#— 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 !

[newlynova]

MDNI. every night you wake up in a cold sweat— arms and legs too heavy to move, tongue weighed down by blocks of cement. you can barely breathe on your own, stale air trapped in your lungs as the glowing eyes in the shadow of your bedroom watch you squirm. pinned under by the weight of darkness, it seems that the demon in the corner of your room wants to give you more of a reason to squirm. cw void!stiles stilinski, sleep paralysis, somnophilia, dubcon. 1k.

"you're finally awake, hm?" a low voice breathed into your ear, the ghost of a fingertip brushing along the thin strap of your tank top. their touch was cold, sending an uncontrollable shiver down your spine as their fingers danced along the length of your chest.

"but not truly, are you? if you were… you'd be recoiling from me in disgust, you'd be screaming," they gave a sharp tug on your spaghetti strap, pulling on the elastic band far enough that when released, it made a harsh smack against your skin, the pain from the snap would have made you wince, would have at least prompted a scared whimper from your lips. but, you could barely make a sound— your limbs betraying you, laying uselessly by your side.

the edge of the bed dipped under the weight of the demon, the shadow of the night concealing his features with a dark mask. "i can see why the boy is so fond of you," the figure murmured to himself, their voice barely above a whisper. their fingers danced up the curve of your shoulder, ghosting over your neck before settling beneath your jaw, shifting your head in their direction.

"you're a lot stronger than you seem… a lot more stubborn than i realized," the figure leaned over you, their face just mere inches from your own. "but, you're not strong enough to evade me. you're in my domain now, and i will not allow you to break free from me so easily."

underneath the pale white glow of the moon, you could finally see who the intruder was— your best friend, your childhood crush: stiles stilinski. but, it wasn't really stiles, was it? no. no, it wasn't.

his skin was too pale, and the warmth in his chocolate brown eyes had transformed into something more… predatory. the hold stiles maintained on your throat tightened, his chapped lips curling up into a wicked smile. it was as if the boy you knew had checked out, and something else, something darker had checked in instead.

"you're a beautiful girl, did you know that? with such a pretty face, i can understand why the boy has allowed you to consume his every waking thought," stiles gave your neck a gentle squeeze, your pulse growing faster beneath his grip. you could barely breathe, the cool slivers of air you were allowed in barely filling your lungs. "i think i'll keep you here… make you mine and toy with you whenever i need. how does that sound, hmm? for me to keep you around like a pet?"

stiles leaned closer, the tip of his nose mere centimeters away from yours. you could feel the coolness of his breath fanning over your lips, his hand twitching against your throat. you wanted to scream, to push him, to hit, to do something. but, your body was powerless and the weight of his control over you was suffocating.

his other hand lingered over your hip, thumb brushing along the curve of your hip bone before shifting over to the warmth between your legs. your stomach grew sour as he peeled your thighs apart, your limbs stiff as he opened your body up to him. the smile on his lips grew larger, the white pearls of his teeth exposed as a cheshire grin painted itself across his face.

"look at you," he whistled as he straightened back up, his eyes now locked on the sight of your vulnerability. a damp patch had formed at the front of your panties, the thin fabric clinging to the outline of your folds. "look at how your body betrays you, darling. i'm not even touching you yet… but, here you are… already wet and aching for me like the good little pet you're meant to be."

the hair along your arms and legs stood on end as stiles licked at his lips, a glint of hunger swirling in his eyes. you wanted to throw up, the feeling of his gaze on your body making you grow nauseous. "i can feel your mind fighting your body, darling," stiles's tone darkened, his voice dropping an octave as he shifted into a comfortable position between your legs. "you're trying to convince yourself that you don't want this… that your body doesn't want to be bent, and stretched, and spread by my hands,"

"but, guess what?" stiles tugged the silver zipper of his jeans down, the rustling of fabric making your mouth grow dry. "it's better if you don't fight it. you're mine now, after all, it'll be better in the long run if you give in now, darling."

the weight of stiles's cock slapping against your cunt almost made you jolt in surprise, the heaviness of his erection prompting your cunt to flutter around emptiness. your clit twitched beneath the weight, his hips grinding against you at a languid pace. you wanted to push him away, wanted to hate the feeling of his dominance consuming you. but, even under the spell of sleep paralysis, you couldn't quite push him away. at least, mentally.

"that's my good girl," stiles praised with a wolfish grin, his large hands cupping the back of your knees, forcing your legs up towards your chest. he had folded you into a position of his desire, pushing your panties to the side with one hand while the other squished your thighs together to keep you in place.

the head of his flushed cock glided through your messy pussy lips, collecting and smearing your arousal around before dipping slowly into your entrance. your brain couldn't fight against him anymore, the burning stretch of his cock diving deep into you almost coaxing a moan through your dry lips.

"open yourself up to me, pet," stiles grunted as his hips slowly began to rock into you, the hooked curve of his cock catching against the sensitive gooey spot along your walls with each thrust. your cunt clenched around his cock, strangling his length and drawing him in deeper and deeper. "and, let me make you mine."

[s-sugustar]

Your heroes — 𝒟．𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 , 𝒥．𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝

🎧﹒synopsis ﹒✢﹐— Should've left her in my care, this wouldn't have happened if you did. — 𝒟．𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

🎧﹒pairings ﹒✢﹐— Yandere! Red Hood x blk!fem reader x Yandere! Nightwing

🎧﹒content warning ﹒✢﹐— dark content, drug usage, smut, dub-con, power play if you squint hard enough, impact play, spitting, choking, degradation

🎧﹒author's notes ﹒✢﹐— had this in my drafts for ages since i had been a bit skeptical about posting it but here it is.

🎧﹒wc ﹒✢﹐— 3.1k

“D’aww, look Jay. She’s drooling.” Grayson concedes, his hips pushing further and further into while his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing both sides from time to time. Jason struggled against the ropes as he watched Grayson mercilessly pound into you. The whining and tiredness in your voice had caught Grayson mid-way; stopping you from reaching your climax. “Is the baby tired?” he seethed, pulling you up by the neck to stop you from slumping over onto the bed.

Screeching in pain, the squinting of your eyes and the muffled sounds of your screams had been enough for Jason to wince. Everything was hurting and he knew that but there was nothing he could do. His limbs were like jello and his energy was gone; all because of some poison Grayson had thrown at him when he tried to stop Grayson from entering his apartment. 

“Babe, you know the rules. You go to work, and you come straight back home, y’hear me?” Jason muttered, giving you a light kiss on the lips before placing one on your forehead before putting the metal helmet on. You really wished he didn’t have to lead this type of life; you wanted him to settle down for a bit, so you begged. Every single time he bid you goodbye at 2 in the morning, you always had something to say about staying home with you.

Regardless of how you put it each time, his answer had been the same regardless. “Gotta provide for you and f’me baby. Gotham needs to be at peace once in a while.” The end part being a joke to cheer you up or in hopes of making you laugh but that never happened. Staying quiet seemed like the best option every single time after the very first time you brought it up. 

To say it in the easiest way is best. Jason is paranoid; a bit too in over his head but his paranoia comes from years of battling against Batman and the fear of the Joker finding him once again and stripping him of everything, only this time, he feared it would be you with the aches of being hit with a crowbar.

After his resurrection, Jason bulked to say the least. His confidence hadn’t been there but he was stronger than before and he knew for a certainty that he would have a better chance at protecting you than before. Hiding away in the most grimy places in Gotham was his best alternative at this point. 

After becoming Red Hood, many of the districts fell under him as he ranked up. Unfortunately, he had a run-in with the one and only Batman, and to say that it ended in the most gruesome way possible was an understatement. Oh, no one was injured gravely, but the feelings that had been pent up for years had come all undone. 

“Jason, I’m sorry.” It took three words for the young boy to fall to his knees in tears. After all that he had been through, he still cherished the man that left him to die. Oh what a pity. But alas, had it only been the Bruce and Grayson that had been in mourning? Dear God no. Had anyone think to check on Y/n, who had been Jason’s best friend? Grayson sure did. He had to be the one to keep her going after she heard the news.

The pain, the torment, the nightmares day in and out. It was a lot for Y/n to keep on going but Grayson made it better. During that time of need, Grayson stayed by your side through everything. He was your shoulder to cry on, the one who made you laugh till your stomach aches. He was your everything and all in one when Jason couldn’t have been. 

“You know I’ll never leave you right?”  Grayson questioned, he peered down at you with a sullen look in his eyes, his fingers grazing the sides of your face.You fell asleep not too long ago, your head perched on a pillow with your head resting against Grayson’s arm. He knew that you wouldn’t have answered him, you had an extremely long day and with today being the 2 year anniversary of Jason’s death casting your light down even further than it was.

Bruce hadn’t been around you much, guilt filled his heart whenever he saw you so he chose to stay away. Grayson on the other hand, he knew that you lost the one who truly understood you, who had been there through thick and thin. Although Jason meant everything to you, Grayson held a piece of your heart as a dear beloved friend. 

To say that Grayson hadn’t felt a little bad that he was a bit glad that Jason had been gone was quite the understatement. He felt some sort of joy to see the way your eyes watered and your lips quivering before you had a full-blown breakdown. The heaving and small sniffles that came from you whilst Grayson soothed you made his heart do flips.

Now, Grayson was a sadist in any form or fashion but the way you looked, so vulnerable, so heartbroken, God did it do some things to him. Maybe it won't be a breakdown next time, maybe you'll be under him squirming and squealing as thrusts his dick into you. His plan was in place, all he needed was to wait for the right moment.

