonging to Daniel and shoving it into his suitcase, and Daniel taking note of his various IDs in his duffel.
They leave the room in a hurry, and Daniel is still shoving his feet into sneakers when they reach the stairwell.
They reach downstairs to the car park and Daniel whistles when he sees Maxs car.
Max rolls his eyes and shoves the suitcase onto the backseat with his own.
When he gets in, Daniel is running his hands on every surface.
“It’s just car Daniel”
“A very nice car. Stolen?”
“Rental” he starts it and revs it just to see Daniels reaction.
Daniel laughs and leans back. Max peels out of there with a drift.
A few minutes into the ride, Daniel takes the gun from his pants and tosses it into Maxs lap.
Max tries not to swerve, “It could have gone off!” he curses in Dutch.
“Safety was on”
Max takes the gun and puts it in between them next to the gear stick.
He takes the next left to the airport and Daniel freezes.
“I can’t exactly get on a plane right now. I have people looking for me”
Max rolls his eyes, “Everyone’s looking for you,”
Daniel tenses, “I mean more recently. They’re kind of upset that I stole from them. I can’t fly commercial”
“We’re not” Max says simply.
Daniel goes for the gun and points it at him. Max isn’t fazed.
“We’re flying private”
—-
“Since when did you get a jet?” Daniel watches in shock and awe as they pull up to the aircraft.
“It wasn’t my idea.” They both watch as the door opens and someone comes down the steps.
Max barely has time to put the vehicle into park before Daniel opens the door and steps out.
“Charlie?!”
Charles turns his head, “Daniel!”
They run and hug each other while Max rolls his eyes for what feels like the twentieth time today.
“Where have you been? Last I heard you were in Canada doing wet-work with Scotty”
“That was a year ago”
Charles sighs, “It’s been hard to keep in touch with you,”
Daniel feels guilty, and it must show because then Charles pats him on the back and shoves him up the stairs of the plane.
Max follows carrying two suitcases and a duffel bag.
They get settled and Daniel drinks two glasses of champagne.
Charles comes back from speaking with the captain and sits across from him and Max.
“I’m sure you have questions-“
Daniel cuts him off,
“Just one for now,” he taps the window, “where are we going?”
“London” Max answers easily.
“London? What’s in London?”
——
Not beta read
What’s in London? We may never know.
it’s Lewis. He’s in London and he brings them to a base, explanations happen, flashbacks. We find out- [gunshot]
I’ll stop
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one thing about ik is that she will always reach out
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unclewaynemunson · 6 months
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Pt2 to this post
'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.
It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.
Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'
'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'
Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.
'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'
'What happened?'
He sighs. 'It's complicated.'
'Wanna tell me about it?'
The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.
But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.
He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.
'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.
Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.
'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'
'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.
Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.
'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'
Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.
'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.
'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'
She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'
'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'
She nods. 'Okay.'
For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.
'Is it Eddie?'
Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.
'Wha- what?'
'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'
'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.
Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'
Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'
'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'
'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'
Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'
To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.
'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'
'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'
'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'
'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.
Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)
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gulducock · 2 years
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look at this pic i found on twitter
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lunarharp · 2 months
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What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)
#witch hat tag#orufrey#er.... i'm too tired to have anything to say..i worked several days on this.#wait.. didn't i say just recently here that i probably wouldn't ever depict 'what if alaira is qifrey's sort-of ex'. What's going on#i don't even remember deciding to draw this..it's all a blur..i'm not sure why i WOULD decide to draw delicate scenes in my head#that i wouldn't really want to share with anyone/discuss so why did i draw it...#some part of me really really wants to draw things that are more and more true to myself...#maybe because of my alienation with most romance/shipping/dynamics the rest of the world depicts.#orufrey really is perfectly suited to me - what i read in the text and what is in my head. well anyway#i am TIRED of drawing poses and angles and..maybe now i will actually take a break from drawing bc of the tediousness of Angles#btw it really is a 'stretch of time' . . . assuming witches graduate age 18-20#well orufrey are canonically 30-ish. they've only had agott around for presumably about TWO years (?) bc she took the test age 10#and it feels like oru moving in/unknown atelier acquisition/building (?) .. i guess that could be a year or so before agott at most#(she was the first disciple) so... ????????? What about the other 7 or so years ?!?!?!!?!?! Unemployed Brimhat Hatred era#that time is very nebulous. after qifrey went to the tower i feel like it's been implied he and oru drifted apart a little.#certainly they didn't live together at first... no way. that doesn't feel like how it is based on things oru has said about becoming Eye#idk. I'm tired now. i don't usually think of alaira as necessarily qifrey's ex and this being how things went in that 'sliver of time'.#i usually prefer the idea that they have their first kiss with each other in their 30s cause That's Just The Orufrey Lifestyle#just felt like making a more relatable alternative view of my own Cai Orufrey Canon one time. btw im a big monoshipper and it hurt a bit#let's leave it there. this is surely the most i've worked on a 'single' art - though now i realise just how much longer the fic took :')
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perseabeth · 11 days
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These lines by Apollo, aka Lester, live in my mind rent free
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Listen, i have no theory, i have absolutely no idea what is the connection here
ALSO:
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I mean HELLO?? A four-thousand-something years old god saying that. plus i might not be knowledgeable about genetics and how it works but doesn’t percy possess these eyes because of Poseidon ?
