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scribblestatic · 4 months ago

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In celebration of me finally starting to put Spider Yuan on AO3, have another installment uwu

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Considering the methods of cultivating a humanoid body was proving pretty difficult, especially when the being in question could only, for reasons unknown, associate such a body with weakness.

Fewer eyes, fewer limbs, less imposing.

But at the same time, he does wish to talk to people of various races. He wishes to travel a little, too. As much as he's enjoyed his time at home, he wants to stretch his legs a little, perhaps leave more of the duties to the other spiders for a while. Zhuzi seems to be taking up the mantle even more, especially since she updated him on events in the nearby human village.

Besides, he could somewhat play around with what his humanoid form would be like, right? It wasn't as though he had to directly mimic the appearance of a human. As long as he could fit into doors and had thumbs when necessary, that would probably be best.

He doesn't have to make a body like he'd had before...

...?

When did he have a humanoid body before?

Eh, it didn't really matter.

Having decided that he would walk among humans and demons at least a little bit, he began cultivating a humanoid form.

Of course, he quite likes his current body. There's a very nice feeling that comes with being a large spider, able to build intricate webs that are difficult for the common beast, human, or demon to break down. He wouldn't be replacing it. Rather, it would be like...having another suit. Yes.

He's simply building another outfit aside from the one he always wears.

He's sure demons can do the same thing. Huli jing are quite notorious for it, aren't they? Fox spirits, whether a spiritual beast or a demon, can become beautiful people, but can also be in their fox form, can't they? He'd just do something similar.

Though, he does like having eight eyes. If he arranges the eyes on the face a little... And having more than four limbs is ideal. He could attach the remaining four there and there... His silk could come from over there...yes. And how should he shift from one form to the other? Hmm...

It's a thorough designing process that takes up a lot of his time, so he doesn't mind it so much when Fan Zhenzhen, Ruoxing, and their family visit less and less. He instead is able to throw himself into the process without minding what is going on around him, cultivating and gaining strength. He'll need a lot of it for the transformation, he knows instinctively.

It's in this focused state that he finds himself being interrupted by a pale girl.

And by pale, he means really pale. Pale white. Like, as in paper.

Her pale, almost porcelain-looking skin is curtained by fluffy grey hair. She wears straight-cut bangs that were above her round eyebrows—ah, are those disguised eyes, actually?—and her wide, cat-like eyes were a pale, cloudy blue color, the kind from the sky on a rainy day. Although some of her hair is done up in two little balls, the rest fluffs down her neck. Two thick strands, though, bend up and partially over her bangs from the whorl of her hair, like little spider legs.

Her cheeks are dusted with rounded pink circles, as though they were painted on rather than natural. Adding to her rather inhuman appearance are her clearly long, elf-like ears, though they point out more to the sides than upward. Aside from her face, she wears a poqun, her top made with dark green threads and the skirt pale green.

It takes him a moment to process who this is.

"...Zhuzi."

"Yes, Dage." Her voice is flat despite the small smile on her face.

"When did you cultivate a human form?"

"About seven years ago."

"Hmm... I...ah, don't recall this time passing."

"You've been very focused on cultivating, Dage. When I asked how you were moving, you said you were...'in the zone'. Doing something called 'autopilot'."

What was autopilot? Like, he understood what it meant the instant he heard the word, but as to where it came from, he was unsure.

"Then, how much time has passed?"

"About 20 years."

Eh?

Twenty years passed just like that?

When he thinks about it further, he starts processing what he's been doing. He vaguely remembers a few things, the more he ponders, like exchanging stories, meeting demons and humans. He's eaten a few offenders who didn't have better manners, giving him little boosts in his cultivation.

His mind wasn't empty at all during this time. In fact, he was working harder than ever, building, manufacturing, further developing his plots of land, cementing his territory...

He barely realized he'd done all of that, though only now he recognizes that, yes, this time has indeed passed and life has gone on.

"Excuse me for interrupting you. I wasn't sure how much longer you would be on, as you said, 'autopilot'. I felt this would be something of importance," Zhuzi murmurs. She puts her hand to her chin, and Shen Yuan notices the segments in her fingers, her skin actually a spider's exoskeleton.

"Mm. What is of importance?"

"It seems that Fan Zhenzhen has become bedridden."

When Fan Zhenzhen met the Great Spider, she was in her mid-20s. Her son was born not too long after meeting him.

With the successful birth of her son and the growing prosperity of Xiaoshan Village (小山村 - Xiǎo Shāncūn - Little Mountain Village), she quickly became a prominent figure. Because her stories produced the most beneficial results, others came to her for advice on what to tell the God of the Woods.

Having told him several stories, she found he appreciated both the real and dramatized, but not so dramatic that it was ridiculous. Moreover, whether he liked the story or not, he would always critique it, from how it was told to how he views the characters. This advice and further practice on storytelling grew their prowess and critical thinking. She found that the things that made sense to the spider were not always common to humans, however, for a great being such as himself, surely his logic was sound.

And so, the girls of the village began receiving more education. Although apprenticeships were initially only for boys, families and teachers began allowing girls to participate more frequently. Although some remained in the home to take care of the family, others were becoming tradeswomen, and boys who were less educationally gifted had room to take up more space in the home.

It was strange. Not very natural. Certainly not Confucian...or, perhaps, more Confucian than the way they'd been living before. Although girls were taught to stay home, to be filial to their parents, and to not be jealous if their husband had more wives, did he not have the Silver Rule? If boys couldn't handle living the same way as their fellows, then surely, someone's status had to change.

It was through this theory that Fan Zhenzhen eventually acquired the title of Village Elder, making her the new leader once the previous one passed. After all, her logic was backed by Lulin Zhizhu, who provided for them and protected them. How could she be wrong?

Once her son reached his teenage years, he became infatuated with Han Miyun, her daughter-in-law. Although she could never appreciate spiders the way she does, she understood. Fear was another form of respect, in a way.

Though, she would likely have to conquer her overly fearful constitution one way or another. After all, Ruoxing was quite close to their god, the one who blessed and protected him. He was to be the next Village Head upon her inability to continue her role, something he agreed to do.

In her 50s, she met her first grandchild. She watched, later on, as this same grandchild left the village for a cultivation sect, her spiritual veins strong and full of vigor. Even though she could not come visit often, she continued to send letters in her increasingly neat and orderly handwriting, talking about the upper realm of mortals with great infatuation.

Those years ago, when she'd been starving and growing cold, Fan Zhenzhen had never once thought a child or grandchild of hers would reach such heights. To be able to see it with her own eyes was such a great blessing, more than she could've ever asked for.

It was because she learned some of these strange events of a world more fantastical than the one she lived in that, when a spider came down the mountain in a human-like form, greeting them with a blank expression, she took it in stride. She ignored the unnatural smoothness of her skin and the segments showing the bends of her joints. She ignored how her god's little assistant was adapting, changing her mannerisms to be more comfortable for those who couldn't handle the splendor of a spider's power.

Instead, as she grew older and less able to make the trek to see her god up close, she relied on Mishu-zhang (秘书长 - mìshū zhǎng - secretary general) to relay her messages, inquiries, and stories. Judging by how she would swiftly return within a day or two, it seemed her god held no grudge against her for not coming to visit like she used to.

Now, in her 70s, her body has grown weary. Perhaps she overworked herself in her younger years, but her knees creaked when she moved. Her back curled inward and she ran out of breath faster. She'd been quite fit, but she felt herself deteriorating somehow.

One day, when she found moving from her bed to be too strenuous, she realized what this likely was.

Peace.

Peace and desire.

Her son was quite alright, wasn't he? He'd grown up well. He was strong, and he had several children with a lovely woman.

Their village was safe, protected from beast, human, and demon alike. Their wisdom, grown over decades alongside their fields, was fruitful and multiplying. New ideas came from the minds of all developing children, with room to practice and test the validity of their inventions and intuition.

Fan Zhenzhen had worked hard. She was seeing the results of her hard work, and my, how wonderful it was.

But she was watching it alone.

In her peace, she found she wanted one thing, and the one thing was something her god likely couldn't grant her. Not that she would blame him, no. After all, it was something she could grant herself.

What she wanted was to be by her husband's side. To tell him, in the afterlife, that they had a son. That their son found love. That their love has blossomed into a plentiful tree that will carry the evidence of their bond for generations to come.

She wanted her Gao Cheng (高成 - Gāo Chéng).

However, simply wasting away wasn't her style.

So, even from her bed, she continued to give directions. She fulfilled her duties, passing more of them over to her son as the seasons rolled onwards. Winter, spring, summer, fall...she watched the seasons pass through her window as Han Miyun ensured her comfort.

One day, they bring her outside using a wheeled chair, some new invention by a mystery developer. Though her legs had grown too weak to carry her any longer, she was still able to breathe in the cool, dewy air.

Growing old like this was such a luxury. And, soon, perhaps after another winter or two, she'd be able to relay her long journey with the one man she loved romantically in all her life.

There isn't much time.

He can feel it, when he pays attention.

Like a light is flickering in the corner of his eyes.

He has to hurry.

He bought her some time, sending the wheelchair design to get her out of her house and prevent her from growing too used to the fugue state of being bedridden.

Though having time outside may have given some oxygen to her flame, it was still going to go out.

Such was the case of mortals. Lest they cultivated, they had no chance to extend their lives. Their souls would return to the cycle.

She's leaving soon.

He doesn't...

He doesn't want her to leave alone.

If he can speak to her one last time.

Just one last time—

He needs this, he realizes.

He needs to see her again.

When did she become so important to him?

When did he become okay with them growing apart?

Was he ever okay with it?

Or did he just retreat into himself so it hurt less?

Why did the thought of leaving her behind hurt so much...ah.

Wasn't she the one leaving him behind? Why did he think it...

Ah. Wrong face.

Wrong person.

They look so much alike when he thinks about it.

Fan Zhenzhen, and the girl he sometimes sees when he's knitting or sewing.

...

One last time.

Please, just one last time.

Let him do it right.

Zhuzi waits by the entrance of the cave with her hands tucked into her sleeves. The other spiders cannot be too close. The swirling and spiking of qi is too much for them. Even Zhuzi is sweating, keeping her mind afloat despite the raging energy inside.

However, she knows this feeling well. She, too, rushed to cultivate a humanoid form.

When Dage could not attend the human wedding, he had been upset.

He never expressed it outwardly, but she could feel it. The days leading up to it, he had murmured about attendance, only to talk himself out of it each time. He was a large and strong spider. The humans wouldn't be able to handle him at such an occasion.

So, she attended, as closely as she could. But even that was quite distant.

She saw the food they ate, the festivities, the gleaming lights and dances...

She was interested. Surely Dage was also interested. But he was busy, and she, less so.

He was so busy, perhaps because he made himself busy. He threw himself into being occupied, so much so that he receded into himself in cultivation.

She knew of the very few humans and demons that made a comfortable warmth flow from his body. When they spent more time away, the warmth became less frequent. ...What was that feeling? Why was the warmth going away?

Perhaps she rushed to make a humanoid form, to discover what this feeling was, but it worked out in the end. She tamed her roiling qi and formed something reasonable enough. And, after watching humans and their habits, she clothed herself despite not needing to, and she walked down from Dage's sacred webs.

The human woman that produced the most warmth from him looked different now. Her hair had turned from black to grey, and she had wrinkles in her soft, easy-to-puncture skin (she wasn't sure she would ever get used to their lack of exoskeleton). Her steps were less sure, but her stance and countenance was firm as ever.

Whenever she returned from a visit to the human village and told the story to Dage, despite being on 'autopilot', the warmth would flow through and out of him once more, if just for a little while.

But the warm, sun-like lady was dying. Once she died, Zhuzi wouldn't be able to tell Dage anymore stories about her. That's why she interrupted his 'autopilot'.

And just like her, he, too, began to rush.

However, unlike her, he'd been cultivating quietly for 20 years. It took him less time to solidify his new, secondary exoskeleton.

The rampant energy sucks inward...and then releases in a calm wave. A mere breeze, smelling like fresh silk and dewdrops.

And then, she heard skittering.

A great presence, more imposing than ever before, was clicking its way toward the cave's entrance at great speed.

However, before it could rush out, Zhuzi stepped in front of it, spreading her arms out to the sides to block its way.

Thankfully, it...he stopped.

"...Dage."

He stares at her for a moment. Then, like returning to consciousness, his body relaxes as his joints uncoil.

"Ah, Zhuzi."

"Dage, where are you going?"

"Mm? I'm heading down to see Fan Zhenzhen. It's been much too long since I saw her last. And Ruoxing, too. How much longer do I need to wait for them to visit? Aiyah, it's like they've forgotten me. Though, I know they haven't. So, I will go to see them."

"Mm. I understand. But Dage, you cannot go unclothed."

"Unclothed? ...Ah. Right. Yes, humans do wear clothes, don't they?"

He gets up off of his hands, the limbs on his back receding into his body. His legs, bent much like a mosquito's...or perhaps a dog's...straightened somewhat as he stood on them, his long feet ending in two blackened, fuzzy toes. Long black hair flowed down his body like a river, even covering his face. However, he seemed to be able to see just fine.

As he lifted his head further, she could see why.

"I suppose I should make some, then."

#spider shen yuan #svsss #svsss au #dp writes #static writes #au post 4 #he made a humanoid form in the end #heavy emphasis on “humanoid”#cause bro don't really look human #zhuzi and shen yuan speak casually with each other uwu

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nopanamaman · 1 year ago

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How does the stalker business work?

Loredump. October 2023

A web of alliances, insiders, clients, and territorial disputes - this is what forms the stalker business, a domain that’s as illegal as it is profitable.

Today, we’ll delve into the basic origins and inner workings of this peculiar profession. Let’s find out how these glorified marauders operate!

How did the stalker business develop?

The stalker business emerged almost as soon as the Zone itself was born. But, much like every structure based around the Zone itself, it became more refined - and more corrupt - as years went on.

What started as individuals travelling the Zone completely on their own accord grew into a network of organised groups with their own informants, clientele and designated territories. Yet when it looked like major alliances had become fully solidified with a couple of large groups operating across vast stretches of the Zone, the development of the internet put a dent in the system.

Yura: Do I really need to know the territorial policies of 70s factions Sergei: YES Olya: No.

As many information-gathering and order-related operations moved online, doing business in smaller groups became a more viable option. Nowadays, the majority choose to operate in gangs of up to 30 people.

Since the business has grown more decentralised and, in a way, accessible, the competition within it has increased dramatically. Territories are less clearly defined and run-ins with members of rivalling gangs are commonplace. When it comes to the human factor, it’s more dangerous than it ever was.

How are the little groups organised?

Modern stalker groups are typically formed around somebody who has direct connections to potential clients or those able to nicely aggregate information about the Zone’s current state. So any group needs at least one product reseller and one strategic leader, which can sometimes be the same person.

The latter is true for Sergei's group, for instance.

He is responsible for processing orders, evaluating the delivered artefacts, reselling them, gathering up to date information about the Zone’s landscape and traffic, and helping the available stalkers plan their trips accordingly. It’s a heavy workload, so having just one person performing all of those tasks wouldn’t be manageable on a larger scale.

Obviously enough, smaller groups are more reliant on the quality of their individual members, even more so when they have a specific role to fill. If we use known members of Sergei’s group as examples, they fit pretty neatly into the following roles:

Radar (радар). Formerly fulfilled by Kolya – a stalker with an outstanding sense for anomalies. Irreplaceable for navigating the more treacherous parts of the Zone. Yura was going to inherit that role.

Doctor (доктор). Self-explanatory. While it’s recommended that all stalkers undergo some form of first aid training, it never hurts to have someone with a deeper knowledge of medicine on the team. This role was filled by Nikita.

Insider (свояк). As the name suggests, it’s a person that helps in various aspects of stalker work by providing client contacts, guard post information, info about other gangs’ operations, and so on depending on their position. Insiders don’t usually take part in actual trips or even work with specific stalker groups, but Olya is built different.

Ram (таран). The muscle of the group. You don’t need to be especially physically fit to navigate the Zone,but when things become dire, it absolutely helps. This was Sergei’s role when he still travelled the Zone.

These are arbitrary designations and many don’t fit into one particular role. That said, creating a balanced group of 3 is easier when there’s a fair understanding of each person’s strengths.

Yura: Oh, kinda like video game classes! Sanya: Yeah, I guess. Yura: So who would I be? Sanya: Support.

What does the typical work cycle look like?

An order is either placed on an online marketplace or is mailed directly to a trusted trader. The trader then passes the information to the strategist, who analyses the current Zone layout, as well as the latest available information about the placements of various artefacts and anomalies.

The strategist then determines the optimal routes to retrieving the ordered goods. Some use special software to aid in the process. The service price is then estimated based on the difficulty of retrieval and transportation. If the initial price suggested in the order is lower than this estimate, price negotiations will ensue.

Once the minimal price is agreed on, the actual planning starts. A group of three is gathered from the pool of available stalkers. They are all informed about the mission specifics and the route they need to travel - this is when the team can discuss and make adjustments to the plan.

Nikita: No, no, this route will be way too stressful for Olyechka. Perhaps, she should sit this one out? Olya: If we don't make this route shorter, Nikita won't come back, I'm afraid. Nikita: Well, aren't you a treat. Anyways, Serozha, my leg has been getting worse and I won't make this climb. Olya: Perhaps, you should sit this one out.

After the artefacts are delivered to the trader, their quality is evaluated. Stalkers tend to pick up whatever valuables they find on the way, which means extra cash for them and more work for the trader.

Once the evaluation is complete, stalkers are paid off and the products are resold at a significantly higher price. The artefacts that were specifically ordered are exchanged for the agreed upon amount of money and the extra stuff is peddled to other high-paying customers.

Since selling artefacts is a risky and complicated endeavour in itself, most stalkers are content with the paychecks they get from their trader.

Finally, when everything is done, stalkers may anonymously share information about their trip to the online community. But considering the competitive nature of the business, not everyone is willing to help out their fellow colleagues – or really, not everyone wants to talk about the things they’ve seen.

What is the online stalker community like?

As was already mentioned, the internet has majorly changed how stalkers went about receiving orders and information about the Zone. It has become an important channel for communication and securing deals.

Firstly, all of the relevant platforms are on the deep web. Secondly, all of them are invite-only.

The three major platforms are:

Doska (literally “the board” as in bulletin board)

A marketplace where orders are placed and taken up by anyone interested, as well as an auction platform for selling off artefacts. Widely used by groups and stalkers who have not yet gained established clients.

Krematorii (crematorium)

A closed forum. Discussions, rumours, shitposting.

10K Crematorium karma

14KKM (as in 14 thousand kilometers, the approximate area of the Zone)

A dynamically updated map of the Zone. User-managed, hence chaotic and unreliable.

Users can mark locations of witnessed anomalies and artefact positions, which others can confirm or downvote. A marking needs to be confirmed by at least 4 people before it is put down and is removed if at least 4 people downvote it. All markings can be commented on.

Most of the community tries to maintain it more or less accurately for the sake of their own future missions, but there are malefactors that will add false markers to it. Should be taken with a huge grain of salt.

Of course, it bears mentioning that there are plenty of fake online communities on the surface web. Those are rife with people roleplaying as stalkers, scammers, kids, and just shitposters. No actual stalker uses those for business.

Rules regarding the Zone

Though the information side of things has changed a lot, the core methodology of travelling the Zone itself remained the same. Sets of universal rules became solidified over the years, which can be described as a mixture of operational protocols and esoteric beliefs.

What are the basic operational protocols?

Basic operational protocols outline best practices for dealing with simple anomalies, traversing the Zone, bypassing guard posts, and handling difficult situations (mercy kills, painless death, encountering other stalkers).

Some common recommendations include:

use projectiles (usually bolts with pieces of cloth attached for visibility) to check for gravitational anomalies;

operate in groups of three - two do the job, the third one watches on;

do not consume any food or drinks you find;

avoid unnatural shadows;

do not stay at the Hollow for over 20 minutes (your body will start to decay);

do not approach the Town (your body will permanently distort);

do not handle fizzy clay without rubber gloves (will leave you debilitated or addicted to the substance);

always send the draisine back;

don't photograph ghosts;

etc.

They are objective results of many years of trial and error. Going against them is likely to end in death or injury regardless of your personal qualities. In other words, there is little dispute over the validity of these rules. The same cannot be set for the second ruleset.

What are stalker beliefs?

The Zone favours the miserable. The desperate, the broken, the lonely. The Zone favours ones that are willing to give up their whole being to her, to completely entrust themselves to her whims. She rewards dejection.

These are common truths to some and hogwash to others. There is no solid proof for any of these claims - how can there be? However, there is no happy stalker, and there is no living stalker without a scar. To many, that's evidence enough.

On top of that, there are some group-specific philosophies. They include:

the Zone is a holy place that needs to be revered;

the Zone is an ulcer of the world that needs to be cleansed;

the Zone is the new stage of Earth’s evolution;

the Zone is divine punishment;

the Zone is a point of contact with a parallel universe;

and many others.

These philosophies dictate how people go about their activities in the Zone in a more ritualistic sense. It’s hard to devise whether or not those little rituals have any effect that isn’t purely psychological.

There is a good number of people that hold a purely cynical view of the Zone. But whether they admit it or not, everyone gradually develops a sense of fear and reverence for it. How they compartmentalise it is a different question.

Conclusion

I could write more about the topic, but as of now, I think this general outline should suffice. The stalker business is a multifaceted enterprise to say the least, so hopefully this article has shed the light on its most essential aspects.

Perhaps, there will one day be a more in-depth follow-up! Who knows. As we continue to unveil the enigmatic layers of the Zone, only time will reveal the full extent of its mysteries... And the engimatic layers of shitty Stalker forums, I guess.

#parties are for losers #loredump #deepest lore #sergei #olya #yura #nikita #sanya #myart #scraps #the mill

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barblaz-arts · 7 months ago

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I know you've been making a lot of art of it lately, but out of curiosity, what's your opinion on Hazbin Hotel in general? I'm referring to both the show and the fandom here. Just curious.