Silence filled the room as you looked straight ahead of you, shock written all over your face. You couldn't move, you dearly wish you could've in this moment but how could you when the one you thought was dead stood boldly in front of you, a metal bodice surrounding his form and a metal mask in hand. "Jason?" was the only thing that fell from your lips as you drank in the boy or well man that stood before you.

Red had always been his favorite color from young; you never forgot. His eyes seemed distant; his stance wasn't as before. Rigid and hollow, many walls built for the sake of his sanity and maybe yours but in this moment, all of that crumbled when he spoke. "I came back. I came back. . . . .for you." All the love that had been shared between the two of you came rushing in like a tidal wave, breaking whatever strong force that tried to pull it back.

Grayson laid on the floor, bruised and bleeding; his mouth pooling with the taste of metal and the sight of red on the pavement. He cursed heavily before pulling himself up, his head against the nearest wall as he held his abdomen in pain. "That stupid red mask." He found his way home, easing through the open window, maybe a bounce in his step to see you.

A burning sensation rang through his jaw but that didn't stop him from calling out to you. Yet, he was met with silence. Odd. Usually you would have your arms wrapped around his torso, completely unaware of the wounds he had until a wince fell from his lips making you completely aware of his wounds before apologizing. "Hey munchkin, this isn't the time to play hide and seek with me. I'm hurt and I need your company right now."

Yet no response, again. Maybe you were asleep. With his head, he peeked into the room, quietly surveying it before slipping in ever so quietly. "Baby, stop heading from m-." "She's not hiding from you, she's gone." Nightwing sneered, wincing as he turned to face the one with a metal helmet coated in red with white lenses stared back at his broken body.

His hand balled into a fist before speaking, blood pooling in his mouth. "Where did you take her? Where the hell did you take her Red Hood?" A deep rumble emitted from his throat, his eyes squinting as he stalked towards the bigger man. Yet he didn't make it far as the barrel of a gun found refuge between his eyes, the metal was cold and hard since Red Hood pressed it harder against the skull of Nightwing.

"You come after her, I put a bullet in between your eyes, Grayson." The name fell from Jason's lips with much hatred and malice but with the built in modulator it was hard for Nightwing to understand the emotions behind what he had said. With a pregnant pause, Red Hood gave Nightwing one last look before going out through the window. Nightwing grunted in anger and in pain but stood in his place for a couple of minutes. He'll get you back, one way or another.

"Sugar, you know I love you too much but I can't let you out. I'm sorry." Jason reasoned, it had been almost a year since he scooped you up from Grayson and you loved every bit of it but you felt caged. You couldn't leave the apartment, orders of Jason Todd. Sure, he had his reasons, but you wanted out. No, you needed to get out.

Seeing the same four walls day in and day out started to make you lose your mind and you couldn't afford to do that right now: not to Jason anyways. He had been through too much for you to act out and start whining over not being able to leave the house. Maybe it was for the best. Just like what Grayson used to say.

Grayson, Richard Grayson or well Dick as he wished you to call him. Boy was he some character. His worrisome state and his constant clinginess had been enough for you. You knew he meant well but sometimes you felt if there had been some sort of kick he was getting out of this.

You knew he meant well but sometimes you could feel something more sinister and darker, something he wasn't saying or well doing. Shaking your head from such perilous thoughts, you switched through channels trying to find some that would catch your attention.

A few hours later, you fell into sleepy state, your eyes shutting but blinking back to life to stay focused on the movie that had been playing. What did seem to catch your attention was the loud thunk that echoed from a room in the corridor. You sat up looking towards the hallway patiently waiting for Jason to appear.

Glancing over at the digital clock that showed 2:14 a.m. in bright red colors, it was around this time that Jason would normally get home but seeing that he didn't appear yet, you went to investigate. You peered into the training room, calling out to him. but you saw nothing, the only other room there had been the one both you and Jason slept in, so you headed there. You pushed open the door, a curious look upon your face when you saw that he hadn't been in there either, maybe something fell.

Now, you weren't one to be paranoid, but you felt goosebumps rise against your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck rising. You were being watched. At times like this, you wish Jason had trained you in some sort of hand-to-hand combat, something you could fight with, but he left you helpless, like a doll without blemishes, perched in a high place just to look pretty and keep up appearances. So caught up in the pretenses of the happy life you lived and the one you longed for, you weren't able to sense the light steps that followed behind you so in esseence, you were an easy target.

Yelping in pain, you grabbed the side of your head from the place where you had been hit and at the same time, you turned to see the culprit, but instead of meeting a face, your eyes met the hard plywood within the apartment; splotches of black covering your sight. Soon enough, you were out cold and left in the hands of the culprit.

A sheer gasp fell from your lips as some strong force from behind. Wrapping their dominant hand around your waist and one hand gripped against your mouth. You tried to scream and hit them at the same time but all failed when the perpetrator tightened their grip on your waist and squeezed the flesh of your jaw, nails and the fabric on their hands digging into your skin.

"C'mon sweetheart, don't be like that to poor little Grayson." Your eyes widen in fear when a voice you could never forget sounded from behind you, but you weren't so shaken by the fact that Grayson had been pounding you whilst you slept but the fact that Jason had been tied to a chair, eyes wide open and staring right at you.

Brusies of all shapes and colors decorated his skin, more so the black eye that was starting to form. It was only then that you realized he had been gagged with some sort of sheer material from what you could see.

Then you saw the watery look in his eyes, was it because of the bruises, maybe so. That had been your first guess since it couldn't possibly be that he was crying, was he? With the little energy you had left, you twisted and turned your arm to loosen the grip that had been around it before you snatched it away, reaching towards Jason with a soft wail leaving your lips as you tried to reach him.

Alas, but Grayson had been attentive. Although caught up in filling you up with his cum and making sure Jason knew you were his, he pulled back your wrist, a tighter grip than before, wrenching it back in the same position, not caring if he had hurt you in the moment.

"You pull away from me again and I will break both your arms, understand?" Fear enveloped your entire body, but you still nodded, not wanting to anger the man any further. Maybe it had been your body that made you fall into the deep end. Panting at the surge of pleasure that flew through you as Grayson thrusted against your hips; the slick fabric rubbing against your skin every time he moved. The grip on your hips maybe have been tight but it felt good, really good. You weren't the only one who felt good in this moment though, the sane yet needy body that had been ravishing you from behind felt the shift in your stance.

Your arch deepened and your moans and whines felt more eased than strained; you were finally started to like it and that made Grayson excited. Yet on the other hand, Jason was furious; fingers deeply caved into his palms, he wouldn't be surprised if they were bleeding and his teeth clashed to the point where his jaw started to hurt. He shook against the restraints, pulling and twisting to find some sort of release.

His teeth snapping into one of your soiled panties, which he only learned that it was when Grayson had pointed it out when you were still passed out. The sweat shined in the moon light, beads of it dripping from his eyebrow. He felt hot and squeamish, he needed to get out of these restraints. Groaning at the rope that restricted his wrists, the roughness from it, bruising his wrists. The discomfort from the tactical pants he wore; not only from the ropes that sat around his ankles but also from inside of them.

The pushing against the fabric, a bit too tight for his liking. God, he felt disgusted with himself, but the sight of you was so appealing, he needed more; needed to feel you, feel inside you. The deep hollowness within his stomach stated enough, it was detrimental but addicting.

He hated the way Grayson corrupted you, pushing you into unknown waters, hazy of all things around you. He wanted to keep you safe, away from the dangers of this world, safe and wrapped in his arms. He was pulled from his thoughts when Grayson started to mumble, murmuring words into your ear. Jason didn't even realize that you were awake; eyes wide and staring right at him.

Was it shock or fear? Normally, with his enhanced hearing, he would have been able to hear every word that Grayson whispered to you and maybe he would've been able to break out from the ropes if his advanced strength and agility was still there but whatever Grayson had in that syringe caused his energy to deplete and his limbs to feel gummy.

Back to present moment where Grayson had your back arched and head pushed down in the mattress, Jason watched as you wiggle and squirm but every time that you did, you received a harsh slap to your thigh, causing you to whine in protest. Grayson had pulled out from his daze and looked towards Jason with a large smile, canines pointed and sharp, ready to strike and pierce.

He saw the mischievous glint in his eyes; that meant he was up to absolutely no good. "God Y/n, your blood smells divine. I don't understand why Jason hasn't sunken his teeth into you yet." As Grayson spoke, Jason's eyes widen in fear, head shaking vigorously, trying to signal to Grayson not to do it but by the smile etched on his face, he knew his attempts were futile.

Your screams were muffled by Grayson's hand as he sunk his teeth into your exposed neck, gripping your neck as he pulled it further to the side for more access. The man in restraints screamed, begged Grayson to stop but his screams were muffled by the now soaking wet fabric that invaded his mouth. His chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, eyes blown wide and bright in red as he heard your screams dying down and head lolling to the side, indicating that you had passed out from too much of your blood being taken.

"Oh no, poor baby all tuckered out." Grayson taunted, dropping your limp body back onto the bed as he pulled out of you; not caring enough to clean you up or wrap you in a soft cotton cloth. The older man got up from the bed, grabbing his escrima sticks before walking over to the chair that Jason had been tied to. With a pat on the shoulder, Grayson left Jason tied to the chair with nothing else but to stare at your unconscious body in the moonlight.