this is an extract taken from The Lightening Thief:
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I’ve been a reader of Rick Riordan for so long that i know he doesn’t just add things randomly
I don’t know what’s happening here, but I do know that Estelle Blofis, the very lovable energetic child who is very much capable of dominating the planet (Apollo’s words not mine) might have an important role in the story
but again, who knows
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cuubism · 7 months
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hello friends. despite my 9 million existing dreamling wips i'm feeling the need to branch out a bit for the sake of my mental variety. what pairing other than dreamling should i write a little something for? could be romantic or platonic
other way of phrasing i guess: any pairings you really want to see more fics for in the fandom?
#i actually do have one someone asked me for ages ago i've been meaning to get to so i'll try to do that too#bonus points if it still involves dream bc you know i love dream XD#probably wont do any romantic pairings /between/ the endless because well yeah#but open to exploring pretty much anything else... feel free to send whatever if you want. dont worry about if i'll like it#if i can't vibe with it or find it uncomfy i just won't write it no harm no foul#not me soliciting little prompts fully knowing that motivation is a fickle beast and who knows if i would get to writing them XD i want#to though! or like. idk. if anyone wants to share headcanons about their favorite pairings i am happy to receive them#the sandman#a couple that are bouncing around my head already:#rose meeting desire. this could be really interesting i think (they are of course her grandparent)#calliope and lucienne post-calliope's imprisonment: i think their dynamic could be interesting since they both have/had close relationships#with dream. but of course calliope's relationship with him fell apart. i think lucienne with whatever context of it she had would probably#be sympathetic to calliope's perspective but still staunchly On Dream's Side so the speak bc she is ultimately very loyal to him... could b#an interesting convo.#additionally - calliope and johanna. both suffered things recently. both had curious interactions with dream where they recently saw both#his vicious side AND a kinder more understanding side of him... [dream gave rachel a peaceful death at johanna's request etc]#but they've come out of their suffering really differently (granted it was different types of suffering. but)#wow here i am asking for people's ideas and then just coming up with my own XD#anyway#wait two others: i'm fascinated by the potential dynamic of lucienne and the corinthian they only had like one short scene together in the#show but can you imagine. spending eons being loyal to dream and then going opposite directions with that loyalty. being among dream's inne#circle so to speak except lucienne is her own entity while corinthian was /created/ by dream. they have the most fascinating venn diagram o#personality traits and narrative positions...#secondly. and this is kind of crack. but like. imagine johanna and corinthian in the same room XD 'hi i'm an exorcist and this is my pet#serial killer' 'yeah my lord gave me a vacation to go kill some demons' why doesn't he try to kill johanna? bc she tried to destroy him#first time they met and he can't help but respect it XD
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@endlesspaint
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musicaldamage · 1 year
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During Maxim and Frank's little conversation at the end about why Rebecca was at the gynaecologist's and Mrs Danvers listens in - when Maxim mentions her having given a false name (Sie hat jeden getäuscht/sogar den Arzt/sie gab den falschen Namen an), Willemijn suddenly lifts her head a bit and I just had to think of how iirc in the novel its said that Rebecca gave her surname as "Danvers".......
Idk where I'm going with this but. Thoughts™
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ghst-signal · 6 months
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if you know anything about me, it's i love collecting tarot cards. i especially love fandom related ones. heck i even have the official fallout tarot cards.
so when i saw that they are coming out with officially licensed good omens tarot cards i was ecstatic
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look at them! beautiful! cool as heck!
wait a minute
isn't the 6 in the major arcana usually the lovers card?