God. What a loaded question. Are you ready? Bcuz I'm fresh from Vaggie discourse on twitter and I have a lot to say.

I think that Hazbin Hotel seems worse than it is for people who know the fandom but haven't actually watched the show. Honestly, I think it's a fine show. It isnt super incredible and I'm not gonna sing praises about how deep and thought provoking it is or whether it's an artistic masterpiece. It never tried to be that and was never advertised as such(to my knowledge) anyway. I just had a lot of fun. Like, yeh sure the cussing in the dialogue can be a bit much, especially in ep 1, but there are different writers in other episodes, so it gets better. It can be super crude yeh, but I grew up watching things like the Scary Movie franchise and other dumb american movies (yes, i was too young for them. yes, i still watched them), so it's pretty tolerable for me. It also helps that Charlie is the main character. That's one of the main reasons why I watch HH but dont watch HB. It's probably a fun show, but without a sweetheart like Charlie to balance things out, I'd just get tired of the sex jokes and mean jokes.

Compared to my last hyperfixation, I think I have more things to love about Hazbin Hotel, believe it or not. With Netflix's Wednesday, I had already been an Addams Family fan for a while and hung on because I loved the family and eventually Enid and wenclair. The show itself was honestly meh... so far! I'll give season 2 another shot.

But with Hazbin Hotel, it catered to a lot of things I've always loved. Found family with a bunch of misfits? We didnt get to see it much bcuz of the fuckass 8-ep per season format we have nowadays, but its fine its there! The juxtaposition of a kind hearted woman in a harsh world? Love love Charlie for that, I watched the show in the first place because of her. A canon lesbian lover with a "fuck the world cuz my world is you" type of love for the protag? Fuck yes. How very Pearl-from-Steven-Universe of Vaggie. And the music? The music is soooo good. I didn't know the songwriter prior to watching, so I was nervous about the songs, but I knew most of the theater actors they cast(still cant believe Jeremy fucking Jordan is Lucifer) so I figured even if the songs are mid, at least the performances would be topnotch. And they were! But the songs were a pleasant surprise. Sam Haft did real damn well. I still listen to the soundtrack to this day.

The fandom, however, is probably the worst one I've been in. And I've been in a lot in my big age... Just... lacking media literacy, and based on the replies I get when I say something on twitter, it seems a lot of them lack reading comprehension and just plain emotional intelligence too.

There's a lot of criticisms about this show that I honestly think is fair. Pacing, character design, overuse of the F word, whatever. But in my opinion, claiming that Hazbin is a male-centered show is an unfair misconception that is mostly the fault of the fandom.

Bcuz, sure, the male characters are uber popular. Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, Angel Dust and the many web of ships they're involved in went trending every few business days. But come on now. How often does a fandom even have their main protag as the most talked about character? This has been going on for ages. Just because the boys have the most merch and fics and fanarts and thirsty fans doesn't mean that they had the spotlight for most of the show itself. It only meant that they were the ones the viewers paid attention to, in a fandom filled with people drooling over the next tumblr sexyman and toxic yaoi ship of the month.

But if you actually look back at what the show gave us so far, the boys didnt outshine the women. I actually think the women got to do more and be more as characters than the men did. Let's take a look at the male characters.

Alastor was not in all the episodes. In fact, he was MIA in two out of the eight episodes. In all the episodes he was in, he was a mere side character. His purpose in season one was to stir the pot and be the intriguing mystery that occasionally quips. But he was not the one whose deeper thoughts were explored and whose character and goals was challenged THROUGHOUT the show, merely alluded to at the VERY END of the season, which is hardly him taking the spotlight away from Charlie. If you merely looked at the fan content of him, you'd think he were a father figure to Charlie(or a love interest. whatever) and that he has developed a soft spot for the Hazbins deep down in that cannibal heart of his. But if you pay attention to the show, he never had even a meaningful one on one conversation with the Hazbins. The only time that happened is when (a)he threatened Husk's life (b)when he constantly mocked Charlie while she was down in the dumps and used this as an opportunity to manipulate her and (b)when he told Niffty watching the crew sure can "make one sentimental", even tho he had taken no prior opportunity to bond with them! There's no foundation for all the fandom's claims that he could be redeemed bcuz of a budding fondness for the group, but that's all you see of his fan content(aside from the horniness). I dont have any problem with his lack of an actual relationship with the Hazbins bcuz I believe redemption for him is not what the show is going for, but it's frustrating to see people interpreting it that way BUT not seeing how horridly developed it would be if that is the case, meanwhile they turn around and say that Vaggie and Chaggie as a ship "had terrible development".

Then we have the male Vees. Vox was only ever in episode two, and was essentially a youtube reactor in episode 8. He was in ep 4 but had no speaking lines. We only know of his obsession with Alastor and the toxic relationship he has with Val. Val, meanwhile, is merely shown as the sex obsessed fiend behind Hell's sex industry and Angel's abuse. They did what they needed to do with minimal screentime. It was fine, but that's IT. Despite what little CANON gave so far, you have hundreds of people writing essays and fics and fanarts about them being complicated characters. But to reiterate, this does not mean that they are bad characters or that they don't deserve the fame. But to say that these men are better written within canon than the women is such a bold statement when most of the depth they knew of these characters were lore drops given before the show and their own speculations as they dug into the shallow soil of what the show has so far.

I'm not gonna speak about Angel and Lucifer. Because I think they were characters who were legitimately well-explored so far.

Now onto the women. So many of them were given the opportunity to have their characters challenged or given the agency to push characters and the plot forward or give you intrigue about implications of what's to come for the characters and the plot. I've talked a lot about Charlie and Vaggie. So let me talk about the other, terribly underrated women of Hazbin.

Velvette and Carmilla were the ones who advanced the subplot in the war against Heaven. Because of Carmilla's love for her family despite being a demon, an angel was killed. It gave Heaven the excuse to escalate things, but it also gave Charlie hope later on in the season that they're not powerless. Carmilla was also the first demon shown to make selfless actions that is contrary to what is expected of demons, making it proof that Charlie's belief that demons deserve a second chance isn't unwarranted. She's an interesting character, as an overlord who hangs on to power but clearly has morals. But how often do you see people writing essays about her? Eating up the fact that she's a powerful overlord but would sacrifice anything for her daughters? If Carmilla were a man, hundreds of girlies would be drooling over the crime boss who has a soft spot for his daughters.

Meanwhile, Velvette got to demonstrate why exactly she's an Overlord despite being the youngest demon in there. She's calculating and observant. She gives off a haughty vibe and constantly boasts about how she's young and fresh, but she isn't naive. During that meeting, she paid attention to Carmilla and Zestial's relationship. In order to find out who killed the angel, she riled everyone up, and when she got the feeling it was Carmilla, she mocked Zestial so that Carmilla could slip up. By playing these Overlords who are older and more experienced than her, Velvette showed what exactly her asset was to the Vees and why she's a threat, something that Vox and Val have yet to be given the opportunity to do when they were busy eye-fucking Alastor and literally fucking Angel. But in fan content about the Vees, Velvette is almost treated as an after thought to the boys...

Then we have the Seraphs. Not only were their designs gorgeous, their dynamic and presence as characters had impact to the plot and main characters.

Emily is a much needed character to show that this story isn't meant to tell you that Heaven = bad; Hell = good. There is good and bad in both, and it is so important for the protags to know that they have an ally in Emily who represents the true virtues that heaven is supposed to uphold. And I love the confrontation she had with Sera when her own view of what's right and good was challenged. We got to see the strength of her character and started the seeds of what could be heaven's acceptance of Charlie's goals.

Sera is such an interesting character to me. She was also important to show that not all angels were sadistic like Adam and Lute, but not in the same way Emily was. I have no idea so far which direction this show would go with her. But I'm intrigued by the fact that she seems to be driven by fear, unlike Adam and Lute's cruelty. She knew Lucifer and was there when he was cast out for his disobedience. Whether everything she's doing is to prevent that from happening again remains to be seen, and I'm looking forward to this kind of subplot for her.

And then Rosie! I really really look forward to seeing more from her. Spoilers aside, something I barely see people talk about is how interesting it is that Rosie is every bit the leader that Charlie hopes to be. Rosie is able to be a respected overlord in her own faction without needing to sacrifice her love for showmanship and music and her positive disposition. When we were officially introduced to her, they show how she seems to care about actually taking care of her people, not JUST ordering them around, by talking to them personally and giving advice. That's exactly what Charlie wanted to do for her people, isn't it? The hotel to Charlie was what the emporium was to Rosie. They have a lot of similarities that could set up for Rosie to be the one to teach Charlie in becoming a leader. Now whether that's a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen, but it is rather compelling.

So yeah! With all that said, I really dont think this show ignores its women at all. Just because a bigger part of the fandom gravitated towards the men doesn't necessarily mean its a misogynistic show so far. But if certain people are claiming that the women are badly written, then I hope they also own up to the fact that their blorbos are just as shallowly presented within the show, maybe even more so. Which wouldn't even be a bad thing! Since when did a show or character have to be amazingly written for a person to like them? That's just no fun at all. All I'm saying is... Fuck this fandom's double standards, hiding behind claims that it's the writing's fault when the problem is they couldn't be bothered to think about the women.

#asks #long post

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whambambatfam · 28 days ago

Text

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 6

I'm sorry again this one took so long! I'm still not happy with how it turned out but if I hold and try to fix it any longer I'll never post again.

The names suggested for the spider were all so good. I chose Silk, adorable name. Another suggested name was Spider-mite, I think that would be a cute hero name for them.

Reader ages 17 - 18

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With the last year of highschool coming up Gewn’s been diligently looking for colleges. Her schools have already been picked and her applications ready, she's now helping the two of you. Since her school choices align with all your dreams of escaping Gotham, she's finding both something in New York.

“Try Education Connection. You could get connected," MJ sang from her seat slouched over your desk. “For free.. free with education connection."

“What about this one?” You turn the laptop towards Gwen, grumbling when the rubber foot catches on your blanket, “It looks like the program has good reviews. Journalism, photography and acting...”

As she leans in to see, setting aside the sample of your web. The floor in front of her is scattered with her little notes and tools. She's been interested in what it's made of and has even synthesized it. While it's not so tough that you need something like a batarang to cut, it still works the same. With it you work together to design a web shooter that straps to the wrist. Together the two of you make quite the neat little invention.

“Hey, so, does your spider have a name?" MJ calls out to you, her finger taps gently against the glass causing the creature inside to surry over, investigating the noise. “Like, what do you call them?"

“Huh?" Quirking a brow, you turn away from the info page. “Umm.. My baby..?”

She huffs, spinning about to face you properly, “Seriously? What about a name?!" Crossing her arms she contemplates the strange arachnid meandering about their enclosure, “How about Yuk-yuk? Lil’ Nasty?”

Gwen shakes her head, considering the creatures as well before giving her own, “What about Silk?”

You crawl across your bed and over your desk where your dear pet resides, “Do you like that one?” MJ rolls away as you open the top to pull out the excited spider, “Silk it is."

Besides school, you've been considering starting to make some of your own money. You don't want to stay used to relying on the Wayne's seemingly endless supply of wealth. The possibility of selling your creation crossed your mind but, even if it's not as strong as your webs, it's too much power to let fall into the wrong hands. You'd rather keep it to yourself or at least let Gwen have it, she did come up with the main component. Which she does gratefully, the two of you even try out swings across small gaps and webbing up practice we.

Luckily, there's another one of your hobbies that has a great chance of earning you cash. So, you went digging through your trove of Dynamic Duo pictures. The older ones, that you could bring yourself to part from, were quickly snatched up by obsessive fans and collectors. A few investigation sites took your more recent shots but nothing made you more than getting fresh action shots to news outlets. Besides the bank you were putting away, seeing your work starting to make front pages was nice.

Since it's been working out so well, you'd almost forgotten about the costume. You tested out the type of material that doesn't hamper your cling abilities together once but it had slipped your mind. That was until MJ pulled it from her closet one night with excited jazz hands. She hadn't said anything when she insisted you two spend the night.

MJ waves the suit around as she pushes over her hard work, “I even got Gwen help install this so you can switch on your.. Wall-see-through thingy." She wiggles her fingers over the large white eyes of the mask.

Gwen ushers you out into the hall, suit in hand. “Now go! Put it on! Hurry!" You're all but shoved into the bathroom to change.

Slipping the mask on and adjusting to your face, you look into the mirror for the first time. “This is...” Holy shit, you look like a real vigilante- one that can’t be ignored. The red and blue cut around your form is surprisingly flattering. It looks cool, feels cool, you feel cool. What more could you ask for in a superhero costume?

There's a knock on the door behind Mj call in to you, “It's too tight isn't it? Sorry, i really thought-”

Flinging the door open, carefully not to damage it, “Mj, it's amazing!” You wrap her in a tight hug, carefully not to hurt her, “Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

“So, you're really gonna swing around Gotham like that?” Gwen quips with a chuckle as you release the frazzled ginger from your grasp.

MJ winks, “Take lots of pictures, tiger.”

“Always do."

What started as a test run of your new suit that has quickly turned south when you spotted them. While snapping a few pics of the bat and bird you managed to land yourself right in the heart of a fear toxin explosion. The impending blast caught your danger sense in time but you couldn't get away from the gas fast enough. A scarecrow thug managed to grab you while you were disoriented, sinking their switchblade into your side.

Coughing and sputtering, you manage to push them away, just for them to come back swinging. The knife edge sliced straight through your suit and the skin underneath with each swipe. Stuffing your face into the crook of your elbow, you managed to grab their wrist. Tossing them over your shoulder and their back hits the brick wall behind you before they fall to the ground head first. Giving them one good parting kick you crawl up the wall before they could get up again.

Swinging to a nearby apartment complex, your foot slips on the ledge as you stumble onto your rooftop. Retching the camera from your neck with one hand, you press the other into your weeping side and totter over to where you stashed your bag. The downside of a spandex suit is having absolutely nowhere to put things like your phone. You have to get out of here, you need to get home, you need... “Alfred, please...”

The next time you open your eyes the grimy alleyways of Gotham are replaced with the pristine walls of your modest bedroom in Wayne manor. Sitting up you find yourself free of pain despite the agony of getting attacked. Every scrap and cut is gone, as if they were never there to begin with. Your hand slides under your shirt to find a bandage over the spot that pricks knife got you. Peeling it off you find the gash has healed completely, leaving only the faint sliver of a scar in its wake. Nice.

NO, not nice. How did you get here? Where is your camera? Phone? Suit- YOu rip the blanket from your body, finding yourself in a pair of your pajamas. Fuck! Where the hell is your spider suit?

Jumping out of bed you start scouring your room, your suit or bag or something! Trying to be mindful of your own strength, you sling your door open. If you got home and changed then it must be in the house somewhere. You just have to find it before-

“Looking for something?” Alfred stands on the other side of the door, his arms folded neatly behind his back.

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sight. Your arms flying into the air involuntarily as wips of webs shoot out to dangle from your wrists. “Alfred! Uh..” Coughing away the squeak in your surprised voice doesn't help the lump in your throat. “No, no of course not. Why would- what would I even be looking for anyway?” Shaking off the web you cross your arms tight over your chest.

The old butler cocks his head, “Are you sure, young master?” Pinched between the two fingers on each of his hands is your suit, bloodied and tattered. “So, this isn't yours?”

“How did-?” It feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs.

“You sure took quite the beating if you can't remember who picked you up last night, patched your wounds, and put you to bed.” His mention conjures the vague memory of being dragged into a car and dumped onto a table with a bright light above. “Though, everything seemed to be mostly healed by the time I got you to the cave. All under your father's nose I'll have you know.”

Shame licks its hot flames up the back of your neck. “Ah, shit-”

“Language.” He corrects.

“Sorry! But, um..” Eyeing the tattered garb, you ask sheepishly, "What are you.. gonna do with it?”

“I will respect your..” One of the old man’s snowy brows raises, deepening the creases of his forehead. He searches for the right words and settles on, “creative decisions in design..” then folds it up as nicely as he can, stony gaze returning to you, “I will not have you running around unprotected.”

Shrinking under his gaze, you couldn't possibly just let MJ's hard work all go to waste, “Please, let me at least hold onto that one. It's.. special.”

The old man's concession was obvious the moment he saw your pleading face. “Well, I suppose so.. After I mend it, that is, young master.”

You can't help throwing your arms around him and he accepts you gladly, “Al.. I don't want him to know...” Sniffling into his suit, he pats your head.

Alfred lets out a heavy sigh and nods, “I understand...”

Nothing could shake the bond the two of you shared. Like the doting grandfather coming around to clean up after his reckless grandchild. He patched your wound, mends your suit, and It takes twice as long as the first but you made due with the patched up one MJ made in the meantime. Not that you're out fighting crime for real.. yet.. and that's not because you're scared after that whole incident.

Of course, when it does arrive, the suit is a work of beauty all over again. The design was faithful to MJ as promised with your eye covers still having the X-ray tech Gwen put in. This time the material is more durable, insulated even, and a few extra features too! You haven't figured them all out yet but you'll get there.

Test run, take two! This time you're not gonna get caught up in some crazy fight. Batman's plethora of super powered villains were tucked away for the moment. That left you free to follow him through the city using one of your new gadgets- a batman tracker. Oh Al, he knows you too well.

Traversing the Gotham rooftops, something peculiar catches your eyes just as you catch up to your target. Golden hair flutters behind her as a young girl leans over the gaps between buildings. Wow, a new Robin already? And a girl, nice! Although it does leave a heavy feeling in your heart. Is Tim okay? He's alive right? Damn kid, why do you have to be so worried about him? God, you wish the little prick wasn't so skittish, you might actually know what's going on. Maybe Alfred knows, he better, you're asking as soon as you get home. If your bastard of a father left another child for dead-

"Woah! Who are you?!”

The sudden sound of the new girl's chipper voice coming from right beside you sends you scrambling up the wall in surprise. "Please, I'm good, promise!"

Mouth hung open, she had to crane her neck to look up at you, “Promise?"

“Uh, yeah.." Shimmying down the wall you extend your hand to her, little finger raised. “P-pinky promise?”

She’s eyeing you behind that mask and you can feel it. Oh yeah, your suspicion as hell and she has every right to tuck tail and run. “Well.. I've definitely never met a bad guy like you.” Luckily for you, she doesn’t seem to think you're a threat and even cracks a smile.

Before you can say more, probably for the better, she’s called away, "Robin. Stay focused." Batman gruff command causes you both to straighten, exchanging waves before parting ways.

“Her name is Stephanie Brown.” Alfred was surprisingly forward with you when you came in flabbergasted and waved a picture of the new Robin.

You couldn't suppress the tight feeling in your chest. “What about Tim?” The old man seemed to know what you were thinking before the words left your mouth.

He pats your back reassuringly, “Don't worry, he's simply been grounded.”

That answer triggered a bout of giggles that had nearly choked you, “G-grounded?” Fuck man and here you were all worried about that little shit.

The hand that had reassured you smacks your trembling shoulder, “It is no laughing matter, young master.”

Shaking your head, you successfully stifle your laughter, “No, no. Of course not..”

OH, you have got to get this on camera a hundred times over. A robin with strong screen presence, style, grace, and, to the bats chagrin, an unstoppable sense of humor. Honestly, you couldn't get enough.

The charm she brings to her role reminds you of watching Jason on his first days and you think the two of you might have even gotten close. It's a shame she's never been introduced to you... technically.

In the quiet moment of a now hectic life, when you're the only one in the manor. When you can feel the despondency of those interminable halls seeping into your bones. When the emptiness of this large house is just too much to bare.

You miss it most.

Having someone to bother at times when your friends were too far or your grandfather too busy. Having somebody who filled the gaps of your most lonesome hours. Who made that hollow house only truly feels like home when you were together. Even when you were left in the dark, like the sun is sure to rise every more, the light never stayed away. The melancholy couldn't get through with the fortissimo of your twain joy when reunited.

You miss your brother.

So, deciding you've been away too long, you decide to make the trip over. Pulling on your suit, and throwing something on over top, you all but fly down the grand staircase. Your heart practically stops when you nearly run head first into Alfred, who you swear wasn't anywhere to be found just a moment ago.. sneaky old bastard.

He seems pensive at first but finally gives, pulling out an envelope. Despite the fact it's sealed, you're sure he knows its contents already.

It's a letter from someone claiming to be your ‘Uncle Ben’ who says he's been looking for you and your mother. He wants to know about how your life has been and if you'd come to New York for a visit. It was vague but strangely well timed, so super suspicious. Yet, something you couldn't quite place gropes your heart the thought. That you had other family, could have those familial bonds you craved but were continuously denied. Maybe, just maybe, you would even be able to find her or at least know something about her. The letter crumples in your grip and Alfred takes your hands in his, gentling your touch.

“Alfred.. Please, don't tell him about this.” A sense of deja vu comes with those words and this time you don't think he'll be so easily convinced.

“Young master, please, understand. The last time a child under my care left to-” You're hands, clasped in his, are given a gentle squeeze, “To search for their mother...” He clears his throat, you've never seen him cry but you can hear the pain in his voice. It hurts to know you've caused it.

“Hey- wait- this is different! So different!” You blurt out your hastily in your own defence, "I know you're worried, but I'll be in New York with my friends anyway! Gwen is touring a college there and even MJ has a few schools she wants us to look at.”

Alfred isn't surprised easily but your words actually seem to take the old man off guard for once, “Is that where you plan to further your education as well?” Shit, right, you haven't told him yet.

“Yes, I am..” You admit with a guilty edge, “We'll all be together. I'm not going out on my own..” Swallowing past the lump form in your throat, you add, "and if my.. family- other family? Is there? I need to know.”

His shoulders slump as he concedes to you, “I beg you, dear. Be safe.”

“Of course, Alfred.” Hugging him tight, easing um when you hear him wheeze, “I'm strong enough now to keep everyone plenty safe.” He shakes his head, returning your affection with a morose sigh.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag list?!

