#and especially crazy tricks

[dcbatbitches]

Consider, Cassandra Cain does lion dance.

[nadiajustbe]

The scene where WoTW and Howl were running across the yard might have been so confusing and creepy though the Megan's point of view.

Imagine sitting at home, minding your business, washing dishes or playing in the yard, and suddenly this weird-looking lady, dressed as she just escaped from some kind of really unique and rich troop, wearing a dark, gorgeous, medieval-like dress and high heels, that's almost impossible to buy at the store nowadays just... appears before your eyes.

She stands on the grass, leaning on the swing and you're already reaching for your home phone to call the police because how the hell did she find a way into your house?? Except you didn't have enough time to do it because right after that some kind of weird, physical force starts dragging you to this strange, creepy woman, and you want to tell her to go to hell with her stupid tricks, but you can't.

And you kids, waking right alongside you, cannot do anything, too. You can't all possibly be mad, can you?

An when it starts to get even weirder and unavoidable, your jobless, potential-losing piece of a brother, comes into a scene, jumping through the damn fence, dressed in the same weird-looking costume, as If he escaped the same wery troupe (seriously, If you weren't so worried about your kids and unnatural forces right now, you'd think what would happen If people saw this atrociously long sleeves and eye-burning colours), and just...runs at the mysterious woman right away, dragging away your daughter in some kind of sport-like movement. Your brother and the woman then start running across the yard in the most ridiculous way possible.

The force stops. Your brother and the woman go out of sight. You take your kids into the house and pretend this never, ever happened in your lifes.

[scalpho]

the fox probably calls pib "pib" and not "cat" during the trials of baba yaga simply because he is Actually puss in boots in that moment (as opposed to when they were in the forest and he wasn't) but. since the fox seems to dislike the cat's attachment to being "pib" in episode 4 ("i told you it was a mistake to send him. he has gotten too caught up in it."), i like to read it as quiet acknowledgement or acceptance of the choice the cat's made

[arundolyn]

man. whenever i see someone discussing it/talking about liking it i feel myself Wanting to like. respect? extreme horror as a genre. more than i do. and i think my problem boils down to like. some of the places these things go.. you need to be a damn good writer, and you kinda need to make it have a Point or a Reason at least somewhat. you gotta be able to suspend your disbelief. that doesn't go any different for any flavor of horror than any other type of nonfiction writing tbh and in my opinion is generally harder to pull off. what happens does, in context, need to at least kinda sorta make a little bit of sense in some way and not be happening Just Because. and because of the rarity and stigma of extreme horror its less likely to qualify well for either of the above and just ends up attracting people who want to write some Really out there shit and get upset when they get justified critique from readers (usually people who bought their book and Enjoy extreme horror!) and always want to couch it like they're being oppressed for Writing which is a super disingenuous way to put it

[dragonagedidiot]

Solas has never and will never stop lying

Even at the end of the game, he lies and lies and lies

That doesn't mean everything he says doesn't have some truth tho

[robertsbarbie]

Hurt Feelings is one of the first songs i've ever heard that examines how parental relationships can cause anxiety and trauma without the parent in question being overt in their cruelness and how your mind can play tricks on you when it comes to them and how they've impacted your life even when you move away from them

[pansypr3p]

yo! i was at another show so i didn't see anything about the fob show last night, u were there right?? HOW WAS IT??? :D

I WAS . IT WAS AMAZING . I THINK PETE WAS IN A SKIRT . PATRICK WAS ADORABLE . JOE AND PATRICK PLAYED AT EACH OTHER ON STAGE AND IM PRETTY SURE IT COUNTED AS PUBLIC INDECENCY . THE CAMERAS AT THE VENUE GOT SO MANY CLOSE UPS OF PATRICKS HAND . IT WAS CRAZY . PATRICK PLAYED PIANO AND I LOST MY MIND . THE LAST OF THE REAL ONES GOT PLAYED AND I FELT LIKE CRYING . HEADFIRST SLIDE TOO . BTW WHY DOES ANDY JUST GET TO GO ON STAGE TITTIES OUT THAT IS NOT FAIR . I STIMMED & DANCED SO HARD I ACHE SO BAD . IT WAS SO WORTH IT . I TOOK MY BOYFRIEND . WE GOT HIGH FOR THE SECOND PART OF THE SHOW . DAISY GRENADE (OPENER) WAS SO FUCKING AWESOME STREAM DAISY GRENADE . THERE WERE SO MANY VISIBLY TRANS/QUEER PPL . I SAW A PERSON WITH A BEARD IN A SKIRT . SOMEONE WITH NOTHING ON THEIR CHEST BUT TRANS TAPE . 10/10 BEST EXPERIENCE OF MY ENTIRE LIFE .

[cupcakedieabetes]

Shitposter Danny gets too real

Another 'League did not get the message after people tried talking to them about the ghost situation. '

So what does Danny do best if he does not want attention on him, but activate the flame? Conspiracy Theories and Shitposting.

He started arguing with people online that the Bruce-Man ship would never happen because Bruce and Batman are one and the same. When he left Gotham, it was to disguise the fact that Bruce accidentally split into two.

Batman got the more gruffer personality, while Bruce had his pleasant guy personality. Especially if you consider that Bruce Wayne used to be the guy who picked fights and bit people AND was moody in the past. But suddenly, he came back and had a personality change? And seemed a lot more dumber than before.

He must have been hit with the Gotham beam that should have made him into a crazy villain, but the world decided to be nice for once and just split them up so they wouldn't be like Two-Face and retained his sanity. Bruce is the one who restrains Batman, especially since now that they've split, their personalities are more prominent. That is why Bruce is not Batman's Sugar Daddy, but is BRUCE HIMSELF!!

The war that sparked within the fandom was massive, especially since it's not just a long string of text of evidence and facts; Danny put it in a separate post, as it kept on exceeding the word limit. Danny also considered his own situation when he and his ghost self were split up.

Some people tried to defend this ship by saying 'Self-cest exists, so why couldn't the BruceMan ship still live?'

They tried to argue like "What about their kids, then?"

Danny, of course, went, "The Robins are the boys, and possibly some girls, as evidenced by Orphan and Spoiler, that Batman rescued from a cult of assassins! And bc Bruce and Batman are one and the same, they decide to raise them together! But of course, you can't just throw people from the cult to the world without any therapy and adaptation, which is why Batman brings them out at night for their mentality! They must have been in a really bad situation, that vigilantism for Gotham must have been for their mental health, bc now they can do good things!

And since Nightwing could do acrobatic, we do not know if he might even be sometimes substituted by Dick Grayson! It's their bonding activity! Doing acrobats!" Danny laughed at the pun.

Then people started pondering whether the Waynes ever substituted for the Bats occasionally, even as body doubles, or vice versa. The others conspired about the cult of assassins.

But pretty much everyone was in agreement that Dick Grayson and Nightwing bonded through Acrobats, that Dick probably thought Nightwing a lot of his tricks too. The cult of assassins was even more outlandish, but Danny brought up that Damian Wayne seemed very sheltered. It may be just because he was of a different culture, but some Arabs said that some of his habits did NOT fit in their culture. Probably an old one, but nobody really goes THAT old unless they're in a cult.

This brought up the discussion of the differences of cults in different countries and which cults could possibly be the cult of assassins.

Danny laughed as people sent death threats and threatened to doxx him, but he was already halfway dead.

Then, he got a visitor from the Justice League

[cheapshrimpysheep]

What if They were Dads?

SUMMARY: Headcanons of what I think they would be like as fathers to your child. And what if his dormmates were like honorary uncles to the child?

CHARACTERS: OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia)

TAGS: Headcanon; Fem!Reader (AFAB) (I never really know what tags to use but I hope you know what I mean)

WORD COUNT: An average of 690 words per character.

COMMENTS: I would have liked to have made a headcanon about the relationship with the boys' parents and siblings, but since we don't know them that well or at all on the Eng Server like Vil's father, I think I'll leave that for a possible post that complements this one. If you want.

Since I didn't want each character to have a big chunk of text, I put them as paragraphs instead of bullet points.

I hope you enjoy 🩵

CONTEXT: This was written with a cisgender female reader in mind. Reader is Yuu. But if you want (and can) read it in any other way, feel free to.

By the way, this is one of those moments when I wish English had a second person plural, instead of the singular and plural being the same. Whenever I write “your child” I mean it in the plural (you, the reader, and his)

Riddle’s child(ren) call him: Father

Riddle has the same demands and standards for his child that he has for himself. But he doesn't want to make the same mistakes as his mother, so in comparison he can be more permissive. Because of this he will ALWAYS listen to you if you tell him he is being too harsh.

In terms of studies, etiquette and behaviour he is quite strict as you would expect. But when it comes to play he lets his child do almost anything they want.

He doesn't know how to play with his child, but he will always make an effort to learn how to and do it with them. He almost seems to regress to the childhood he never had and wants to give to his child. Whenever the child learns a new game, they will show it and teach it to Riddle and he will be delighted with it.

Although he is strict, he is also relatively protective, especially if your child is a girl. He tries not to be overly protective, but he can't help but worry about your child. If there was a right way to raise a child, is he doing his job well enough? You will have several conversations at first to reassure him that he is doing a good job.

He will study any and all parenting books that experts in child behaviour and education recommend. This kind of knowledge is never too much. Which often leads you to try to convince him to relax and just trust his instincts and what he feels is right. The child is his, not all those authors and experts. Sometimes there are things that a parent simply knows.

Lawful and calm Uncle Trey. They love uncle Trey's sweets! Sometimes Riddle asks him if he's not giving them too much sweets and Trey always assures him that it's okay because he knows how to make healthier sweets and the limit for a child to eat. If they weren't already Riddle's child, the whole thing about always brushing their teeth could be scary.

Chaotic Uncle Che'nya. The crazy and fun Uncle! Your child and Che'nya join forces (maybe even with you) to play pranks on Riddle. Never anything that could get the child into trouble with their father, just enough for everyone, Riddle included, to have fun.

Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce are more from your side than Riddle's honestly. Ace is a bit like Che'nya in the case of being one of the chaotic pranksters uncles. But he is also the uncle of magic tricks who is always deceiving, but also entertaining your child with them.

Deuce is the rad uncle with a cool moto and/or even cooler blastcycle, who offers to take your child for a ride in it with him. Your child also finds it funny to see the two of them arguing amicably. But it’s even funnier to see them imitating their father trying to order them to stop arguing.

Uncle Cater doesn't show up very often, but they like him. He's not chaotic like Ace and Che'nya, but he's also fun. Your child enjoys receiving compliments from him and taking pictures with him.

Your child imitates their father scolding Grim too. Just like Riddle (and probably because they're still little) they have a very bad temper. Riddle gets embarrassed whenever you say that someone takes after their father.

Leona’s child(ren) call him: Dad

Leona still doesn't like kids... your child(ren) is/are just an exception.

Yes, Leona would treat a daughter slightly differently than he would treat a son. In the same way that he treats men and women a little differently. But the only difference is that he would be tougher on a son than a daughter, but will still be affectionate regardless.

No matter what gender his child is, he wants the same for them: be strong both physically and mentally. To outsiders like some servants or citizens who don't know him, they may get to the point of thinking Leona is a harsh father who doesn't deserve all that love from his child, and he will tell both you and your child not to mind that. But the truth is that he is just like he was with you at school: a tough guy who hides a caring heart.

Leona continues to show himself to be a person who doesn't want anyone to upset him and who would growl at anyone who bothers him. The only people who can get close to him even when he's angry and remain safe and sound are you and your child. He'll still growl at you and your child quietly, but there will be a volume that is the line, like if his growl is louder than that limit it's because he's getting really angry, until then it's just him being him.