Tears cascading down his face not just from sadness of not being able to protect but from anger that the one person he trusted defiled the one person that kept him going. Once Jason was out of the ropes, he'd clean you and keep you warm but after his eyes were dead set on Richard 'Dick' Grayson and destroying everything he stood for. This meant war.

[venusiansilk]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 -` 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ´- 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤. ৎ୭

a note from ˚₊‧꒰ა io ໒꒱ ‧₊ : i know it’s tempting, but please don’t feed him. he’s not starving, just depraved ! ꒰ྀིᐢσ̴̶̷̤ . σ̴̶̷̤ᐢ꒱

she. writer/poet. sometimes musician. black. reading/writing blog with a dash of art n my creations. thirty; minors dni. no age indicator ⇢ blocked. ⋅♡⸝ currently on semi-hiatus ⸝ 𝄈

ᝰ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 – masterlist ⚬ mastertag ⚬ library ⚬ wips ⚬ snips ⚬ creations ⚬ poetry ⚬ art ⚬ asks ⚬ support ᝰ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 – satoru ⚬ kento ⚬ sukuna ⚬ xavier ⚬ rafayel ⚬ zayne ⚬ dan heng ⚬ wriothesley ⚬ mammon

ᰔᩚ 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: vampire!gojo / header: @/rice5x.

[omkookie]

The Dreamland~✿⁠  

❝ Updated : March 13. ❝ ❝ Requests: CLOSED But ideas are welcome!❝

⚠️ REMEMBER: this is all fiction and it has nothing to do with reality. I do not condone or promote any of the actions/themes on this blog. ⚠️

This blog contains MATURE CONTENT I'm not your parent and not responsible for what you read.

♡ [ PREVIOUS ] ♡

• Good boys cum. Keith x Dom reader 🍋

• "So beautiful" Elbert 🍋

• "You're not getting away! You're his." Yandere!Liam.

[confessioncassette]

Hello again, anon that complimented you before, maybe ill just refer to myself as Doe anon hahah- ANYWAYS LISTEN PEE KINK IS 👀?? Im starting to think our interests are more aligned than i thought PFFTTTTT

HELLO.

my sweet little doe nonie, we might just be the same person… you gave me the green light for this. Ily for this. so thank you.

𝐏𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 - 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫. 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐦.

𝐭𝐰 : 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐝𝐮𝐛𝐜𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐀𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃. 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. —— 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭/𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞. 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭.

"You look a mess, my dear."

You watch the radio demon carefully as he softly closes the door with a click. Glowing red eyes meet yours through the dusk of the evening.

Standing tall with a too-wide smile, he watches you squirm.

"It's not funny, Alastor, please," you beg. Your eyes dart from the demon before you, to the windows overlooking Pride. Your bladder aches, threatening to release itself- it's so full.

Alastor had a new game for you today. It started with a cup of coffee with breakfast, then insisting that you hydrate with a cup of water afterwards. Then it was him pestering you about staying hydrated after the group exercise today.

"You need to keep drinking, my dear," he'd coo, conjuring your soul bound chain around your neck. He had pulled you close to him by your leash and forced your mouth open to gulp down another glass of water at lunch. "Good girl!"

The worst part of it all - all the bathrooms today after lunch were either locked or being cleaned by Nifty.

And currently, you're knocked knee and as fragile as glass while Alastor stares down at you. One off movement and you’ll- you can’t.

And he's amused.

That familiar confident smile paints his face, eyebrows raised as his ears alert and honed straight on you.

"Do you need to use the facilities, sweetheart? You look...uncomfortable." His head cocks to the side with that last word.

"I haven't been able to go all afternoon." Your voice is soft, embarrassed that you're even in this situation. It's been a pain in the ass to even get to the toilet with all of them being locked all day, and it's starting to cause... discomfort to say the least.

And Alastor knows this. He sees this. He wants to make you crumble. The fear in your eyes of accidentally wetting yourself is a glorious sight.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine! I needed your help with something if you didn’t mind.”

You do mind. And the last thing on your mind right now is succumbing to Alastor’s busy work. Just because he owns your soul doesn’t mean you have to-

“Ah-“ a panicked whimper leaves your lips as you make a run for the door. One hand hovering over your blade as the other desperately reaches the doorknob- and it doesn’t budge the slightest.

“No, no, please, Alastor, I really gotta go-“

The demon sits calmly in his chair with a relaxed smile. He watches you in delight as your face drains of color and a hand rushes to cup yourself.

“Like I said, my dear, I need help with something.”

He rolls his eyes, “Once you’re done you can relieve yourself.”

Fighting back the urge, you slowly walk over to him. Alastor assesses you like prey and taps his thigh as an invitation. You stop once your legs bump into the side of his- he’s still tall sitting down as he is standing.

You hesitate.

“Sit.” Alastor commands, gripping your waist and pulling you down in an instant. You straddle over his leg and the sudden feeling of his thigh makes you gasp.

“No-“ you whine and attempt to pull yourself up and away from him but his grip is strong, claws dig into the flesh of your hips.

“Ah, ah, no need to be scared. This will feel good.” Your leash manifests before your eyes and he pulls you in roughly by the collar around your neck, “Don’t you want to feel good, little one?”

Tears welt in your eyes. You can’t, you can’t hold it but you can’t-

“Like this?” Alastor presses his thigh up and into you as he grinds your hips down onto him. Your legs wrap around his and brace your stomach.

“Don’t you need to relieve yourself? Wouldn’t it feel sooo good to… let go? Piss all over me?” He grinds you down into him while his other hand jerks your neck forward to meet his face.

The snarl on his face shows his gums as he talks, “Come on, sweetheart, you know you want to…” a beat, “I want you to.”

The pressure is too much, the movement makes you see stars. You shake uncontrollably, trying to keep what’s left of you together. Forcing every muscle in your body to lock up and not betray you…

The hand over your waist slides down, under your dress and finds your clothed clit- and he presses roughly.

You cry out, and as you do, the hand on your leash is on your neck in an instant.

“Let me see that beautiful face. I want to see you come undone for me. I want to see the mortification in your eyes as you piss all over me.”

Your face contorts, but you lock eyes with him regardless. Alastor mocks you, his eyebrows raised as he coos in your face.

“Wouldn’t it feel so good to let go? You’d be my good girl if you did~”

His smile is sinister as his finger press rough circles over your clit, your body jolting with every movement. Tears blur your vision as you shake.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I want you to! I know you can’t hold it.” He hushes you, but the grip on your neck tightens. He knows you’re about to-

“Oh the look on that face!” His eyes light up.

You whimper, shuddering over his body. Warm liquid seep through your panties and spread across his pants. Trickles of your piss litter the floor beneath you both and you feel absolute bliss. You see white. Your body relaxes in his hold, and Alastors grip on your neck becomes softer, allowing you to lean into him in pure bliss.

“That’s my girl, good girl. You’re a dirty fucking bitch.” His eyes never leave yours and his ministrations over your clit never falter. His hand coats in your liquid.

“Look at this, you’re a filthy fucking mess. Pissing all over me, what a shame. I just had this suit cleaned..” he talks you through it, all the way until youre empty.

You relax into him and he doesn’t move. He lets you sink into him as you regain control over yourself.

And that’s when shame and embarrassment flush your neck. Your face is hot with mortification as you realize what you just did. Your heart drops and you attempt to push away but he doesn’t allow you.

“We’re not done, my dear.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A foe most frightful 1

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐌𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐱!𝐋𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞.

𝐀𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥, 𝐈 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬! 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚����𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐏𝐬, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞!)

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞. 💖

A carriage rattles by as you pull Altun out of its path. The boy is the second youngest in your charge, a rowdy rabble bunching around you with hopping and vibrant chittering. Your siblings, six in all, hang off of your skirts as you carry a basket in one arm and Adela on your other hip. Marcella, nine-years old and quiet walks ahead of you, shoulders low as she trods grimly towards the sweltering horizon.

Beyond, the village awaits you. You are to barter at the market for some wool and grain, and several other things your mother listed as wanted but not required. She also warned you not to stay too long even if the sun may linger.

As you press on, the early summer beating down on your swarm, Rowena, only just three, tugs on your dress and whines. You tell Sidney, the second eldest to you, to take your skin and give her some water. Milo, Marcella’s twin, asks for a drink too.

The noise of horse hooves hammers in the distance, an unusually fleet pace that bears down on the party of the children. You move further onto the grass, withered yellow patches burnt where the sunlight beams most hotly. Your siblings sidle along with you, Milo craning to see the approaching cacophony.

A train of horses dressed in livery approaches. You glance over your shoulders as the children are distracted and stop in their tracks to watch. You turn as Adela’s eyes round at the jostling noblemen in their saddles. How odd, you don’t know you’ve ever seen Duke Hansen's men outside the fair days.

The group is headed by two young pages, their haircut short in the current style, not shanky or scraggly like the men and boys on the farm. Then older men in dyed vests, their sleeves bloused in a most fashionable way. At the centre is a man sat high on a warhorse, its limbs and rump nearly twice as wide as the rest. 

The man’s silver hair shines in the summer hue, the sides of his head shorn close in a warrior’s cut, and a trim of hair across his lip. His blue eyes are dark even in the bright morning and he wears an overcoat with a high-collar unsuited to the season. On his breast is the Duke’s crest, a dragon with its tail curve in a perfect arch around its body.