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#batfam #batfam x neglected reader #batfamily #batfamily x neglected reader #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #dc x reader #famfiction #gender neutral reader #neglected reader #marvel #dcu #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #platonic yandere #spiderman #batman

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luulapants · 1 year ago

Text

I hope people understand that "Just block people with rancid opinions online" and "We have to learn to engage with people who disagree with us" are not contradictory statements.

The internet is a uniquely bad place to engage with dissenting opinions. The modern web is designed to silo, affirm bias, and foster extremism. People do not come to the internet with an open mind or willingness to change their beliefs. People do come to the internet to troll and stage arguments that will make them feel victimized and therefore more confident in their ideals. And you, no matter what credentials you claim, will never have more authority than "stranger on the internet."

That doesn't mean people's minds can't be changed in other venues. This is why community action is so important and why activism has to occur in a physical space. When you coalition build with people around a single cause, even if you disagree on everything else, you gain credibility and trust. You learn to respect each other enough that when it does come time to discuss those issues you disagree on, the conversation is safe and people are able to listen and ask and dissent without fear.

#action is activism #coalition

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merakiui · 2 months ago

Note

somehow thinking of skully always results in the most deranged of thoughts, which is why tenth prompt immediately brought him to mind. he just seems like the kind of guy to engage easily and with little remorse in the most taboo things. feeding you a part of himself to ensure you are trapped in his timeline? well, that's simply what you do when you love somebody very much. no, he isn't getting off to this.

which is to say that, if it's not too much bother, i'd love to request some disgusting dead dove skully for prompt 10 (though 4 is also sorta similar?)

>:) disgusting dead dove Skully...... my favorite flavor!!!!! I changed the prompt sentence just slightly,,, ;;;

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, female reader, captivity, dead dove, reader is treated like a rag doll in skully's pursuit of having a jack x sally esque romance, delusion, obsession, gore, non-con dissection, drugging, mutilation, skully's freak levels are criminal and absolutely deranged)

(monstrously yandere prompts)

"Good morning, my darling!"

Beaming from ear to ear, your cheerful kidnapper wheels a metal cart into the brick cell he's calling a bedroom. Your roommates are rats and spiders and whatever other monsters dwell in the darkness down here. This is where he lives, too, apparently. This strange boy who hides away in a mad scientist's stone cellar... It's patently absurd, a horrific tale fit for the shelves, and yet it's your reality.

He claims he's saved you from the cruel and callous Dr. Ashengrotto and his terrible, terrible needles. You'd be nothing but a lab rat kept awake on a cocktail of fatal flora, and your death would be by the doctor's design. It's all miserable business anyhow, or so Skully says with a casual wave of his hand. You're in better hands down here. Because this is Skully's domain, and he has you all to himself.

Dr. Ashengrotto will never step foot down here because it is here where all of his abandoned creations lurk, and many of them cannot wait to sink their serrated maws into the throat of the man who left them to rot.

That's why Skully, this odd boy who feasts on rats and allows spiders to spin their webs between the valley of his fingers, is more than happy to have you here with him. He swiped you right from Dr. Ashengrotto's operating table, and he's quite proud of it. Deadly nightshade is a glorious poison, or so he'll boast. He's so pleased he learned the distinctions to better knock out the doctor. It's not his intention to kill Dr. Ashengrotto—although he very well could.

Rather, he just wants his specimen. That's why he's done well to keep you safe down here.

But is it truly any better?

"Did you know," he continues, disregarding your silence and the way you squish yourself into the corner to get away from him, "the brain prevents you from biting off the tip of your tongue? A very curious example of animalistic instincts. We are wired for self-inflicted violence, and yet our brain refuses to allow the body to entertain that."

You eye him warily. Something glints on the tray. A blade... A big blade, actually. Dread pools in the pits of your stomach. Bile is already scraping at your throat. You want to run, but he snipped the tendons in your legs and so now you're no better than a baby bird. You could crawl, but he'd easily catch up.

"If I'm to call myself yours, much like Lord Jack did with his dear Sally, it's only fair we look the part, no?" Spidery digits fall away from the cart, and he bends down to peer at you. Those peculiar spiral eyes blink one at a time. You wonder if he's ever gone outside. He's less human and more...creature. Does he even know how to be human? "So where shall we begin? If you try hard enough and perish every self-preservation instinct, your teeth could snip off the tip of your tongue. I can do the same with mine and we can swap them!" But he's quick to fluster, and his hands fly up to hide his glowing cheeks. "A-Ah... But perhaps that's too forward of me. Forgive me. It was wildly uncouth to suggest such blatant intimacy so early into our courtship."

You've never known kidnapping to be courtship. You're beginning to think Dr. Ashengrotto and his terrible, terrible needles would be better than this madness.

"We can do this instead." He lifts a cleaver from the cart and runs his finger along the blade. A bead of blood pools at his fingertip. "This shall do nicely." Turning to you with a smile, he rests his arm on the stone tablet positioned just beside the tray of surgical equipment. "It's only proper if I go first. A gentleman must always escort and reassure his lady. Oh, but I must hurry. Dr. Ashengrotto will wake soon, and I will know quite the tongue lashing if his tools are missing." He squeezes his eyes shut and winces at the memory, as if Dr. Ashengrotto is somehow more terrifying than the blade he's poised above his wrist.

Skully lifts his arm and then—

"Oh!"

He sets the blade down. You breathe a relieved sigh that soon sticks in your throat. "I almost forgot." He lifts a murky beaker from the table. "Please drink this. It will take all the shivers away. I promise. Don't be scared." He leans in close and brings the glass to your mouth, but that only serves to make you struggle with more force. Skully sighs, pouting in disappointment, and grabs hold of your chin to force the foul-tasting potion down your throat. You cough and grab at your neck. There's nothing you can do. You drank it.

"W-What was..."

"Fret not, my dear. This will melt away your nerves. You won't even know the concept of fear soon."

With that, he picks the cleaver up.

You watch, eyes wide and mouth gaping, as he raises his arm high. You see the dotted lines he's drawn on his wrist. And before you can scream he's brought the cleaver down to cleanly sever his hand from his arm.

It must be painful. It has to be!

So then how is he humming? Why isn't he crying and screaming, holding his now handless arm in agony? How can he casually fashion a tourniquet for his weeping wound, the blood so thick and sticky it spills onto the cart and drips on the floor in little puddles?!

"Soon, our bodies shall be wed. Isn't this exciting? We'll be husband and wife!" He swipes his finger through the blood pooling on the surface of the cart, doodling a crooked heart.

You feel sick, but nothing will come up. Your stomach churns. Something is scratching at your eyes. You feel heavy, as if the weight of the world is pressing down on your shoulders. There's so. much. blood.

You shut your eyes for a moment, but when you wake it's to the foul stench of gore and the prick of pain as the needle works through your flesh.

Skully sews his hand onto the stump where yours once was and, in return, yours replaces the empty space on his arm.

He cradles your cheek with his—your—bloodied hand. It's cold. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his thumb rubbing just beneath your eyes, cherishing your cheekbones. "I've never known such agonizing happiness. Aah, it's like Cupid is stirring my heart into soup, stabbing it over and over with his arrows. You're lovely, an absolute scream."

You can hardly move, but your eyes manage to slide down the length of your limp arm to find the hand that's now surgically attached. His hand. The hand that has never belonged to you.

You give a choked sob. Skully smiles and leans in to lick your tears away.

- - -

He wants to open you up and rifle around in your insides. "If only I could give you my heart," he laments. "I don't deserve this organ. Not when I have such beastly thoughts!"

You think, if it were possible, he'd wrap your intestines around his neck like they're a feather boa, a grotesque treasure. But he doesn't want to kill you, even though sometimes he tells you you'd be such a pretty corpse, so he never allows his knife to touch your stomach.

That's why he's decided to give you the next best thing.

The needle is so close to your eye. You can't move. He's given you something, so all you can do is lie rigidly still like the dead. Again, Skully hums a haunting melody.

"Please..." you beg. "Please don't do this."

He blinks down at you with one eye. The other is sitting preserved in a glass jar, from when he plucked it out himself and cut away the pesky optic nerves, all while rambling about how fantastic this is. You wonder if he's immune to pain. Is he even alive? There's a bandage wrapped around his head, concealing his empty eye socket. Soon, you won't be able to move your mouth to voice any pleas. Silent tears crawl down your cheeks instead.

When you look at him, scrawny boy with his strange, toothy grin and his bedraggled hair, you wonder if he's one of Dr. Ashengrotto's long-forgotten experiments.

"I'll be gentle," he promises.

You spend those next few hours in indescribable torment.

You pass out just before you lose the sight in your left eye.

When you wake, Skully is holding you in his arms, brushing a hand through your hair to soothe you. He hums a sweet lullaby, his sharp, curled nails sticking at every knot in your hair. He yanks through them, undeterred.

"Are you awake?" He peers down at you. "Oh, what a relief! It's been days since you shut your eyes. I was beginning to worry I'd hurt you..."

His frown quickly quirks up into a bright smile. "But not to worry! You're still alive. I'm so pleased!"

He feels around in the dimly lit space for something. When you open your eyes, you see yourself. The vision in your left eye is blurred. Skully props you up so you can get a better look at yourself in the fractured glass.

You're looking back with an orange eye.

And yours is nestled snugly in his socket. A perfect fit.

"Isn't it wonderful?" he says, ignoring your wheezing, hyperventilating cries and the blood that trickles from your ruined socket. "My most important parts are inside you—my hand and my eye and patches of my flesh—and yours are here within me. I shall be a temple that cherishes your pieces. With this, you'll be mine forevermore."

He gathers you in his lanky arms and squeezes you in a hug that robs you of your air.

"And when you perish, I shall take your heart and sew it in next to mine. Then we'll never be apart."

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst

88 notes · View notes

scarluna · 7 months ago

Text

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 3 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: Let me know what you think of this chapter ;) Wink wonk.

ACT III.

The office buzzed with energy as the team gathered for an impromptu meeting. At this point, I had gotten used to the sudden meetings with absolutely no head start. Jungkook was not only controlling but impulsive as hell. No one knew what he was thinking, and for some, it was damn scary.

He stood at the head of the long conference table as me, Hoseok and Rya walked in. His expression sharp and focused over the scattered papers on the table. He wore a plain white button up shirt, dark grey jeans and his sleeves as usual were rolled up his sleeves showing off his tattoos. On one of his wrist there was an expensive Graff watch. Damn. Him and his expensiveness.

Next to him was Tina, practically glowing as she leaned just a little too close to him. Ever since I told her my piece of mind, she had been way too careful not to make it obvious because obviously people were whispering and spreading rumors. I guess she hasn't given up and had some hopes that she'd be noticed. As much as I despised her for how she treated me, I was feeling sorry for her at the same time. Her choice of clothing screamed attention too. Well, who was I to judge? I had no right to do that. Maybe someday the luck would be on her side, who knew?

“Listen up,” Jungkook began once everyone had taken their seats, his voice commanding the room. “MNT Media, one of our main competitors, is hosting a masquerade ball next Saturday. It’s more than just a social event—they’re using it as a chance to attract high-profile clients. Our goal is to ensure they don’t take our edge in the market.”

Tina raised her hand with a smug smile. “And how exactly are we supposed to ‘outshine’ them? Is there, like, a plan for that?”

Jungkook barely glanced her way. “Do your job, Tina. That’s the plan.”

The smirk I tried to suppress threatened to break through. Tina’s face faltered, but she quickly covered it with another fake smile, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her slim pointer finger. Gosh, she was such a cheerleader.

The room hummed with murmurs of curiosity.

“What does this mean for us?” Rya asked from her seat, her brows knit together. I took a glance at her. Unlike Tina, Rya was not showing her "admiration" too obviously and besides, she was way too mature and work-oriented to choose a good session of sex with her boss. I admired her for that.

Jungkook gestured to a slide on the projector, outlining a strategic approach. “It means we’ll attend the ball. Every single one of you is expected to be there.We’re not going to outright sabotage, but we will make sure our clients and prospects see us as the better option. Keep it subtle—this isn’t a smear campaign. It’s about relationships and presence.”And yes,” Jungkook added, his gaze cutting through the room like a knife, “graphic designers too.” His voice held a sharp edge of authority, daring anyone to challenge him.

I blinked, caught off guard by the specificity of his statement. “Graphic designers too? I thought only management should be present there,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone casual. I had never been to a ball. A masquerade ball for that matter.

He turned his head sharply to me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think your job is just fonts and colors, don’t you?”

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as his eyes pinned me down, but I refused to back down. “Not exactly, but—”

“But nothing,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning against the table, his tattoos flexing as his forearms rested on the edge. “Visuals sell. A well-designed presentation, a strategically placed logo, or even the subtleties in our event materials can make or break a client’s first impression. We need all hands on deck for this. Even,” he paused, locking eyes with me, “the ones who think they’re just here to doodle.”

The room shifted uncomfortably, a few stifled chuckles breaking the tension. I narrowed my eyes, but there was no mistaking the magnetic pull in the air between us. I hated how his cockiness somehow made my pulse race.

Hoseok, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat. “So... we’re all just attending or actively involved?”

“Actively,” Jungkook replied without missing a beat, his attention still on me. “You’ll each have tasks to ensure our brand presence is felt. It’s an opportunity to network, observe, and make sure MNT Media knows we’re not going anywhere.”

Just as I thought he might say something else to push me over the edge, he sighed dramatically, breaking the spell.

“Where the hell is Yoongi?” He raked a hand through his dark hair, his tone shifting to one of pure annoyance. “That idiot is late again.”

The room immediately relaxed but remained silent as everyone looked at each other. It was odd, since we were all caught up in that ball that we didn't notice Yoongi missing. Jungkook might have been a force to be reckoned with, but his annoyance with Yoongi being careless and late was an ongoing office joke.

“Probably got distracted by his latest overpriced gadget,” Hoseok quipped, earning a round of muffled laughs.

Jungkook let out a low groan, shaking his head like he was carrying the weight of the world—and Yoongi’s constant stumbles at work—on his shoulders. “If he weren’t my best friend, I’d have fired him five times by now.”

The mention of Yoongi and the Boss brought a flicker of thought to my mind, one that I quickly buried. But it lingered, uninvited. The rumors about Yoongi being more than just another employee—they never truly left me. Supposedly, he was the son of a conglomerate empire, someone who didn’t have to work here but chose to for reasons no one could quite figure out.

Me? I wasn’t deluded enough to think it was because of me, even though the timing was uncanny. Yoongi had started here just a few days after I did, but the whispers always suggested something else. His arrival was tied to some long-forgotten scandal, one no one had the full details on, and I had long given up trying to separate fact from fiction.

Still, the idea that Yoongi might be playing a role that went far deeper than just my “supervisor” always made me a little uneasy. Not that he ever actually supervised me. His attitude made sure of that.

“Yoongi always shows up just in time to avoid the worst of your wrath.” Tina spoke out in a sweet voice. I almost gagged.

“Lucky for him,” Jungkook muttered, leaning against the table with a long, deep sigh.

His broad shoulders slumped slightly, a rare crack in his polished, sharp-edged demeanor. For a moment, he looked... defeated. Vulnerable. It was enough to stir something deep in my chest, something I wasn’t ready to admit aloud.

But the moment passed quickly. Jungkook straightened, his sharp gaze slicing through the room once again, as if daring Yoongi to make him wait a second longer.

As the meeting finally wrapped up, my mind drifted to a new problem. A masquerade ball meant dressing up. And dressing up meant facing my wardrobe—or lack of one. How was I supposed to show up when all I owned were dark jeans, oversized t-shirts, some cardigans and that was it. Most of my clothes were black too.

After everyone returned to their desks, I cornered Rya and Hoseok by the water cooler.

“So,” I began hesitantly, “about this masquerade ball…”

Rya instantly perked up, her excitement palpable. “Isn’t it exciting? An actual masquerade ball! It’s like something out of a movie!”

“Yeah, except I have nothing to wear,” I admitted, biting my lip. “I don’t even know where to start. The last time I dressed up for anything was... well, never.”

Hoseok grinned, his easy charm shining through. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not about having the most expensive dress. It’s about confidence.”

Rya nodded enthusiastically. “I can help you find something to wear. There are plenty of places to rent gowns, and I bet you’ll look amazing once we get you sorted.”

Their support made my chest feel lighter, though a small part of me still hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass myself. Or you.”

“Y/N,” Hoseok said firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. He was taller than Rya and me, and if we didn't know him, we'd be intimidated as hell. He definitely had this cool aura and a resting bitch face people felt threatened by. He was smiling tho, like a sun that shined brightly. “You’re not embarrassing anyone. Especially not us. You’re going to show up, have fun, and remind people why you’re a badass.”

I managed a small smile. “Thanks, guys. I mean it.”

As we headed back to our desks, Tina’s shrill laughter cut through the air. She was perched on the edge of Jungkook’s desk, her hand resting just a little too close to his arm.

“Are you sure you don’t need a date for the ball?” she asked, batting her lashes at him.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to make a snarky comment. “Careful, Tina. You’re about one giggle away from falling off his desk.”

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing. “Stay out of it, Y/N. Didn't know fat people had opinions?”

“On the contrary,” I said, folding my arms as I leaned against my chair. “Watching you attempt to flirt is everyone’s business. But it's kinda amusing how pathetic you look. Keep it up, I will be rooting for you.” I gave her a bitter smile as she stared at me with a deep scowl on her face.

I noticed Jungkook’s lips twitch, but he quickly schooled his expression. “Enough, both of you. You are at a corporate setting.” he said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“Oh, come on, Boss” I teased, unable to resist. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this little performance.”

His eyes met mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. “You should focus on your own preparations, Y/N,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want you to show up unprepared.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” I shot back, ignoring the slight tremor in my voice. “I’ll be ready. The real question is whether you’ll survive Tina’s advances without filing a harassment complaint.”

I heard Rya and Hoseok chuckle by my side.

Jungkook shot a glare at both of my co-workers and they immediately got silent. I narrowed my eyes, arms crossed against my chest. "Y/N, if I hear one more word coming out of your mouth, I will expect your resignation letter on my desk." he spoke coldly at me. By his expression I could see that he was done with my feistiness. Oh, but I wasn't done. "If you think silencing me will solve the problem, you're underestimating me." I mumbled lowly as I stared at his eyes. He did the same and somehow I felt a tension raise in the air. Before I could continue, Rya tugged my arm toward the office, making our conversation to come to an end. Tina was staring at me in full blown surprise that I was talking to Jungkook like that. "Why don't you fire her?" I heard her ask. And then no answer from my Boss.

As I turned back to my desk, I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s eyes lingered on me, or the strange twist in my stomach that followed. This masquerade ball was shaping up to be more complicated than I’d anticipated.

"Girl," Rya whispered, "you are getting bolder and bolder. I fucking love that." she managed to whisper in my ear and that comment alone made me and Hoseok giggle.

The cafeteria was bustling with its usual noise—people chatting over their lunches, trays clattering as they moved through the line. The smell of fresh coffee mixed with the faint scent of freshly baked goods hit my nostrils, yet the familiar knot in my stomach twisting made all the apetite I had disappear. This time, it wasn’t because of my body or my insecurities. It was the looming threat of the masquerade ball.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but the thought of being surrounded by coworkers in an extravagant setting, feeling out of place in a sea of confident, stylish people... well, it didn’t sit well with me.

I sat with Hoseok, Rya, and a few others, trying to keep the conversation light. It was hard to focus on anything when I could already feel the weight of the ball hanging over me. I was always an anxious person and it took me months to get used to the pace of my work, despite the bullying.

“So, Hoseok,” Regina, one of the other graphic designers, piped up from across the table. She flipped her perfectly styled red hair over her shoulder, a flirty grin spreading across her face. “I was thinking… maybe you could be my date for the masquerade? You know, just the two of us. We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?”

My eyes flicked to Hoseok, and I saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He hesitated for a split second before speaking.

“I... I actually promised Rya I’d go with her,” he said quickly, a little too quickly, I noticed.

Regina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, pretending to be completely unfazed. “Oh, really? Well, I guess that’s fine. Rya’s a great choice too.” She gave Rya a bright, fake smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Rya smiled back, but her expression was a bit surprised. “Oh, um, sure, yeah. Thanks for thinking of me, Hoseok.” She looked at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but she said nothing more.

Regina’s attention had already moved on, her focus turning elsewhere, but I couldn’t help but notice how Hoseok’s gaze lingered on Rya for a second longer than usual. I wondered if there was something more there—something unspoken.

But before I could process the thought, my mind wandered again. It had only been a few days since I’d overheard that conversation between Jungkook and Yoongi, and I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s words had echoed in my mind. The teasing. The lingering tension.

I pulled my thoughts back to the conversation at hand, though I could barely focus.

Regina, in her usual confident manner, turned to the group with a loud dramatic sigh as she took a sip from her pepsi cola.

“You know,” she began, her voice dripping with fake innocence, “it’s just so tragic when some people can’t even hope for a date. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Just... stay home and stuff yourself with food?”

Her gaze landed on me, lingering just long enough to make her target obvious. My chest tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date,” I shot back, forcing a calm tone I didn’t entirely feel. I mean, I lied, I was obsessed to find a date and also obsessed in looking good enough so people would take me seriously and not embarrass the company I worked for. Wasn't I pathetic too? Regina didn't have to know that.

Regina’s eyes widened in mock surprise, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, of course! Why would you worry about that, right? It’s not like anyone’s lining up to take you out. I mean,” she added, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “you’d probably have better luck on one of those makeover shows first. You know, before they film the big reveal.”

Her words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating, but I refused to let her see it.

“You done?” I asked, standing abruptly. My chair scraped against the floor with an echoing screech, silencing the room for a moment.

Regina blinked at me, her smile faltering for a split second before returning even sharper. “Oh, sure, sure. Don’t let me keep you from... whatever it is you do.”

I walked away before she could twist the knife any further, my head held high despite the storm raging inside me.