Your child will already have the best private teachers and tutors (one of them being Kifaji/Neji if he’s still alive), but even so, Leona will want to make them study and learn more. But in that discreet way that he knows. He will not force them to study more, he will find a way to convince them to want to learn more on their own.

You end up being the most affectionate parent and the one they trust for emotional comfort. Leona is the tough love, you are the soft love (at least in comparison). Leona will always tease you, insinuating that you are too soft and only spoil your child. Although he enjoys when you spoil him too.

He is 100% the ‘Go ask your mom’ kind of dad.

He lets his child take naps with him. And you too.

If he has more than one child, he will police himself not to favor any of them. He may have a tendency to favor the younger ones because of what he went through as the youngest himself, but none of his children will be treated in any special/different way based on their birth order. Neither the youngest nor the oldest.

He will try to convince his child not to be too close (emotionally) to their uncle or cousin, but won't stop them from playing with Cheka. When your child is old enough not to tell others what is said in your home, Leona and them will talk badly about Falena and Cheka behind their backs.

Leona will prefer your child to play with Ruggie and/or his children. On the one hand, he wants to keep them away from his family, but on the other hand, he also wants his child to know what the real world is like, to see both wealth and poverty, to know royalty as they knows their people and only then create their own judgement.

They don't call anyone uncle or aunt other than Falena and his wife. In the same way, Leona also doesn't give cute titles to anyone without being sarcastically. Even when he calls you “love”, “darling”, “honey” or something like that, it's to tease you.

Whenever you go to Shaftlands, whether for democratic reasons or on holiday, you always try to find a way to meet with Jack. Leona pretends that he only helps you with this because you want to see your friend and he wants to get rid of his family. Both you and Jack know that he just doesn't want to admit that he wants to see him too. Jack is the cool parent's friend who taught your child how to snowboard. While they are little they like to hug his tail because it’s fluffy.

Despite everything, he doesn't want his child to have the same lack of hope that he has, and despite trying to hide it, he always feels extremely guilty and bad whenever your child says something like that. At these times he relies on you to be the ray hope in that house, they will both need you for that.

Both Leona and your child are afraid of you when you get really serious or angry.

Do you know that scene from The Lion King where Mufasa uses Zazu to give Simba an pouncing lesson? Leona often does something similar, but instead of the target being a blue bird, it's a magical creature called Grim.

Azul’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Azul is an extremely emotional father, despite trying to hide it. There's going to be a lot of moments like: “HE/SHE IS THE CUTEST LITTLE THING IN THE WHOLE- *clears throat* I mean, he/she is such a charming little child.” He will most likely cry at your baby's first words, steps, anything.

Azul is overprotective! If any living creature even thinks about harming your child, he will tortu- that is, find a completely legal way to ensure that it never happens again. Now, if you'll excuse him, he suddenly felt like talking to Jade and Floyd. (The same protectiveness applies to you.)

Although he is very (secretly) emotional and loves to spoil his child, he is also relatively strict about their studies. He likes to spoil them (and you) when it's deserved, but he will not raise a spoiled child! This ends up balancing things out a bit.

He will hide the whole mafia-like part of his life from his child. Dad is just doing business, boring adult stuff. Maybe when your child is older he will start to reveal a little of that side of his life, if they later want to join their father it will be their choice. But until then, let them be innocent children, they are cuter and happier that way, there is time for everything.

He will always hold back his emotional side so as not to be overly affectionate. Unless his child starts crying. At that point his mask falls completely and he becomes the most affectionate and comforting father there can be, that is his weakness.

And if one day the child realizes this and starts using crying to get what they want from him, he won't know whether to be angry that he is being emotionally manipulated by his own child, or proud that they learned so quickly.

You will be the only one immune to the fake crying.

From the beginning, Azul has been wary and suspicious of letting Jade and Floyd be like uncles to your child. However, you two ended up letting this happen, but Azul will always keep an eye open.

Both Jade and Floyd will definitely use the child to play pranks on Azul. Mostly Floyd, Jade prefers to watch and assist. Azul will always be upset with the twins, never with his child. And depending on the severity of the prank, he will turn on his overprotective side and threaten Jade and Floyd that if that happens again they will never see your child again. They never go beyond that limit.

Every now and then when Floyd plays with your child, he will do that joke where he playfully tells them he's going to catch them and bite them. Actually in his playful voice, he doesn't want to scare them. And they will run to Azul and hide behind his legs asking for help while laughing. Or tentacles if they are in their merfolk form.

If you ask them Jade is the scary uncle (only sometimes) but they themselves don't even know why. It's just his vibe or something. However, they are not afraid to ask any of them for something, it being to play or for help.

You know those little plastic cashiers where kids pretend to have a little shop and try to sell things to people at home? Usually parents or sibling. Azul loves to play this with his child because it is a great and fun way to pass on his knowledge. Both about sales and about taking care of your money. Usually using the Grim as a guinea pig. Grim also likes to play because he always ends up with food in exchange for toy money.

Jamil’s child(ren) call him: Dad (in informal moments) and Father (at formal events)

Jamil needed to learn to express himself more and better emotionally so as not to end up being a cold father without meaning to. He needs your help to teach your child when to hold back and when to know when they are in a safe space to let go.

The only thing that will follow Jamil forever is an inevitable feeling of guilt for your child having the same fate as him, simply for being his child: serving the Al-Asim family with no other choice. But you can be assured that if there is a way to stop this and give his child freedom of choice, whatever that method may be, he will not give up until he finds it and do it! Normally parents want to give their children what they always wanted and could never have, in Jamil's case it’s freedom.

There was something Jamil wanted to do, but he didn't have the courage to ask the Al-Asim for some kind of vacation. But you had! Using your great friendship with Kalim, you managed to get him to allow you to take a vacation long enough for you to travel as a family, as Jamil wanted. Jamil has always wanted to travel alone, but now with you and your child he would like to travel as a family and give his child the experiences he would have liked to have had himself.

He is quite demanding with his child's education and training. However, his attitude towards this is always calm and collected, and he is attentive to his child's limitations and needs. He is a great and responsible tutor, who knows how to distinguish between being a teacher and being a father.

He is usually quite serious, so you and your child are the ones who start messing with him to have fun and make him laugh. It's always nice when he reminds you two that he can also be a tease. Normal or biggest target of your joint teasing ends up being Grim at some point.

During his work as Kalim's servant, Jamil always had to cook a lot and he's not that big a fan of cooking, so so he can rest at home you're the one who cooks most of the time. He will teach you everything you want to learn and at first you will cook together a lot until you feel comfortable cooking alone. But even then he will continue to offer to help you. Your child will continue to say that Jamil's food is tastier, but yours is prettier. And the food you make together is the best because it’s tasty and pretty. Jamil will also encourage his child to cook with you two so that they can learn from a young age.

His child knows that there is only one thing in this world that can make their father scream in fear: Bugs! If your child is also afraid of insects, you're screwed, because you will be the insect killer in that house. However, if it is just the two of them, Jamil's protective instinct will be stronger and despite his fear he will protect his child. If your child is not afraid of insects, then Jamil will have two protectors. “Can you do dad a favor?”; “Where is it?”; “Living room, south wall last time I saw.”; “Does it fly?”; “...Yes.”

Kalim will treat your child almost like one of his own children, for loving you both so much. He got emotional when he found out you were pregnant, he wanted to help pay for your doctor's appointments if necessary (never was), and he got emotional again when your child was born. He loves buying toys for your child too and give them gifts. He would love for Jamil to let them call him Uncle Kalim. And he loves it when your kids play together.

Vil’s child(ren) call him: Father 

Vil wants to have a family that is at its best as he likes to be at his best himself. He wants you and your child to be as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside, just as he strives to be as well. However, he would treat a daughter slightly differently than a son because of the different pressures of societal beauty standards.

With a son he would be as strict with him as he is with himself. But with a daughter, he knows she's more likely to suffer from these kinds of things. So although he continues to be relatively strict and wants her to be the best she can be, he ends up being softer with criticism and stronger with praise and soft love than he would be with a son.

He would hire a specialist, like as a child psychologist or something like that, to always know the best ways to rise and protect your child. Children of famous people like him, especially in the digital and social media age, may need more protection from their parents in this regard, in addition to the toxic pressure of comparison that exists. However, because Vil cares so much about your child's personal development as their happiness, he may end up putting enormous pressure on himself to be a perfect parent too.

Both Vil and your child will need you to be the person who brings them both back to the real world and the life of a loving family with flaws like any human being. Vil will always listen to you if you feel he may be being too harsh and demanding with your child, or with himself in terms of parenting.

If you are the type of person who likes to tease Vil by letting yourself be sloppy from time to time, (always at home) then your child will also like to tease their father like that. “You have your mother’s cheekiness, I see.” Vil sighs but laughs. The teasing includes eating sweets and food that Vil would not approve of. You are the parent they ask for things from and who best comforts and pampers them. You two probably team up to make Vil relax and have fun with you.

His child will have the best teachers and tutors, go to the best schools and best establishments for any extracurricular activity they want to have. Vil will probably force them to have an extracurricular activity but they will be free to choose which one.

Rook is OBSESSED with your child! In a respectful way of course, he is just already a huge fan. The result of combining your DNA with Vil's? MERVEILLEUX! He won't hold back the tears when he sees the baby for the first time. He will LOVE playing with your child. He will babysit for free and will be happy to do so if you ever need. It will be a long time before he stops getting so emotional whenever your child calls him "Uncle Rook."

Uncle Epel is the rad uncle, when Vil is not around. He is that person who will help your child do cool activities that Vil may not allow. Like taking a blastcycle ride with him, eat grilled meats, playing with things that make the child very dirty or other things that Vil didn't like Epel to do when they were at NRC. But if at least one parent allows it (you), then there is no problem. Right? All this, of course, when Vil is not around.

When he is there, both Epel and your child behave like little angels. You and Epel have to be very careful that the child doesn't get careless and say something in Epel's dialect in front of Vil. They love Uncle Epel because it is fun to do cool things without their father knowing and with your help.

Your child likes to use Grim as a doll to dress up in cute clothes. The funny thing is that Grim likes it too because your child eventually realizes that if they tell him he looks cool instead of cute, he'll let them keep dressing him up.

Idia’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Idia doesn't believe he can be a good father. A shut-it and antisocial otaku like him? Are you crazy? That's a disaster! He can't take care of himself, how is he going to help you raise a child? However, and especially with you, he also has that overly cocky side that believes that even being an antisocial nerd he would be 1000 times better than a lot of parents out there. So basically he has a tendency to oscillate between these two moods.

In comparison, you are the strict parent, he is the parent who spoils the child. They are both afraid of you when you get upset. He's a ‘Don't tell your mother’ type of dad. He can't say no to his child, but, oddly enough, he can't be emotionally manipulated either. He may even let his child do a lot of things, but even he has limits to what he knows is good or bad for them.

Because he's the permissive father, he's also the scariest when he gets serious. He can never get really mad at his child, but he can say a firm and assertive “No” if necessary. However, if they are still very young and start crying, he will panic and call you immediately. You will then have to comfort Idia and tell him that no, he did not make a decision that put him on the path to the traumatic and apocalyptic ending. What he probably did was the opposite.

If it depends on him, his child will be a nerd/otaku just like his father. However, he doesn't want them to be socially anxious like him and will always encourage them to go for walks with you outside even if it's without him. That doesn't mean there aren't times you drag him outside with you.

Besides occasionally questioning whether he is being a good father, there is something else that haunts him... He still carries and will probably always carry the feeling of guilt for what happened to Ortho, so he is absolutely TERRIFIED that something like that may happen again.

Idia has always tried to keep your child as far away as possible from all areas that are dangerous or even remotely similar to the hallway where that happened. But if your child ever happens to even enter an area that their father did not allow, they will get to know a side of Idia that sometimes you yourself don’t even remember exists: The overprotective, traumatized side that isn't afraid to scare his child if it means keeping them away from the danger. And probably the only way they'll see his red hair. But it will probably be after that, that the two of you will have an open heart conversation and Idia will apologize.