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what the hell is "the duo" card?
y'all out here really making official Good Omens tarot cards and are really going to "gal pals" aziraphale and crowley? really? REALLY??
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dangans-ur-ronpas · 10 days
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Chapter 18
are we finally getting somewhere with the trial? please??
SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY
Some pre-chapter notes:
was tempted to start this chapter with toko waking up and gasping 'i think i like girls!!'
wanted to say that everything would've been resolved way earlier if people were just a little nicer to toko before remembering that aoi was literally doing that and she STILL obsessed over byakuya. can we get this girl to a therapist please
shoutout to @digitaldollsworld for reading this at ass o'clock in the morning while i was still writing it. a real hero tbh
Content warning tags: self-deprecating language, implied self-harm, canon-typical manipulation and language
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There’s a moment of stillness. Someone shouts in alarm, and a few people nearly step away from their stands with intention to help. But just as quickly, the dark figure slumped behind the rail begins to clamber slowly upwards, hands bracing against the balusters as she totters to an upright position.
Slowly, carefully, Toko Fukawa stands up straight, trembling all the while. “I-Is this a trial? W-what’s going o-on?!”
The stammer certainly sounds like Fukawa.“...Toko? That’s really you, right?” Asahina tries tentatively. “Um, are you okay? Are you feeling alright?”
“I…” She looks around, hands fisted tight around her braids, twitching with the same nervous quality of a bird. Her eyes must have landed on Byakuya, and the venomous stare he was giving her, because she squeaks and cowers again. “I-!”
“Chihiro’s body was found today. Approximately twenty minutes after you left the library.” He says coldly, words clipped and harsh. “Kyoko says you were both in the boy’s bathroom before the body discovery alarm. Can you verify this?”
“W-what?!” She stutters. “I-I don’t know w-what’s going on, I n-never know-” She’s shaking violently, as if she’s about to faint again.
“Let’s try a different question.” Kirigiri cuts in. “Toko. What were you doing between 12:30 and 1 o’clock today?”
“Wh- A-are you accusing me of s–something?!”
“No. But everyone else has given testimony on their whereabouts during this time. Yours would help grant us a better understanding of the course of events.” Kirigiri says patiently. Fukawa sways for a moment, thinking carefully, before she answers.
“Th-the library,” She half-mumbles, hands twisting in her braids over and over again, the black coils weaving over her pale fingers like eels. “Um, I w-wanted to talk to B-Byakuya alone, so I w-went to the library, a-and we t-talked for a bit…and then-”
He suddenly realizes what she’s about to say, but it’s too late to stop it. “Then, u-um, he h-hit me…w-with a book.”
He can feel eyes turning towards him, and the air turns disapproving. He scowls back. “She’s left out the part where she tried to blackmail me with the secret that she peeked at the other night.” He explains, and at once Fukawa flushes darkly and begins stammering something out.
“I-! I wasn’t b-blackmailing you!”
“What other word should I have used then? Manipulation? Coercion?” He asks sarcastically, and she shrivels and withers at his words.
“I told you m-my secret too, s-so it’d be fair-”
“You told me you were a serial killer who targets the men you fancied. Forgive me if I wasn’t immediately won over.”
The atmosphere turns a little less hostile at that. “Okay, yeah. If it’s like that I kinda get it.” Hagakure is nodding sagely, as if he understands everything. “But, seriously. You shouldn’t hit girls, man…”
“...Are you really going to do this now?” He just needed this trial to be over, already. The adrenaline of the earlier reveal had worn off, and now he felt sick with anger and exhaustion. “The whole thing barely took ten minutes. I wasn’t interested in dragging it out any longer than I had to.”
“Still, hitting is sort of-” But Hagakure shuts up at the glare Byakuya gives him, and quickly amends. “Never mind. Gender equality. Especially in self-defense. Cool, got it, my bad.”
“So, I suppose it is safe to assume that the source of the blood on your hand, and the book from earlier, was because of this confrontation?” Celeste asks. And, without waiting for an answer: “Then, that would also mean that the reason you were holding that file on Syo was due to what Toko had revealed to you.”
She sounds all too satisfied with herself for reaching that conclusion. “And so, it seems that the most damning evidence that had been implicating you has been disproven. Is that not reassuring?”
“...Don’t patronize me.”