My stomach churned at the underlying judgment. Of course, Regina thought I wasn’t worthy of a "real" date. She probably thought someone like me didn’t belong in that kind of environment to begin with.

Everyone seemed to have someone to go with. Hoseok had Rya. Regina had probably already found someone else from the other teams. And me? I’d be the one standing alone, a face in the crowd with no one to share the night with.

I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to the ball at all. What would I even wear? How could I stand in a sea of perfectly put-together people when I didn’t even feel like I belonged in the same room as them?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts. It was a text from Rya:

“Hey, don’t worry about anything. We’re going together. I’ll help you with the outfit too!”

Her message brought a small smile to my face, but the unease still lingered. I typed a quick response as I was walking down the empty long hallway of the offices.

“Thanks, Rya. I just… don’t know if I should go. I feel like I’ll be the odd one out.”

Her reply came almost immediately:

“Don’t even think that way! You’re going to have a blast, I promise. And we’re all going to be together, so who cares what anyone else thinks?”

I stared at the message, the reassurance in her words offering some comfort, but I still wasn’t convinced.

Still, I couldn’t let my fears stop me. I had to at least try. I wouldn’t let them see how insecure I was.

Lost in thought as I walked down the hallway, I didn’t notice someone coming around the corner until we collided. A sharp thud was followed by a cascade of papers and folders scattering to the ground. I stumbled back, startled, as the other person muttered a low curse.

“Watch where you’re going,” came a smooth, slightly annoyed voice.

Looking up, I realized it was Min Yoongi, arms now empty as he surveyed the mess with a raised eyebrow. He crouched down to gather the papers, his expression unreadable but somehow laced with that signature playful smugness he was known for. I noticed his brown locks of hair were a mess, it was almost as if he had just gotten up and rushed here. Well, probably after a call by Jungkook he had to rush here. He was late after all.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, immediately dropping to my knees to help collect the documents.

“You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he remarked casually, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye as he snatched up a folder near my hand. “Big plans? Or is brooding your thing now?”

I pressed my lips together, biting back a retort. His tone was teasing, but I couldn’t shake the lingering sting from Regina’s earlier comments.

“Just distracted,” I replied shortly, stacking the papers I’d gathered into a neat pile.

Yoongi’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Right. Distracted. Let me guess—you’re working on your master plan to snag a date for the ball? I am guessing you don't have one.” He leaned back on his heels, still crouched, and fixed me with a playful, knowing look.

I froze, his words cutting deeper than I expected, though his tone remained light.

When I didn’t respond, he tilted his head. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re not going. Everyone’s talking about it. Even Tina’s got her claws in Jungkook.” His gaze flicked over me, his smirk sharpening. “Or is it that no one’s brave enough to take you?”

The heat rushed to my face, but I forced myself to look him in the eye. “Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date, Yoongi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“True,” he replied with a shrug, standing up and brushing off his hands. “But it’s a shame, you know? All dressed up, standing by yourself in the corner. It’s a picture-perfect Cinderella moment, minus the Prince Charming.”

I glared up at him, my hands gripping the stack of papers a little too tightly. “Thanks for the advice,” I said flatly, shoving the papers into his chest as I stood up and headed down the hall without waiting for him to say anything else.

The hum of the office felt louder than usual as I sat at my desk, trying to get through the endless list of tasks I had to finish before the end of the day. The masquerade ball loomed over me, but today, something about the atmosphere felt different. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Rya and Hoseok in my head. Maybe it was because deep down, I still wasn’t sure I belonged in that world? But in that moment, the phone in my hand buzzed, pulling me out of my spiral.

I glanced at the screen: Tae <3

I smiled to myself, swiping on the screen and gluing the phone to my ear. "Hey, Tae," I greeted, my voice a little lighter than it had been all day. Hearing his voice always made all the tiredness, worry and anxiety disappear.

"Hey, Y/N! I was just thinking about you," Taehyung’s warm, melodic voice greeted me through the phone. It was a comfort, like a hug I couldn’t see. "How are you doing?"

"Surviving, as always. Work’s a nightmare right now, and now there’s this whole masquerade ball thing. Honestly, I’m kind of dreading it."

He chuckled softly on the other end. "Yeah, I heard. It’s all anyone’s talking about. Are you going?"

I hesitated, fiddling with a pen on my desk. "Yeah. But I’m not exactly excited about it. Everyone’s got their dates… I don’t know, it feels like I’ll just end up standing awkwardly in the corner all night."

"Y/N," Taehyung said, his voice warm and reassuring, "you could show up wearing a potato sack, and you’d still outshine everyone. Don’t let those kinds of thoughts ruin it for you."

I smiled, the genuine kindness in his words making me feel lighter. "Thanks, Tae. You’re always so good at making me feel better."

There was a pause, and then his tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Actually, that’s kind of why I called. I was wondering if… well, if you’d want to go with me to the ball. As my date."

His words made my heart skip a beat, and I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. "You’re serious?"

"Of course I am," he said, laughing softly. "I think it could be fun. We’d stick together, and I’ll make sure you have a great time. No pressure, though."

Before I could respond, a shadow fell over my desk, and I looked up to see Jungkook standing there. His arms were crossed, and his expression was calm—too calm.

"Work call?" he asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I replied, keeping my tone even, though I could feel the tension radiating off him. "It’s personal."

"You’re busy, then," he said, his voice almost teasing but carrying a hint of something sharper. "Too bad—I was going to tell you there’s something urgent you need to handle. Guess it can wait."

I narrowed my eyes at him, my grip on the phone tightening. "If it’s so urgent, why don’t you handle it?"

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, but before he could respond, Taehyung’s voice came through the phone, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. "Y/N? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it’s fine," I said quickly, brushing off Jungkook’s attempt to derail the conversation. "Sorry about that. So, you were saying…?"

"I was asking if you’d go to the ball with me," Taehyung said again, his voice warm but clearer now.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he took in Taehyung’s words. His gaze darted to my phone, then back to me, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"That sounds great, Tae," I said, my voice bright despite the tension. "I’d love to go with you."

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate—his shoulders stiffened, and his eyes darkened, though he forced a sharp, insincere smile. "Perfect," he said, his tone icy. "I’m sure you and your friend will have a great time."

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and stormed off, his steps echoing down the hallway.

"Y/N?" Taehyung’s voice broke through the silence, pulling my attention back to the phone. "Are you sure everything’s okay?"

"Yeah," I said, though my heart was racing. "It’s nothing. I'll talk to you later."

As I ended the call, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Jungkook’s reaction lingering in the air, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. I was weirded out from the way he acted. Why was he so stingy for?

It was Friday afternoon, a two days after our meeting about that ball was held and the tension in the office seemed to be building, as if everyone was bracing themselves for the masquerade ball that was looming just days away. It was all anyone could talk about. Some of my coworkers were still obsessing over their outfits, while others were already talking about their plans.

I was organizing some documents at my desk, trying to stay focused despite the whirlwind of thoughts running through my mind about the masquerade ball. The idea of going felt daunting, especially when it seemed like everyone already had their perfect plans sorted out.

"Y/N," a low, familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Yoongi leaning casually against the edge of my desk, his signature smirk playing on his lips. I frowned. He did not approach me unless it was work related. I wondered what was it this time.

"Hey," I said, surprised yet skeptical of his approach. "What’s up?"

He shrugged, glancing down at the papers I was shuffling. "Not much. Just… figured I’d check in."

I arched an eyebrow. "Check in? What for?"

Yoongi’s smirk grew, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation? Nerves? It was so subtle I almost missed it. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his tone suddenly more casual. "You know, about the ball—"

"Y/N!" Rya’s voice rang out, cutting through Yoongi’s words like a sharp knife. I turned to see her bounding toward us, her excitement practically radiating off her.

Yoongi straightened, his smirk fading slightly as he stepped back, giving Rya room to invade the space.

"Hey, Rya," I said, trying not to sound annoyed at the interruption.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Rya said, ignoring Yoongi entirely. "So, I had this amazing idea! We should totally go dress shopping together for the ball tomorrow. I know this great place, and we can make a whole day of it and then me, Hoseok and you can go out clubbing after? I am in a mood for some drinks!" Clubbing? Oh god. It has been what- years since I went there? Too much people, loud music and bodies bodies pressing against each other.

I glanced at Yoongi, who was watching the interaction with a blank expression, though his eyes betrayed his irritation.

"That sounds fun," I said, offering Rya a small smile. "I will think about the clubbing part tho."

Rya grinned, nodding her head, yet she finally noticed Yoongi standing there. "Oh, hey. Didn’t see you. What are you doing here?"

"Just talking to Y/N," he said, his tone clipped. "But I’ll let you two get back to your plans."

With that, he turned and walked away, his usual calm demeanor masking whatever frustration he might have felt.

I watched him leave, a strange pang of guilt tugging at me. Had he been about to ask something important?

"Isn’t it great?" Rya said, pulling me back into the moment. "We’ll find the perfect dress for you. You’re going to look amazing."

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile, though my mind was still on Yoongi and the words he hadn’t gotten a chance to say.

The soft hum of the mall's ambient music barely registered as Rya and I made our way through the racks of dresses. The neon lights overhead cast a warm glow over everything, but my mind was far from the sparkly fabrics hanging in front of me. We’d been at it for what felt like hours, and I was still having trouble settling on anything that felt like me. The ball was a week away and I was a ball of anxiety.

"How about this one?" Rya asked, holding up a shimmering emerald green dress, the fabric catching the light. She seemed determined to find something that would make me stand out—something that would make me feel like I belonged.

I shook my head, glancing over the dress with a hesitant frown. "It’s pretty, but I don't know... I think it’s a bit too much." I sighed, tugging at my sleeve. "I'm just not sure I want to be noticed that much, you know?"

Rya raised an eyebrow, her fingers still gripping the hanger. "You're seriously telling me you're going to let some people in the office make you feel like you don't deserve to be seen?" She shook her head, pushing the dress aside. "No way. You deserve to wear something that makes you feel confident, strong and sexy."

I smiled weakly, appreciating her effort to boost me, but inside, I felt like I was just pretending. None of it mattered when the people at work—especially Jungkook and Yoongi—were still constantly tearing me down.

As I stared at the dresses in the store, Rya’s voice cut through the silence, a casual comment that made my head snap up.

“You know, I have noticed that the Boss and Yoongi act weird lately,” she said, her voice light but with a hint of something else—curiosity?

I turned to face her, my brow furrowing in confusion. "Weird? What do you mean?"

Rya set down a dress she had been holding, turning toward me with a knowing look. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way they’ve been acting around you. They’ve both tried to approach you, Y/N, and it seemed like they were going to invite you to the ball.”

I blinked, completely taken aback. "What? Yoongi and Jungkook? Invite me?" I laughed, the sound more disbelieving than amused. "That’s ridiculous. Why would they even do that?"

Rya’s expression didn’t falter, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “I don’t know, but it’s not like them. They’ve never been this... friendly with you before. And it’s not just me—other people have noticed it too. It’s like they’re genuinely interested in you.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. The thought of Yoongi and Jungkook—two people who had made a habit of mocking me—suddenly being “interested” in me was too much to process.

“No, Rya. I don’t buy it,” I said, shaking my head. "They’ve always treated me like crap. They’ve made fun of me for months, and now suddenly they want to take me to the ball? No way."

Rya didn’t seem convinced. “But why would they bother trying to invite you if they didn’t care at all? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe they’re actually—"

I cut her off, frustration creeping into my voice. "Rya, this isn’t about attraction. It’s probably some stupid game to them, a way to mess with me. They’re probably seeing who can get the ‘fat girl’ first and have a good laugh at my expense."

Rya looked at me seriously, like she wanted to argue, but she seemed to understand that I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. "I get it. I just wanted to point out that something feels different this time."

I let out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, if it is different, I don’t want to be part of it. They’ve always been cruel. That’s not going to change just because they want a date for the ball."

Rya sighed, clearly frustrated but still patient. “I understand, Y/N. I just want you to know that you’re worth more than their games, okay?” She gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you. And this dress? It’s perfect for you.”

I took the dress she offered me, holding it against my body as I studied myself in the mirror.The royal blue dress shimmered softly under the light, its rich color catching my eye right away. The off-shoulder neckline framed my shoulders perfectly, while the fabric crossed gently over the bodice, and I knew that it was going to hug the shape of my body in just the right way. The sleeves were long and smooth, giving it an elegant feel, and the skirt flowed down from the waist, simple but beautiful as it brushed the floor. The material was soft and comfortable in my hands, with just enough weight to feel secure but not heavy. As I turned, the dress moved with me, flowing naturally and making me feel like I could wear it anywhere and still feel amazing. It wasn’t just a dress—it felt like it belonged to me.

Rya leaned against the doorframe, watching as I studied myself in the mirror. Her knowing smile made me feel both self-conscious and reassured. “You'd look incredible wearing it,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the haze of doubt clouding my mind. “You’d turn every head at the ball in that.”

I placed the dress down gently, avoiding her gaze. “I am not used to all the attention...”

She straightened, folding her arms as her tone shifted into something more persuasive. “Y/N, when are you going to stop letting their crap define what you do? You’ve always been better than that, and now? You’ve got the chance to show it.”

I sighed, running my hand over the fabric of the dress again. “It’s not that easy, Rya.”

“What is?” she shot back. “Look, if the ball feels too messy, fine. But tonight? Come out with me and Hoseok. No pressure, no expectations. Just a night to breathe, dance, and remind yourself that you’re allowed to take up space without caring what anyone else thinks.”

I hesitated, biting my lip as I looked at her. “I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for clubbing.”

She tilted her head, her smile turning sly. “Oh, please. We both know you need this. Hoseok’s got the energy of ten people, and he already said he’d buy the first round. Plus,” she added, leaning in conspiratorially, “you know you’ve been dying to see what he’s like on the dance floor.” Hoseok had mentioned that before he became a Social Media Specialist, he was owning a dance studio downtown and he was the best of them all. However, he had to shut the studio down due to lack of money. Which was unfortunate. Everyone deserved to follow their dreams.

I laughed despite myself. “Fine, maybe that’s true. But I don’t even know what I’d wear.”

Rya’s eyes lit up, sensing victory. “I’ll help you pick something out. Something killer. And trust me, when you’re out there, laughing with us, and feeling like the badass you are, you’ll be glad you said yes.”

I let out a long breath, shaking my head. “Okay, okay. I’ll come. But if Hoseok tries to drag me into one of his ridiculous dance battles, I’m blaming you.”

Her grin widened as she clapped her hands together. “Deal. Now after we chose a dress for you, let’s get you ready to turn some heads for tonight.”

The evening had settled in, and it was finally Saturday night—an evening I had been both anticipating and dreading. A few hours ago, Rya and I had spent what felt like an eternity picking out dresses. After much back-and-forth, I had found the perfect one: the royal blue dress that fit me like a glove. It shimmered softly under the light and made me feel like I was someone else—someone confident and powerful. It was a far cry from the usual clothes I’d wear, but something about it felt right and elegant.

I’d also grabbed a few other things for tonight—something a bit more casual for the club, but still fitting the vibe. Rya had promised me a good time, and I figured I might as well go with it. I hadn’t really done anything fun for myself in a long time, and the club seemed like the perfect way to break out of the monotony.

Sitting in my apartment now, I relaxed into the couch with Hades curled up beside me. I had a few hours before Rya and Hoseok would pick me up—around eleven—but the anticipation of what the night might bring was already starting to settle in my stomach. The drinks were free, the entrance was covered until midnight, and they were headed to one of the most famous clubs called "Devil's Dreads", known for its great music and even better drinks. Hoseok had practically been vibrating with excitement as soon as he heard that I was coming clubbing with him and Rya tonight, and it was hard not to get caught up in his energy.

I was just about to reach for my phone when it buzzed on the coffee table. The caller ID showed “Mom & Dad” and I smiled despite myself. I hadn’t spoken to them in a few days, and I figured it was the right time to check in.

“Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad!” I answered, sitting up and adjusting my position on the couch. Hades stirred but didn’t get up, just snuggling closer to my side.

“Y/N, my love! How are you?” my mom’s familiar voice came through the phone, warm and comforting. “You’ve been so busy lately. Have you been eating enough?”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry. Just work, you know? It’s been a little hectic.”

“You always say that,” my dad’s voice chimed in, his deep tone carrying an affectionate teasing. “Tell us something fun. What’s been going on with you?”

I smiled, glancing around my small apartment. “Well, actually, there’s a company masquerade a week from now. It’s for work. We’ve been working on a big project, and uh Taehyung called me and invited me to be his date since he is going as well.”

There was a noticeable pause on the other end, followed by the sound of my mom speaking quietly with my dad in their native language.

My dad’s voice came as an answer a few moments later, a little more serious now. “Y/N, we’ve known Taehyung since you were little. He’s a good man. And we’ve seen how much he cares for you.”

The weight of his words hit me unexpectedly. “I—Dad, I don’t think…” I trailed off, not knowing how to respond. I had never thought about Taehyung in that way. He was just my friend, someone who had been there for me when no one else was.

My mom’s voice softened, a tone I knew well from years of gentle guidance. “Sweetheart, sometimes the person who cares for you most is the one who’s been there for you all along. Not the ones who just chase after you when you look good in a dress.”

I let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, unsure how to take their words. “Mom, I don’t know. I’m not ready for that kind of thing, especially not with Taehyung. We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to mess that up.”

There was a moment of silence, and I could almost picture my mom’s thoughtful expression. “We’re not trying to push you, darling. We just want you to be happy. But don’t close yourself off to the possibility just because you’re scared of what might happen.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “I’ll think about it,” I said quietly. “But for now, I’m just focused on work.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” my dad said, his voice reassuring as always. “Just remember to enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

“I’ll talk to you both soon, okay?”

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” my mom said. “And have fun at the ball. We’ll be waiting to hear all about it!”

“I love you guys, bye.” I said, hanging up the phone, feeling a mix of warmth and confusion. The conversation had been more than I expected, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had said.

As I sat there in the quiet of my apartment, Hades curled up beside me once again, I found myself lost in thought. Taehyung? Could he really have feelings for me? I’d always seen him as a friend, but my parents seemed so sure. It felt like the idea came out of nowhere, and yet... maybe there was something to it.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I didn’t know if I was ready to confront that possibility, but for tonight, I had a night out with Rya and Hoseok to look forward to. Maybe I just needed to focus on that for now—enjoy myself, let loose, and stop overthinking everything.

Rya and Hoseok were picking me up in just a few hours. The drinks were free, the club was waiting, and I wasn’t going to let any of my doubts ruin the night. For once, I was going to let go and enjoy the ride.

It had been ages since I’d stepped foot into a club. The pulsating bass, the kaleidoscope of lights, the hum of people enjoying the night—it all felt foreign yet oddly thrilling. Devil’s Dreads was a sight to behold, unlike any club I’d ever been to. The VIP section on the second floor, where we were seated, offered the perfect balance of exclusivity and immersion. From here, we had a clear view of the stage bathed in fiery orange and violet hues, with sleek, futuristic lighting patterns that pulsed in time with the music. The plush, deep purple couches I sank into were ridiculously comfortable, making it feel less like a club and more like some hidden lounge in a sci-fi movie.

Looking down at the main floor, I could see the crowd moving like waves to the hypnotic beats. But up here, it was quiet enough to hold a conversation without shouting, which was a luxury I didn’t know I needed until now.

Rya was the first to order. She went all out with something bold—a sparkling martini topped with edible glitter. It matched her red short dress perfectly, shimmering under the soft light like it was made just for her. I laughed when she held it up for a dramatic toast, the red matching sequins of her dress making her look like she belonged on the stage herself. Her dirty blonde hair was curled just perfectly, lifted in a messy bun style — Pamela Anderson. And her make up did not disappoint, dark, smoky and sexy, fitting her dark blue eyes perfectly.

Hoseok, being Hoseok, opted for a vodka on ice and an old-fashioned style of outfit. It was simple, strong, and sophisticated, just like him. His black button-down shirt with those subtle gold accents caught the light in just the right way, making him look like he belonged in a magazine ad for luxury watches or cologne. He wore black ripped jeans and his hair was messily styled. He looked like an model.

And then there was me. I scanned the menu nervously, feeling the weight of their expectations. It had been so long since I’d ordered a drink at a club, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. My eyes landed on something fruity and innocent-sounding—a cocktail called Strawberry Dream. The description promised a blend of strawberries, peach, and a “whisper” of vodka. Perfect. I didn’t want to get hammered on the first drink.

But, boy, was it deceiving. Rya had managed to pick the perfect dress for me. Firstly, I never wore something so short, and secondly, I almost never was opting for dresses. Jeans were more comfortable for me, but in this case, I loved how this dress fitted me.

I felt bold and my dress definitely matched the vibe. The black mini-dress I chose hugged my curves perfectly, the structured bodice giving it a corset-like edge that made me feel powerful. The neckline was the real star, though—crisscross straps framing my shoulders and collarbones in a way that was sultry but still sophisticated. The long sleeves balanced the look, keeping it sleek and elegant, while the fabric clung just right, making me feel like the main character.

I paired it with gold hoop earrings for a touch of glam, a natural make up made by myself and my hair was curled in beautiful long curls that framed my features, which gave me this effortless, confident vibe. As I glanced at myself in the reflection of my drink, I couldn’t help but smile—I looked like I belonged in a place like this.

We didn’t waste much time lounging. Once our drinks arrived, the music pulled us in. Rya was already dragging me up to dance, and Hoseok followed close behind. It felt freeing to let go for a while, to sway to the music and laugh until my sides hurt. I sipped my cocktail in between songs, the sweetness of the drink making it go down far too easily. Before I knew it, I was on my third glass, and the room was beginning to tilt—not in a bad way, but in that warm, buzzy, I’m-gonna-regret-this-tomorrow way. -

The music was pounding through my body, the bass so heavy it felt like it was syncing with my heartbeat. Hoseok and Rya were right there with me, the three of us lost in the rhythm, moving to the beat like we didn’t have a care in the world. The alcohol buzzing through me made everything feel lighter, almost dreamlike. The edges of the room seemed to blur as I twirled under the neon lights, laughing at something Hoseok said, though I couldn’t hear a word over the music.