As you try to quiet your siblings and keep them from wandering underfoot, your gaze meets that of the party’s centerpiece; the man with the silver hair and stony jaw. You almost gasp, quickly retracting your gawking eyes. It isn’t proper to stare at a man of his stature.

Adela covers her ears as the clomping of hooves grows discordant. She starts to whine and you hug her closer in an effort to calm her. The men do not slow, they do not stop, as they barrel by upon a mission. You stare after the horse tails, another four men at the rear.

Milo lets out a noise of awe and the children begin to chatter about the knights and their pages. You smile to humour them but your curiosity is much more sober. Your parents always warn to be weary of the rich.

The basket grows heavy so you hand Adela to Marcella as you come across the plateau right before the village. You cross the wooden bridge as the furor of the market roils in the air. You pass the stables near the cobbler's stead and enter the square where booths are set up with wares as sellers holler about their goods.

The crowd clusters to one side as marketgoers are distracted from their bartering by the men striding along the stalls. The nobles in their coloured cloth peruse the lengths of woven wool and the handcrafted figurines. Milo stares and you tug on his sleeve. 

“Stay close,” you bid your sibling, “we need eggs and wool, yes?”

“I want to see his sword!” Milo proclaims and Altun agrees giddily. Before they can run off, Sidney herds them back to you.

“Don't! They are knights,” she hisses as she holds them by the wrists.

“Row,” Marcella calls as the little girl dawdles across the dirt. The elder sibling can do little as she holds the youngest in her arms.

“Rowena,” you cry out and follow her, hanging the basket from your arm as you give chase. 

Before you can reach her, she is amidst the men, barely able to escape their treads. You bend and scoop her up, an arm hooked around her as she wriggles and fusses. She shrieks in your ear as you try to escape unnoticed.

You turn to flee but stumble back as a figure blocks your path. The man with the soldier's hair and the badge sewn across his chest. You gulp and your eyes flit past him to the rest of your clan, huddled together as they watch agape.

“Sir,” you keep your chin down, “apologies, I did not mean to impede–”

“That would be ‘your grace’,” he corrects you, “though I can assume you don't oft entertain dukes. Likely the farmers in their hay by the looks of your brood.”

“P-pardon, your grace,” you eke out as Rowena continues to squirm and you fight to keep your hold on her.

“Yes, pardon, run along before that thing should dribble onto my coat,” he sneers.

You wince and bend your knees slightly, trying to curtsy but are unused to the gesture. You clumsily sidle past him and go back to your brothers and sisters. You shove Rowena at Milo and wiggle your nose. It isn't the man's words so much as his assumptions that sting.

“Come,” you bid the children and point them to the stall with a pen of hens clucking around it, “we will fetch some eggs.”

Sidney steps up next to you as the others follow behind, “was that knight very mad?”

“Duke,” you swallow dryly, “that is the duke and he was not very kind, no.”

“Duke…I thought…”

“Perhaps he is retired from the battlefield, or there is no war to be fought,” you shrug, “it hardly matters, sister, let us stay clear of him.”

“That is what Jeremy says,” she counters, “his brother lost a hand when a hunting dog went missing.”

“Oh my,” you murmur.

“Particularly cruel with how little the duke is in house to seek game,” she shakes her head.

“Yes, well, we shouldn't trouble him or ourselves,” you gird, “mother wants a wooden spoon if we can have one at a good bargain.”

🏰

You have your eggs, your wool, the wooden spoon, and even some goat cheese to take home to your mother. Rowena sleeps in Sidney's arms as Adela snores in yours. Marcella and Milo carry the basket between them, and Altun clings to your skirt as he drags his feet. It's a far walk back to your family's plot but it must be done before night falls.

As you set off, the sun begins its slow descent. The village is still in its throes as those more local continue their barter and some begin to sink into their cups. Your back aches and your soles throb. It's not a pain you haven't bore before. It is much better a journey to town than a day in the field.

Further down the road, you stop to sit for a while. The summer has the days stretching longer. You share a truncheon of bread among you, even the children saying little as they chew. Up again, you take Rowena and let her have the lighter toddler for the last leg of the trip. As you begin anew, hooves once more pound the ground, shaking it like thunder as they approach.

You step into the divet of grass that runs parallel to the beaten road. It is no farmer's cart but the nobles upon their return to the castle.

As they pass, a soft tomato splatters across Sidney and Adela, tossed by the riding men. She cries out as Adela wakes and begins to sob. You hush them as the horses trot unbothered ahead of you. You stop once more, this time to help your sisters get clean. A sickly red stain remains on Sidney's wool dress and Adela's hair is flecked with gooey seeds.

"That was mean," Marcella pouts.

"Be happy you were not the one hit," Sidney snaps then turns on you, "you did not lie, sister, when you said they were unkind."

"Perhaps they didn't see us," you murmur, "no matter being upset. We have some way to go."

"Ugh, you are too meek," Sidney remands, "if they'd let their horses trod over us, you'd say it was our fault."

"Not at all, sister, but what can we do? The duke owns father's plot, he pays for the land we till and the scythe, he makes sure we have what little we do."

"Oh, valiant knight," she drawls dryly.

"And he's got a big sword!" Altun proclaims.

"That too," you tilt your head at Sidney, giving your brother's innocent fascination another gleam of meaning.

Sidney rolls her eyes and hitches Adela higher, turning down the road ahead of you. You let her lead as the twins pick the basket up again and you bring up the rear with Altun and Rowena. The boy is the only one with the energy to bounce with his steps.

You hear hooves again but not from behind you. It is rather late for any to be coming to market just then. You look ahead and see two horses. You squint as your siblings' heads perk up in curiosity. It is the nobles, not all of them, only two. A page and the silver-haired duke, lazily cantering in your direction.

You put your head down and quiet the others, bidding them to keep along. There's whispers and mutters but they listen. The day stretches on like the road, winding and tiring.

“Aye,” the holler frightens you as the horse kicks up dust not far away, “you, boy!”

The page points at Milo who stops and nearly overturns the basket. You flutter your lashes and peer between the nine-year old and the man on his steed. Behind him, the duke slows on the speckled gray war beast.

“Think you're clever, eh?” The page accuses as he draws his horse to a halt. “Small as you are, that voice is like a squawk.”

You step up and put a hand on Milo's shoulder, “respectfully, sir, my brother did not speak of your passing.”

“Aye, aye, we heard. Our men do have keen ears. We heard the little imp say it,” the page continues anon. “So say it again, boy, let the duke hear it.”

“I… I didn't…” Milo stutters and look up at you, squeaking your name, “sister, I swear it, I didnt–”

“It is the duke who asks,” the page insists, “so confess.”

Milo shakes and sniffles, his sobs breaking through as he chokes. You put yourself in front of him protectively. You know even if he had spoken, it could never be anything wrong.

“We all heard as well and he said nothing, sir,” you stare at the horse's snout, not brazen enough to look at him straight. 

“You are defiant, woman,” the duke speaks at last, “you speak in the place of men. The boy must face his own words.”

You frown and peer over towards the tall warhorse. What game is this?

“What was it the boy said?” The duke asks, “Llewellyn has a sharp ear.”

You watch the duke's gloved hands, folded calmly around the reins as he sits slackly in his saddle.

“Bastard…” the page hisses sinisterly.

“No!” Milo exclaims, “I wouldn't… I do not know that word.”

“We are only peasants, honest,” you plead as Marcella begins to tremble and Rowena wakes in your arms. Sidney coos at Adela as she rouses at the voices. “Please, your grace, sir, we would swear it on the lord–” 

“Then the lord would have you a liar,” the duke insists, “Llew,” he flicks his fingers brusquely.

The page swings himself from his horse and his boots send up a cloud of dry dirt. He comes towards you and Milo. You know you should not but you try to obscure him from reaching your brother. The man gives you a harsh shove and you stagger, barely keeping from dropping your sister. 

You whimper and apologise to Rowena. You put her on her feet and turn back as the page grabs Milo's arm, jerking him so that he drops the basket and Marcella does the same as she tries to smother her bawling. You rush forward and clasp onto your brother's elbow.

“Please, sir, do not hurt my brother–”

“You are petulant,” the page faces you and reaches to his belt where a danger is sheathed, “a woman like you would fare better without her impetuous tongue.”

“He's done nothing–”

“Carry on on your defiance and I shall take the younger too,” the duke declares.

Your breath catches at the threat, the malice that tinges his voice. Your eyes snap up and meet his, forgetting yourself as you find him smirking. Just as quickly you tear your gaze away.

“Where do you mean to take him?” You plea.

“I do not answer to commoners,” the duke snorts, “but he looks fit enough to dump my pot.”

Your lips part as you're left speechless and helpless. You look at the others, Sidney hugging a wailing Adela, Marcella hugging Altun, and Rowena babbling wetly as she grabs at your dress. Milo quavers as he's caught between you and the page.

“Sister don't let them take me, please,” he whines.

“I–”

“We take you, boy, or leave you here holding your innards,” the page barks and cackles.

“Milo…” you croak, “I don't… I don't know what to do…”

“I'll go. I said it.” Sidney steps forward, “I sound much like a young boy, don't I?”

The duke guffaws, “all of them liars.”

“It was me,” your sister insists.

“Enough. You will surrender the boy or you will all face the king's justice,” the duke puts his hand to the pommel of his sword.

You drop your head as Milo trembles violently in his terror. You let your hand fall too and utter a hollow apology. You can only hope the duke does not harm him much before you can fetch your parents.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞���� 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:  𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬?