Now, about Uncle Ortho, they LOVE uncle Ortho! He's the one who goes for a walk with you and your child when you and he can't convince Idia to go too. He is a cheerful uncle who loves to play with your child. You three made up stories to explain why uncle Ortho was a humanoid. You always make up different and crazy stories to jest with them and make them change the subject. The day will come when they will be old enough to know the truth.

Idia may even talk badly about himself a lot of the times, but no matter what his child do, they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular and everything good. “Of course that's because they inherited it from you, not me.” He will say with a smile.

Both Idia and your child treat Grim like a pet cat and find it funny to see him getting grumpy.

Idia spoke to his child in that baby voice when they themselves were also babies. And maybe also when they are children to the point where they tell him to stop treating them like babies.

Malleus’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older) Father (at formal events)

The day Malleus found out you were pregnant was already a happy day, but the day your child was born was the happiest day of his life! And every moment with them is the happiest moment of his day. And of course with you too. He totally and completely loves his family!

Anyone who dares to speak ill of the child of Malleus Draconia, especially about the fact that they are half-human, will suffer the consequences! Anyone who spoke openly about the child being something of a disgrace, shame or an abomination was either killed or imprisoned. (Depending on how opposed you really are to Malleus killing or ordering someone to be killed.) and of course, the same applies to talking bad about you.

The problem is that this is doing the same thing to your child that was done to him. He's scaring everyone and making them afraid to come near your child for fear of saying or doing something that might upset them or Malleus. He listens to you and agrees with you, showing concern and thoughtfulness about what should be done. He hates people being disrespectful to the ones he loves, but he also doesn't want his child to go through what he went through.

What ends up happening is that, on Malleus's part, he realizes that he has to start learning ways for people to respect his child without using fear, but to do that he also has to start letting certain insults slide. He doesn't like it, but if it's what's best for his child, he'll do the best he can. Although the same applies if they disrespect you. He hates it so much!

In the case of your child, you are helped by Lilia (if he’s still alive), Silver, Sebek and their families. Perhaps trying to spend more time among their people and with other fae, humans, and half-fae might be beneficial to a child's social development.

Lilia would treat the child as if they were his own grandchild. Even if Silver also has children, they are ALL Lilia's grandchildren! “There's no denying it any longer... I am... officially... an old man... For the best possible reasons!” Everyone will rescue your child from Lilia's food. “Never eat anything that Grandpa Lilia cooks, you hear?”

Silver is the calm uncle who, despite not being the most fun to play with, is the one they turn to when they want to rest and simply have a good chill time. Or take a nap. Probably who they turn to to run away and hide from Sebek when he's being annoying. He ends up being the adult (than is not their parents) that they trust most and feel most comfortable with. Silver is very happy when they ask him for help to get closer to an animal to see it better, and even more so if they and the animals end up interacting and playing with each other.

Now about Uncle Sebek... If there is anyone more protective and flattering of that child than Malleus, it is Sebek. He cried when the child was born, for sure. And cried even more when the child said his name, or whenever they at least tried to. The day they called him "Uncle Sebek" he was about to have a heart attack. The problem is that he ends up being one of those type of person who adores children (although in his case the only ones he likes would be Malleus's and his own children) to the point that the child finds them annoying and clingy. “But don't tell Uncle Sebek that, he'll be sad.”

Whenever the child throws a tantrum that ends up causing their powers to manifest in storms or uncontrolled magic, Malleus will take care of it while you stay away and safe. To him, any attack would be mere tickling, but he always made sure that your child knows that the same does not apply to you. They may end up thinking that you are very fragile while they are little, but it is better this way to ensure that they do not hurt you unintentionally.

This also means that whenever you need to say ‘No’ to your child, Malleus will do it if there is a possibility that they would start throwing tantrums. At least while they are young and cannot control their powers well.

Malleus also runs the risk of being a father who spoils his children.

Your child and Grim probably burn a lot of things around the castle because they play together and they both have fire powers.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

And if you would like to read this but with other characters you can write in the comments. If this post has a lot of notes (likes and reblogs) I might consider making a second part with other characters.

[nunyabznsbabes]

Katniss is like Lucy Gray this, Katniss is like Sejanus that, and yes fine that's all good and true and lovely but Katniss Everdeen is also a direct parallel to Coriolanus Snow and people NEED to start talking about this because it's driving me crazy.

Think about it: they both grew up poor and deeply vulnerable, losing parents at a very young age, with a matriarchal adult (Katniss' mother and Coriolanus' Grandma'am) who fails to provide for them emotionally and physically. They intimately understand the threat of starvation, even developing with stunted growth because of it, and their narrations in the books share a fixation on food. Throughout their childhoods, both experienced constant fear and suffered a fundamental lack of control over their circumstances. Because of this, they're inherently suspicious of the people around them. They resent feeling indebted to others, especially those who have saved their lives. They're motivated almost entirely by family and deeply connected to their communities. Both are used and manipulated by the Capitol, both are forced to perform to survive and despise every inch of it, both are thrown into the Arena and made to kill. Both have a self-sacrificial, genuinely sweet sister figure acting as their conscience. Peeta and Lucy Gray - performers and love interests with a fundamental kindness and sense of hope about them - fulfill markedly similar roles in their narrative. Both contribute to the development of the future Hunger Games, Snow throughout tbosas and Katniss towards the end of Mockingjay.

It's easy to ignore these similarities because, as mirrors of each other, they are exact opposites. Katniss is from District 12, viewed and treated as less than human; Snow is the cream of the Capitol crop, given the privilege of a name with social weight, an ancestral home, and the opportunity of the Academy despite having no more money than a miner from 12. Katniss has no agency over her life, and responds by being kind whenever she's able, while Snow justifies horrendous evils in order to continue his quest for complete control. Katniss does everything she can to protect her family; Snow does everything he can to protect his family's image as an extension of his own ego. Katniss loves her District and connects with its inhabitants on a meaningful level, but Snow is indifferent at best to his peers - the apparent "superior people" - and only engages with his community for personal gain. Katniss emerges from the Arena horrified at herself and the system, but Snow takes his trauma and turns it into an excuse to perpetuate the violence with himself at the top. Katniss cares for Prim until her death and then snaps at the loss of her little sister, while Snow survives on Tigris' blood, sweat, and tears and then torments and abandons her, presumably because she calls him out on his insanity. Snow actively adds to and popularizes the Hunger Games because of his vendetta against the Districts following his childhood wartime trauma - Katniss briefly agrees to a new Hunger Games (which is arguably a facade to trick Coin), but later definitively stops them from happening by killing Coin and choosing a life of peace and privacy. Snow is obsessed with revenge, but Katniss empathizes with the Capitolites and does what she can to keep them from suffering. He exists in a cruel system and selfishly upholds it; she exists in a cruel system and works to dismantle it for the good of her family and community, at great personal cost. And Peeta and Lucy Gray are incredibly similar, but Katniss and Peeta forge a relationship of genuine love and understanding that shines in comparison to Coriolanus' obsessive projection onto Lucy Gray.

So, yeah, Katniss is Lucy Gray haunting Coriolanus. But I bet you anything that eighty-something year old President Snow looks at her, the girl on fire, and thinks that he sees the ghost of his own past: bright and young and brilliant, emerging from a childhood of starvation with a relentless hunger for success, a talented and charming performer helping her win the Games. And that's why he's so afraid of her! Because if he sees himself in her, then he's up against his own cunning, his own talent for manipulation, his own charisma, his own genius. He reads her wrong, obviously, but it means that in his mind he's up against the version of himself that he could have been, with the nightmare army of his childhood at her back and her star-crossed lover at her side, spewing Sejanus' truths in his own voice. This isn't to say that Katniss ever achieved the level of power and agency that Coriolanus did during her time with the rebellion, but it is to say that Snow was taken down by what truly terrified him - his own morality, come to finish the job.

[whosmariaaa]

— part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 !

college! sukuna was fucked. not only had he, the campus playboy, fallen in love. he had also made his said dream girl cry. and now you were ignoring him. no matter how much he tried he tried to talk to you, or push you in a corner, you refused to talk to him.

sukuna had tried every trick in the book. approaching you after class, coming to your dorm, talking to you in break time. it was getting desperate at this point, and oh, if his friends weren’t eating this up by now.

“you’re fucking pathetic, y’know that?” toji laughed mockingly as sukuna once again attempted to grab your attention at lunch. “didn’t ever think i’d see the sukuna this down bad for a girl,” gojo joined in.

“shut the fuck up, both of you. what’s so bad about apologizing? get off my fucking dick,” he retorted back. though neither gojo or toji were stopping there.

“you used to fuck a different girl every night, now you’ve been chasing after the same girl like a dog for weeks,” toji commented.

“a girl that hates you no less,” gojo snickered, “you’d get on all fours if it meant she’d forgive you, wouldn’t you?”

“if you two don’t shut the fuck up, i’m beating both of your asses up in front of everyone,” he scowled.

sukuna was seething. his friends wouldn’t shut the fuck up (when would they ever?), you were avoiding him at every chance you got, and he couldn’t get his mind off what happened. he felt like killing someone at this point.

you, on the other end, were getting sick of this. you were still in a foul mood from the 49% you got on the project, the same project you busted your ass off for. and sukuna still wasn’t giving up, though you weren’t giving him the light of day at all.

though, unfortunately, sukuna was very persistent, and he would catch up to you.

you were walking along the empty halls, a little late to class. but you felt somewhat at ease, which was the first time in days. that was until your vision was blocked by someone.

sukuna had yet again cornered you. “where you going, y/n?” he asked, looking down at you. you were not in the mood to deal with him, especially not right now.

“get the hell out of my way,” you snarled. he didn’t flinch at your irritated tone, and your blood started boiling once more when you notice the sides of his lips curling up into a smirk.

“aw, still pissed about last week? y’know i didn’t mean shit, y/n,” sukuna replied, though he seemed more genuine than taunting.

“i don’t give a shit. get out of my way,” you responded in annoyance. then, he had the audacity to grab your wrist when you started walking, pulling you back.

“listen, i’m sorry for making you cry, i didn’t think you’d be this fucking upset about it,” sukuna apologized, but it still didn’t make up for how you were feeling.

“great, man, now let me go,” you mumbled. you felt his grip tighten slightly.

“c’mon baby, i already apologized, what else do you want me to do?” he questioned, his tone growing less calm.

“for you to leave me the fuck alone, sukuna! jeez, man, how much clearer am i supposed to get? i don’t want to talk to you. you ruined this stupid project that i put my blood, sweat and tears into, and you didn’t do crap!” you told him sternly, before ripping your wrist out of his hold.

you grumbled a few irritated things under you breath, getting to class. and there went the feeling of peace you felt this morning.

sukuna thought he couldn’t be even more down bad for you, well, he was wrong. the way you stood up to his shit, oh girl, he was crazy about you.

he stood there in silence. should he drop this, and should he drop you? yes. will he do that? nah, absolutely not. he was in love, and pissed off you weren’t talking to him. that man wasn’t stopping at anything until you forgave him.

──★˙🍓̟!! okay guys wrap it up this is getting insane😭😭 again i feel so flattered with all the likes, comments and reblogs!!! and i’m sorry for this part idk, really more a filler part than anything im sorry, but part 7 is the last part!! it’s going to take a little longer because i attend to make it the longest part yet, so stay tuned 😝😝

— taglist ! @imlikeacoffeeconnoisseur @totallygyomeiswife @sukubusss @seizecherry @xlilycoco @v1x3n @go-go-gadget-autism @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @paradisestarfishh @whosmarjj @aquariusscollection @satorushousewife @rwirxles @anonnieghost @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee @iminloveweveryone @poopooindamouf @phisen @ryomku @erintaro @clp-84 @mastermasterlist1p1 @katsukiseyebrows @iioveoldermen @happy2delivur @jup1tersuccubus 🍓

[inbabylontheywept]

How is your life so interesting

Normally, I just kind of laugh this question off, but I've been asked enough times I'm gonna take an honest stab at it.