That’s when I felt it—a hand on my waist, warm and unfamiliar.

I turned, a little dazed, to find a man I didn’t recognize standing close. Too close. His smile was charming enough, but the way his hand lingered made my stomach twist uncomfortably. Still, the cocktails had softened my edges, and my better judgment was slow to catch up. He leaned in, his lips moving as he said something I couldn’t hear over the music. Before I knew it, I was swaying with him, letting him guide my movements.

It was harmless, right? Just a little dancing. At least, that’s what my tipsy brain told me as I let myself follow his lead. But then his hand moved lower, settling on my hip, and a quiet alarm bell rang in the back of my mind. I froze for a second, unsure what to do, but before I could even process the situation, Rya and Hoseok were already on it.

“Hey!” Rya’s voice was sharp, cutting through the music like a knife. She stepped forward, placing herself squarely between me and the guy. Her sequin-covered arm reached out, pushing his hand away from me with more force than I expected.

Hoseok wasn’t far behind, his easygoing smile replaced with something steely and firm. “She’s with us,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t asking. “Back off.”

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, a lazy smirk on his face. “Alright, alright,” he said, backing up, but his eyes lingered on me for a second too long before he disappeared into the crowd.

I blinked, feeling the haze of alcohol and adrenaline mix into a confusing swirl. “What just happened?” I muttered, my words slurring slightly.

Rya looped an arm around my shoulders, her expression softening as she guided me back toward our booth. “You were letting some random creep get a little too close,” she said gently but firmly.

“Yeah,” Hoseok added, his tone lighter now that the guy was gone. “You’re lucky you have us to keep an eye on you.”

I let out a weak laugh, grateful but also embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize…”

“It’s the cocktails,” Rya said knowingly, giving me a reassuring smile. “That’s why we’re here, though. To make sure you’re good.”

As we made our way back to the VIP booth, I could still feel the ghost of the guy’s hand on my waist, but it was fading now, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude. Rya and Hoseok weren’t just my friends—they were my safety net. And right now, I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I leaned back against the balcony railing, catching my breath, when the familiar face in the crowd below stopped me cold. At first, I thought it was just my tipsy brain playing tricks on me. But no. It was him.

Yoongi.

My stomach did a weird flip as I watched him stride through the main entrance like he owned the place. His tailored black blazer and crisp shirt beneath screamed confidence, and his sharp gaze scanned the crowd with ease.

His eyes landed on me—on us—and widened slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or amusement that crossed his face first, but by the time he started walking toward our booth, his signature smirk had taken over.

“What brings you all here?” he asked casually as he reached us, his voice low enough to compete with the music but still clear. He looked between the three of us, his expression unreadable.

Hoseok, ever the social butterfly, clapped him on the shoulder. “What, are we not allowed to hang out at the best place in town?”

Yoongi raised a brow, clearly entertained. “You have good taste. But from the looks of it…” He motioned toward the now-empty cocktail glasses on our table. “...you’re drinking like tourists.”

I flushed under his gaze. “Excuse me,” I said, my words slightly slurred, “but I’ll have you know this drink was amazing.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched, and he leaned in just enough to make my breath hitch. “Amazing, huh? You might want to pace yourself. Those are just the appetizers.”

It was then that it hit me. The way he carried himself, the way the staff seemed to acknowledge him without a word, the way he spoke like he owned the place…

“Wait,” I blurted out, blinking through the haze of tipsiness. “Do you… own this place?”

The smirk deepened, and he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Figured it out, did you?” He looked entirely too smug. “Welcome to Devil’s Dreads. My little slice of chaos.”

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quimichi · 2 years ago

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ೃ⁀➷ CALLING THE SUMERU BOY'S YOUR GOOD BOY

Sumeru boy's Creator!Reader

Al-haitham, Kaveh, Cyno, Tighnari & Scaramouche

Al-Haitham - The ones who find the disruptors will win

Al-haitham closes the gap between himself and you, getting as close physically as he can ans drops to his knees. His body quakes slightly as he looks up to meet your eyes. His eyes feel raw. He wants to look away, but he forces himself to meet your gaze. "Your my good boy aren't you?", your voice so gentle, so smooth like the silky web of the Darwin bark spider. A simple question, but Al-Haitham's thoughts come to a halt as he processes your words.

Al-Haitham has heard these words a hundred times before, and yet they always make his heart skip a beat. "Y-yes," he breathes, his gaze unwavering on yours. "Yours." Words fail him. Al-Haitham opens his mouth to say something - anything to appease your desire - and yet no words leave him. Instead he simply closes the gap between you and him, leaning forward so that he is touching you.

He's still on his knees, and as he stares up at you his heart keeps racing. The word *yours* rings in his ears. He wants to say it again, to tell you how he feels about you and about your words. But he cannot.

"Is something troubling you?" your hand comes up to stroke his cheek, gently. He leans into your touch, his whole being quaking at your gesture. When you touch him, he's paralyzed by your affection. He breathes in sharply. "Y- you," Al-Haitham whispers, trying not to let his voice crack. He wants to say more but cannot seem to speak.

He can feel his face redden. Al-Haitham presses himself against you, his entire body practically vibrating with the rush of emotions."I-i am troubling you?" this truly took you by surprise, you always appreciated his honesty but this?

"Y-y-yes." Al-Haitham chokes back his words. His voice falters as he speaks. "You drive me...mad." A small smirk plays at his lips, as though he is ashamed about the thought he's just expressed. Yet there's no going back now, and his face has grown redder.

"B-but im still your good boy." The word leaves him like a prayer. Al-Haitham closes his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. He does not move. He does not breathe. His entire body is held hostage by you. Your voice is the air he breathes. Your touch is what makes him whole.

He is utterly yours.

Kaveh - The ability to appreciate beauty is an important virtue.

Kaveh smiles shyly, nervously, and approaches you on trembling legs. His steps are slow, but steady— it is only a few paces, but it seems like his body is taking him to heaven itself. When he is finally within touching distance, he waits for instruction; he is your servant after all. In your name he has build multiple builds, designed the palace you are living in. Without him, without his abilities, you wouldn't live in a palace only for you. You just had to praise him for it.

"Yes, your Grace. I am," Kaveh answers instantly. The words fall from his lips like honey, and he is genuinely giddy when he says them. He's bouncing on place like a child. So excited he forgot to be surprised by the sudden affection of his grace.

"Is there something I can do for you, your Grace? Your good boy shall always be by your side, ready to serve." You quickly move your hand for him to come closer. Kaveh obeys without hesitation, but his heart is beating out of hus chest while he still moving closer. His hands are clasped before him and are trembling with nervous energy as he gazes up at you, his expression reverent.

"Your Grace?" he asks cautiously, as if he is awaiting your next command. "Is there something you need?"

Kavehs cheeks immediately flush pink as his breath grows hoarse. He is a little embarrassed to admit it, but his gaze is captivated by your hand. He can no longer hide the fact that your touch mesmerizes him.

"Your Grace, please..." he begs quietly, though he doesn't dare look away. "If you keep stroking my cheek like this i am close to fainting..." You start to softly chuckle at him, well, isn't he a cutie?

Kavehs face flushes brighter, and his heartbeat seems to triple with each passing second. "Your Grace," he asks, his voice thick with infatuation, "can you please call me that again? After all...I'm your good boy aren't I?"

Cyno - Your sins weigh upon your soul

"Cyno, would you mind coming closer?" As if moved by an unknown force, Cyno shifts closer, inching closer to your person. "You would like me nearer?" he asks, the quiet tone of reverence in his voice unchanging.

"A tiny bit closer" you said, and without any hesitation, he does. Cyno obliges with his next breath, the movement of him inching closer in tandem with it.

"As you wish, Your Grace," he says softly to you. "Good boy" you coo at him. Such an obedient boy he is. Every fibre of Cynos being is lit up in the face of your praise. He stares back at you like a lost baby bird gazing up at the heavens.

"Thank you," he says quietly, as if the mere notion of such things were a foreign concept to him. You are the only one whose approval he craves. "Ohhh you're so formal" he never let his guard down while in your presence. Always showing you the upmost respect. The only time it slips, is when a little joke leaves him making you chuckle. That alone makes his heart race and being close to explode...

"I'm sorry," Cyno mumbles, face blushing in mortification at his slip-up. In all his life he has only been taught to show respect. Even now, as everything becomes so much easier with you near, he must maintain a sense of formality and decorum.

"Forgive me," he says, voice quiet and soft as ever, tone dripping with reverence as it comes out. "Oh Cyno, it's ok. You're my good boy after all I could never be upset with you"

The mere words from your lips are enough to send chills down Cynos spine, his face flushing as though his skin had become suddenly too tight for his body.

"And you are my god/dess/deity"

The words come like a whisper of a breeze. His hands flutter before his chest, the way a maiden might wring her hands. His expression is one of complete adoration, his gaze turned up to you as if to a heavenly vista.

I'm their good boy....

Tighnari - The value of knowledge can't simply be quantified in monetary terms.

"Nari, would you mind coming closer to me?" He doesn't wait to respond. With an urgent and desperate speed, Tighnari closes the gap between you and him. He wants to make you happy, and his body responds without a moment of hesitation as his legs bring him closer to you.

He presses close to you, and takes a deep breath in. His warm gaze holds a soft glow of wonder and awe as he takes in your face. His eyes speak to you silently, and say 'I am yours. Do with me what you must. I want nothing but you, Your Grace'. After all the time he has spend with you, informed you about the well-being of the forst, he not only got closer to you than anyone else. He also lost his feeling of shame.

He is much more open with you, less reserved. He only seeks for you attention, touch, your gaze, anything at all.

You look down from your throne to see Tighnari kneeling before you, his eyes downcast. He does not speak, but nods. "Yes." His tone is quiet. He stares at the floor without moving. He's utterly ashamed, this hit him straight in the face without mercy.

With this scene playing in front of you, you can't help but have a little fun. "I didn't quite hear you Tighnari, would you mind repeating yourself?"

His tone is slightly louder as he repeats himself: "Yes." He still stares at the floor. His heart beats furiously. He is still and patient. His body is relaxed on the outside. On the inside, though, he is utterly in turmoil. "Good boy, I am proud of you that you spoke up~"

Tighnari's breathing is deep and steady, as if he is forcing himself to calm his nerves. His stomach is tied in knots, but he tries his best to ignore it. He is yours, and he knows not to speak unless he is spoken to.

He shifts slightly to try and get more comfortable, though he does not look at you as he does so. Despite himself, he blushes. The sudden intimacy of your touch on his ears sends a wave of sensation through him. His face turns an immediate dark red, but he does not move away from your touch.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of your fingers running through his hair. Every touch is pure ecstasy. "'m your good boy..." he breathes.

Scaramouche - Eternity stretches things out over a long time. But each moment within it becomes all the more fragile

"Come closer" Scaramouche's expression is neutral, but there is an undercurrent of concern to his voice as he approaches you.

"Yes, Your Grace. What do you need?" He says it in such a manner that could be interpreted either as a formal servant, or a concerned companion. "Closer" A small frown tenses Scaramouche's brow as he moves closer. Your expression is neutral, and as he kneels before you, his heart is hammering loudly in his chest; and he knows he has done something wrong. Despite this, he obeys your command nonetheless.

"What's wrong? You seem upest?" You're worried you may have sounded to rough. After all he is a sensitive boy. "I thought... I thought you called me because I had done something that displeased you," he says after a moment, and though he tries to swallow down his mounting anxiety, it shows in his voice. "Is there... something... I have done wrong?"

"No!" your heart starts to ache at this, "My good boy could never do anything wrong" Scaramouche's expression softens, and a single, brief smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

His brows furrow again, as he tries to figure out the underlying reason you have called for him. Despite the fact that he is no longer frightened, he can't quite understand your intentions.

"Why... have you called for me, then, Your Grace?" He asks gently, still kneeling before you. "To praise my good boy" and with saying that you gently caress his face.

Scaramouche closes his eyes in your touch. The warmth and softness of your touch is enough to take his breath away. He leans forward, unconsciously seeking more from your caress. But at the same time, he is afraid to lean too far, lest he make you upset.

"Yes, I am your... good little boy."

He tilts his head upward, the need to gaze into your eyes and bask in your love overwhelming whatever modesty that held him back from your touch. He wants nothing more than to be as close to you as physically possible.

"All for me?"

"Yes, Your Grace," he croaks as he inclines his head, his gaze locked onto yours.

"All for you."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #Sagau Al-Haitham #Sagau Kaveh #Sagau Cyno #Sagau Tighnari #sagau scaramouche #al haitam x reader #kaveh x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #scaramouche x reader

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zoomzooml · 9 months ago

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Redesign concepts of Webmaster and Feathers

After a year

WEBMASTER

My biggest problem with the Webmaster design is how cluttered it seems; there's just a lot going on here. So I tried to calm it down a bit; I took away one pair of legs to make him less cluttered but keep (more or less) original body lenght. And I know that in his episode Jun says “if something has eight legs, she doesn't like it,” refering to spiders, but I think eight limbs works too.

I also played around a bit with his colors and markings. As well as body structure and proportions, noting this dragon's show-off skill - spinning webs.

When he puffs up his “cheeks” just before he spits, you can hear a sticky, mushy sound - you know that something is going on inside. The muscles are moving and pushing something with a sticky, gluey consistency. I would like it to be somewhat repulsive.

When he spits silk in attack it does not come out as big ball of burning web. It's more like net in "V" shape, in form of many separate threads of silk shooted at the same time. Similar to actual spiders, but on the bigger scale. His webs also don't burn; I feel like it's an overkill.

I changed the arrangement of his forelegs slightly. I know it's not quite in line with the style of HTTYD (see Speed Spingers' front limbs) but in his case I think arranging his hands in a similar way to therizinosaurus gives him a more menacing look.

Deadly Spinners are dragons that give a very unpleasant first impression. They are not the most beautiful dragons around (at least not by the standard) and their behavior can be repulsive to some. The type of dragon that people are willing to pin an unfriendly, sometimes unfair patch on more easily than on other dragons - as many people do with spiders or snakes and other similiar animals.

Deadly Spinners don't live in large groups - either small groups or solo. But when they are in a group they have very close bonds and spend a lot of time socializing among themselves.

FEATHERS

She is a challenge to me, not gonna lie. She definitely is the most changed among my redesigns so far. She just seems very basic to me.

The most bothering thing to me about her are those "feathers". Because, Alex in s1ep3 calls these "feathers", as well as Olivia in s5ep2, wiki calls these "feathers-like scales", but they can move and are thick what implies they are more like Furies'/Night Light's head numbs? I absolutely can pass the crowns as feathers, but Queen's horns and holes in her meaty tail were here the last straw to not to

And yes, I made a shitty video because I'm really confused and wanted that confusion express lmao. I hope Tumblr won't take it down.

So idk, I wanted to clarify what the frick those things are and go from there. I had two main ideas - either give her actual feathers or quills similiar to those of Bewilderbeast. When drawning I wasn't sure about either idea but finally decided for the latter one. Feels more HTTYD-like I think? And very flammable feathers don't seem like the best survival choice when almost every other animal around can spit fire.

I reimagine Featherhides as way more nervous and skittish dragons. Changewings were mysterious but usually seemed calm and strategical. Featherhides' nature is more in type of "flee" than "fight" (tho they can get so smoke when needed, they are not defensless or smth). They are very easy to spook and sometimes will flee in panic from something very trival just to return seconds later when they realise there was no danger at all, or are curious of whatever scared them. They often make rapid little movements, much like birds - especially if something catches their eye and they are not sure what it is.

Featherhides also live in large flocks without a complex hierarchy. If they can - they run, if any of them can't - at least some of them also stay behind.

Once Feathers bonds with Alex she would be very protective of her little human.

When Featherhides mimic sounds they do not do weird things with their faces like in the show. It looks much more like like some birds do that. But that's just a sidenote.

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entitled-fangirl · 1 year ago

Text

His carefully crafted web.

Will Graham x Graham!reader x Hannibal Lecter

Summary: Hannibal wants both the Grahams to himself. He begins to spin his web of lies to get them crawling right to him.

Warning: Manipulation and gaslighting!!

Author's note: You can't look at this gif and be like "That's platonic love." LOOK AT IT! Also- I wanna write just a Hannibal x reader but my mind is blanking so hard.

Masterlist

........................................................

Jack Crawford led the Grahams to the crime scene, letting their eyes wander over the dead body in front of them.

Neither were easily mortified at vicious killings anymore.

After all, she was their head biologist, and Will was their reconstruction specialist.

But the dead body in front of them sent a small shiver down the woman's spine.

Will noticed and placed a gentle hand on her back. "You alright?"

She nods, "M'fine."

Jack nods at the two, "Do your thing, Will." And he walks out of the house, leaving the two Grahams alone.

Y/N bends down to the body, "This girl drowned on her own blood. That gives you something to go off of." She stands and gives her husband a sweet kiss on the cheek, "I'll be just outside."

He reaches out and grabs her hand, "Stay?"

Her eyebrows furrow, "I thought you do this best alone?"

"I do, but you help me think. Just… you being near helps me. It… brings me back to reality when I get too lost. Just promise me you'll stay?"

She was at a loss for words, "I… yes… of course."

He nods and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths.

…

"You said that to her?" Hannibal asks Will.

"Yeah, and I meant it too. I've been so worried about not coming out of the daze. She… she keeps me away from making my own design."

"And what happens when she can't help you anymore?"

Will sits up, "what do you mean?"

Hannibal blinks, "There may come a day that she can't help you anymore. What if you hurt her?"

Will loses color in his face, "No, I wouldn't do that."

The doctor shrugs, "How do you know?"

"I just won't." He looks up unsure, "Hannibal, that won't happen, right?"

Hannibal sighs, "I can't guarantee it, Will. You and I both know that."

Will sits back and runs a hand over his face. How could he be so stupid to not think about that? What if he wakes up from his daze to be covered in her blood?

He doesn't think he'd be able to live.

"Just promise me, Will. If something happens, anything, that you'll come to me. I can protect you. And her."

Will nods like it's obvious.

…

Hannibal had a plan in motion. He always does.

And he wanted the Grahams.

He knew that they were attached at the hip, practically an extension of the other. So in order to gain their trust, he'd have to break them apart.

But he knew he could always get them back together once they were his.

So, getting under Will's skin was the first step.

And it was too easy.

Hannibal was beginning to spin his little web.

Now, to get Will's wife.

…

"Y/N, may I speak with you?" Hannibal asked the biologist.

She looked up from her microscope in the lab, "Hannibal? You're the last person I expected to see. I'm pleased, don't get me wrong."

He smiled, "I understand. I'm just worried about you."

"Me?" She scoffs lightly, "Why are you worried for me?"

He steps up to her, letting his voice drop, "Has Will ever… laid his hands on you?"

She blinked, "What?"

"Has he hurt you?"

Y/N stepped away from his in suspicion. "No. Will would never. Why are you pointing fingers, Hannibal?"

Hannibal sighs as sets his blazer over a chair. "I'm worried that he's become unstable."

She nods, "He is but he's getting better. That doesn't put me at risk."

His eyebrow raised, "It doesn't?"

Suddenly, she wasn't so sure.

"No, it… Will… he… um… Hannibal, I don't understand."

He steps a bit closer now, their faces inches apart, "If he lays a hand on you, or hurts you in any way, I want to be the first to know. I would never let him touch you."

She tilts her head, "Hannib-"

"-No more. I need a promise, Y/N."

She shakes her head, "It won't happen."

He reaches forward and brushes hair behind her ear, "Your promise, Graham."

"I promise?"

He nods, "Good girl."

And with that, he grabs his jacket and leaves.

…

Now, the Grahams were avoiding each other.

Neither wanted to talk out their recent feelings with the psychiatrist.

And Hannibal could not be more pleased.

Both came practically crawling to him.

And he welcomed them with feigned surprise and open arms.

…

A few months and many manipulative talks later, he had them trained exactly how he wanted them.

Hannibal came home and set his bag down gently, "Y/N?" His voice rang out.

She floated down the stairs happily, "You're home early!"

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist, "I wanted to see you two as quickly as I could."

Will rounded the corner, "Oh. I didn't hear you come in, Hannibal."

Hannibal's smile only grew, "When you read, you're in another world, dear Will."

The two share a gently kiss.

Will pulls Y/N away from Hannibal's arms to wrap his own around the girl.

"I've been thinking," Hannibal says. He states it as if it's a new thought, and not one he had planned since the day he met the pair, "I feel a bit left out. You're both the Grahams."

Will places a kiss on the woman's neck and then looks up at Hannibal, "Oh, did you want to be a Graham, too, Hannibal? We can make that happen."

"No," Hannibal said with a smirk as he stared at the beautiful couple in front of him- the couple that lived in his home, ate his dinners he created, and slept beside him every night. The couple that belonged to him. "I believe the Lecters are more elegant. Don't you, darling?" He looks at Y/N.

Her lips pull into a line and she looks up at Will, "The Lecters? Will?"

Will was already beaming, "The Lecters. I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Hannibal."

Hannibal smiled.

…

He had spun his web slowly and meticulously, paying attention to every detail.

And the two little bugs known as the Grahams had landed right in it unknowingly.

After all, the spider was very charming.

.....................................................

#fanfiction #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter #hannibal #mads mikkelsen #will graham imagines #will graham x reader #will graham fanfiction #will graham imagine #will graham #hugh dancy x reader #hugh dancy #hannibal fandom

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sphinx-n-friends-old-account · 5 months ago

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△◬▲ Avengers' Hobbies ▲◬△

Here are some hobbies and interests that I think the Avengers will have when I shift, including my own that I already have here. I will probably update this when I shift and we'll see if I'm right! Some of these are canon, but I'm throwing them in here for fun anyway.

△◬▲◬△

▲ Tony

△ Rubik's cube (and other little puzzles) - That brain of his must have mastered it in a day, so he probably does it mindlessly while he thinks.