𝐭𝐰: 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, heavy angst! 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 

𝟔.𝟐𝐤 — my goal was 10k let’s all laugh masterlist

a/n: good morrow cousin, don’t mind me just vibin’ anyway— pls ignore the lack of formatting, google docs… count your days. this story still means so much to me, i won’t jump ship on it, and i hope you understand the mental headspace i get in while writing and how 🥰draining and crippling🥰 it truly is 🥲 BUT I DO IT FOR YOU MY LOVERS! ♥️😵‍💫

Sweaty hands were clamped in a bone aching constriction around your steering wheel the entirety of the drive to the club. Watching the whispy curls of dust from the gravel color the powder blue sky, you mutter to yourself.

This was so stupid.

Magenta hued beads hanging from the rearview mirror sway and clack together as you pull the car sharply into the your designated spot towards the back of the parking lot. Flitting a quick glance in the mirror to see if Eddie was still following, you tear your eyes away when the jet black steel of the fender catches the sun's rays, sending a blinding wink into the side mirrors as he approaches, parking alongside you.

This is crazy. This is insane.

Wiping your palms hastily on the ruby stockings pinched to your thighs, you wonder when the nerves in your chest would settle. If your stomach would ever stop churning with the rapid wings of a swarm of angry bees?

Why were you nervous? It was just Eddie.

Your knee bounces of its own accord as you remind yourself of just that. The dry swallow of the tablets you took before he could notice would start working in no time, and then you’d be able to stomach what you were getting yourself into.

Eddie Munson. A childhood friend. Taking a few deep breaths, you open the door into the shared space, and are met with that shit eating grin he never lost.

Here we go.

Green lensed aviators are nestled onto the bridge of his nose, a black bandana snug on his head that you definitely didn’t watch him tie back at your apartment as he straddled the bike before revving the engine and shooting you a daring smile.

Crunching gravel beneath his boots, he stands with hands in the back of his pocket.

“So…” he asks, hooking a thumb over his shoulder towards the club, “when did the Hideout go belly up?”

A sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to get the laundry from the backseat of your sedan, voice muffled, “eighty…-three, I think..” you say strangled like, as you struggle with the bulk of the laundry basket. The strap of your purse is slung over your shoulder when you finally emerge from the car and stand upright to face him.

“Here,” he offers, holding his hands out in offering his help.

Puzzled, you look at everything in your hands, deciding against thrusting the basket of sheets into his awaiting arms, you nod your head towards the car and step out of the way, “sure, my shoes from the back? I just gotta find the keys.”

Switching the basket to your hip you dive into the depths of your purse looking for the keys to unlock the club doors.

Eddie’s fingers curl around the straps of your high heels. A look of bewildered awkwardness coloring his brow. The aching reminder of his actions that damned you to this life were held between his fingers. Cheap leather material, a small brass buckle, plastic.

He slams your door in defeat, hating himself more with each day of being back in Hawkins.

Your hand finagles the key, jingling it out from the mess of your purse. When you look up with a sly little quirk at the corner of your lips for your triumph…Eddie has planted a fake smile on his lips… one that was buried within him before you can see the sadness in his eyes.

“Ready?”

Mrs. Click rattled on and on about WWII, sounding more like the adults in a Peanuts episode every second that ticked by. A loud yawn escapes Eddie’s already slack mouth as he doodles in the margins of his paper, a blue smear on his hand from the ink.

A crumpled ball of composition paper lands on his textbook skidding across the slicked pages and finding home against the wire of his notebook.

Without looking around Eddie already knows who the note is from. A simple scrawled sentence with big loops on the letters and a smiley face after the question mark.

“Lolly wants ‘sketti’ for supper tonight… you in? :)”

His dimples well deep in his cheeks as he scribbles a reply, stealing a glance your way. When Mrs. Click’s back is turned to scratch a hiss of powdered chalk into the board, he lobs the note back to you, hitting your shoulder lightly.

A slow smile creeps across your face as you flatten the note with your palms and read your best friend’s scratched handwriting.

“Hell yeah!”

…

The halls were quiet, Hawkins High students busying themselves with tests and worrying about grade point averages. Not even the janitor Sal was squeaking down the halls.

“If Ms. Judy catches us…”

“She won’t.”

“What about Higgins? I can’t get detention again, my dad will slaughter me.”

“Clove…” Eddie grumbled, stopping his task of picking the lock to look at you with the deepest sincerity, “I promise, we’ll be fine, okay?…just, shit, keep your eyes peeled, I’m almost… there…”

A wicked sliver of a grin plays on his lips.

“Yahtzee, baby! C’mon”

The door to the school kitchen swung open beneath his hand. The smell of Comet cleaner and fresh baked bread invade your nose.

The blade of his knife is closed with a clink on his hip as he bends low with a bow for you to go in first, “let’s go shopping.”

“Set them wherever,” you say nonchalantly, pupils adjusting to the darkness as you step through the threshold into the club.

Walking to the counter and shifting the basket on your hip tossing the keys on the bar, you wiggle off your purse, and turn around to see him standing by a barstool, looking slightly out of place, like a lit Christmas tree in the summertime.

Seeing Eddie in the club, in the depths of sweat and sin was gut wrenching. The club was accustomed to pleasuring pastors and preachers, cops and school teachers. They had all traipsed across the wood floor in their Sunday best, shoes shined to godliness… leaving with lipstick stains and reeking of alcohol. Sin on their breath and in their Hanes.

No, him being here made you feel like your skin was crawling, and that you were about to scream at any given moment.

Heaving the basket onto the nearest table, you take a wounded breath, holding it for longer than necessary to squish your toes along the muddy depth of Lover’s Lake. You spin to avert the lingering glances from Eddie, his eyes burrowing into you like hot steel to butter.

Slotting yourself behind the bar you holler over your shoulder, “park it, I’ll get some drinks.”

Lights flicker and hum an exhausted tune as they slowly shine light to the grim bar, just enough to not be cast in complete darkness.

Eddie grabs the stool in a swift all too cool motion, sliding his long frame over it, the chain on his hip jingling against the wood as he sits, “just water for me…what?” he laughs.

You’re turned facing him with a furrowed brow, holding two of the cleanest shot glasses Queens had in one palm, the other steady on your hip, an annoyed look on your face, “don’t make me drink alone, Slim.”

He laughs again, a loud abrupt sound as he shakes his head, tucking his sunglasses in the neck of his shirt. A modest blush pinking his cheeks as his tongue runs over the sharp edges of his canines.

You haven’t budged, and Eddie finally looks up to meet your stare.

His eyes are glassy, dark and almost a sheen of velvet to them under the shadow of bandana, and the comical yellow rubber of the bandaid.

If eyes were the windows to the soul, you were familiar with his scenery, this particular essence was hurt like you, wounded in the same ways. The past showed through the forlorn strangeness of the last few years like a weathered map with all too familiar paths. Looking into his pools of deep darkness felt soothing in a crippling ached breath.

Features could change but eyes couldn’t, they kept you anchored to him stuck in the void of his mud.

It’s a game before you realize it.

A stare down… in dim light, eyes drying by the second, but it’s Eddie who folds first, no cards left to hold, or rather letting his opponent win. Like old times.

“Always such a headache, huh? Fine,” he exaggerates with a petty eye roll, “you win.” The crooked smirk on his lips gives him away, matching your own.

The two stout glasses clink together against your palm, a bottle of Jameson held by its neck in your other hand, “Not much has changed I see,” you quip, setting them down and pouring the whiskey into the first one, “you still suck at games.”

Eddie cringes as you pour the second, “trying to kill us? Do you not remember what happened on your fifteenth birthday?”

You erupt with laughter, tossing your head back and giggling in that little way he hadn’t heard since you were kids, “oh please,” you snort, thinking back to how drunk the both of you had gotten, “you don’t either.”

Eddie smiles, “probably not the greatest idea I’ve had.”

Sliding a glass towards him you hold yours up, the lights coloring the dark amber into a caramel pool of regret, “to us.”

“To old friends,” Eddie follows, in a grand accent, holding his glass next to yours, “burying the hatchet, stitching old wounds..”

“Alright Shakespeare wrap it up.”

“.. to you.” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning your face, and you shudder involuntarily before tipping the glass against your lips and swallowing the liquor.

It burned on your tongue, hot and unwelcoming, sliding like lava down your throat. Eddie winces, making a sour face as he slaps his glass down on the wood top of the bar.

“Fuck, that's horrible.”

“Ah,” you say, pulling a lever on the tap and putting a tall frosted mug under the spout of draft beer, “it’s not that bad.”

He watches as you pour another beer walk around the bar with one in each hand. His cheeks pink when you smile at him, and he quickly pulls out a stool for you.

Leaning your back against the counter you sip your drink. The bar is empty but the roaring waves of silence crash loud in your ears. It’s strange. Being here with him, would you ever get over seeing him after so many years?

“I won’t lie, Clovie, ’m not much of a drinker.” Eddie admits, rubbing his thumbs along the frosted mug.

“Well,” you say, holding your beer up to your lips, and looking over the edge to meet his gaze, “today you are.”

Taking a generous sip you smile when he follows suit.

“Eddie Munson, back in Indiana,” you tease, elongating the vowels of the state, “never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugs, tossing long curls behind his shoulder, “missed the scenery.”