“Why, I wouldn’t dare.” She laughs lightly, a soft sound that perfectly conceals her shrewdness.
“Toko. Please, continue.” Kirigiri says again, and there’s a quiet rustle as Fukawa yanks at her hair, the strands scraping over her fingers.
“A-after he h-hit me, I left…u-um, I went to the bathroom t-to w-wash my face, and when I touched the faucet - I-I mean, I wiped my f-face with my hands earlier, a-and the b-blood…” She trails off and shakes her head, and shoves her face into a fistful of her hair. 
Byakuya suddenly recalls something, something that Fukawa had mentioned during their confrontation in the library in a hurried, muttered tone. “Syo comes out when you see blood.” He remembers aloud, and her incoherent words begin clicking together.
Her pale face immediately darkens to an ugly, blotchy pink. “Yeah, um. I-I’m scared of b-blood, so…a-and when she’s out, I d-don’t have any m-memory of what s-she does.” She cradles her face in her hands, swaying a little like a swooning maiden. “S-so you did remember…” She mumbles, apparently to herself, and he feels his stomach turn with disgust.
It’s not worth wasting the effort on her to think of a response, so he opts to ignore her fawning instead. “So Toko left the library and went to the boy’s bathroom, and fainted after seeing the blood on her hand.” That seems logical enough, but something about this sequence of events bothered him. 
According to Kirigiri, Syo only woke up shortly before the body discovery. If Fukawa went to the bathroom right after leaving the library, why had it taken so long? And that aside, there was something that bothered him about her story. Something that he couldn’t place a finger on.
He’s not the only one who noticed the fallacy. “Excuse me, Toko,” Makoto tries tentatively. “So…that means from around 12:40 to one, you were unconscious?”
“Y-yes? What, do you n-not believe me?” She immediately goes on the defensive, cagey and snappish. “Y-you think I’m l-lying, right? J-just because I’m l-like this, you th-think that e-everything I say is a l-lie-?! Y-you all think I s-strung Chihiro up, I kn-know it!”
“Toko…no one said that.” Asahina has her hands raised, in some attempt to calm her down. “We just want to know what happened.”
She was proving to be an impossible witness. Byakuya raises a hand to press to his temple, feeling his pulse throbbing beneath his fingertips. “Kyoko. Can you verify what Toko has said?” He asks, exasperated, and Kirigiri actually seems to startle a bit, head snapping to look at him.
“...I can’t.” She says, after a pause. “Because she did not enter the bathroom at that time, or else I would have noticed it.”
She remains fixated on him for a moment longer, before turning away. Belatedly, he suddenly realizes this was the second time he’s caught her off guard. The first time was when he pointed out the fact that access to information on Genocider Syo was limited.
He doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on that though. “So, that means that either you, or Toko, is lying about their whereabouts during this time.” He sighs. “For now, we need to identify which one of you both is deceiving us.”
Both are equally suspicious. Kirigiri has been mysterious, even more so than usual, and purposefully vague about her activities. And he didn’t trust Fukawa at all to start with, but she was also clumsy and awkward. It was hard to imagine her being able to plan everything ahead to this degree, from planting the evidence, to staging the actual murder…
“Wait. Something’s not right.” Makoto says suddenly, and his voice is clear and contemplative, his chin tucked over his knuckle. “If Toko fainted before she actually washed her hands, then how come her hands are clean? Remember, when we first met Syo, she showed us that her hands were totally free of blood.”
“I-I-!” She squawks, indignant, but she can’t seem to formulate a reply for a few moments. “M-maybe Syo washed my h-hands or s-something, I don’t know! S-she’s the one that k-kills people, so o-of course she would h-hide her tracks!”
“But, again, the sinks of the boy’s bathroom were all dry.” Makoto points out, and Fukawa sputters some more. “And…”
He pauses, and his head dips for a moment, enough for a shadow to cast over his face. “Toko. How did you know that Chihiro is dead?”
Byakuya figures it out a half-step after him, and silently kicks himself for not picking up on it earlier. And the others pick up on it as well, and the atmosphere turns dark, thick with unease and suspicion. Same as the elevator ride down, but this time, directed at Fukawa.