△ Formula 1 - As seen in the MCU. But it's SO fitting for him, I just have to put that out there.

△ Concerts - He loves a good party and, based on his t-shirts, he seems to love music. I wouldn't be surprised if he just hangs out on the side of the stages because he's Tony Stark and can.

△ Design - He's made quite a few suits, so I can see him really getting into the creative aspect of things. This applies to all of his inventions too. They have to look as "cool" as he does, right?

▲ Rhodey

△ Reading - Give this man a newspaper or a biography or something, he'll be set.

△ Pool & Ping Pong - Somehow, someway, he's just way better at both of these than 94% of the population. And yes, he will definitely rub it in your face.

△ Piano - I feel like his mother or grandmother taught him how to play when he was young so it's a very sentimental talent of his.

▲ Peter

△ Photography - Obviously. That little stinker is too talented for his own good.

△ Tinkering in the Lab - Based on his enthusiasm in the MCU, I think he spends a lot of his time just messing around in the lab, even if he's alone, though of course he prefers to have company. He gets so excited when an idea of his works.

△ Quality Time - Like I mentioned, he likes company. He might be a little awkward sometimes, but I think that's what makes that time with people mean so much to him. It makes him happy to know that people want to hang out with him.

△ Slacklining - Hear me out. He uses his webs to create a makeshift slackline across buildings or whatever. Maybe he's on a stakeout and gets bored, I don't know, but he's damn good at it.

▲ Bruce

△ The Opera - As we saw in the MCU, he uses music to calm himself down. But I think he has a deeper connection and fascination with it than most may notice. There's something about the harmony between all of the instruments and voices that mesmerizes him. He could go on and on about it, and I can't wait to listen to him rant when I shift!

△ Scientific Research - If he's not the one doing the research, then he's reading all about it. He loves hearing other people's discoveries and he craves getting all the knowledge he can.

△ Meditation - With all of the Hulk nonsense, he got into it to help his anger. Maybe it works sometimes and doesn't other times. I don't know, but I think he has grown to love the process.

▲ Thor

△ History & Storytelling - As we know, he loves sharing stories of his own, but I think he also enjoys hearing them from others. He might one up them afterwards... Still, though. He really likes learning about makes people and places the way they are: their history and experiences.

△ Tests of Physical Strength - He has strength, a lot of it, and he likes to show it. He loves competitions between the Avengers (and winning). Even tug of war, he'll be there.

△ Singing - He sings in the shower. There's no way he doesn't. And he's actually quite good. For some reason, I feel like he might not do it in public much (unless he's drunk or joking around). Maybe it's an Asgardian culture thing.

▲ Scott

△ Scott is just excessively talented for no reason. He can learn any skill. It's actually kind infuriating. Anyway, I'll list a few.

△ Magic, Drums, Arts and Crafts, Card Games, Juggling, etc...

▲ Pietro

△ Sports - He's ridiculously athletic. He has mastered every sport. He probably doesn't even need his powers to be good at them. He's just a boss man like that. I do think his specialty is soccer (football, I know; I'm American, I'm sorry), as in I think he probably played it as a child and was obviously the best.

△ Wii Sports - He's unstoppable. No one can beat him. He has set impossibly high records. Still, he loves playing them so much.

△ Just Dance - Yeah, it's the same situation as the Wii. Those hips don't lie. Unfortunately, this means that it's very hard to convince people to play with him. He happily plays by himself, but of course it's more fun with other people.

▲ Wanda

△ Cooking - As seen in the MCU, but I'm so excited to taste her creations, are you kidding? I bet she finds all sorts of cute recipes on Pinterest too.

△ Ukulele - I remember seeing a guitar in her room in the Compound (Civil War I think?), but I think she started with a little ukulele! Maybe her parents bought her one for her birthday and she was devastated that she lost it during the incident we shall not name. She's such a sweetheart, I can't.

△ Crochet - She could probably crochet using her powers with her eyes closed. I also think she likes doing it to practice her control of her powers for precision purposes.

△ Jigsaw Puzzles - Just like I previously mentioned, I think she enjoys it for practicing her powers, but I also think she likes the peacefulness of it.

▲ Clint

△ Pool - Remember when I said that Rhodey is better at pool than 94% of the population? Yeah, Clint is the one person he can't beat. His aim is unearthly.

△ Harmonica - This guy will whip out a harmonica out of nowhere (one of his many pockets) and give the crew a nice little tune. He's quite skilled too. Name any song and he'll learn it for you in an hour.

△ Card Games - He may act nonchalant or like he doesn't really care about the game, but he will turn around and win with one incredible move and blow everyone's minds, then shrug like it was nothing. That brain is bigger than we give him credit for, I'm calling it right now.

△ Surfing - He just has that vibe. Not the stereotypical surfer dude, but a guy who will casually surf a forty-foot wave after he finishes a mission in Fiji or something. He's cool like that.

▲ Nat

△ Ballet - Despite all the trauma associated with it, I think she still has a soft spot for dancing. It was such a major part of her life for so long, so maybe she does it to heal her inner child.

△ Yoga - She has to stay flexible somehow, right? Also, I think she'd enjoy doing it to calm down after a mission or when she's stressed.

△ Aerial Silks - Speaking of flexibility... Same goes for this! She does all sorts of cool tricks too.

△ Hair - Her hairstyle changed like every movie, who has time to go to a hairdresser when you're a super spy? That lovely lady learned to cut and dye it herself, and I'm sure she'd happily do it for others if they ask. (*Nat and Steve will be together in my DR and I bet she cuts his every time!)

▲ Steve

△ Drawing - As seen in the MCU. He definitely doodles during meetings.

△ Calligraphy - Writing in cursive was way more common and just what everyone did. So, due to his physical limitations, I think he probably spent a lot of time practicing his penmanship and perfecting its art form, especially while he was sick. Drawing and writing were two of his major pastimes.

△ Running - Since he kind of couldn't, or rather, couldn't to the average extent or the extent he wanted to, he takes advantage of his abilities now. He loves the rush too. Can't relate, but go you, Steve!

△ Museums - He likes catching up on what he missed, but also enjoys the stories the world holds. He has always like history, so learning everything about the past seventy years and the rest of time keeps him busy.

▲ Sam

△ Cooking - As seen in TFATWS. But I also think he loves food and is totally a food critic, so obviously he wants to have the best cuisine on deck whenever he wants.

△ Psychology - Since he was a counselor for veterans, I think psychology interests him a lot more than some think. He may be a goof, but there's some wisdom inside him too.

△ Chatting - It's his favorite thing to do. He could talk for days straight. He loves it so, so much.

△ Board Games - He might get a little distracted during card games, thanks to the chatting, but if a board game is pulled out, he is completely invested. There's something about the map-like structure that makes his brain spark.

▲ Bucky

△ Reading - As seen in TFATWS. He loves a good fantasy book to take his mind to a different, sometimes better place.

△ Welding - He would be so good at this. I don't he did this exactly on Sam's parents' boat, but I'm sure he has the mechanical experience.

△ Repairs - As seen in TFATWS. I think he really likes fixing things, having the control to make something right and doing it, even if it's something small like a leaking faucet. It makes him feel helpful.

△ Gardening - Hear me out, stay with me. Imagine how much love and effort he would put into a couple plants, even if they're just houseplants. That nurturing side of him that he showed to Steve in the forties must still be in there. He wants to nurture something (and someone, aka me lol) in the way no one did for him when he was a slave for HYDRA. And once he masters it, he's damn good at it.

△ Games - As seen in TFATWS. There's playfulness in him past the brooding.

▲ Me

△ Abstract painting - I've been painting for a few years now and I love it! I just play some music and zone out, letting the paint take me away... I'm excited to make some art for people's birthdays and whatnot when I shift, just like I do here!

△ Baking - I definitely prefer baking over cooking. Give me a recipe and I can make anything. Plus, I have a major sweet tooth. My CR mom tells me that baking is my love language and she's not wrong.

△ Writing - Creative writing is my passion! I have so many possible book ideas, we'll see if I actually write any of them someday. I certainly want to!

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

Note

How does each of the main aeiwam cast react to spiders?

Ichigo: "...Why's my leg itchyyYEAUGH! DAMMIT!" *scoops spider up in piece of paper, opens window and throws it out* "OUTSIDE! SHOO! I hate it when they sneak up and on me...

Orihime: Had an intense close personal friendship with a Joro Spider that had made it's web on her apartment balcony when she was six. It's death at the end of summer was her first real experience with mortal loss, and she mourned it for weeks. She still recalls "Joro-San" fondly.

Uryuu: Secretly dreams of Spiders large enough to spin actual ropes of silk- the stuff is a marvel of chemical engineering, and would be incredibly useful to him as a Doctor or Fashion Designer. He feels like the difficulty of harvesting Spidersilk is the main thing holding back a Golden age of Humanity, and is disturbed to find out he shares ANY opinion with Mayuri Kurotsuichi.

Tatsuki: Paralyticly Phobic of spiders. Understands and appreciates their importance in the ecosystem, knows they can't hurt her and that the phobia is an irrational reflex, and even thinks some of them 'look cool as hell'. The second there's a live one in her presence, she locks up and can't move until someone removes it. (Usually Ichigo, because Orihime will just stare at it, fascinated).

Chad: Has a Pet Kitchen Spider. thought about shooing flies in it's direction, then felt bad for the flies.

Kon: Is a cat, hunts them, and will have nuanced discussions about how different spiders taste with Yuzu, the one person who will tolerate that analysis.

Keigo: Screams theatrically and jumps away and into someone's arms if they're there, but that's just how he reacts to anything that startles him.

Mizuiro: Fascinated by them, will stare at them with Orihime and tell her fun facts about Joro-Gumo Yokai and other lore, which delights her to no end.

Yoruichi: Like Kon, enjoys toying with them before eating them.

Urahara: Curled into the farthest corner, screaming, crying, throwing up, and begging Yoruichi to STOP FUCKING AROUND AND GET RID OF IT!

Rukia: *entirely genuine, with a huge spider crawling on top of her hair* "...what Spider?"

(Seireitei Squad Under The Cut)

Yamamoto: Utterly fails to notice or care. There are so many things he's seen that are so much worse, and honestly? Even when he was a young man he didn't give a shit. He slept rough delivering messages, waking up in the dirt with half a dozen bugs on him was normal.

Sasakibe: Thinks they're delightful. So many elegant designs! Such perfect sense of when to strike! Such patience! He finds out about Diving Spiders and goes Ape Shit. THEY MAKE THEIR ON SCUBA TANKS!!

Soi Fon: Spiders are cool but not as cool as wasps and hornets :)

Omaeda: Also has a Pet Kitchen Spider, but does not feel bad about shooing flies into it's web at all.

Gin: Isn't actually sure what spiders are, or if they're even real. He's seeing sixteen dimensions at once, something that minuscule gets lost in the noise. Still thinks that someone Screaming "SPIDER!" and everyone flailing around in fear or suddenly attacking the walls and furniture is a social game like "The Floor Is Lava"

Rose: Thinks they're cool right up until they're in his personal space and then they are VERY SCARY.

Izuru: Was the designated spider-wrangler for the third from the first day he transferred in, because everyone else is a huge bitch about them. he plays it cool, but he's actually creeped out by the really big ones.

Unohana: Spiders are garden Friends :) often heard verbally encouraging them to destroy her garden pests with calls of "GET HIS ASS!" coming from the Hydrangeas.

Isane: Everyone is sort of surprised how chill Isane is about dealing with spiders- even Yamada's Actually Dangerous Specimens- and she shrugs and tells them that she deals with more dangerous things every day, especially over in Pharmacology. It keeps the focus off the Bug she's actually terrified of: Butterflies.

Hanataro: Do Not Ask The Head Of Toxicology And 11th Division Pocket Medic About Spiders Unless You Are Prepared For A Seven-Hour Lecture With A Pop Quiz At The End.

Aizen: HUGE fan of Spiders. What splendid creatures- look at how carefully the spider selects the anchor points of it's web, the skillfulness with which it weaves. Such incredible patience, waiting for the lines of tension it's woven to snare it's game- though I suppose such patience is easier when the fly's capture is inevitable >:)

Shinji and Hiyori: *Screaming and flailing, hitting things at random (mostly each other) in a blind panic, because they share a braincell and that cell is TERRIFIED of spiders* "It's so fast!" "It was huge! It had to be a tarantula!" "We should burn the division down, just to be sure."

Momo: Escorted the little garden spider outside in a cup like ten minutes ago, and forgot about it because that's such a routine chore, and she was having a more important phone call at the time.

Byakuya: Rarely notices spiders, but sometimes one will scuttle across his desk and he'll stop to watch it for the seven minutes it takes to actually cross his desk with a neutral expression, before resuming whatever he was doing. It's a pleasant diversion for him, not unlike watching the koi fish swim around in the compound pond, and he resumes his duties feeling spiritually refreshed by that chance encounter with nature.

Renji: Not bothered by Spiders. VERY Bothered by his Boss's fucking peculiar-ass reaction to a spider wandering across his desk because to Renji, it looked like Byakuya had never actually seen a spider before and was staring at it with an expression that indicated his higher brain functions had ceased entirely. Is currently making plans to study "The Captain Kuchiki Spider Brain Glitch" by catching a bunch of spiders in a jar and releasing them into his office to see what happens.

Komamura: He's particularly fond of Jumping spiders, because they sing little songs while hunting that he can hear if it's really quiet. They're very cute. Gets very upset when people kill spiders or talk about killing them.

Iba: Not afraid of spiders but doesn't know what to do when they're in his way. Killed one in front of Komamura once when he was a little kid and Komamura was still his babysitter, Sajin gave him a huge and very upset lecture about respecting life in all it's forms... but did not actually teach Iba how to remove them. So every time he sees one he sorta stands there for a minute and hopes it will move, before yelling "BOSS!"

Shunsui: Does not want to admit how much Spiders freak him out. It's not fear, precisely- more of a disgust reaction. All bugs make his skin crawl and he understands how important they are, but can they do all that ecology stuff Far Away From Him, Please And Thank You?

Nanao: Like Unohana, reveres spiders as pest control. She takes it a step further, and actively collects Jumping Spider egg sacs as she finds them in the archives and tends to them over winter so when early spring comes, she can release several hundred thousand spiderlings into the archives to destroy the mites, bookworms, moth larvae and other archive pests before they can get a foothold. She usually does this while dumping out the entire terrarium and cackling manically.

Lisa: Immediately joins in on Nanao's Spider Propagation Project, much to Shunsui's horror.

Tousen: If there is a sudden shriek and burst of profanities and hexes in the ninth division, 90% chance it's because Kaname walked into a spider web again, his LEAST favorite texture in the Universe. Yes, including the curse nails. He'd keep them in his spine if it meant he'd never walk into another spiderweb.

Kensei: Often cracked open a beer while watching the evening news during his exile in the living world. Sometimes it was several beers, or something stronger if he'd had a rough day. One night, it was a bottle of Fireball as he watched the news, and felt too intoxicated to change the channel from the newshour, so he kept watching when PBS Nature came on, and damn near pissed himself laughing when he saw the Peacock Spider's Mating Dance. Full on Howling, tears streaming down his face, barely able to breathe, Pterodactyl-noises laughing. Nothing has been funnier before or since to him, so now whenever he sees a spider he starts guffawing and stop to explain WHY.

Shuuhei: Deeply confused by the fact spiders keep coming indoors. "Why are you all here?" he asks, doing a cobweb patrol with the broom before his boss gets back from the inter-division meeting. "What are you eating? Crumbs? Lint? Is it Lint you eat?"

Mashiro: Has a grasshopper-type Zanpakuto who is not a fan, so she attempts to destroy any spider she sees in solidarity. Usually misses and destroys something else.

Matsumoto: Spiders are cool, but not as cool as snakes :)

Hitsugaya: Grew up on a farm, and shares Momo's total non-reactivity to them. It's even deeper, because his constant ambient chill means spiders never climb on him if they can't help it.

Zaraki: Used to agitate Yumichika and Ikkaku by eating them. Now he agitates them by wandering off the trail during 11th Division Boot Camp or other deployments and coming back with extremely dangerous ones and handing them to Hanataro "fer yer collection". The 11th Division's Pocket Medic has explained toxicology at length to him, and now Zaraki thinks of various medicines as "Spider Pills" and "Scorpion Juice".

Yachiru: Still eats spiders. She's the sole exception to the Wrath of Komamura, because there is no malice or fear in her actions- it's perfectly natural and morally upstanding Carnivory. The rest of you are being irrational and jerks.

Ikkaku: Sometimes regrets his life choices when he sees the freak he's sworn loyalty to walk out of the trees with something venomous enough to kill half the gotei-13 with a single bite crawling over his face, then realizes that's FUCKING BADASS and is assured that he made the right choices.

Yumichika: *currently sneaking up behind Ikkaku with a fake spider on a string to affectionately terrorize him*

Mayuri: Unlike Uuryu, Mayuri isn't a Weenie, and he's making his dreams of Milkable Spiders the Size of Cattle a reality.

Nemu: Helping with that. This one is hers. She named it #47, after it's designation, Specimen Number 47.

Ukitake, *entirely genuine, with a huge spider crawling across his forehead* "...There's a spider in here?"

#Bleach #bleach fanfiction #AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #Spiders #some people are more chill than others #and some are straight up failing perception checks

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sanjisluvbot · 8 months ago

Text

As Above So below

Masterlist

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Synopsis: You had your entire life just beginning, fresh into college, and as a treat, you were going on a trip across the world where you find out what your father truly does for work and why you were able to move into a nice new home. A normal young girl thrust into a world where she needed to relearn everything she ever knew and escape the clutches of an assassin clan who wanted her as a wife.

The next few days following your run-in with Raian in his hotel room left you uneasy. As time flew by in a blur, you tried your best to stay in your hotel room with your mother. Making eye contact with your mother every time she needed to go somewhere made you feel like a dog waiting to be adopted in the pound.

The island, with its golden sands and crystal-clear waters, now felt suffocating, like an elaborate cage designed for your entrapment. Your mother, despite all the stress and her growing suspicions about your father’s involvement in this web of chaos, kept her usual facade of politeness up, not fully understanding the danger you were in.

But you knew. You felt it in every look Raian gave you, in every near encounter you had when you tried to escape him. He never gave up. Even when you were alone, you felt his presence looming in the background. It was a constant asphyxiating reminder that you couldn’t hide, not for long that is.

It was late evening when the inevitable happened. You were walking to the lobby, trying to sneak away to the beach for some brief solace, when you turned a corner and found yourself face-to-face with Raian. The hallway was empty, but you could feel the weight of his stare like he had been waiting for this moment. He was dressed in all black once again, his presence imposing, his gaze dark and intense. "Where do you think you're going?" His voice was low, almost a growl as if he was daring you to lie.

You froze, panic rising in your chest. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, to get away from him. But you knew that wouldn’t work. He’d just chase you down again. So, you stood your ground, defiant yet trembling on the inside.

"I'm going for a walk," you muttered, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

Raian stepped closer, his height towering over you. He seemed almost unfazed by your resistance as if he already knew how this would end.

"I think you're missing the point, wife," he said, his lips curling into a faint, dangerous smile. "You belong to me now, and no matter where you go, I'll always find you." His voice softened for a moment as if savoring the words. "I told you, you can't escape me. You're mine."

You took a step back, eyes wide with fear, but there was nowhere to retreat. He was blocking the exit.

“I’m not your wife,” you snapped, your words biting despite the knot in your throat. “And I’m not yours to claim.”

Raian's grin only grew wider, more predatory. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, his grip hard enough to bruise. “We’re going back to the room,” he insisted, his voice a growl as if the conversation was over. He didn’t give you a chance to protest, dragging you toward the elevator with the ease of someone accustomed to getting his way.

"Raian, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling. "Don't do this."

You wanted to slap yourself silly, you had never in life been a woman who backed down—especially when it came to men, no matter how big, how strong, and how much they tried to mold you into being this docile little thing they get to control. You struggled in his grip, reaching out and grasping the walls and anything in your vicinity. He laughed at you when you slipped, almost colliding face-first with the shiny patterned flooring. In the last moment, he yanked you by your already bruised wrist into his chest.

“ See wife, you need me.”

The moment you stepped foot inside the room, he slammed the door behind you, locking it with a click that made your heart race.

“Sit down,” Raian commanded, his tone a stark contrast to the softness he’d shown earlier when he’d dried your hair. He was done playing nice.

“I’m not going to stay here,” you said, defiance creeping into your voice. “I’ll leave if I have to.”

Raian’s eyes darkened further, his jaw tightening. “You’re not fucking going anywhere.” His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of an unspoken threat.

Before you could react, the door to the suite opened, and a voice you recognized—though barely—cut through the tension.

"Raian."

Your breath caught in your throat. The man who stepped into the room was an older version of Raian, his posture commanding, his eyes sharp with authority. The resemblance between the two was undeniable, but this man exuded something darker, something more terrifying. The way he surveyed you, his gaze not just critical but calculating, sent a chill down your spine.

The older man was calm, his presence heavy with the kind of power that made the room feel small and it slowly crept into your chest to smother you.

"Grandfather," Raian murmured, his voice taking on a more respectful tone than you’d ever heard him use.

The old man’s gaze flickered briefly to you, taking in your shaking form, before turning back to his grandson. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice smooth but laced with an edge. "She doesn’t seem to be cooperating and her mother is even more of a hassle, I plan to speak to her father in the morning.”

Raian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, possessive and unwavering. "She’s stubborn," he said, "but she’ll come around."

The grandfather’s gaze remained cold as he stepped further into the room. "You know what I want, Raian. This family is counting on you to make this work. I don't care how you do it. But you will make her yours. One way or another."

The words hung in the air, suffocating you.

"You understand, don’t you?" The grandfather's eyes narrowed. "If you fail, this family will suffer. “We have spent centuries to create you Raian and your offspring will surpass anything we’ve ever seen, this ordeal needs to be settled before the Kengan tournament is over."