You scoff, “yeah the luscious rolling hills of the trailer park really get me feeling like Julie Andrews too.”

He cringes, raising his brows for emphasis, “Those hills have eyes.”

“Eww..” your nose crinkles, “Craven outdid himself with that one, I still won’t watch it.”

Eddie takes a pull from his beer before adding nonchalantly, “that’s cause you’re chicken shit.”

Blowing a raspberry with your lips, your eyes narrow as you spit an insult. “This coming from the guy who slept with his lights on after watching E.T.”

“When he turns white by the river?! Fucker looks like a crushed powdered donut!”

It was easy falling back into the throws of jokes and banter with Eddie. You both giggle like kids talking about movies that had shredded horror as kids but now made you cringe with how poor they were done.

After a particularly long laugh about whether or not you still carried around your security blanket, Eddie sighs, “I thought this was gonna be weird,” Your nerves had calmed at the expense of childlike humor and talks of times long ago, that you finally slide on the stool he had pulled out for you. “us…. this place… Hawkins,” he bumps your elbow with his, “ shit I mean, we’re drinking in a bar, legally! Who would have thought?”

Your grin warms his heart like honey in a cup of tea, “somehow the beer doesn’t taste any better once you’re old enough to drink it.” The sip you took from your frosted mug was far from ladylike.

“You’re right,” he agrees, following your lead and taking a big gulp, “something forbidden always tastes better.”

Right now you felt like Eve, enjoying the fruits of company from Eddie Munson, and your cheeks heat. Rick hadn’t crossed your mind since he drove down the driveway this morning, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“…a motorcycle, huh?” you say changing the subject, “honestly didn't think you were the type.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a little dimple pitting in the plumpness of his cheek, “Type? Like I need to be a colossal douche to drive one, hell…it’s good on gas, real fast. I got a buddy who fixed it up for me, owed me a favor for a cover up I did on his back.”

“Cover up?” you ask, eyebrow quirked, “like…a tattoo?”

“Yeah,” he says, swiveling on his barstool to face you, rolling his sleeves up past his elbow showing off his tattooed arms in the space between you both, “did these myself, just something I do for fun.”

His skin is embellished more than it is bare. Dark swirls of onyx branched out along his left wrist and up to the rolled fabric of his shirt, and you wonder if it disappeared up to his arm, around his torso? The marks seemed to flow like a river, connecting, gathering, forking this way and that, etching more pages to a story of an unfamiliar tale. You hoped to one day know its origin.

Without asking, your fingertips trace the outlines of the black ink, delicately following the path.

They circled around a rose covered in heavy dark thorns, dripping with blood. It had bloomed in a grassy knob made of lyrics from songs you had never heard. The inscriptions continue to channel along to a long silver dagger with a jeweled embellished handle of pretty emeralds that were shaped in irregular patterns. The dagger sunk into his skin and poked back out, shredding tendons and marrow in its wake… all exposed, coming to a point at his wrist.

It was as if he created his own armor, each intricate drag of the needle serving as a steady reminder that he would overcome. You can’t help the smile spreading on your lips, you had never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

“Should have guessed you’d end up being some sort of artist, Eddie, these are really lovely.”

He smiles, warm and inviting as he reaches for your hand, angling it towards him to get a proper look at the stick n poke tattoo he did years before.

A rough thumb sweeps along your skin, and the whiskey coloring of his eyes pour into yours, “I could fix this for you, make it look better.”

“Absolutely not,” you falsely gasp, “I love it just the way it is… besides you didn’t cover yours up either,” you point to the tattoo on his left hand. The small heart and clover were faded and blown out, a stark contrast difference against the shadowed dark lines around it.

You grin and meet his eyes. “Do you remember how hot it was that day?”

Eddie had always kept that memory at the surface, remembered as if it were yesterday, thinking about it often. As if your hand was still sweating in his, he could practically smell the peanut butter in your hair, feel the dampness on his shoulder from your tears.

“Yeah,” he says with a sad little smile, “I remember getting our asses chewed because we burnt supper.”

The light leaves your eyes and your smile fades, venom on your tongue as you spit, “should have poisoned them both… could have saved ourselves a world of trouble.”

Eddie’s stomach rumbled at the empty hollow feeling it used to play on repeat, if it weren't for you, he would have starved indefinitely.

“Juvy couldn’t have been that bad, THREE meals a day? Shit, practically a cake walk.”

“Yeah, lucky bastards,” you admit, a small lost look on your face as you drop his hand, mind wandering to the long forgotten childhood you were abandoned in. If your dad wasn’t screaming at you and raising a fist it was the neighbors ignoring the hollering and groaning of furniture snapping against thin walls from the Munson trailer. Never a silent hour in the park.

It’s quiet for a few beats as you drink your beer, finishing it a few swallows and leaning over the bar to grab the bottle of Jameson, pouring another round.

“So, the motorcycle, tattooing… you must be fighting off the ladies.”

Eddie laughs, his eyes darting across your face with a quirked brow, “not hardly.”

Rolling your eyes you sip at the bitter drink, “don’t be prude Munson, tell me.”

He scoffs and moves hair from his neck, suddenly interested in the bottom of his drink, “I’m not telling you the woes of my love life, thanks.”

“C’mon..” you pout, showing your bottom lip, “we never got to have talks like this!”

Eddie snorted at the pathetic pout you showed, “yeah and we aren’t gonna start now because there’s nothing to tell.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you scowled at him. “You’ve always been such a bad liar, bet your ears are red,” you reach for his hair in a feeble attempt to reveal what you both already knew to be true.

“Quit!” Eddie yells playfully, batting your hand away, “alright yeah, I’ve had a girlfriend or two,” he shrugs, “never anything serious.”

You grin at him lazily, elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm, even though your heart sank a bit at the thought of him loving someone, “ahh, see? That wasn’t so bad.”

Eddie blushes under your stare, “speak for yourself.”

He looks down, rubbing condensation from his mug with his thumbs. “And you? d’you uh… got a boyfriend?”

Your smile fades and you try not to shiver in disgust as you pour another shot. Slapping the glass down hard on the counter as you drain it, “I wouldn’t exactly call him that… it’s more of an… agreement.”

His face breaks into a jigsaw puzzle, “what does that mean?”

“Dont wanna bore you with ‘my love life woes’…” you interject, ignoring him, putting the tip of your finger in his glass and dragging it towards you. Tipping in more Jameson and sliding it towards him.

The buzz was tickling your fingers, a lightness took over your head as the alcohol seeped into your blood.

“Down to the meat and potatoes Slim…why are you home? I mean it’s not as if this shithole holds any happy memories.”

He brought the shot glass to his lips, sipping it down as you pour yourself another.

How did you not know that the only happy memory he had of Hawkins was you? He didn’t know how to tell you that it was the memory of your smile that kept him company when the nights were cold and he didn’t know where his next meal would come from.

He takes a deep breath, “my uncle died,” he squints with a puckered sour face at the burn from the liquor shaking his head, “Al is either dead or on another bender so…” he claps his hands, “here I am… met with his girlfriend today actually.”

You frown, reaching for his folded hands, tapping his knuckles, “‘m sorry, Eddie. Wayne was sweet, respectful, a regular here… to the bar, not the club.”

Eddie rolls his shoulders, trying to untie his tongue to ask the question that burned in him, “when did you um... start working here?”

Your stomach drops at his question, and your nails clack around the Jameson bottle again as you dump yet another splash into your glass. Your answer is muffled behind a choked swallow.

He frowns, racking his brain, “wait.. isn’t that…”

“My birthday,” you fake cheer, eyes too wet for normal conversation, “big 1-8.”

“Jesus...”

Eddie’s eyes shut in horror and your doomed fate. He covered his mouth with a fist to shield you from his quivering bottom lip. It was a far fucking cry from what he could have even imagined.

His eighteenth birthday was no glorious day either but he wasn’t forced to work in a strip club. His stomach churns, making milk into butter at the thought of your naive innocent eyes, and how they had almost hardened to steel in his absence.

The whiskey is working its magic now you’re feeling a little hot behind the ears, fuzzy in your head, dizzy eyed.He stares for a while over at you, watching in disappointment as you get clumsy with the pours, spilling a little on the counter and wiping it away with your bare hand, as you slug down, yet another, shot.

You stand suddenly, stumbling behind the bar and to the chip stand. Your fingers miss the clips in your attempt to release the snacks but they finally find home and you grab a bag, flinging it to him before opening one for yourself.

“Cool right?” you say, struggling to open it, tongue poked out in drunken concentration.

“Y’know I think most kids get a car,” the bag opens sending a confetti of salted crumbs and chips scattering to the counter to be crunched at your feet. Trying not to meet his eyes you talk to the ceiling, “maybe a crisp hundred dollar bill for their eighteenth. Clove? Blisters, a couple of bruises.. oh, and my name! Carved on the bathroom door, for a good time call…”

He’s struck dumb. Shell shocked and blinking back tears. Eddie clears his throat and reaches across the bar for your hand but you pull away from him, instead grabbing for the bottle.

“Welcome back.” you muse before pressing the mouth of the bottle angrily to your lips… foregoing the glass entirely.

Tipping your head back the now tasteless liquor slides down your throat with ease. An expert at coating the agony, you wait for your brain to lose oxygen and beg for an intake of breath, silently hoping you’d drown instead.

Years have passed of you dulling misery with anything you could get your hands on, liquor, pills, a little bit of nose powder… you’d tried most of the things Rick sold. And it worked until you needed more and more. It was a vicious cycle you were chasing.