She’s gaping like a fish. She turns left and right, shuffling slightly. The rails of the stand stand tall and straight like the bars of a cage. “I-that’s-the portraits!” She yelps, and jabs out a pale hand in Byakuya’s direction. “Ch-Chihiro’s portrait, i-it’s crossed out! Th-that means s-she’s dead, so-”
“He’s dead.” Byakuya corrects sharply, and glares so fiercely the confused question that Fukawa was preparing simply vanishes. “But the fact that you weren’t aware of that means that Chihiro never came to speak with you about it. When he already discussed the matter with the rest of us.”
“I-that doesn’t m-mean I k-killed he-him!”
“Maybe that doesn’t implicate you,” Kirigiri concedes. “But earlier, you said ‘strung Chihiro up’. How were you aware of what the crime scene looked like?”
Fukawa squeaks, and smacks her hands to her mouth, as if she can retroactively shove the words back. “Th-that- i-isn’t that like S-Syo’s habits? S-so o-of course I would a-assume-”
“Syo said the crime scene doesn’t match what she does.” Makoto interjects. “All her victims are pinned by her scissors. Like you said, Chihiro was crucified using a cord.”
“I-”
“The time period doesn’t make sense. If we assume that Kyoko is being truthful - why did it take so long for Syo to wake up, in the time between you fainting and Chihiro being found?” Byakuya stares at her icily, and she squirms and shudders beneath his gaze. “You woke up awfully quick just now. For someone accusing us of labeling you a liar, you don’t seem inclined to tell the truth about anything, do you?”
His words drip with vitriol and acid, and Fukawa digs her fingers into her scalp and stamps her foot and screams, a long, strangled noise of frustration and anger. It’s a piercing sound, sharp enough to make Byakuya flinch, and it echoes for a moment up to the high ceiling of the chamber. And then everyone is silent as she catches her breath, hands pulling slowly away from her thoroughly disheveled hair.
“Fine,” She spits, and somehow, her voice is steadier than he’s ever heard it. “I hung up Chihiro. A-and I framed Byakuya for it.”
The confession sounds almost giddy with how breathless she is, but maybe Byakuya was imagining it. After a moment’s pause for people to register what she said, there’s no small amount of shock.
“You- you did?!” Yamada, standing directly next to Fukawa, cows as far away as the stand will let him. “Wha- but you seemed so…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, but the implication of the word ‘harmless’ hangs in the air. “Yes, I did.” She snaps back savagely. “I-it was easy. H-he’s so small, a-and I knew B-Byakuya would be l-looking for s-stuff on Syo…and, t-the extension cord…”
Byakuya suddenly remembers, then. How she had stumbled as she left the library, foot smashing through some box and getting tangled in its contents. And how he hadn’t paid any mind to it, already too preoccupied with his own survival to care.
“How did you manage it without turning into Syo?” Kirigiri asks, and Fukawa’s face twists. It's only as she turns her head, and Byakuya notices the subtle glint of her bared teeth, that he realizes that she’s grinning.
“He had been i-ignoring me f-for so long…I was w-working so hard. T-to be normal and good. S-so he would l-look at me…” It’s not hard to figure out who she was referring to by ‘he’. Byakuya feels eyes on him once more. But his attention is turned to her raised forearm, exposed by the sleeve drooping around her elbow from how her hands are clutching at her scalp, and the strip of white that is almost imperceptible against her already pale skin. “I-I thought if I could - I could g-get over it, I could prove th-that I could be normal, then…”
She trails off, energy quickly depleted. “So, you had been training to not immediately faint at the sight of blood.” Kirigiri concludes, and Fukawa nods once, jerkily.
“Wait, so you did all that just because he ignored you?” Hagakure asks, mouth agape.
“Yes!” She shrieks vehemently, so sharp and sudden that Byakuya nearly jumps. “You don’t get it! None of you g-get it! I-I can stand it i-if he was mean to me, o-or if he h-hated me, but- it’s the worst when h-he acts like I’m n-not even there!”
Her voice breaks, and for a long moment the only sound in the room is her quiet sobs. To some degree - and Byakuya is furious with himself for even thinking this - he understands why she might behave this way. Clearly, she had been abused, and likely neglected, and this manifested into the extreme, self-demeaning, aggressive behavior she displayed now. Her actions had a twisted logic. She herself was pitiable.
But just because he understood, did not mean he had to accept it.
“Well, you have my full attention now.” He says coldly. “Congratulations. Why don’t you try and keep that attention by telling us what we all want to know?”