Raian’s expression darkened, his hand clenching at his side. “I’ll handle it,” he said through gritted teeth.

"You better," his grandfather replied, voice firm. "We don’t accept mistakes."

As the old man turned to leave, he glanced back at you with an unsettling look of satisfaction. "We wouldn’t want any unfortunate incidents with our new extended family, granddaughter. Don't make me come back here to remind you."

Raian’s jaw clenched as the door shut behind his grandfather. The weight of his words lingered like a shadow of a demon in the room, and you realized just how trapped you were.

Raian’s hand gripped your arm once more, this time with less gentleness. "You heard him," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "You're mine. And you will learn to accept it."

You tried to pull away, tears brimming in your eyes but his grip tightened. "I will never accept this," you spat, your words heavy with defiance.

Raian’s eyes flickered with something darker, something obsessive. "You will," he said with certainty. "You’ll learn, sooner or later."

And as he led you to the bed, every part of you screamed for freedom. But you knew it wasn’t coming. Not yet. He threw you on the bed and before he could fully loom over you, you kicked him right where the sun doesn’t shine with all the strength you could muster. He choked and fell over clutching his pants, you took this sliver of a chance and raced to the door jerking it open.

You never once looked back as you ran, tears freely falling, and more bruises to appear in the morning when you collided with the walls. When you finally made it back to your hotel room your mother was waiting impatiently with the phone in her hand. She saw your face riddled with fear and immediately knew you had another run-in with Raian.

In her arms, you cried. Everything that was supposed to be amazing and beautifully filled with memories on this trip turned into something out of a nightmare on Elm Street and Raian was playing Freddy. Having your father betray and sell you off for money had been fully realized at this moment and it felt like your heart was being torn in half. You had always thought that by this age you would meet a nice guy and he would romance you like you met once upon a dream. Everything you knew meant nothing in the face of the Kure clan, you were their new prey, and they planned to do everything to make you bend and mold to their will. When you finally calmed down and changed out of your clothing your mother told you about her most recent phone call that led to a small lunch she had today.

“ Today I had lunch with the CEO of Nogi group, I had called up every contact I had that I believed could help me and after a lot of awkward ‘no’s’ I was given the contact of Mr.Hideki. We met more lunch in the lounge at a private table,”

you nodded, trying to process everything she was saying as you picked at the edges of your shirt, the remnants of your earlier panic still coursing through you. You were safe for the moment, but you couldn't escape the feeling that you were walking a tightrope, with Raian and his family waiting on either side.

"So, Mr. Hideki," your mother continued, after a brief pause. "He’s not a man to be trusted easily, but he has connections. More importantly, he has leverage. It’s why the Kure clan hasn’t been able to touch him directly, at least not yet."

You frowned, still not quite understanding. "But why would he help us? What does he get out of this?"

Your mother sighed, glancing down at her hands. "When we met, he didn’t want to talk openly. There were too many eyes around, so we communicated through notes, in code. It was a way to make sure we weren’t being listened to."

You raised an eyebrow. "Code?"

"Yes," she said, a faint smile crossing her lips as she relived the memory. "Mr. Hideki is old school. He had a small notebook with him, a few sheets of paper, and a pen. At first, he didn’t speak. He just wrote something down and slid it across the table to me. A simple line: The walls have ears."

You blinked, uncertain. "The walls...?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "He meant there was a possibility of surveillance—someone watching us. And just like that, we were speaking in code. Each note after that, he’d write something down and I’d follow up with my response, using subtle phrases that we both understood. He wanted to make sure that even if someone was listening, they wouldn’t be able to piece things together."

Your mind raced, the picture of a clandestine meeting forming in your head. You could imagine your mother’s unease, the weight of being in a room full of danger, yet having no choice but to play the game. She looked exhausted, but there was an undeniable sense of determination in her eyes.

"He asked about your father. You know, the jackass who I thought was just a business man, working on all those high-profile contracts. And he made it clear he knew exactly what the Kure clan was doing. He told me that he could help us—get us out of here and make sure the Kure family couldn’t reach us again."

A lump formed in your throat. "How? How can he help us? I don’t understand."

Your mother leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper, as though the walls might still be listening. "He said the Kure clan doesn’t just deal with assassination and criminal work. They have a network—an entire web of power and influence that stretches far beyond what we see. Mr. Hideki's connections run deep. He has allies who owe him favors, and he has people who would move heaven and earth to get their hands on the Kure clan's secrets."

She paused, making sure you were following, and you nodded silently, waiting for her to continue.

"He promised he could get us out. But not just in the way you’d think. If we disappear now, if we run away, they’ll send their best after us. Raian, especially... he’ll stop at nothing to make sure we stay. But if we let Mr. Hideki leverage the right people, if we make the Kure clan believe we’re gone for good… they’ll think they’ve lost. And that will be our window of escape."

You exhaled sharply. Your mind was spinning, processing this new possibility. You’d always dreamed of escaping, but you never imagined it would be like this—like slipping out of a spider’s web without it even realizing.

"Mr. Hideki wants us to disappear—completely," your mother continued, her voice tightening. "But it won’t be easy. The Kure clan is relentless, and if they find out what we’re planning, it’ll be over before we even start. He wants to be sure that no one can track us, not even Raian. He’s already made arrangements to get us somewhere no one will think to look."

"And what do we have to do?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"We need to trust him," your mother said, her eyes meeting yours. "We need to play along with his plan, be patient, and make sure we don’t give the Kure clan any more reason to suspect that we’re trying to escape. It’s going to be dangerous, but if we can get out of their sight long enough... then we can take our next step and leave all of this behind."

You felt your heart racing in your chest as you considered the weight of your mother’s words. It was a plan, a fragile one, but a plan nonetheless. And as uncertain as you were, you also knew that without it, you’d be trapped forever in the Kure clan's grip.

"And Raian?" you asked quietly. "What about him? What if he finds out?"

Your mother’s face hardened, the calm resolve returning to her features. "Raian is a complication we’ll have to deal with. But for now, we need to keep our distance, and we need to make sure he doesn’t suspect anything. Once we’re out of his reach, we’ll handle the rest."

You could see the exhaustion in her face, but there was something else there—an unmistakable resolve. You couldn’t deny it. Your mother was going to do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant playing a dangerous game with people like Mr. Hideki.

It wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it would likely be the hardest thing you’d ever do. But if there was even a chance—just a small chance—that you and your mother could escape the Kure clan, then it was a risk worth taking.

And so, together, you began to plan your escape. One careful step at a time.

🏷️: @ninacutebee16 @arans-princess-reblogs @imaginarydreams @black-girl-anime-lover (anyone else wishing to be tagged please lmk in the replies <3)

A/N: Well… do you perhaps want MORE ??? with that…😊 enjoy and comment pls !!!! quick edit: I hope everyone realizes just how funny Y/n and her mother are and are going to be throughout this story, this will be unlike many arranged marriage stories before especially having Raian as my lead.

#x black fem reader #kengan ashura #raian kure x reader #kure clan #kure raian x reader #kenganverse #kengan omega #yandere imagines #arranged marriage #tokita ohma #ohma tokita #raian kure #baki vs kengan #kengan x reader #kengan oc

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kiame-sama · 9 months ago

Note

I’m afraid of Spiders, luckily I don’t think I have arachnophobia (My sister does) but I do find awe and amazement to the things Spiders are able to do (Sometimes I hate myself for my fascination)

However, how would Drider Rook feel if I were to suddenly start praising and complimenting every part of his Spider body? From his webbing, designs to his superiority in the hunt?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, Drider, spider talk, praising an incorrigible stalker, Rook is Rook, adult themes, be selecting 'view more' you consent to view content and are old enough to view content

You must be trying to seduce him, that is the only thing Rook can think of. From praising his chelicerae- he will let you pet them, just don't reach between them- to examining his spider paws and retractable claws. He appreciates how you love on the little hearts on his chelicerae and hold his pedipalps all while praising his ability. He knows he is a skilled hunter, your praise only excites him.

He is happy to let you examine his fangs, pet his fur, and praise him until he is weeping in joy. Naturally, the more you praise and examine, the darker his eyes get until they become pitch-black. He may have to excuse himself before that, especially if you keep trying to reach between his chelicerae. You know not what you reach for, Trickster, and Rook is already struggling to keep himself under control. He will be squeezing the appendages together to keep you from realizing what he is desperately trying to hide.

In exchange for allowing you to examine and explore his arachnid body, he would like to give you a pedicure. He often paints Vil's talons and will occasionally paint his own claws, you can have faith he is not doing this for any other reason and certainly is not trying to get you to let him hold your feet for an extended period of time.

If you praise his designs, he will begin weaving you examples of his various designs using his webbing. He is quite skilled at making gorgeous webs and gorgeous weaves. Name designs or patterns you would like to see and he will make sure to do them for you.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #humans are extinct twst au #yandere rook x reader #yandere rook hunt #yandere drider #yandere monster

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whowrotethenote · 4 months ago

Text

Warnings // Angst // Grief // Profanity // Talk of death and murder

Word count // 7.8k

Disclaimer // The Tribal Killer Masterlist // Chapter One // Chapter Three // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Main Masterlist //Join My Taglist

The atmosphere in the dimly lit cigar lounge was nothing if not grown and sexy. Seductive and luxuriate. The exact space where surgeons, finance guys, CEOs and anyone else who wore designer suits to work—ironed to a trace of no flaws—went to bide their unwinding after a stressful day.

The usuals scattered about. At the bar, seated in the booths or standing at the high tables that were dressed in pristine white cloths vacant of any stain or wrinkle. White collar hustlers and whoever they report to. Men and women in pantsuits of all colors. Black, brown, blue, grey—and sleek as all hell despite the wear and tear that comes with working enduring hours in the city. Suit jackets most likely hanging off the back of their chairs or left in the car altogether. Dress shirts unbuttoned and ties loosened.

Cathedral-like ceiling with nostalgic decor and timeless paintings splattered on the walls. The buzz of enlightening chatter and glasses clinking on the bar top, being dished out in almost a robotic fashion—all leveled out by the live jazz band. That earthy and almost leather scent of Mayan Cigars, mixed with the cologne and perfume you could only find in stores where the workers get paid on commission.

In a less than quiet corner of it all, sat two young women. Breaking through to their late twenties, and trying to navigate in a world where the odds were stacked against them. They clinked wine glasses for the third time that evening, drawing attention from nearby patrons. A bustling force they were. They could have been as quiet as church mouses, and still would’ve captivated the attention of the room. Young, vivacious, and hungry as hell in spirit.

A single lamp and two lit candles set up on the table before them, illuminated their exotic beauty.

“So,” Naomi started. Cheeks burning with anticipation as she set the wine glass down. “I met another guy.”

She had been waiting all week for this. It’s tradition. Every Friday night, they’d meet. Same spot—same time if their schedules allowed it.

Their worlds collided in law school just five years prior. Both interpreting the world through roseate eyes, despite being two women of color sneaking through the backdoors of a predominantly white-male dominated field.

They yearned for the same things out of this little life. Access, a bank account that was never in short of commas, and to earn a name for themselves that would supersede the surnames of their fathers. Two paths that outside of law school, would’ve never intercepted one another in the way it did—despite them growing up just two hours from each other. Naomi pushed to the outskirts, due to her heritage—loved to hear the recounts of how Juno grew up. In the big and kinetic city of Detroit. But as of late their roles had changed. It was now Juno who became the listener. She marveled at the endless tales Naomi would relay to her about the men she intertwined herself with—for almost every reason outside of love.

Juno’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. She should’ve been used to this by now. It's not an abnormal confession coming from the lips of Naomi. In fact, it's usually the ritual that comes before the night takes that juicy turn. Right after the routinely and courtesy, how have you beens—what’s new at work—or how’s your family questions.

Every man that tangled themselves within her web was different from the last with only one shared trait amongst them. Wealth.

“Another one? I thought we were happy with the law guy?”

Naomi waved a French manicured hand. “Oh, he’ll be fine. He won’t even notice if he shares me. Believe me, he has more than enough on his plate.”

“So what does this one do? Or should I say which skyscraper does he work in?”

They never addressed her collection of men by name. Always by occupation instead. Mostly because the bulk of them were either unhappily married or just too high-risk for Naomi to proudly attach herself to. Controversial and problematic politicians. High ranking officials who over the years earned themselves a significant amount of enemies. Men seeking out the company of a young beautiful woman who didn’t mind cutting ties at any given moment. Naomi was a middle-aged man’s dream.

She grabbed her friend’s hand after another sip of wine. “That’s the thing, friend. There is no skyscraper.”

Juno’s perfectly lined eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

Naomi nodded with a cheeky grin. “That’s right. This one is…different. Definitely not my usual type.” She quickly surveyed the room. The band and consistent chatter concealed anything being transpired between the two, but still a girl could never be too careful. So, she leaned in closer. “He’s a truck driver.”

“A truck driver.” She repeated the words back to her in a flat tone, waiting for her to reveal it was a joke, but all she got back was that equally wicked and innocent grin only Naomi could give. “And where the hell did you two cross paths?”

“He was bringing in supplies and stuff for the office.”

Juno entertained the idea, but she knew her friend. She was into prominent men. Men whose last names held weight. Men who could get her to where she dreamed of ending up. Normal guys—normal anything wasn’t Naomi’s taste. It just wasn’t in character. Whatever spell the ordinary truck diver had enchanted her with, would be gone in a matter of time. A few more good quick fucks and she knew it’d be back to regular programming.

Judgement wasn’t a factor within this friendship. Understanding took its place. As a black woman, Juno recognized the struggle of having to break down doors that were locked and always being looked at as if she didn’t belong. Naomi being a Native and growing up on the Isabella Reservation, these same adversities had attached themselves to her life. It seems the rest of the world got away with mediocracy, while they had to be exceptional just to be considered. The game was rigged. So, if her friend had to cut corners and break rules, then so be it. She was standing ten toes behind her.

“When I saw him,” she continued, “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of him.” Her big lakes of brown seemed to grow wider as she relived the first moments of seeing him. “I could see his back muscles through his shirt. Ju his arms—oh my god, you would’ve melted. He looks like one of those fallen Demigods kicked out of Olympus or something. The literal definition of tall, dark and handsome.”

“He sounds like a literal character. You sure you didn’t imagine him?”

“I thought I was imagining him. Until he caught me staring and said something to me.”

“What did he say?” Juno teased in a hushed tone.

“‘You must like what you see, sweet butt.’”

“Ugh!” Juno recoiled earning a hearty laugh from her friend. “Fantasy over. Fucking forget it.”

“I know—I know. But trust me—I couldn’t even focus on what was coming out of his mouth. I was too busy picturing him naked. And his eyes—oh, his eyes, Ju. There’s something very dark and dangerous about them, yet so innocent and luring. I don’t think I ever saw a more beautiful man up close like that.”

“He’s from the Reservation?”

She shook her head. “He lived there for a while he said, but he was born not too far from you.”

“Miss Nodin, are you dipping into chocolate again?”

A red hue casted over her small face. “No, he’s not black,” she confirmed. “I’m not sure what he is actually. Maybe from the islands? He has tribal tattoos. He’s older too.”

“Of course. How much older?”

“Late thirties,” she answered. Juno bore a hole into the side of her face. She was going to make her ask.

“I know you hit already.” Naomi failed miserably at trying to conceal the grin with another sip of wine. “On a scale of one to ten?” She pressed.

“…Fifty. The scale has been broken.”

“God bless you—and the truck driver.”

“It was weird though.” Naomi’s energy shifted from her natural ray of sunshine to something else, as she picked at the left over Caesar salad on her plate. “He wouldn’t let me touch him.” Juno’s eyebrows turned down. “He tied my hands up. At first, I thought it was just this kinky thing. BDSM and all that. But then after when he untied me, I tried to touch him and he almost lost his shit.” Juno’s face cinched as she listened intently. Naomi shook her head and waved. “I don’t know. Men are weird.”

“That they are. Remember Reese?” Both women burst into a fit of laughter.

“Yes! How could I forget? Neat Freak Reese. He used to make me shower before and after.”

“I told you your labia was going to fall off from all that damn scrubbing.” They leaned in closer, releasing the last of their giggles.

“Oh god,” she expressed. She grabbed the wine glass once more—the corners of her lips lifted like her spirit as she eyed her friend.

“What?” Juno battled a smile of her own.

Naomi shook her head. “Nothing. I just love you. That’s all,” she confessed at a whisper. Even though it wasn’t a secret. She just had grown so enamored with their bond in that moment. She hadn’t felt her best that week. Work was—well work. And she was having the normal battle with her mother that all girls do at that age eventually. When are you going to settle down and get married? Jumped with all these questions surrounding her future. Naomi had no longing in her heart to start a family. She had trouble most days just getting out of bed and doing for herself. A silent battle she kept hidden. To everyone else, she was the ray of sunshine tasked with lighting the entirety of Michigan up. She couldn’t fathom the burden of having to get up everyday and cater to children and a man she vowed to love forever. It was too far fetched.

She thought most of her adulthood that something might’ve been wrong with her. Why was she always running into so many more hurdles unlike her peers who seemed to be gliding through life? Why didn’t she dream of the perfect white dress and walking down the aisle to the man she couldn’t live without? Why didn’t she daydream of what her face might look like on a little girl? Maybe she just wasn’t made right. She chalked it up to her wires just getting crossed during childbirth. That was until she met Juno. The other half of her.

She had everything she wanted right at that table. A girl who understood her—seen her. To be seen and understood is to be loved. She didn’t need nor want for anything else except that which she already found in Juno. Men were just these beings to have fun with and satisfy her sexually and financially.

They clinked glasses for the fourth time that evening. Hearts full and worries emptied for the time being.

“I love you too.”

Juno wiped the hot tear like it was made of acid and burned her cheek. And she was burning up—inside. Her soul. Her conscience. She felt responsible. She knew the lifestyle that Naomi carried on with and she knew it would inevitably catch up with her. She just figured she had more time. More time to convince her that there might be another way—a safer solution to all of her problems.

And now she was dead. Memories. That’s all Juno had to show for the near five year friendship she shared with one of the most exhilarating human beings she had ever met. Her smile could’ve brought life back into a funeral home. Whoever sought out to end it was nothing short of pure evil. And Juno felt in her soul that she wouldn’t know rest until she sought him out.

That memory alone was enough fuel to light her fire back up. She had been sitting unmoved like she was paralyzed for nearly thirty minutes inside the parking garage of the Oakland County Prosecuting Attorney’s office. Engine still running in her Honda Accord coupe—trying to build up enough something to just go in.

Memories of the two of them—full and making something out of nothing. Laughing until their stomachs ached and reaping the benefits of their hard work in spaces others didn’t think they belonged—was like the electric shock of a defibrillator. She was doing this.

She hastily pulled the mirror down to clean up any mess she had made from crying tears she hadn’t meant to. Nothing Nars concealer couldn’t hide. She slammed it shut, grabbed her LV Neverfull and the car door slammed not long after.

Head held high to the sky—she implanted Naomi’s boisterous laugh in her membrane the whole way through the lobby—past the older receptionist that usually greets her with the warmest smile and ‘good morning,’ whose head was bowed down today instead. Heels clicking on the marble floors in pursuit of the double elevator doors. The whole way up she pictured her friend lying on the floor of her home—lifeless under the hands of someone she trusted. Not even knowing that day was going to be her last.

And when the ding of the steel doors sounded and they separated—it was Naomi’s voice whispering ‘I love you,’ that pushed her to keep walking. In the buzzing hallway—despite it being seven in the morning—amidst the ringing phones, people moving about with coffee and paperwork—it was the crime scene photo of all those poor young women that shielded her from the nasty and apprehensive stares. The chatter. People she used to go out for drinks with after a long night in the office, covering their mouths with a stack of papers to talk to another colleague, as if the papers and shifty eyes were any less indication that she was the topic of conversation.

In her own office, she rested the left over empty box on the desk, amongst the overflowing ones she had started to fill some days ago when she came in for her exit interview. She packed everything up mostly that day. All she had left was to clear the glass desk full of ornaments that gave insight to who Juno was as a person—not just as an attorney. The framed graduation picture. She stood all smiles, cap and gown, with the mock degree in hand—in between her mother and father. Her older sister beside their father with her oldest niece on her hip—pacifier stuffed in her mouth.

The sun shone down on them that day. One of the most memorable days of her life. Everyone in the picture had cried at least once that day—even her hard ass of a mother. Tears for Juno and all her hard work and how much further she vowed to go. Graduating from Howard wasn’t the finish line. It was the starting point to a new race.

She wondered what everyone in the picture would think of her now. Would they still be proud of her? Would they support her? Would they think she was making the worst decision of her life? Would they disown her? Doubt and the cousin of fear crept into her mind everyday since she went in to interview Roman and came out as his defense attorney. None of it had hit any of the news outlets yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

Especially now—after today, as she came to collect her things and move out of her office. This made it official. The exit interview and the resignation letter was one thing. Blanch had kept making it a point to remind her that it wasn’t too late to change her mind with every day that passed her by. The offer more daunting and threatening than it was comforting. But she was determined. Some called it stubbornness. Since she was younger that same bug had affected her. People doubting her and already counting her out since she was a girl. It was all the push she needed to keep going. Even if in the middle of her persistence, she realized that she may have went the wrong way, it didn’t enable her to turn back. She just couldn’t. Ten toes down was the mantra she lived by.

She laid the frame face down at the bottom of the last empty box, not entirely sure where the picture would end up now. She wouldn’t be strong enough to look at their proud smiles until she was able to bear fruit of this drastic change and present it to everyone who had a helping hand in getting her this far.

The elaborate holder of pens, pencils, highlighters and sticky notes came next. With every little movement she could feel their eyes on her. All sides of the office were glass. A change that came with Blanch’s reelection some years ago. Transparency was his motive—and transparent she definitely felt.