But with Eddie here? It was nearly impossible to breeze over the truth.

When the bottle, in its near emptiness, slapped against the counter… a pair of dark eyes stare up at you, wide and sad, glossy with tears of shaming guilt.

Eddie couldn’t have guessed that your life was going to end up this way. He was naive in thinking that. Fucking stupid. He should kick his own ass for leaving the way he did, but his options were limited. Still, he’d wear the brunt of this mistake on his shoulders like a heavy cloak.

Your eyes were empty, lost, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. He shook his head slow, voice gravely.

“I owe you years worth of apologies, Clove.”

You’re more than tipsy at this point, and suddenly you can’t form words as your breath is trapped in your throat.

He was practically in tears as he tried his hardest to explain himself, tried to right this wrong.

“I was young, so fucking stupid..”

“Eddie..” As much as you wanted to know what happened it suddenly felt like too much, like your brain would implode, unable to process the heartache any further.

“Just listen, okay? Please?” He’s begging for your attention and you would rather melt into the floor. “I never told you, I never told anyone.”

Thicker than thieves. Eddie knew you like the back of his hand and likewise with you, so what the hell was he talking about?

…

“Check the back, I’m sure the canned stuff is there.”

The kitchen was eerily quiet, filled with sleepy rays of the afternoon sun, loaves of bread set out on the counter fresh from the oven for tomorrow's lunch.

You pad on tip toes to the back room lined with shelves of aluminum cans, and dried goods. You didn’t know where to start.

“How many should we take?” you whisper yell over your shoulder, “Two? Three?”

Eddie’s using his shirt as a basket, filling it full with small cartons of milk, shoving apples in his pockets, “Look for the big ones, then we won’t have to come back for a… oh fuck yeah, come to daddy.”

“Ew, Eddie!”

“Found some cheese!” he cheers, “we could make garlic bread!”

Label after label your fingers skimmed over the cans. Peaches, tapioca pudding, green beans, lima beans, and finally… in a can larger than your head, crushed tomatoes.

“Jackpot,” you whisper grabbing the cans and adjusting them one under each arm, “ready?”

Eddie’s frame fills the doorway, arms bundled with an assortment of goodies, a fresh loaf of bread in a plastic bread sack between his teeth, a joker’s grin wide on his face, “let’s roll.”

…

It was pure dumb coincidence that an exit was next to the cafeteria. You were surprised at the fact that Eddie's jeans didn’t fall down to his ankles from the extra weight of food heavy in his pockets as the two of you ran to his van and sped back to the trailer park.

“We made out like bandits, gonna eat like kings tonight, Clovie.” Eddie’s smile is spread wide as he helps haul the looted school food into your trailer.

Years of yellowing stains from tobacco use shown on every surface, a permanent haze of smoke lingering in the air, baking in the sunlight. Dishes littered the sink in standing dirty gray water, gone ice cold.

“Sorry for the mess,” you explain, reaching into the sink to pull the stopper, “I fell asleep before doing them while reading Lolly her library book.”

Eddie opens a drawer looking for a can opener, “and your dad didn’t come unglued? You must be Irish with that kinda luck.”

“He was passed out, I could have lit the place on fire and he wouldn’t have known, and he was gone before my alarm went off this morning.”

Peeling back the tin lid after pinching it open with the can opener, Eddie grunts, “yeah, my dad left early this morning too, said something about keeping my ‘filthy fucking hands off his stash’ and that he’d be gone for a few days.”

It was an enormous relief when it was just you and Eddie to fend for yourselves. Most teens could barely use the stove to make popcorn, but you had been taking care of yourself and Lolly for years. It was what you preferred.

Reaching for the one good aluminum pot that was stashed above the fridge, you pull it down and remove the magazine clippings of recipes you wanted to try or things that looked easy to make with the very little your cabinets held. “Good, glad they’ll be gone.”

Eddie sucks a tomato sauce covered thumb into his mouth, smiling in a way that made your cheeks heat, “almost like you read my mind.”

He’s hesitant now, fumbling over his words and brushing hair from his neck.

“I, you know I always talked about leaving Hawkins…practically had it all figured out by the time we were thirteen.”

You remember how serious his face was when he cupped your arms in the kitchen, his words branding themselves in your skull like a prisoner counting down days.

He swallows roughly, running hands through his hair, “I… I wanted you to… firstly…I need you to understand that I didn’t want to leave… not without you.”

Playing coy you brush off his serious tone, “.. stop.”

“I’m serious,” he sighs, reaching for your hand and your stomach flips when his calloused palm clamps tight on your knuckles, “you were everything to me.”

“.. c’mon Eddie, that’s just the liquor talkin’ now.”

“t’s not… and with me,” his eyes seem to grow in size as his sincerity leaks through them, “I’d never tell you something like this while drunk.”

You swallow dryly and nod, accepting that whatever he was about to say was true and real.

He takes a sharp intake of breath, as if this particular memory hurt him more than any other. His eyes were growing dark. solemn, and he squeezed your hand as he begins.

“I think it was about a year before I left… we made spaghetti with shit we stole from the cafeteria…”

A pain in your chest blossoms with a thought you hadn’t remembered until now when he reminded you. The taste of cheesy bread in the oven and salty tomatoey spaghetti invade your mind.

“I still can't eat spaghetti.”

A quick smirk dances in the corner of his lip and he meets your eyes, “yeah… me neither, I stayed over on the floor of the bathroom.”

You nod, remembering the sounds of Eddie retching into the toilet while you laid in your bed, a popcorn bowl keeping you company, thankful that Lolly hadn’t gotten sick. Even though you had gotten screamed at for being sick yourself when your dad and Al came back earlier than expected.

“Well, I was awake when they came home. They didn’t know I was there or even awake, and they were talking ‘business’.. you know those trailer walls are so fuckin’ thin, couldn’t not hear them.”

His eyes pinched shut like you would on a rollercoaster when it’s too scary, shaking his head, his other hand clamped over the one he held yours in, rubbing as if he could possibly buff out the callouses.

You can’t do anything but stare at him. Frozen in place. Scared to move, not even breathing.

“They had been talking about how some of their new “talent” wouldn’t be ready to go right away but… goddamn…” his voice cracks and he shakes his head before his demeanor falls and his voice gets quiet almost mute, “they had someone in mind to fill in in the mean time…”

No.

It shouldn’t have been a shock, shouldn’t have gutted you on the spot, usingyour intestines as a jump rope, but somehow, hearing this from Eddie’s mouth made it worse than if you were to hear it from them yourself.

You wanted to run away, to hide and never come out of a dark hole.

“… I hoarded away any nickel I could find, because we were going to leave. Together.” he squeezes your hand on the last word, possibly trying to bring you back to life as you stared ominously at the counter next to your conjoined hands.

The stagnant air is cold between you, and you aren’t sure if you’ve taken a breath within the last two minutes or not. Cold sweat formed on your lower back and any high you were feeling was dull, a competition to fight with your lucidness. Eddie took a few deep breaths before continuing.

“I replay that day over and over… how my dad came home, screaming about how I was a man now, needed to start helping with the family business stop freeloading like my mom… y’ know somethin’ Clove, to this day I’ve never touched that shit, and that was the one and only time I’ve ever seen heroin.” He hangs his head and you shift on uneasy feet.

“Telling him no was my first mistake, But I had to stick up for myself, had to let him know that I wasn’t gonna be like him,” he spoke now through gritted teeth as he admits, “but instead he swung on me,” Eddie chuckles despite the gravity of his words, “got a few good jabs in before he pulled those brass knuckles out.”

Your hand flies to cover your mouth before you realize it’s open in horror.

“I packed the van when I heard him leave, pocketed the cash I had saved up. This was it, we were getting the hell out. You and me, Lolly too… fuck I can’t even imagine how crazy I looked covered in blood,” he sighs then, shuttering like, voice shaking, his eyes wet.

Your heart broke for him. Broke for his demons that followed him around like a shadow. “I… I didn’t even get a knock in on your window before I felt a gun pressed to my head …”

It’s your turn to take a shaky breath, and you can’t hide the burn in your nose or the way your mouth tingled from holding in tears.

His voice is low, broken, “… I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t just me they were threatening. He made it more than clear how easy it would be to get rid of two kids nobody wanted to begin with.”

Slipping in and out of present time, you imagine how scared Eddie must have been. The look of terror on his face as a grown adult held him at gunpoint. How his own dad hit him until he bled, how he tried to get to you, tried to save you. You were a fucking fool for hating him when the one you should have been hating this entire time was yourself.

“… he followed me to the van… told me he’d fill me full of lead if he ever came back.”

You pinched your eyes shut, imagining him driving away from the only home he’d ever known, from his life, from you.

His voice fades in and out, as he works through the emotions wavering in his body. “I should have come back for you, should have, I dunno.. I’m sorry, Clove.”

It’s quiet as you process everything Eddie has said. The pain you’d shoved down for years is raging towards you like a bull. Red, angry, demanding to be felt. But you would hide from this terrorizing house of horrors for as long as you could, and you step out of the bull’s way, deflecting.

“Music!” you screech out of nowhere, through the thick haze of sadness, “we need music.”

Standing abruptly, sending the now empty bottle of Jameson clattering across the counter, Eddie tries to steady you from across the bar, his cheeks damp.

“Whoa, hey.. you okay?”