“Yeah, how about you tell us how Chihiro died?” It takes Byakuya a moment to place that the question came from Owada, who had been mostly quiet for a while now. He’s not blazing with fury anymore, but there’s an edge in his voice now that Byakuya can’t read. “I don’t give a shit about your fucking crush. I want to know how you killed Chihiro.”
Fukawa tilts her head in thought, and the action is somehow reminiscent of Syo. “B-but, I didn’t kill Chihiro?” She says, and she sounds almost innocent. “I-I just found the b-body…I-I think if I d-did kill him th-then Syo w-would have woken up r-right away.”
As if anticipating it, Kirigiri raises her hands, as if trying to stop the rush of questions and shocked exclamations from the others. It’s no use though, as Owada bellows: “Like hell we’re believing that!”
“Guys, the time limit-!” Makoto has to shout above the din. At that, Byakuya glances at the clock hanging over Monokuma’s chair, the flashing red digits initiating a countdown. How long had it been already? How much time was left? There was no way for him to tell. He’d totally forgotten about it. “Just. Toko, can you tell us how you found the body? Please?”
“W-why should I?” Byakuya feels his jaw physically creak with how hard he’s grinding his teeth. It seemed that in the time Fukawa spent unconscious, she had absorbed the worst aspects of Syo’s personality.
“We may all perish if you don’t.” Sakura points out, a low threat in her voice.
“I-I don’t care.”
Byakuya thinks he might scream. “Why?! What else do you have left to lose?” He demands, and his voice rasps slightly, throat sore from how much he’d been talking. “We know what you’ve done already. You’ve already revealed everything about me. What else do you want?!”
And she giggles, a breathless, insane sound. “I-I don’t c-care what happens t-to me,” She sings. “I hate you. I h-hate everyone here. I kn-know I-I’m gonna get t-targeted no matter w-what I do, b-because you all th-think I’m so horrible…so I should h-hit back f-first, right?” She wobbles, hands knotted in her hair again. “B-but I hate you the most. I-I wanted y-you to know how you made me feel, even j-just a little.”
Even without seeing her face, he can sense her malice, thick and unpleasant like the smell of rot. He hasn’t been the target of such blatant contempt in years, and the complete hostility that she radiates makes him feel a little unsteady.
“Fine. We will figure out the details ourselves. You’ve given us enough clues already.” Kirigiri replies coolly. “Unfortunately for you, only one person will be dying after this trial.”
He’s not sure how she can be so confident about that. The pounding in his head is getting worse, and as his eyes slip closed, he finds he’s not even sure where to start with everything; after all this, they were still not any closer to a definite conclusion. All they had done so far was run blindly around each other, getting lured to dead-ends and circles.
Through the low throb of pain in his skull, he can just barely make out the sound of quiet muttering fromMakoto’s direction. If he opened his eyes, he might have seen the other boy tapping his foot, resting his chin in his hand as he thinks. And if he could have seen, he might have noticed how Makoto’s eyes were darting, drawing invisible lines between fixed points in his mind.
“The place where Chihiro died. And Toko found the body. That’s what we need to figure out,” He says aloud, slowly. “I don’t think Chihiro died on the second floor. There’s no place with enough blood that could justify it, or enough evidence of a clean-up to suggest that it happened there. Even in the hallway where the body was found, the only blood there was against the wall from where Chihiro was crucified. There’s no splatter to match the method of death.”
“Yeah, but there’s no place on the first floor to suggest that Chihiro died there, either.” Asahina points out.
“No, there is one room. There was no blood there, but there was evidence that it was cleaned recently.” Even as he says this, Owada is beginning to gasp, ‘Wait-’, but he continues. “And, it’s somewhere someone got injured recently, so any blood that was missed can be explained away.”
He turns to the pale, silent figure of Kiyotaka Ishimaru, as still and unobtrusive as a ghost. “Taka. Can you please tell us what happened?”
___
Of course, Mondo blocks him before Taka can even respond.
“How dare you.” His voice is a low rumble, and he somehow looks angrier than Makoto has ever seen him. He can practically hear the creak of wood where Mondo was gripping the bannister, knuckles white and bulging. “What the fuck are you trying to pull, Makoto? What the fuck are you trying to say?!”
Makoto swallows, his heart feeling like it’s about to pop out of his chest. He’s seen Mondo both at his most violent moments, and at his kindest ones, his face softening with sympathy as he was listening to Chihiro, the hearty reassurance and gentle clap on the back he had offered to them both. But now Mondo looked like he might actually kill him, and would make it hurt while it happened.