So, the first thing worth considering is whether the story itself is all that interesting, or whether I am just a good storyteller. My most popular story is about cutting a lot of worms and half, and crying, and then being comforted by my mom. That's not a terribly uncommon or hard to imagine event. A lot of my stories more about the telling than the substance.

There are also some stories that are weird, but they're weird in ways that I also find, like, relateably weird? It might just be that I knew a lot of athletes in college, but I don't think eating raw eggs is that weird. Eating 15 in one go is, but I was roommates with a guy that ate like, three for breakfast, three in his in-class protein shake, and another three at dinner. That guy was attending ASU on a gymnast scholarship, but also, he genuinely ate 5 dozen eggs a week. That seems much more normal than eating 15 in one day.

To say nothing of eating raw onion. Tons of people eat raw onions. It baffles the non-onion eaters, but it's a super common thing. Especially in Mexico.

Some of the stories happen because I am better at noticing story-worthy events than most people. I can't tell you how many times I've been in public, and seen someone do some weirdass thing, and then had to nudge my wife and to get her to watch it too.

If I had to point to the parts of my life that are truly, genuinely, bafflingly weird, they would be my dating stories, and. I dunno. My general thermonuclear dumbass event posts. And I can break down why those two are interesting pretty simply:

I was unbelievably bad at dating. The majority of the time, that just meant that there was a few minutes of stilted small talk and never get a call back. But the thing is, Mormon culture strongly encourages dating as like, a social-practice thing, and I was very motivated to get good at it, so I just kept trying and trying and I think I went on at least 200 first dates before meeting my wife. I genuinely believe that if anyone went on 200 first dates, they would get some pretty incredible bad date stories too. Especially if they had autism. I know I write well, and I can sound very charming here, but it took me a very, very long to get decent social skills. I am just a disturbingly persistent learner.

I am very convincing. This is helpful when I am interacting with other people, because it can do things like, convince them to let me into their secret facility, or convince them to not vote Republican again, or to save at least put the company match into their retirement accounts. But when I'm just debating something with myself, my convincingness works against me: I am very good at tricking myself into believing that bad ideas are, somehow, actually good. This is part of why I have so much sympathy for the right wing lunatics that I work with. Every time I meet a crazy person I go, ah, but for the grace of God, go I. Anyway, this does an unfortunate thing where my excellent verbal skills drive my poor decisions, which results in the very odd combination of welll written, articulate stories about someone being A Fucking Idiot. Like the condom bomber story. I think this is also why most of the lawyers that I meet are insane in their personal lives.

Anyway, those are my theories! I'm gonna tag @lizardho because we mostly had the same childhood, but she has a better grasp on what normal people look like than me, and perhaps she'll have her own theories on the weirdness of our lives.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

You know what we never see, neglected reader who is damn near bruce's age. Technically if you think about it you can really have kids at any age, so why people only make him pump it and dump it only when is in his 30s and 40s is crazy to me. If Bruce has I kid at 18 and he is in his late 40s , reader could be in their 30s and be the oldest of the batkids. Especially if reader has gone their whole life never knowing bruce until know or known them in the last couple of years.

Reader is a grown ass adult, whom bruce and the family have no real authority over considering their age. The audacity of batfamily as well, y'all are really out here bullying a grown adult like?????? Honesty if they wanted to they could just leave, like for real. Also technically speaking, if reader is near bruce's age, then most of the boys neglected reader is paired with romantically would be considered significantly younger, and I don't think reader would really date youger than themselves.

But you know who they could date, the league. Reader might be slightly younger but it wouldn't be considered an inappropriate age gap like we be seeing here on this damn app. Anyone only the Justice League is free game for her. God could you imagine what Bruce feel if he ever caught one of his own colleagues was shaking up with his oldest kid, especially if it was somone like Wonder Woman or Superman, the two people he is closest to.

I LOVE THIS IDEA OVERWORKED ADULT!READER

Just thinking about a reader who is an overworked office worker at Wayne Enterprises, the same company that Bruce owns, without knowing that Bruce Wayne is their biological father. They go through years of their lives not really knowing their dad and not really caring, like Father's Day was just another Mother's Day to them, or they would give Father's Day presents to their uncles or grandpa. They never really cared to know their dad and never really cared to even see him. Their mom said he was just a feeling that she had when she was 18; it wasn't too important, and she can hardly remember. But then again, who forgets Bruce Wayne? At that time, he wasn't the infamous playboy, just a hurt rich kid with too much eyeliner. Bruce wasn't even aware of their existence until now.

Just think about it: you're going out on a daily walk in Gotham Park when all of a sudden you run into Dick and his cute little dog, Haley. You play around with the puppy for just a while before you go back on your walk. Dick is practically blushing because, wow, you're so good with animals and you're so kind and nice—not to mention you remind him of somebody, but he can't put his finger on it. The next thing you know, you run into Tim, who's having trouble with the vending machine. You teach the kid a small trick: hitting the vending machine at least three times on different sides, and boom, energy drinks fall out. You hand him the other one while walking away, and he thinks you're the coolest person to ever step foot on this Earth. You catch Damian sketching in the park and compliment him on his artistic skills. He never cared for silly compliments, but yours felt so real, so kind and genuine.

You meet Steph Batgirl; you both are ordering the same combo meal just for you to say, "Jinx, you owe me a soda!" Being playful, she gets you an extra Sprite. You accidentally drop your wallet, and Cass picks it up. She doesn't say anything, so it makes you think that she's mute or deaf, so you end up signing "thank you" to her. She's over the moon, ecstatic even. Duke is complaining about how his favorite coffee shop is out of matcha drinks. You end up buying matcha—a stupid trend—and you give him your drink. He's left flustered, struggling to say thank you.

At the bar, you're out with some coworkers drinking until you and your work crew are singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Jason, who's at the same bar, catches you. He thinks your drunk expressions are pretty cute, and they all share the same experiences they had that day with each other. They figure out they met the same person, surprisingly similar to Bruce. They also list key traits like how you're tall, your long dark hair, your tired eyes, your slumped posture, and your amazing charm, which managed to make them become yanderes in under a minute. They share this information with Bruce, who's completely confused as to why all of his little birds would be obsessed with you.

He finally sees you in the office, snoozing over a pile of paperwork. He has paternal feelings towards you, wanting to wrap you in his thousand-dollar suit coat. He puts it over your shoulders and takes the workload off of you. The next thing you know, he's reading into your files, trying to learn everything and anything about you, just to know that you've been working here for three years. He learns that even though you do an exceptional job, your mother is the old flame he had during his first years as Batman. He takes a piece of your DNA—an energy drink you've been chugging down your throat—just to realize that you are his blood. But how can he just step into your life without you even knowing him? Any of the Birds stepping into your life without you regarding them— to you, they're just a bunch of strangers that you've had silly moments with; to them, you're family. I have a hunch that they knew you for years, at least more than the big sibling that somehow managed to run away.

[bubbles-is-hardcore]

You know, Sam Winchester gets a lot of flack for the fact that all of his girlfriends die but at least it’s always a random thing. Dean on the other hand?? So much worse!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a Dean stan till I die but it is undeniably crazy.

My man had three boyfriends and all of them died. The big difference is the fact that they all died the exact same way. Dean (though however unintentional) convinced three supernatural beings to LITERALLY KILL THEMSELVES FOR HIM!!

He had all of them so deeply in love with him, he didn’t even have to really ask.

First we have Benny

He fell hard for Dean in Purgatory and was kinda dependent on him outside of it. It hurt Benny a ton when Dean had to cut contact because of Sam. Even then, he still willingly died and went back to the place he had tried for so long to escape. All for Dean and to make sure he was happy.

Then we have the King himself, Crowley.

Dude stabbed himself in the chest to give Dean time to escape. No illusion or trick, just a straight up suicide bomb to distract Lucifer. He clearly caught serious feelings for Dean over the years, especially after he got the mark and turned into a demon. Even though Dean straight up rejected him, he still was too deep in love. He committed suicide to keep him safe.

Then there’s the one and only, Castiel.

He died for Dean multiple times and had been in love with him for so long but this last one was really it. He confessed how much he loved Dean to his face! He said I love you! Knowing he would die if he did! All to save Dean! All to give him a chance! FUCK IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE THIS ONE HURTS!

Basically, Dean had men falling over each other to sacrifice themselves because they were so in love with him and he still had the gall to think he was unlovable.

In conclusion, Dean Winchester is the most oblivious man in the universe.

[cherryheairt]

Last Time (I Seen the Sun)

req: HI! could you do a remmick imagine but instead of him coming for Sammie's voice he comes for his sister because he feels a soul tie to her almost like soulmates

Remmick x f!black!reader

Everything about looks left to imagination, but obv is Sammie's twin sister lol

This really ran away from me.

wc: 10.3k

cw: remmick, religious disbelief, ultimatum, (don't like dont read), thirsting after sketch men, f!r is an adult, dark!remmick? kinda but not crazy? you'll see

You avoided Sammie's knowing eyes as the Juke started to come to life.

Bo was busying himself setting up the bar while Grace steadily worked at the sign that would be the finishing touch on the old mill.

Annie was flittering between the back of house and the trucks outside to get a head start on the cooking for the night: prepping vegetables and mixing the seasonings that would later garnish the heavenly plates of catfish that you remembered oh-so-fondly from your childhood. That was, before Smoke and Stack left for Chicago to find their way in the world. You didn't see much of her after that, especially not after the loss of Smoke and her went through years back. You don't think either truly recovered from it—or if anyone could.

Delta Slim was at the little stage in the back, humming to himself and smoothing aged hands over the second hand piano like meeting an old friend again.

Your cousins were who-knows-where, counting beer and cash and whispering to each other about complicated things you'd rather not stress yourself about. You had a good hunch that a lot of their new money was come by in less than favorable ways, and sometimes ignorance truly was bliss.

You sat in your sunday best, feeling slightly out of place although tonight you knew you'd have to be the center of attention. At least you had Sammie, still. Your pillar when things got rough, especially at home. You were both the eldest of your parent's children, deemed the caretakers and the legacy followers. Sammie more so than you, who was expected to follow in father's footsteps and become the next town Preacher. Though, you weren't let off lightly and allowed to slack off. All of the young Clarksdale girls looked up to you for example, and all of the older women expected you to be the epitome of a perfect and pure young lady since you were nothing but a babe.

Still, although your father forbade it outside of the Church choir, you and Sammie found time in your late nights to practice. After everyone had gone to sleep for the night, the small Church was a secluded paradise where everything else seemed to fade away. Good things could only last so long until they were ripped from under your feet.

The betrayal to your parents was eating away at your stomach. The image of your father's dark eyes glaring at you as you followed Sammie outside of the Church and into the twins’ car haunted you every time you blinked. The frown that tugged at your mother's face tugged at your own unconsciously.

“You're not gonna throw up all o'er the stage, now, are you?” Slim asked, noticing your expression and knuckles tightening against your guitar's neck.

“No, sir.” You managed, swallowing back bile and reminding yourself that the bitter taste on your tongue was just your mind playing tricks on you.

“Good. ‘Cause I'm not the one that'd clean it up.” Even if it was your first day with Slim, you could tell he had a good heart. A good soul. Checking on you subtly while he was busy tuning the piano.

You smiled weakly in response, brushing your tongue over your teeth in some attempt at grounding yourself.