Three knocks had her lifting her head up from the tedious task of packing. In the doorway stood the man she spent many days in this office with. They had been hired within a year of one another. He aided in her basic training. Partied together—shared war stories from law school and failed in this very office together—while also learning from said failures together. Her colleague and who she would like to consider a friend—but she knew that ship was sinking considering the circumstances. Myles Baldwin.

“Baldwin,” is all she said after a beat. Continuing her pursuit of packing after dismissing the pity on his face. The nasty stares she could manage, but pity? No—she despised it.

“Accardi,” he greeted back. “He wants to speak with you before you go,” he informed.

“Of course he does.” She tucked her bone straight hair being her ears, scanning the room for any strays of her belongings, until she felt his presence growing closer.

“Don’t.” She didn’t even spare him a glance. She knew him all too well.

“How long, Ju?”

Her arms lowered slackly at her sides, dreading eye contact. “How long what?”

“How long have you been cooking this up?” He spoke in a hushed tone. Eyes weren’t just everywhere. There were ears too. “I know you.” His light eyes accentuated under the bright lights of her old office mixing with the natural daylight from the window—pierced her in a way she had grown immune to. “You are not a spur of the moment girl. You think about everything before you do it.”

It's not that she felt compelled to explain herself to anyone—especially no one inside these walls. She was now the enemy. But her and Myles shared a bond that transcended work hours. She felt a sense of loyalty that she only hoped he did too.

Rubbing her forehead she breathed deep. “I knew Naomi…she was my friend,” she confessed.

“Wait.” He stepped closer, closing the space between them and shielding her from anyone who was watching. “Naomi? As in Naomi Nodin? The latest victim?”

She nodded. “We went to law school together. We took two different paths afterwards, but still friends nonetheless.”

“Holy shit, Ju.” The wall of apprehension he had built before speaking to her was now decimated.

“This is personal,” she continued with a hardened jaw. “Blanch is ready to close the whole thing because of one man that knew a couple of the victims. Yeah, he was fucking Naomi. Big whomp. And I get it. Roman Anoa’i is as sketchy as they come. He’s the perfect suspect. But that’s why I’m not convinced. It was too easy. I can feel it in my heart that he’s not our guy. And I won’t stand by and watch an innocent man be executed. I couldn’t help Naomi.” She swallowed the tingle threatening to restrain her words. “But that—that I can help.”

The hand previously rested on his hips, extended outward to invite her small frame into his much larger one. No more words needed. So she accepted it. It felt like a sip of hot chocolate on a snowy day. The hug of a lover after a long stressful day at work.

Their bodies conformed to one another. His woody cologne wrapping her the same way his muscular arms had. Juno didn’t want to let go, but the reality of it all hit her. Her eyes popped open as she peaked over to the right through the glass.

“They’re staring,” she mumbled into his arm.

“So, let them. I made it very clear last week that I won’t tolerate any Juno Accardi slander in this bitch.” He pulled back with two big hands still planted on her shoulders. “You’ve done too fucking much for this office. They all know it. Regardless of how they feel about this—they can’t deny that.” After his words settled in like lotion on the skin—Juno finally nodded and he mirrored it. “He’s in a meeting now. That’s why he sent me out here to get you.”

“I’m not even his employee anymore and I’m still waiting on him. Lovely.” For a white man, Hunter Blanch sure does run on CP time. Every department meeting delayed in anticipation of his arrival. Mornings where he’s jogging in an hour behind everyone else, tie not all the way done, with the Starbucks emblemed cup serving as evidence to his tardiness.

Myles revealed his perfect smile, snickering. “Just consider it his final act of love.” In his stride to the door he looked back one final time. “Good luck, Juno.” He offered what he could now that they were officially playing for opposite teams. A minute grin and words of encouragement even if they were in vain. Because he knew just like she did, that this was not the office anyone wanted to go up against.

Juno sat in the cold and sterile waiting area outside of Blanch’s office. The grandest and most intricate of the whole building. She could see him through the glass. Hands going, glasses on the brim of his nose as he spoke with whomever was on the HP monitor.

His controversially young, Russian and very blonde, executive assistant sat behind her extensive desk—not offering any words to Juno since she sat down. It didn’t bother her. They never got along. It was no secret amongst the office that Hunter Blanch had a thing for young assistants and secretaries that his wife so redundantly made him switch out every few months. A pointless enforcement if he was going to hire a young and exotic one to his liking every time. Even if he didn’t do anything with them, everyone knew they at the very least, served as eye candy for him throughout his more than stressful workdays. It's cheating to some degree.

Juno didn’t get into anyone’s business in the office, but one too many sly remarks from the twenty-one year old new hire, implying that Juno had gotten her job from offering something to her boss, was enough to put a bad taste in her mouth about her.

No one knew the real reason she was able to snag this job so swiftly, so fresh out of law school and even after her incinerating first trial as a defense attorney. That’s how she preferred it. That reason opened a completely different door of even more controversy.

The phone rang causing Juno to jolt a little in the quieter than usual enclosed space.

“Yes…she is… okay.” She hung the phone up and continued her game of solitaire on the double monitors before her, that anyone watching would get tricked into thinking was actual hard labor. “He’s ready for you,” she announced. Not even sparing Juno a glance.

Juno laughed to herself before rising up to enter the glass doors of his office, but not before stopping to give her one last piece of her mind. “If I were you babygirl, I’d take a break from the games and start building that LinkedIn profile.” She cheesed and held her Apple Watch up. “According to Mrs. Blanch—your time is almost up here. Looks like we are both out of a job.”

“Juno,” Blanch called out with more enthusiasm than what was necessary—considering the circumstances. Something of a smirk danced on his mouth as he relaxed in his desk chair. He held a hand out. “Please, have a seat,” he offered.

She was temporarily distracted by the floor to ceiling windows behind him that gave view of the entire city. His office housed the best view in the building. Absolutely breathtaking. The exact motivation one would need to carry out the heavy burden of governing freedoms and juggling the lives of the innocent or guilty.

Concrete jungle designed with skyscrapers full of Oakland County’s finest. The hub of the working class. Everything moving and functioning as intended—only it was Juno’s life that had taken a slight pause.

Easing into one of the two leather chairs stationed in front of his desk—something dawned on her. She had faced everyone today, except the giant she dreaded most.

“Where’s Leah?”

“Well,” he started. A hand came up to relieve himself of the glasses he only used under his wife’s advisement or rather her enforcement. The name plate on his desk and on the outside of his door read Attorney General Hunter Blanch, but everyone knew who really ran shit. “She took the week off.” She nodded feeling the pang of guilt again, making her shift in the seat.

In Juno’s entire time in the DA’s office, Leah Williams had only taken off for two occasions. A mandatory leave after her breast augmentation and her late father’s funeral. Now a third time presented itself. When the young girl she took under her wing betrayed her and made her to be a fool. “It seems your new ambitions has everyone on…edge.”

A deafening silence took over his spacious office. Horns from cars intermittently filling the void of their words but the silence was louder. Juno bowed her head to fool with her manicure. Lips twisted to one side as she thought of what she would say to Leah when she saw her again. She prayed it wasn’t in the courtroom. Leah Williams was the Chief Deputy Prosecutor for a reason. She was a beast in the courtroom. Only one loss in her current role under her belt. No one had slain the beast and lived to tell the story really. That’s what made Juno’s unforeseen move that much more agonizing. She was studying under Michigan’s finest. Anyone else would’ve quite literally killed to be in her shoes and she took them off with ease it seemed. God, she really hoped someone else was taking her place. Please, anyone but Leah.

“You really are sure about this?”

“I am.” She met his intense gaze once again.

“I hope so. Cause after today…” His shoulders went up and then down with raised brows. “I can’t extend any more olive branches.”

“You keep them for someone who actually needs them.” She sealed and signed her fate.

Another long and uncomfortable silence crept into the room. Blanch squinted and rested an elbow on the armchair to smooth his growing dark beard. He analyzed Juno like he would a case study. She was exceptionally smart, ambitious and her curiosity was unyielding. She was always the one in meetings asking the questions no one else thought of. The cross her I’s and dot her T’s, no corrections needed, can recite the case front to back, kind of student. None of it meant anything in their world.

“Do you remember what I told you on your first day?”

“You told me a lot that day.”

“Well, what stood out the most?” He quizzed.

She thought long and hard abut her answer. It was no secret that Blanch was one of the most cutthroat attorneys Michigan had ever seen. He—unlike most of his peers—had actually earned the title he claimed. He and Leah were like Shaq and Kobe. They obliterated their enemies and left no space for remorse. The verdict almost always in their favor. They dealt in facts and effortlessly swayed the jury. How many of those verdicts were in line with the truth? No one will ever really know. It’s irrelevant.

“Sometimes the bad guys win.” He snickered and tucked his bottom lip in to control it. Only, Juno wasn’t amused. “Not what you had in mind, huh?”

He shook his head and leaned forward on the desk between them. “No—not at all.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So tell me, Blanch. What do you think the most important thing was that you told me that day?” She probed. Oh so ready to get the fuck up out of there. She was in enemy territory now. She could feel it. No matter how many olive branches he extended or deep chuckles that escaped his throat. They had different agendas now. One’s success meant the other’s failure. No way around it.

“Courtrooms don’t weigh morality. They balance reality.” The room grows colder. Goosebumps form on her smooth skin. His eyes, dark and enticing, are like pins—holding her in place. “What can be seen. What can be heard,” he continued. The pace and ease in which he was able to go from warm to ice cold was off putting. Made her second guess every smile he ever flashed her way. “Your soul has no place in the house of justice.”

Suddenly, Juno was uncomfortable. She thought ethics to be the foundation of law. She was wrong.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her eyes bounced around the office, no longer able to play tennis. “Anything else?”

“Good luck, Juno.” While Myles’ words were encouraging with an undertone of grief for the brief moments they shared as colleagues—Blanch’s was sinister. He spoke like a man who had already seen the verdict.

Leaving Juno is suspense of two things. If the bad guys would really win this time—or if all morality had been compromised in this office.

Juno sat in the mess of all the new paperwork she had to obtain since transitioning from the prosecution to the defense. All case files had been returned to the Prosecuting Attorney’s office and in their place were the generic untouched ones. Files absent of her and her previous team’s notes. She was literally starting from scratch.

Pulled an all nighter to get everything somewhat organized to the way she had it before. If anyone walked in, they’d be floored at what she considered organized. Papers and files everywhere scattered about. On her coffee table, the couch, some on the island in her kitchen, and decorating the floor to the point where you could barely see the pebble-colored vinyl flooring.

The first rays of morning—coral and apricot lines—danced over her apartment through her white sheer drapes. Reminding her of how sleep-deprived she really has been. It didn’t start with the switch up. It started the night her phone rang in the dead silence of one in the morning. Her apartment pitch black. Alarm set for four hours later, but the ringing shocked her awake before her time. It was Leah calling to inform her that they had another victim. Juno’s heart ached at the thought of this bastard taking the life of another woman. Her blood had ran cold when she received the address of the latest crime scene. A home she had been plenty of times before and didn’t need to utilize the GPS for. A home she had spent countless nights—cooking, drinking, playing cards, binge watching Law & Order, and gossiping about everything under the sun.

Walking up to the house full of strangers—absent of the owner she knew and loved—flashing lights of blue and red dancing on the outside of the single floor cabin-like house and the pine trees surrounding it. Windows grand enough to see inside the residence. The burnt orange ceiling lights giving way to the interior—specifically the kitchen. Juno’s car door shut as her stomach went hallow. Lump in her throat, making it nearly a task to just breathe and swallow normally. The small rocks crackled under the weight of her Uggs as she put one foot in front of the other, through all the people crossing paths in front of her. Men and women in uniforms—all oblivious to the very discombobulated Juno.

That’s when she saw her. Sprawled on the kitchen floor. Shiny, black tresses extended over her face. Stiff as a board.

Her knees went weak as she barely made it back to her car and emptied out whatever was in her intestines and more. Bile, sweat and tears mixed as she hyperventilated on the side of her Honda.

She stayed crouched over like that for too long. She had a job to do. Rearranging herself back to as normal as possible—she walked back up and inside the house on autopilot. Everyone speaking to her, asking her questions, and she could barely hear a thing. She avoided the corpse like it was a mini fire in the woods.

Juno sniffed, shaking the worst memory she’s ever conjured back to its rightful place. Locked in a dungeon of her psyche. Her phone ringing aided in helping her brush it off.

“Hello—” She quickly cleared her throat to mask the cracking of it. “Hello?”

“Please tell me what they’re saying about you on the news isn’t true.” Her older sister tumbled through the speaker of her phone. Her and the rest of her full house already live and moving about.

“Good morning to you too, Jamila.”

“Juno, I’m serious—” A banging followed by a guttural cry. “Oh, fuck me.”

“What is going on over there?” Juno tried her best to suppress a laugh. Every time she spoke to her sister it sounded like she was the ringleader of a circus. It was safe to say her circus was running her this morning.

“She fell off the bed. That’s her new thing. And we’re teething now.”

“That sounds fun.”

“The news, Ju? Please tell me they have the story wrong?” She pressed.

“Well, what are they saying?” Juno only halfway listened as she thumbed through more files seated on the plush rug in her living area. Hair tied up in a loose bun and glasses constantly slipping to the end of her nose.

“You left the DA’s office?!” She sounded like she might burst into flames—or tears. Juno could never tell. “To defend that nigga that killed all those women? I don’t understand—I thought Naomi was one of the victims? Have you talked to Mommy? And what does Papa think? Didn’t he get you that job?”

Juno continued to read with her sister’s mild crash out as background noise. Jamila wasn’t just the ringleader in her own household. First born girl of her original family had made her the stick that kept everything and everyone around her in place. Her younger sister always serving as her toughest challenge. Juno didn’t follow rules that went against her own will. Stubborn little thing she was from birth. The two girls always clashing because of this.

Petty fights over dolls and who got the last bit of cereal turned to arguments about who would get the car for the night or stolen clothes from either’s closet. All escalated to Jamila chastising her sister for not wanting to settle down or her dangerous career path. It wasn’t jealousy. Most people who didn’t know the girls personally would think so. Jamila settled for a quiet and simple (not so quiet and simple) life of marrying rich and defaulted to a stay at home mom. Four kids later she seemed to be working the same strenuous and chaotic hours Juno had. She couldn’t imagine doing any of it while trying to maneuver a career path. So she eased up on her little sister after growing up a little and realizing the necessity of choosing one or the other. In adulthood, a newfound respect for the newborn she remembered holding in the hospital with a toothless grin, ripened.

So, yeah, it wasn’t jealousy. It was genuine concern rooted in unconditional love. Jamila loved the fuck out of her baby sister. Every time Juno didn’t answer the phone she thought of all the crime shows she watched while her kids were off to school—where the convicted yearned for payback from whoever was responsible for putting them away—and thought the worst. She was well aware that her sister’s career called for her to piss a lot of folks off, but she also knew her sister had a calling for justice. She was gifted. So, she let it be.

“It's still on. Turn on Fox.”

Juno reluctantly grabbed her remote. Fox being left over from the previous day and sure enough there she was. It was footage from the press conference held on the steps of the holding facility just a couple weeks before. Blanch gave his statement to all the microphones of the world while she and Leah stood on either side.

“Former Assistant District Attorney, Juno Accardi has resigned in her role as the lead prosecutor in the state of Michigan vs Joe Anoa’i. Anoa’i has been the number one suspect in a nineteen count homicide and sexual assault case. He’s been in holding for the past month awaiting trial. Not only has Accardi resigned but she has taken on the role as Anoa’i’s defense attorney amidst her departure from the DA’s office…”

Juno watched, not even blinking as they zoomed in on her frame. The voice of the news reporter fading to black. Heart beating erratically. She knew it was coming. No amount of preparation could tranquilize this feeling. They switched abruptly to a more recent press conference. Blanch in the forefront as usual. Black hair sleek and luscious, dressed in an expensive designer suit—but, no Leah. She could tell from the background it was held on the steps of her former job.

“We just want to assure Oakland County and Michigan as a whole, that the priority amidst the chaos— is and always will be, the pursuit of justice. We are confident that we have all we need to bring clarity and a peace of mind back to the victim’s families and the rest of the young women of Isabella. The recent loss of one of our own does not deter from that. If anything it’s given us the extra push we need to flush out anymore bad apples in preparation for trial…”

“Bastard.” She heard Jamila spit. “—No, Tootie! You don’t repeat mommy!”

The news woman carried on as a picture of Roman’s mugshot presented itself next to the footage of him being taken into the holding facility the day of his detaining. Cameras flashing, more than enough microphones shoved in his face as he tried his best to conceal himself with a broad shoulder amongst the swarm of reporters and belligerent patrons. SWAT team trying their best to keep everyone at bay and off the unsolicited superstar.

His eyes—just as Naomi exemplified. Dark and dangerous, yet innocent and luring. Paradoxical. Nothing about this man made sense to Juno. The news broadcast rocked her. And for the first time since this whole thing—she questioned if she had made a mistake.

"Ma'am we ask that you stay at least six feet from the cage at all times. He shouldn’t be in the possession of any items, but in the unusual case that he—”

“Do you mind if we skip the formalities? I’m kind of on a time schedule here.” Juno fished a plastic smile for the guard ready to read the list of protocols off and bore her to death. She came here with a purpose and she had more than enough already stacked on her plate.

The familiar shiver from the arctic atmosphere of the room they held the beast in, greeted her the minute she took her first step on the concrete. She found him the same way as last time. Hanging from the bars pulling himself up. Jumper hanging loosely above his hips. Hair clinging to his broad shoulders. Back muscles slick with sweat—waving at her.

Leaning all her weight on one foot and crossing her arms, she stood by as he finished his last set and released himself with a thunderous thud. His dark eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving as he turned to focus on her.

“Juno.” The upper corner of his lip turned up as he tried to bring his breathing patterns back to normal. “So the rumors are true.”

“I’m a woman of my word.”

“I can see that.” His menacing eyes made a trail from the two open buttons of her black jumpsuit, down to her red bottoms. She cleared her throat. “So, what’s next?”

“Well, I’m working on getting you moved to a better facility. Something not as secluded and closer to the city.”

“And how long will that take?”

“I don't know. Could be weeks. A month.” She shrugged. “When I left the DA’s office, I left all my connections so—pushing paperwork is gonna be a bitch.”

“You did all that for me?” He got comfortable, leaning his back into the corner of the cage closest to her. All his attention on her.

“I did it for me—following that voice in my head,” she confessed. The voice was Naomi’s, followed by a horrific montage of all those girls, pale-faced and bleeding out. “I did it for them—all those girls he murdered. And yeah—yeah, I guess I did it for you too.”

He used his long fingers to smooth the unkempt beard down. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret. Lil’ Juno has a soft spot for Roman.”

Silence enveloped the two strangers whose lives were now inevitably entangled and dependent on one another. Juno was the first to break.

“Is there anything that I don’t already know, that I should?”

His lush bottom lip poked out. “Nope. You know as much as you should,” he lied. He bit his lip looking her up and down again. He was seeing her with a different pair of eyes. This wasn’t the same woman from weeks ago. That girl was timid. Unsure. This one housed fire and she was a force. It turned him on as much as it intimidated him. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she could see through his cracks—his flaws that weren’t so obvious. “You and I have a long road ahead of us. We are going to have some fun, sweet butt.”

“I have two rules.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Never lie to me.” The first rule landed like wrecking ball. “The only way this works is if we have full transparency. Whatever I ask—I need an answer. None of that cat and mouse bullshit from the other day. We’re officially on the same team now,” she declared. “Doesn’t matter how big or small. Anything. It all means something. We have attorney client privilege. Anything you say has to stay between us. I can’t judge you for it.”

His head bowed as he pursed his lips. “Yeah as my attorney you can’t judge me. But as Juno? The person? You’ll definitely be judging…” There was weight in his words that made Juno’s heart feel heavy. “What was the second rule?” He requested, pulling her from whatever rabbit hole she was ready to go down.

“Don’t ever call me sweet butt again.” The deep tenor of his laughter filled the vast room and she couldn’t help the grin that painted over her face.

But as it settled she slid off the temporary cloud and was faced with reality. The air around the two growing thick. He could sense it as he looked back in her direction.

“Last chance,” she warned. Jaw tight. No more games. “Did you kill Naomi Nodin?” Her nose burned as she remembered her. Full of life and light. Reduced to a corpse. She had so much life left to live. So much more to offer this world.

Roman’s perfect teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he regarded Juno. His emotional intelligence whispering to him that this was not the time for his smart ass remarks or deflective riddles. So he told her flat out, “no. No I didn’t.”

She nodded. Accepting it for what it was. She didn’t know why but she trusted that he was telling her the truth.

“Same time, same place tomorrow?”

He nodded once. “I’m here all day and night.”

She turned to leave but halfway she’s halted in place due to her name being called. “Juno,” his baritone voice hurdles through like a boomerang. She turned. “Thank you.” He stared not blinking. The gratitude was intense. Still, Juno didn’t think of herself as deserving just yet. All she had done was follow her heart like she was taught. Selfishly, it had more to do with her and not him.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

This is what her life had become. Unpredictable the sharp left turn it was, but it was now her new normal. She didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed she was exactly where she needed to be. A character in an already well written story. She didn’t believe in miracles. She knew in order to get to the other side she wouldn’t be unscathed, but she had to put the work in. The journey ahead was long just as Roman professed. It had twists, turns, boulders and barricades placed intentionally with thorns and potholes to add insult to injury. And as someone who was no stranger to grievance—it still strained her to think of. It was like locking the last piece of a Lego house just for someone to come and kick it down. Yeah, you can start from scratch and familiarity of the process once done, should make it easier—but easier is subjective. Especially when they’ll always be someone lying in wait to come kick the Lego house down again at any given moment.

She couldn’t save her friend. Naomi was dead. She wasn’t coming back. That much would haunt her until her mind was dust. But she could salvage one life and that was Roman’s. So she focused on what was possible to fix and buried—literally and figuratively—what wasn’t.

A/N // If you read this or even a portion, I am extremely grateful. As always feedback is welcomed💗

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