But despite that, he presses on. “I know you said that a trophy fell on Taka’s head, and that’s how you found him. When I went to look at the trophy room, the floor was still wet, and it was clean - like, really clean. And I assumed it was because you went back and cleaned it up after Taka got injured, but looking back, that doesn’t make sense.” He glances briefly at Kyoko, who merely closes her eyes in silent assent. “If your friend had a concussion, wouldn’t you stay by his side?”
Mondo’s face pulls into a snarl, a vein bulging at his temple. “So what if I went back and cleaned it up? Maybe Taka wanted to rest alone. What the hell does that matter?”
“No, I think it does matter. You don’t act like it, but you’re really nice, Mondo. When you were talking with me and Chihiro, and told us about your bro-”
He cuts himself off for a moment, suddenly hesitant. He’s already revealed Byakuya’s secret. He didn’t want to have to reveal Mondo’s as well, even now. He didn’t want to betray anyone else, but-
He already hates me for what I’m doing. He thinks to himself. Whether he reveals Mondo’s secret now or not, he knows that no matter what, he was going to be hated; there was no chance at the friendly ribbing and pleasant exchanges they had in the past. But even despite that, he finds himself unwilling to form the words on his tongue.
He needn’t have bothered though. Kyoko is the one who speaks up in his stead. “There’s no point in hiding the fact that you care deeply for Taka. We all remember the display of friendship the two of you put on the other day after spending weeks at each other’s throats. And as someone who’s familiar with violence, I imagine you’re also familiar with basic first aid; so why would you abandon someone with a head injury to clean up the other room?”
Mondo glares at her furiously, but there’s sweat beading on his forehead now. “You-you meddling bitch, what the fuck are you-?!”
“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not trying to accuse you of anything.” She sighs. Makoto thinks she looks a little haggard, with dark rings of exhaustion under her eyes, and wonders when the last time she slept was. Despite that, her eyes are still sharp, and meet Mondo’s glower with a cool stare. “But, since we are missing out on Toko’s testimony, I think we should have our last witness speak for himself.”
And before she had even finished her sentence, Taka was opening his mouth.
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(another older doodle page WOOOOPSIEEE) anyway i loooove the ferins guys.... LOVE drawin families n givin em all similar shapes n such... i think jay should make more pipe bombs
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front-facing-pokemon · 8 months
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#RIP to the legacy post editor. you will be missed. while queueing this post and the last one it's removed the option for me to switch to the#old one and is making me use the new one. which is like not bad. it's not a bad editor. i just don't like change as most tumblr users don't#it also just appends the post you make directly to the top of the currently-displayed posts behind it even if it's not meant to go there#which is a little bit scary when i'm on the queue page and i click “add to queue” for a post that's supposed to go up on august 18th#to see it immediately appear above mega metagross. the legacy post editor didn't do that. it made you refresh the page if you wanted to see#your own new post on the dashboard. which i think was better!! honestly!! i've never Made a post using the new editor to see how it behaves#only ever queued up FFP using this thang. but that's also bc i feel like i don't post very much. i need smth Interesting to say when i post#on my main blog i mean. i don't make extraneous posts on here (usually) unless i'm answering an ask or something. which. still have yet to#miss one to this day. going strong#bibarel#can you tell idk what to say about this guy. what are they‚ water-type? big chance i'm fucking wrong and they're just pure normal#OKAY i was right. normal/water. semi-interesting typing and i get why they're a water-type. but. i never use. bibarel. even as a kid who#didn't understand or care about competitive. i knew bibarel was not very strong. it's a route 1 normal-type fucker. and maybe it's like#better than i think or something but tbqh it's a sinnoh 'mon and i already have another sinnoh water-type that has my heart. buizel#so bibarel was not so much in the cards for me. bro i should do like. a mono-type run of a pokémon game one day. that would be fu#do folks do that? is that a challenge run that actually exists? nuzlockes exist so i don't see why not. okay i'm doing it. my next replay o#any pokémon game is hereby decreed to be a water-type mono-type run. i may or may not liveblog it on my main blog#and it may or may not be nuzlocke. we shall see#hell maybe i'll stream it. maybe that could be fun. i don't know of *anyone* who would be interested in that but it tends to help me#actually go about completing games when i have someone there like. waiting for me to do so
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chocolatespyro · 3 months
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