‘You keep dancing with the devil, girl, one day he'll follow you home.’ Your mother's warnings were a gentler version of your father's preaching. You'd be wise to listen to your parents, yes, but then you'd also be stuck in the outskirts of Clarksdale your entire life, being reduced to the Preacher's sister and the wife of some faceless man.

You'd never played in front of a crowd before, not like Slim had. Not without the rest of the Church singing with you. Even then, your voice was hidden beneath the masses and your tone muted and dull with the repetitive hymns.

Smoke and Stack were practically throwing you to the wolves with tonight's opening performance. One mistake, and it could affect their business as well as any future you could have possibly gotten a chance at. Just one chance, that's all you needed. Prove to everyone, and yourself, that you weren't just blowing smoke up your ass about your talent.

A drink appeared in front of your eyes, and you looked up to see your brother holding out one of the twins’ Irish brewed beers.

“The people are gettin’ antsy.” Sammie spoke up casually, walking up from a conversation with one of said people from the faceless crowd. It was all too much and yet nothing compared to your dreams.

You took it, wetting your lips with a slight peak of tongue before popping open the bottle, clinking necks with Sammie's own and taking a hearty gulp. Cringing at the bitter toffee flavour and tracing your fingertip over the narrow rim in favor of taking another.

“You need me to go solo?” He asked after a beat of silence. He could, he really could. Sammie had a certain talent of captivating people, getting lost in his music and transcending the Earth. You stayed grounded in times he was up in the clouds, all too aware of everything to be carefree.

“Nah.” You assured, nudging his knee with your own. “I can do this.”

He smiled, and let his gaze follow the mingling crowd and the individuals making it up. A particular lady caught his eye—perhaps a bit too old for him to be biting at her heels, but who were you to judge your brother's whims?—and he never took them off of her for more than a few seconds as she weaved around men and women like a dove.

And even with a million things racing through your mind, you could always make room for a bit of teasing. Especially with Sammie, the only one who would tolerate it. “That's the woman from the station, ain't she?”

Sammie's brows lifted to his forehead like he'd been caught in a scandal. “Could be. There's a lotta folks from the station here.”

“Right.” You hummed. “Her husband didn't join her, what a pity to dance alone.”

Before Sammie could stammer out some urged reply, the elephant in the room caught both of your attention. A woman, skin pale and cheeks rosy, striding through people like no one m's business.

“Is that. . .?” Sammie trailed, sounding nervous at the implication.

“Stack's girl.” You narrowed your eyes, shocked but not entirely disappointed at Mary's appearance. From Mary and Stack's encounter at the station, you had figured she wanted nothing to do with him or his new joint. Nothing to do with her past at all. You'd never met her up front, but heard of her from murmurs throughout the town about her white husband saving her from the prejudice her mama went through. She was furious, and understandably so with how he handled their ‘break-up’ years prior. Marrying her off like some broodmare and calling it protection. You couldn't personally understand her tribulations, but they were certainly an underlying fear of yours. Being hidden behind a man was the last thing you wanted, and as much as you loved your brother you would sure as hell work your ass off to be on the center of your own stage.

“I wouldn't let ‘er hear you say that.” Sammie huffed, dusting himself off and moving to approach her, likely to convince the woman to leave before the twins caught wind of her arrival. You snickered as you watched her get defensive immediately, shouldering past him on her way to the bar where Grace was pouring drinks. It only took a minute of them sitting down and speaking in hushed tones for Stack to catch sight like a hawk watching his skies and all the prey within his sight, swooping down and taking Mary aside to deal with their matters alone. Sammie shuffled his way back to you, looking more like a scolded child than he had been when you left the church with your father’s scornful stare on your necks.

Patting his shoulders, you welcomed him back without a peep, despite the effort it took.

It was Smoke who approached you, leaving Annie's side from the stockrooms to urge you up on your feet.

“It's gon’ be dawn before the two of you stop draggin’ your feet.” He started, exasperated though you could tell it wasn't stemming from you and Sammie. You didn't pry, just stood up and straightened your shoulders, trying your best to appear collected.

Shaking your hands out, you rested them atop the strings of your old guitar—a double gift from the twins, of course—and felt Sam move to do the same beside you. You met his eyes, noticing how his nerves began to wash away even when eyes turned to the two of you. People surrounded you from all sides as you stepped from the stage and onto the leveled floor of the mill. Stack and Smoke stood at opposite pillars, wearing eager and somber expressions respectively. Annie stopped serving plates and fixed her attention on the two of you like her customers did, an expecting look on her serious face. Slim was still up on the stage, allowing you your own time to shine before he touched the piano.

A strum, then another.

Sammie plucked at his guitar, silencing the room until it was nothing but your music and quiet leftovers murmurs.

“Something I've been wanting to tell ya.” He reverberated, deep voice pulling the crowd in. “For a long time.”

Your head bobbed in time with your foot as you kept time, backing him up with chords.

“It might hurt ya, hope you don't mind. Well, I was just a boy, ‘bout eight years old. Threw me a bible, on that Mississippi road.”

Finally, you joined him, voices harmonizing with his vibrato baritone and your own melodic one. “See, I love ya papa, you did all you could. They say the truth hurts. So I lied to you.”

“Yes, I lied to you. I love the blues.”

The hums filled the room, and soon the crowd started dancing and flowing like water all around you, breaking off into pairs or trios, or simply dancing all alone like no one watched. Grace brought Bo out from the back, enticing her husband to dance with her with large grins on their faces. Mary and Stack two-stepped under the warm lights and for one night they could finally be together after years apart, laughter breaking through music and stomps. Annie glided through the dancefloor with Smoke close behind, never distant for too long and always making some kind of contact as they swayed to their own rhythm.

“Somebody take me in your arms tonight,” The Juke grew impossibly hot, sweat beaded on your brow and exposed neck and chest but you kept on. It was exhilarating to be surrounded by so much movement and familiarity, a place where no one could stop you or hold you back.

For the first night of your life, you felt alive.

Alive in a way you never could back home.

Alive in a way the church could never make you feel within those caging walls.

For once, the blood rushing through your veins and heart pumping against your chest like it was trying to escape wasn't because of fear or frustration, but jubilation and acceptance.

The Juke continued to grow in heat and noise as bodies mingled and danced, feet stomped, and voices sang to their heart's desire. It felt like raging fire burning through around you and throughout the old floorboards. Your body was weightless, floating from your spot and rising up to the stars when your eyes closed to revel in the novel feeling.

Sammie’s back was against yours as you hummed and sang in tandem, grounding you and bringing you back to earth.

“So preach on, speak your words.”

For a moment, a mere millisecond in that Juke, you swore you saw a glimpse of the impossible. Dancers dressed in large ornate gowns dancing like they'd burn a hole through the floor from their passion alone, guitarists striking foreign chords with shining, sharp instruments and dressed in tight, glossy clothing, and twirling women who weaved gracefully around people like they didn't need to see their surroundings to understand it. Within the same moment they were gone, replaced by the same people you'd seen all night. You blamed it on the strange beer although you'd only taken one sip, ignoring the tightening feeling in your stomach from your mother's words. They weren't true, devils and spiritual communicators were simply traditionalists’ way of coping with the things not yet understood. Your music was life, never death. You'd stand by that belief ‘til the day you died.

“I love the blues.”

Looking around the Juke Joint, experiencing the best night of your life thus far, you knew for absolute certain that you'd never let yourself be trapped in that small, forgotten corner of Mississippi.

You went upstairs to take a small breather when Sammie went off with the train station woman, letting the cool night's air wash over you before you went back down to dance again.

A smile tugged at your lips as you sat at the opened upstairs docking dock door, the vulnerable position not bothering you but instead freeing you. Your legs swung from the second floor, crossing at the ankles while you wrapped a borrowed silky shawl around your shoulders. From your view you could see cars parked in the dirt and gravel, and all the stars blanketing them. It was hard to see in the near pitch-black, but the Juke's entrance light illuminated at least thirty feet out, slowly fading into dark the further from the joint you watched.

It was only a few minutes of your solitude before it was interrupted. Not directly, but the shadows of distant figures gradually growing as the light cast onto them caught your full attention. Grasping your hands around the edges of the old wood, you carefully leaned to catch a better look.

It was three people, all dressed fairly fine and modestly and striding up to the door where Cornbread was guarding dutifully. They seemed to carry an easy air of confidence and self-assurance, though any white person walking around in Clarksdale and surely any other town in the South was the same. They all were carbon copies of each other: cocky, predictable, prejudiced, and spiteful even as the laws progressed in favor of you. If anything, it made some even angrier at the very idea of black folk being equal to them. In their eyes, there was nothing worse.

Were they here for trouble?

“. . .don't mind us coming in, right?” The center man asked Cornbread. “We hungry as dogs.” The other man and woman laughed at his quip, trying to ease the obvious tension and apprehension that they created just by approaching.

They each carried different instruments leisurely either strapped to their backs or held under their arms. A banjo, a violin, and a guitar. Not an odd choice, but definitely a calculated one. Easy to travel with and even easier to claim as stolen.

The twins’ voices carried from the doorway as the conversation went on. You only heard bits and pieces when Cornbread spoke to them, but now it was clearer.

“I don't think so.” Smoke said firmly, set in his decision to not bring any trouble to his joint. Especially on opening night, which would make or break the business for the rest of its time. Folks saw that white people were welcomed and pushing themselves into their sole weekend escape and they'd never see the walls of the place ever again.

“We just wanna sing.” The woman pressed on, using her best sweet-girl voice. Nothing like that would ever work on Smoke, who quite possibly the most loyal man in the entire town and was not quiet about that fact.

“We came all this way,” the center man added. “It'd be a damn shame to go all the way back home without gettin’ a few dances in.”

Stack hummed, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “Yeah, a shame.” Though no one made any move to let them in.

“Got money to spend and hungry bellies.” He offered, pandering to the twins directly, like three people's cash would make a large effect on the place's funding. Though, who knew, people like him seemed to have wealth growing from their backyards.

You didn't hear what exactly was said next by the people inside, making you lean slightly more and scooch your thighs off the edge just slightly more. You flinched when a stray splinter found it's way digging into your fingertip, immediately taking it to your mouth to attempt to pry it when you couldn't see it in the shadows of the second floor. Still picking at it, the bead of blood on your tongue turned metallic quick and the taste was all-too unpleasant, you'd have to return to your abandoned beer to wash the taste out before your next song.

When you turned your eyes back to the doorway, your heart dropped to your ass when the banjo-carrying man was staring right at you. Instinctively, you curled your legs up towards your body and away from the open air. Even if he couldn't reach from the ground, it just felt necessary.

You heard Sammie from behind the twins. “Stack, y'all alright?” In his deep drawl, always worried for family before anything else.

The man smiled, breaking eye contact with you and looking to Sammie instead. “You must be the voice I heard from out here.” He put a pondering finger to his bottom lip, subconsciously dragging it slightly down. “Is she part of that lovely duet we heard?” The finger moved slowly up to you, where all eyes that could see from the doorway glanced up. Smoke squinted, shifting on his feet with growing annoyance. He ignored the man's question.

“Like we said, you guys can find any other place to play. Jus’ not here.”

The man waved his hands, shaking his head along with them. “I think we got off on the wrong start, here. Let me introduce myself.” He placed a gentle hand to his chest, where the strap tightened against his white shirt. “My name's Remmick. This here is Bert and Joan.” Like the movement was rehearsed, the three of them whipped up their instruments into position, wasting no time to be interrupted as they started singing.

“Oh, I picked poor robin clean.”

If you weren't already creeped out by their insistence and synchronization, you definitely were now. The song was good, great even, you'd admit, but the lyrics rubbed you the wrong way right off the bat.

“Picked his head, ‘n picked his feet. Would'a picked his body but it wasn't fit to eat.”

A hunting song, a gambling song. Not a party song, like they apparently thought would be appropriate to sing after they heard the blue's being played.

Slowly, while they still played and swayed to their own music, you stood to your feet and held onto the doorframe while listening. Remmick's gaze met your own again, and his pearly teeth shone in the lamp's light even more, flaunting sharp canines and perfectly straight teeth. Despite yourself you refused to shrink back again and instead held his gaze, watching his grin tick upwards even more when you did.

It's fine, you assured yourself. He couldn't get up here or even past the doorway. Soon he and his little ragtag group of singers would be back on their way home and out of your sight.

Finally, when their eerie song had been interrupted after the joint owners had enough, Smoke asked a low question that you couldn't quite catch behind his cigarette.

Remmick suddenly seemed shocked, and his silver tongue stuttered over his words. “Sir. We believe in equality, and—and music.” You could put two and two together, and wondered the same thing for a moment. The twins did mention something about buying the joint from an old white man, and who knows what strategies they employ these days now that the Klan was technically outlawed. No one ever stopped, really, just had to get creative.

More words from Smoke and Stack, before eventually Remmick seemed to reluctantly get the idea. Not before getting a good last word in though, when he chuckled and rubbed the top of his wrist. “Oh, I get it.” Earning a solemn nod from Joan beside him, who seemed almost offended at the implication. “This ‘cause we. . .?”

Silence was his answer, and it said everything it needed to.

“Right.” He hummed thoughtfully, resting his hands over his banjo. “So, how'd she get in?” You could only assume Mary was standing somewhere behind Sammie and the twins, and the question made you snort before covering it, hoping no one heard it amongst the immediate defense.

He had a point, even if it was not asked for. The only reason Mary got in was her past with the twins and Annie. Still, family to the twins was famly to you.

“. . .family—” Came from Annie, solidifying your thoughts. Smoke quickly hushed the rising voices behind him, firmly stating his position one was time.

“So y’all sayin’ we aren't welcome?” Remmick asked, almost pouting.

“Y'all have a nice night.” Smoke smiled, waving him and the others off finally.

“We can take a hint,” sighed Remmick.

“We'll get out of yer hair.” He moved the banjo over his back again, turning to walk off. “But we'll walk real slow. . .just in case yall change your mind.” And he stayed true to his words, walking away at a snail’s pace and turning his head slightly. You watched him walk on looking like a kicked pup before deciding that he wouldn't be dumb enough to linger around a Juke filled with people plenty fit enough to dispel them if they tried anything, disappearing into the juke and rushing down the stairs to meet your brother.

The moment you touched down on the last step, it was Stack that met you instead of Sammie like you'd expected. He was leaning on an old banister, watching Mary walk away from him and back to the entrance where Cornbread was.

“What's up with those guys?” You asked in a huff, mind still lingering on the intense stare Remmick had set on you while fixing your shawl tighter against your shoulders.

He shrugged, unbothered by them like you'd expect from Stack. If you wanted concern, you'd go to Smoke for answers. “You ready to get up again?”

“I was gon’ look for Sammie.” You sniffed. It was odd that he disappeared so quickly.

He smiled like he knew something you didn't. “Sammie's fine, got busy with something else. I'm asking about you,” this earned him a raised brow and an unimpressed face.

“Yeah. I'll be up in a beat. Gon’ go make water.” You brushed past him to where Mary had disappeared to. Why had he let her go outside so soon after the three's departure? They couldn't have gotten far.

He scrunched his nose up briefly. “Don't gotta tell me that, just hurry back.”

You snorted, the words reminding you of a much younger Stack—the boy he was before Stack even existed. You didn't forget to grab a beer on your way to the exit, popping the top off and taking a breathless few gulps to steady your mind. The old bottle was probably long gone by now, anyway, discarded near the stage and making a sticky mess.

You felt like a creep following after Mary's footsteps, but the curiosity struck you deep.

“I'll be right back in.” You patted Cornbread's shoulder on your way past him, loosely holding the bottle by its neck and letting the coolness of it spread to your palm. It was hot tonight, as always, and the mix of bodies and movement didn't help. You just hoped you didn't look a sweaty mess in front of the whole joint when you went on stage again.

Your steps were hesitant and slow as you walked straight, staying in the light and approaching a small half-wall made of old concrete brick. You were sure you saw Mary in that fine dress of hers, just before seeing her disappear behind the overgrowth of the forest.

“Mary?” You called out, stretching up on your toes to catch a further glimpse.

No reply.

“Looking for someone?”

You flinched away from the voice behind you. Facing him, you clenched your hand tight the bottle, glancing between him and the door over his shoulder.

It wasn't too far. One smash over the head and you could run back to your cousins for safety.

“Where's Mary?” You asked. Bert and Joan were gone, too, and though that made it easier for you to run it made you worried for Mary. Would you be leaving her out here alone with them, when it was so easy to disappear into the thick of the woods.

He smiled, teeth showing past his pale pink lips with no worries in the world. “Mary?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. “I'm afraid I don't know any Mary's.”

“You know,” you grit, taking a careful and miniscule step back. “She just went past. The white girl in pink, hard to miss.”

“Hard to miss, indeed.” He muttered. “You, on the other hand, are much more worthy of remembering. Got a name to go with those mesmerizin’ chords of yours?”

A lie would be easy, though perhaps useless. If he went asking around he'd never find you anyway. No one knew your name or did you much kindness without the mention of the twins. Beyond your little community, your name wasn't remembered.

In one short, small breath, you introduced yourself.

“Suits you. I'd reckon everyone from here to Jackson is raving about the little starlet from their home.”

You didn't bother replying, he seemed perfectly happy to talk and talk and talk his way into and out of anything, completely ignoring your tense figure and defensive stance.

“I ain't heard a voice quite like yours in. . .” He stops to think, looking to the stars like they might have an answer somewhere up there in the vast darkness. He trails his eyes right back down, and somehow it feels like they glow from the moonshine. “Well, I think it's safe to say never.”

What did he want from you? What could you possibly give him besides good word to come into the joint. Unless it wasn't stemming from his want to get inside anymore, and simply a want for something else. If that was true, you feared you might not get to go back inside. “Thank you,” you managed to choke out, furrowing your brows as you looked through your dark lashes up to him.

Appease, appease, appease. That's what every woman was taught to do. Not that it always worked, but sometimes it was better than immediate offense.

He inched closer, walking right past your shoulder and parallel to you, looking sideways like inviting you to follow. “Why don't we have a seat? I'm sure your feet are killin’ you in those shoes.”

You glanced down at them, shifting slightly. Maybe, but no foot pinching from old shoes were as bad as the things a man is capable of.

Did he change accents? Just for a moment, his r's rolled off his tongue differently. Whatever it was, a slip of tongue or genuine effort to hide something, you'd never heard anything quite like it.

You could run now. Run and get Smoke or Stack or even Cornbread as unarmed as he might be. But then Mary would still be out here alone. And he hadn't threatened you yet, just gave you an eerie feeling. Listening to your gut was the smart thing to do, but something compelled you to sit with this strange man.

Reluctantly, you sat at the half-wall a few feet away from him, noticing his smirk as you did. He didn't close the gap, which you were grateful for. Still, your back was rod-straight and body faced forward while your head faced him. Your hands stayed on both ends of the shawl, bringing the bottle to sit on your lap, slightly out of his sight although it never left either of your minds.

“How's that cut?” He asked.

“Cut?” You didn't catch on.

Remmick nodded towards your hand that wasn't holding the bottleneck. “Saw you got cut by that old wood upstairs. Nasty thing, to get wood out in the dark.”

His words were so casual that it was almost like catching up with an old friend. On his part, at least. You didn't move your hand to inspect it again, not taking your attention off his figure. “Just a splinter, I'm fine.”

He seemed satisfied with that, glancing to your hand and then right back up. No blood, no problem. The simple fact that he noticed your quiet exclamation of pain was astonishing. You didn't quite recall being so loud that even the cicadas didn't drown you out, but some people just had that sixth sense.

“Where'd Mary go?” You start, breaking the silence.

His shoulders moved like he sighed, though you couldn't hear the exhale. “Joan said something about her asking ‘bout a song.”

“A song?”

He hummed, “they're a real talent, aren't they? Singing in harmony like that. I'm new to their little night act, haven't quite found my place yet.” His eyes never left your face. Didn't oogle or stare at your legs or chest, and somehow that wasn't any better. His gaze felt like it looked straight into your soul and past flesh and bone. All-knowing and omnipotent, anticipating your every action.

“I'm sure you know about that.”

“Why d'you say that?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at the implication. You weren't out of place in your music, and certainly not new to playing with Sammie. There was no comparison.

Remmick leaned back, tucking his ankle over his knee and resting his hands on the top leg casually. “You ‘n that boy.” He said sagely. “Your brother, I assume?”

It was best not to answer that, wasn't it?

“He's good. Real good. Sings from the soul and holds a room.”

“He's a real talent.” You nodded.

“Are you?” He tilted his head again.

“Am I talented?” He's the one who said that by the entrance. “Isn't that vain to admit? I enjoy it, that's enough.”

“But you're good. You know it, too. Nothin’ wrong with a little pride.”

There was, in the eyes of the ‘Lord’. Pride, the acknowledgement of your own accomplishments and the want to gain more; to be more than a humble servant to the Lord. You were greedy, prideful, envious—a sinner. Maybe you knew, deep down, that your father's preachings were true and simply didn't want to believe for the fact that you were digging yourself a path straight to hell for your actions. If you were to sin, you'd do it without regret.

Heaven knows how much your mother's fate might condemn you more than the devil would.

“That depends on who you ask.”

“It does,” he breaths through his nose, amused. “If you ask me, I say to make the most of life while we're still livin’ it.”

The words left you sitting in silence for a while. A few moments, a few minutes, it didn't matter. You shrugged, laxing your shoulders slightly. The night cooled down significantly, leaving little heat on the earth under your feet. Remmick didn't seem to mind the chill, simply throwing his head back and enjoying the earthy scent it carried. Music was playing from the joint, still, loud and lively. A woman's voice rang loud and clear, and stomps vibrated the ground so strongly that you felt them from outside.

“I'm good.” You finally said. “But I think Sammie's better. He makes the room feel like it's got no walls, like something otherworldly. . .it comes like breathing to him.”

“On the contrary,” Remmick says. “You make it feel alive.”

You couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips and make your cheeks burn, running a nail over the rim of the bottle to distract yourself from his stare.

Playfully, he raises his hands in the air. “On my momma's grave, I wouldn't lie to you, darlin’.”

“Mmhm,” you chuckled quietly. “I'm sure.”

“If there's one way to describe it, it's like seeing spirits from the other side dancing and singing right by your side.” He really believed what he was telling you, and that almost made it worse. You denied the same feeling a hundred times before, playing it off as the spiritual remnants and heavy aura of the Church. Tonight, it was just the mix of dancing bodies and heat.

Your throat felt tight again, and you chewed at your cheek thoughtfully. “I don't believe in that stuff. It's just a feeling, a fleeting moment when adrenaline influences you like liquor. ‘S a nice thought, but that's all it is—a thought.”

“A thought,” he nodded, taking in your words and looking at the lively building. “No one in there can appreciate your gift. One night of fun is all they're after.”

“Escape isn't a bad thing.” You mused. “Everyone in there is coming from their dead-end jobs or screaming kids. One night is nothing compared to the week's labour. If I can play just for a few hours a night to make them forget the day, then it'll be worth it. Don't need it to be appreciated.”

His lip quirked up in a small smirk, one that you interrupted as his relation to them.

“What do you do during the week, mister?” You asked. “What toils your body so and makes your soul yearn for song?”

The upturn falls faster than it rose and suddenly Remmick was downcast. It takes a while for him to answer, and his tone sounds reminiscent when he finally does. “I was a farmer.”

“Was?” You ask tentatively.

“Was.” He confirmed. “It was hard. Long, hot days. Restless nights.”

“What was your solace?”

“Well,” he smiled, almost bashfully. “I didn't have anyone to come home to. No wife or kids. The thought of all of it paying off one day to give them a good life was my solace. I suppose my hope woke me up every morning and gave me sweet dreams every night.”

“What made you quit?” Your hands played with the hem of your dress rather than the bottle, indulging yourself in conversation.

“Someone took it from me.”

“Oh,” you hummed. He didn't explain, and you didn't ask further.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Your escape. What're you running from?”

“I'm not running from anything.” You defended quickly. “Can't I just have dreams?”

“Every dream comes from somewhere.” He shrugged. “No escape, then. What about. . .destiny?”

Again, you shook your head. “I don't believe in whatever faith you're tryin’ to sell me.”

“Not a preacher.” He assured. “Just a man, humbled by life. You don't believe in destiny, either?”

“I believe that our choices are the only thing that leads us down the road. No predetermined fate that gets set for us before we're even born. What's the point of living if it's all drawn out for us?”

“I can't argue with that, lass.”

A faint, almost drowned-out screech led your attention to the forest behind you. “Mary?” You murmured, standing and wildly looking around the pitch-black to see movement.

“What's wrong?” Remmick asked, unmoved.

“You—you didn't hear that?” All the progress you had made with Remmick felt like it dissipated into the air. She went off with two strangers and you'd just sat conversing casually with the third.

That's when he did stand. Taller than you, broader, with not a worry on his face. “I didn't hear anythin’. You feelin alright?” The hand that reached out to you was slapped away, and he had the nerve to look shocked.

“Don't touch me.” You panted briefly, head fogging with fear and regret. Get Smoke and Stack, then find Mary with them and their guns. You should've done it the moment you saw her disappear into the bramble.

Hands up, Remmick nodded firmly. “I won't do anything. Thought we was just having a nice chat. Guess I was mistaken.”

Stiffly, you nodded. “Excuse me.” You turned heel to slide away from the half-wall and towards the Juke Joint, glass gripped in your hand like a vice ready to be wielded. If you had to, you would. He didn't make any move towards you and it almost felt like a home run.

You got halfway before he spoke again. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Almost there. You could see Cornbread in the door, but he was turned around and clearly talking to someone that you couldn't see.

In a flash, you were physically halted. Flinching, you looked up to see Remmick right in front of you with a light touch on your shoulders. Too light, unrestraining but imposing. There was no way he could've sprinted in front of you like that in the split of a second, not unless he wasn't human.

Your name came softly from his lips. Familiar and tender in a way you'd never heard before. Frozen, you didn't move a muscle in his grasp nor take your eyes off his. You weren't mistaken when you saw his eyes flash for the first time in that doorway. Everything about him seemed more menacing, from his teeth to the browns of his eyes glowing unnaturally red even when faced away from the light.

“I believe it's rude to ignore a question.” He clicked his tongue like you were nothing more than a disobedient child. His smile was cool and lazy, trusting that you weren't getting out of his hold.

“Let me go.” Your voice shook despite yourself. Your resolve wavered and stomach twisted with fear, and he soaked it up like fine liquor.

“That's alright, maybe you didn't hear me the first time, hm?” He purred out. “I asked: do you believe in soulmates?”

“I need to get back inside.” To Sammie. To safety. You were stupid to indulge in this man's whims despite your gut feeling.

“What's in there that's not out here, lass?” He twisted, waving one hand towards the decrepit building and keeping the other on you. “They're not gonna make you famous. They won't remember your face come morning, and certainly can't appreciate that gift you got.”

Remmick almost sounded angry for you. Like he was the one getting stubbed.

“I never said I wanted to be famous. Just wanted to sing, that's it.”

“Oh, baby.” He tutted, teeth flashing behind his pink lips. “I know exactly what you want. Maybe even more than you.”

The world was still. Has the cicadas and crickets been silent all night, or were you just noticing now, when your heartbeat replaced all other sounds? Without another prolonging moment, you swung your hand up and broke the half-empty bottle over his head.

He didn't stumble, but his eyes widened after the initial hit and let you go. Blood poured from his temple and over his ear, dripping in rivers down the side of his face and to his neck.

He laughed.

Remmick laughed, and you ran.

It felt like you carried a thousand pounds on your shoulders as you did, but you didn't stop or look back until you got to the door.

“Whoa there, little lady.” Cornbread soothed as you ran right into his chest and wrapped your arms around him in heaving breaths of terror.

“Close the door!” You shouted, relief unpalpable.

Bemused, he did as you commanded and called behind you both for either of the twins.

It was Smoke who came for you, Annie trailing behind him. With wet eyes you started to sob out incoherent explanations. “They got Mary, Smoke. I don't know what they are but they ain't human. She followed them and I heard her scream. God, Smoke, I think they killed her.” You panted out, clutching your stomach as bile rose to your throat.

Annie reached out for you first, her warmth a welcoming comfort despite the heat overwhelming your body already. “Calm down, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack like that.” She rubbed your back up and down, firm and slow.

“Who got her?” Smoke asked, hand reaching for the gun in his jacket.

“The guys you sent away. I saw Mary and Stack talkin’ and followed her outside. Those two led her into the forest and one of them stopped me before I could get to her.”

Smoke shared a glance with Annie, narrowing his eyes at your words. “You said they ain't human?”

You shook your head quickly. “The man—Remmick—he came in front of me from twenty feet away in the blink of an eye. His teeth are sharp, and he didn't even flinch when the glass got stuck in his head. His eyes were red and glowing.”

Annie tensed. Smoke, on the other hand, seemed to relax even just slightly. “You sayin’ those three are some kind of demon?”

“Something!” You exclaimed, exasperated. “I don't know what, but they got her. We need to help her.”

Smoke resolved to a simple nod and beckoned across the room for Stack to come down from the rafters. “We'll find her.” He leaned above you, muttering something in Annie's ear that you couldn't make out. Annie's hold on you tightened and began leading you to the back rooms.

A light knock sounded on the wooden door. Everyone in the entrance froze, eyeing the door carefully.

Cornbread, who had been a silent observer this entire time, waited for permission from Smoke to move before he slowly cracked open the door. Smoke pointed his gun right at the door, head-level, waiting for an opportunity.

There, right as rain, stood a perfectly intact Mary.

“What's everybody standin’ around for?” She smiled, and it seemed all too familiar to you. “You gon’ let me in, Cornbread?”

“Of‐of course, Mary.” He stammered out, opening the door wider for the young lady to be let in.

“Mary?” You whispered out, clinging to Annie's arm tighter. “But. . .”

“You feelin’ okay?” She tilted her head slightly, brown eyes lit with concern for you. You flinched when she felt a hand out to your forehead, and she slowly withdrew it back to her hip. “You're not looking too hot.”

Smoke kissed his teeth, putting his gun away just as fast as it got brought out. Cornbread closed the door again and the tension was thicker than the previous fear. “You been drinkin'?” Your name came from his mouth like a curse, which surprised you. He'd never turned his anger to you, or been angry at all, really. “Get back to the stockroom, I think you're done for the night.” He turned away, steps long and heavy as he met Stack half-way across the room. They shared a small muted few words before Stack nodded and went to Mary's side, discreetly glancing at you as he did. If you saw guilt in his dark eyes, it was gone a moment later. Mary grinned as he approached, their own conversation out of range for you as Annie led you to the kitchen's backroom.

“Annie, you gotta believe me.” You pleaded as she left you to sit on a crate. It wasn't a moment later that she brought you a glass of lukewarm water. She leaned on the crate next to you, folding her hands over her chest and simply observing.

“I believe that you saw something that scared the life out of you” She said, voice soothing and slow. “You're sure it wasn't just the light or the liquor?”

She was asking, but not in the condescending way you thought she might. Annie was cautious, always wary of her surroundings and looking out for the people she loved. She had been spiritual since the day you met her when you were both younger, and though you didn't believe her words of warning before and hoodoo bags of protection, you sure as hell did now.

Annie was trying to figure out what she was dealing with and how big of a threat it might be.

“I haven't drank anything, just a half-bottle of beer.” You persisted. “I walked away from him and he was right in front of me like a ghost. Hell, Annie, I smashed that bottle right over his head and he didn't even flinch. What kinda man doesn't react to blood seeping down his face?”

She pursed her lips, glancing to the open doorway and to the dancing people. They didn't have a clue in the world. You wished you could say the same and live in blissful ignorance again.

“You said you heard Mary scream. That she went off with those people?”

“Yes! It wasn't some jumpy screech, she was terrified, like they were hunting her down.” How was she alive, if Joan and Bert were indeed the same thing Remmick was? She couldn't have outrun or outfought them any more than you did.

She took your words in carefully, considering her options and opting to straighten up. “Finish that and stay right here. I'll be right back.” With that, she was off before you could get another peep out. It was easiest to guess she'd be right by Smoke's side, telling him her genuine concerns and getting brushed off when he insisted stuff like that simply wasn't real.

You weren't gonna wait around for her to come back with bad news.

The only way to find out what really happened was from the source. Or rather, victim of the source. You weren't crazy. Nor drunk or disillusioned by the night and it's tricks. You crept out from the room right behind Annie, merging with the crowd to slip back out of sight and towards where Mary and Stack last were. Near the entrance, parallel to the door you'd so desperately ran to, was one of the now-closed store rooms.

Gingerly, you twisted the knob open and called for her. “Mary?” The lighting wasn't too dim, a single oil lamp lighting the entirety of the area from the doorway and allowing you to see her straddling Stack on the floor. For a minute, you thought you had walked in on something you weren't supposed to, but the stillness of Mary's shoulders made you stiffen.

She slowly rose from her leaned-over positioning, face no longer buried into his neck. It's then that you saw the blood pouring from the side of it, watching him writhe in pain and bring his hand up to stop the bleeding. Your jagged breath caught in your throat as you took a step back to get help.

The music was too loud. The floor buzzed with the vibrations. The people were too densely packed to move through. Cornbread was missing from the door. You had to get Mary off Stack and stop the bleeding, and then simply hope that someone will come running in when they hear the commotion.

You ran up to her, reaching for her arm to tug her lithe body from Stack's, only to barely graze her skin with your nails when she jumped up. While he still twitched and gasped for air, Stack tried his best to look down at you and shake his head. The world spun around you as you got pinned to the floor, Mary's frame now hovering on top of your hips to hold you down. Blood dripped down her face and onto yours as she leaned over you, and you clawed at her face to get her off.

After a few moments of struggle Mary caught your wrists and held them tight. Blood and skin caught beneath your nails and you could taste the bile in your throat rising from the metallic scent that plagued you. She giggled airily at your plight and sighed. “You weren't s'posed to see that.” The words didn't sound like their own, wrong and dark out of her mouth. "I wanted to charm you the traditional way, but this works too."

Stack stopped moving by your feet.

“He'll be okay.” She reassured in a soft coo. “Little Mary just couldn't live on without Elias. Sweet, isn't it?”

“Mary. . .” You swallowed, willing all of this to be a dream. Stack was dead. Your cousin was dead right at your feet and Mary killed him. The woman he loved and thought loved him, too. His blood was on your face. You were next. No one would come to help you in this dinky little storage room. You'll die and then she'll kill your brother next. Smoke, Annie, Grace and Bo—every soul who just wanted one night of bliss wouldn't even make it to their own beds.

For once, you missed those cold church pews that made your ass sore and legs fall asleep. If you had to die, at least you were free for just one night.

Her grin only widened, stretching unnaturally wide and showing red-stained teeth. “We won't hurt ya’. You, or anyone else in here.”

Your hands trembled as you whispered, “I thought you cared for him. For all of us.”

Mary sneered, smile downturned like the flick of a switch. Claws dug into your arms as she seethed. “I do. You have no—” She paused, righting herself back up out of your face and loosened her harsh grip on you. “You don't understand yet, that's okay. We'll show you, won't we?”

“What happened to you? What'd they do to you?” You asked. Your limbs felt hot with pain but the fear of worse had your adrenaline pumping faster than a greyhound's.

Mary looked behind her to Stack, eyes tender despite the massacre she was looking at. “Nothing that you won't understand. But, honey, you need to make a choice real fast before he wakes up.”

“Wakes up?” You scoffed. “You fucking killed him!” She should have never been let in, and you should've never gone after her. The crazy bitch deserved to be alone.

She squeezed your wrists warningly. “I could go out there right now. I could tear a hundred necks right off without being stopped. But I'm bein’ generous tonight. You can come with us outside or let them all die—and then get dragged outside anyway. I don't particularly mind either way.”

You sucked in a breath. “Go with you where?”

“Not her, hon’.” She laughed.

“You?” Remmick.

“You're a smart girl, aren't ya? Smarter than most.” She, he, purred. “And I'll bet you're clever enough to make the right choice.”

The right choice. There wasn't a good choice for you, but instead the lesser of two unknowns. Why Remmick wanted just you to follow him without question was something you wouldn't know until you were in his clutches. Would he kill you, or perhaps do something much worse? There was no buffer or protection, no Sammie to look to when your father scolded you and no cousins to hide behind when grown men started growing bold. Just you and the devil staring into each other's soul. The devil who stole Mary's face and corrupted her soul.

Your mother was right, and you were foolish to think yourself above old wive's tales. Every one of them was rooted in truth, after all.

“If I come, no one else gets hurt?”

“Not a soul.” She grinned. You wouldn't forget the bloodthirsty glint in her eyes for as long as you lived.

“And if you're lying? If I walk out there and you choose to kill ‘em all anyway?”

“Cross my heart, sweet thing.” She sighed. “You just gotta take a leap of faith. Trust me, and you'll get trust in return.”

There was no reason you wanted them to trust you, for the same reason a wolf doesn't need to trust that a deer is faking its limp. It just doesn't matter in the end when the prey is dead in its maw anyway.

“Okay.” You said, relishing in the release of your limbs and the pressure of her body finally getting off of you. You slowly stood up, warily watching Mary dust herself off and hum.

“You can get up now, baby.” She laughed.

When Stack's deep laugh reverberated throughout the small room, you nearly fainted. Was it all a prank, or were you dead alongside your older cousin? Whatever they, or he, did to Mary and Stack, he'd surely do to you.

“Took you long enough to convince ‘er.” He said, wiping blood off of his neck and standing up as if nothing happened. But it was there, and it was real. A gruesome bite into the dark skin of his neck that had stopped bleeding the moment his heart did.

“Stack?” You sobbed out in disbelief.

He smiled, a more genuine and soft one than he had before. “I'm alright. Better than I've ever felt.” He placed his hands atop your trembling shoulders sympathetically. “You ready to say your ‘goodbyes’?”

Mouth agape, you slowly shook your head. How could you ever be ready to leave your family?

His jaw ticked. “Me neither.” But he guided you out anyway. He found a small, out of place looking scarf to cover his neck up, motioning for Mary to leave the Juke through the open entrance while he did. She rubbed your back as she passed, striding out of the building like she hadn't just upturned your entire life.

Stack headed to Smoke immediately, finding him huddled with Annie and whispering out of earshot from everybody else. You made way to Sammie, feeling your stomach churn with every step. He was just stepping off the stage from his second performance, sweat making his forehead gleam in the light and eyes shine twice as bright.

“Where've you been?” He exclaimed when you approached, boyishly smiling as he adjusted his guitar around his back. “We were supposed to play together, flake.”

You wished more than anything to tell him the truth, to beg him for forgiveness and never leave his side. “Wasn't feelin’ too great.” You said instead. “Stack's gon’ take me home so I can get some sleep. Heard you, though. You don't need me to share the spotlight.”

He shook his head with a playful scoff. “Don't be so dramatic, course I need you to play. That's what we promised, right? Two-man band.”

Born twins, just like your cousins. Always together, always having each-other's back when shit got to be too much at home. You had no clue what you'd do without your other half.

“Two-man band.” You agreed, blinking away tears from your waterline. You tugged Sammie into a tight hug, laughing when he patted your back in confused consolation.

“You sure you're okay to go home?” He asked quieter. “It's not long before we're all drivin’ back anyway.”

“I'm sure. Joint's too loud to get any sleep and my head's poundin’.”

He pulled away, inspecting you with a scrutiny that matched your mother's. He always had her face and kind eyes. “I can come with.” He said. “Make sure you're okay?”

“No.” You denied quickly. “No, I'm okay. Just a headache. ‘Sides, I think someone would burn a hole right through me if I took the showman away.”

When his face scrunched up in confusion, you nodded to the train station woman yet again, snickering when he noticed her intense stare on the back of his head.

“Stack's got me.” You offered. “You enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

“Okay. I'll see you at church.” He said lightly.

“I love you. Be good, Sammie.”

He scoffed and lightly shoved your hands away. “Don't gotta tell me that. Love you, too.”

When he turned and went to the awaiting woman's vicinity, you finally let your face fall. Stack's hand was brought down onto your shoulder, a firm reminder of your promise.

“I know.” You grit out. But one look on his face, and you knew he felt the exact same way.

“I know.” He repeated. You stiffened your lip and looked forward.

The fresh air hit you like a warm embrace.

Remmick's knowing smirk welcomed you like a hyena finding a sick fawn. You could only feel like the prey in the fables, the ones that never quite learned their lessons about avoiding sharp teeth. No matter how much you cheered the little rabbit on, it always got too cocky and couldn't outsmart the fox.

Your hand was taken first. Remmick pulled it to his hand and placed a feather-light kiss upon your knuckles. No matter how much your mind screamed at you to pull away and run again, you were frozen in place. Nothing could save you out here in the open field. He didn't mind the tenseness of your arm nor the rigidity in the way that you stared up at him. “Smart girl.” He greeted with a satisfied grin. “You don't have to worry that pretty little head about a thing no more. I'll take care of you.”

“I don't want this.” You bit. “I don't want to be like you.”

Even as regret and fear slithered its way into your very soul, you couldn't help feel no disgust toward the affection he granted you. He hadn't stared untowardly, hadn't immediately forced himself upon you when you walked out the door, hadn't even threatened your life or your body.

He uprooted your life, though. And you couldn't forgive that.

He hummed thoughtfully. “You can't see it yet. But you will, dove, you will. You'll feel it just as I do.” He nodded towards the very happy couple off to the side. “Just as they do.”

Stack held Mary by her shoulders lovingly, and she snuggled her head into his shoulder with a content smile.

“Y'think I'm gon’ be like them?” You hissed. “I don't know what you did, but they aren't themselves no more.”

Remmick chuckled at your supposed petulance. “I just showed them what they could have. An eternity together. All I ask of you is a little cooperation and an open mind.”

“You're a damned fool if you think I'm kissing your feet and calling you a savior.”

He only laughs again, more genuine and less antagonistic. “I'd sure hope not. We're equals, ain't we? That's what soulmates are for.”

“You keep saying that.” You glanced to Mary and Stack, who were listening with thinly veiled amusement at your insistence. “That type of thing doesn't exist. M'not a child you can tell tall tales to and expect me believe them.”

“I agree.” He shrugs. “You're smart. You did what you had to do to save your brother. A hard choice, but you'll thank me for it later.”

“Thank you—!” You fumed, appalled at his quip and mention of your family. “It was either watch his throat be ripped out or walk into a snake pit!”

He wet his lips briefly, pink tongue just showing a sliver before disappearing back behind his teeth. Hands in his pockets, he stepped forward just a bit. It wasn't meant to be threatening, but it was all the same and he had to know it. Wordlessly, Mary and Stack left to his car to presumably wait for you.

“Saying goodbye was the hardest thing I had to do. Didn't get much of one, really, when the sun was risin’ and I had to hide away from my own folks and never see ‘em again. I know how you feel, really, I do.”

Your eyes were wet all over again, unable to be concealed even in the face of the devil. Or, especially in the face of the devil.

“So why'd you do this to me?” You whispered.

“Because,” he matched your low and even tone. “I wasn't meant to die a human. N’ neither are you. Once you wake up, you'll understand exactly what I'm feeling right now just lookin’ at you. When I heard your voice, that sweet, honey-like song you sang in there, I knew it was you I've been waiting for all these years. Every single moment I've spent wandering aimlessly has been worth the mind-numbin’ loneliness that's kept me company. That's why I had to show you, to save you from mortality.”

“Do I get a choice?”

Remmick smiled bittersweetly, eyes more human-looking than they'd been all night.

“‘Fraid not, mo chroí. Don't you worry that pretty little head o’ yours, it'll be over before you know it.”

was very tempted to write a small epilogue timeskip of her and remmick visiting Sammie's bar years later and showing mc/reader's happiness in her new life with her soulmate but it already went over 10k words and I'm alr doubting this will do well lmaoo

man idk the exact order of events that happened this means i need to go rewatch Sinners about 4 more times in cinema. also idk who manned the bar, Bo or Grace? or Annie? But she did the food so ughhh I just went with Grace.

Sammie's pretty ooc but I imagine he's a lot different with a sibling than the cousins he hadn't seen in years. Different levels of comfort bring out different sides from all of us.

it's so frustrating i genuinely could not find clips of smoke and stack speaking during remmick's intro scene its all just the ‘sir, we believe in equality’ clip so the dialog is horrible on the twin's side. i cant wait for the movie to stream!

this one-shot is my longest single fic yet. she's a mammoth, of course

[owe-143]

From my grave I arise with a humble request hajshsjs

Plz this movie got me so hyperfixated, I haven't felt this in like soooo long and reading ur works after watching is just hehehe yes I love it

Anyways! What if like saja boys with like reader who has a pet like a cat/dog/bird and like how wud they interact with them hehehe

Have a nice day!!! Thank you for feeding the us 🫶🫶🫶

~Pets and Saja!!

A/N: Ty for requesting pookie!! I LOVEE FEEDING YALLL. and this is such a cute request hehe. You have a nice day/night too

Warnings: swearing, honestly a silly ahh fic

Fluff☁⭐

Saja Boys (separate) x reader

Jinu!

-LOVES YOUR PET SMMM

-considering that he has his own lil buddies i feel like he'd totally be cool with yours

-ESPECIALLY IF YOU GOT A CAT. HE'S A CAT DAD GUYS

-he'll take care of your pet as if it's his own

-talks to the animal like constantly

Abs!

-DID NOT like your pet at first

-''Who this animal think they is stealing my pookie?'' ahh

-But quickly warmed up to it becuz its just that cute like hellooo

-If you have a dog, he will be so obsessed with it to the point of stealing the cutie

-laughs his ahh off when the animal does dumb shi

Romance!

-Hates your pet lowkey💔😭

-He tolerates it anyway because he loves you

-flips em off (to which you beat the shit outta him because wtf)

-if you have a bird, he'll mock the damn thing

-eventually warms up to your pet but in secret. never in front of you

Mystery

-Is a little confused on why you have a pet in the first place when you have him (LMAOOO)

-YOU JUST KNOW HE BE BARKING BACK AT THE DOG. NEVER LETTING YALL FORGET THAT SCENE

-overall likes the silly pet

-will teach it tricks or skills

-prefers cats. He will stare at it for hours on end without saying a word like it's the most interesting thing on earth

Baby

-need to get this out. if you have a damn parrot. DON'T LEAVE IT WITH HIM. THAT THING WILL BE SWEARING LIKE CRAZY😭

-loves your pets really. has no reason to beef with them. they cute. he cute-mutual understanding

-Always ready to entertain/play with them

-doesn't know when to leave em alone tho💔

-expecting you to baby him like how you baby that pet