“I gotta,” your hands roam over yourself in search of pockets, “…hey you got a quarter?” The floor seemed to move as you teetered toward the jukebox, keeping your eyes on the colorful lights as you walked towards it like a moth to a flame.

“Wai…” he takes a step forward reaching for your hand but deciding against it, hand going limp by his side, his eyes searching inside your own.

You desperately want to break against him, to throw yourself in his arms and let him hold you until the tears dry on your cheeks, but you can’t let yourself be so vulnerable. Not in front of Eddie, not in front of anyone.

“Clove…” his voice is tender, concerned, “c’mon, you need to sit down.”

“No change? That’s okay, Slim,” you squeak, cutting him off in a rush, forcing a fake smile as you silently curse yourself for sounding so derailed, “Gotta change anyway.”

Spinning and nearly tripping over a stool in your attempt to get to the dressing room, you avoid the swelling brown of his eyes like the plague.

“Larry or Kenny should be here in a few, tell ‘im you’re on my tab and you can eat all the wings you want for free tonight, ‘kay? I’ll be back!”

The tears slid before you could stop them, hot pools that stung your eyes like acid. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked…no you definitely shouldn’t have pushed to know the reason why he left.

The bar was still spinning, waves of heat hitting you like an oven.

You prayed that your Eddie would come back to you, come home to save you and take you away from this life, but he’s here now and it’s entirely too much for you to deal with.

Vomit rose in your throat before you could swallow it back, and walking down the ruby carpeted hallway, your stomach empties itself on the floor before you can find a trash can, the wall holding you up as you crumble against it. Heart bruised and battered, despite Eddie’s efforts to mend it.

He stood in the open bar, soul empty and hollow. So many confessions left unsaid were formed but couldn’t quite fall from his lips. The conversation he wanted to have was not the outcome he had hoped for. He yearned for you, how close the two of you used to be and how it was torn away too soon. Time was a thief and the years spent apart ate at him, and all he can think of is the small manila envelope he kept of letters that went unread, addressed to you.

thank you for taking the time to read 💋 i know this chapter has taken for fucking ever to come out but i hope it was possibly worth it🥀

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord 😭 @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper @corrodedcoffincumslut @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel l @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @eiightysixbaby @writinginthetwilight @jessisacarica @ali-r3n

[buckys-wintersoldier]

The Dark Side feat. Bucky Barnes | Masterlist

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 “𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬“. 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

I want to thank @imtryingbuck because without you this wouldn’t exist and I’m so grateful for your support and your help to find ideas. Also thank you for making the dividers and headers for the Oneshots.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐜-𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭:

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭:

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟: ❤️ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭: 🔥 | 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭: 🍂 | 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤: 🖤

— 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮

— 2.1𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 🔥🖤

Bucky knows all about you, and now he has finally the chance to make you his and get his first taste of your pretty cunt.

— 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

— 2588 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 🔥🖤

He has his first taste but after that he didn’t ask for another sexual action with you. Does he have someone else? Now it’s time for you to show him that you trust him and to get a first taste of him.

— 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭?

— 2451 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 🔥🖤🍂

Bucky offers you to walk around the house but when he gets to the bathroom you use the opportunity to get out of his house.

— 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

— 2569 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 🔥🖤

Steve Rogers, Bucky’s best friends comes over and he asks Bucky to get to see how good you are. So Bucky shows how good his doll can be for him.

— 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐲?

— 3147 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 🔥🖤🍂

Steve asks Bucky to share you with him. Bucky looks like he likes the idea so he allows his best friend to have sex with you.

— 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞?

— 1586 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 🖤🍂

After allowing Steve to fuck you, the two of you talk and he is pretty sure you don’t really love him.

— 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧

— 3303 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 | 🔥🖤❤️🍂

When you come back from your old apartment where you picked up something Bucky makes sure you know how much he loves you and tells you why he turns into the dark person he is.

[chxrryhansen]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈.

☪︎ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐅𝐢! 𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐓⋆𖦹 ⋆｡✩ About me, Cherry.

𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋

My Masterlist.

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐒.𖥔 ݁ ˖✰ 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞.

☪︎ 𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒: 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘- 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍- 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

༺୨♡︎୧༺ 𝐀 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐂𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬, 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐌𝐁.

𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋ˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬 + 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 + 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠: 𝐂𝐡𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

✩࿐࿔ 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡. 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐢 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬. 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮. © 𝐂𝐡𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧.

[letmeapologise]

❝ 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 ❞

.ೃ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ! 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 ✰ ´ˎ˗

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⌇ 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ੈ✩‧₊˚

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⌇ 𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

ೄྀ࿐ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⌇ 𝟎.𝟗𝐤 !

↳ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ೃ⁀➷ 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 (𝐢 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐋𝐎𝐋) 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 "𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞" 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐢'𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬' 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐧 𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐜𝐥, 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢'𝐦 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮 𝐢𝐟 𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐭𝐡. 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 !

“KYLIAN!” you whispered, although albeit a bit louder for it to be considered a complete whisper, more of a quiet-shout or yell. His head flicking around to yours, a silent question of the complete audacity you had yelling at him with his daughter fast-asleep in his arms. The room fell silent, the gentle jingle of the cot mobile reverberating around the room as he scanned you up and down. “What?” he whisper-yelled back, ironically, his voice hushed and exhaled deeply whilst you grinned at him excitedly; eyes flickering at the sleeping baby in his arms while you exchanged silent looks.

He looked down at his daughter once more, grinning slyly at her as he realised that tonight would finally be the first quiet night; it had all sorts of implications for you both. He would be able to sleep better, you too, as getting up in stupid hours of the morning had tragically become a normality for you both — in turn you would be less stressed, and he would be able to return to football with heightened abilities than on three hours of sleep before a Champions League Final. 

Kylian cooed silently at the baby in his arms, gently stroking across her cheeks with the tip of his finger, grazing softly across her smooth skin. His eyes narrowed and smile lines up to his ears as he grinned widely, teeth sparkling and on display as you watched him expectantly, one hand on the doorframe as you poked a look inside your daughter’s room. He eventually placed her down into her cot, moving back and waiting to see if she would suddenly start crying again without the warmth of her dad’s arms — it had happened before, celebrating too soon when she had quickly concluded she had been neglected by her parents and burst into a fit of tears that were only fixed by you swaying her restless form for a good hour.

You tilted your head at him, moving from the doorframe and out of the room as he tailed behind you and closed the door slowly. Then both marched your way down the stairs into the living room, a twinkle in your eye, already made up that tonight you would finally have some time alone with your boyfriend in peaceful bliss. “Are you sure she’s not gonna wake up this time?” he whispered to you, chuckling as you practically leaped down the stairs. You shook your head, reaching your hand out behind you for him to hold, and tugged him down with you to the living room. “She’s fine, Ky, don’t worry,” you looked at him with pleading eyes, a slight pout adorning your face as you tilted your head at him cockily.

The room fell to a comfortable silence, you half-expected her to wake up and start sobbing uncontrollably after your words of affirmation in some cynical and ironic twist, she didn’t. You could hear yourself breathing.

Kylian patted to the space next to him on the sofa, a nonverbal invitation, and you drowsily floated next to him – collapsing onto the pillows splayed out. You grabbed the remote control, lying across the sofa with your head holstered up by an inclined pillow as he eyed you cautiously, head flickering up to the ceiling every now and then as if he would be able to hear a crying baby through the walls. You laced your fingers with his, nodding assuringly, and then at the television — putting the volume on quite possibly the lowest it could go. 

Your boyfriend rolled his eye, practically snatching the remote out of your hands — not that you gave much of a fight for it — and placing it next to him, switching the television off as you frowned. He made his way towards the direction of the stairs and you scoffed at his apparent paranoia. “Where you going?” He didn’t respond. “Ky, she’s fine, let her rest.”

He shook his head, back facing you, and as you opened your mouth once more to reiterate further words of confirmation he uttered another statement to you, contorting his body round to look at you. “I’m not checking on her, just come here,” he outstretched his arm, palm out in your direction as you raised your nose up at it, confused by his actions. 

You stood up, the sofa springing back up under the lack of weight, and walked towards him — taking his hand in yours as he practically pulled you to the kitchen, not even looking at you as you giggled at him. “Where are we going? What are you doing?” you laughed, trying to resist his strength as he threw you about the house. “Stop asking questions and just come here,” he scoffed, finally turning around to look at you with his hands slinking down your figure and onto your waist. You looked up at him with awe-stricken eyes, your hair tousled across your face as he moved a gentle hand to adjust it out of your vision, then back down to your waist.

A gentle smile embellished your face, matching his as he chuckled, swaying side to side alongside you in the silence. “Haven’t had you for myself in so long,” he hummed, you simply nodded in return, chucking under your breath as he hushed you with a wide smirk across his features. He turned to look at the speaker behind him, tilting his head suggestively as you shook yours. “You’re gonna wake her up, Ky,” he just shrugged, eyes refusing to leave yours, then leant in with his arms laced around you. Your lips met in a gentle kiss, his hands running across your hips and waist, eyes shut as you allowed yourself to become overwhelmed with the sensation. The feeling of kissing him, the feeling of being loved by him.

୨୧ @𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 ୨୧

[2kmps]

❛❜ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ɪɴ, ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛꜱ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ɴɪɢʜᴛ. ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ? ☕❛❜

𝐁𝐘𝐅|𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓|𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓|𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐮��𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭 "𝐛𝐲𝐟" 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬! ᵔᴗᵔ

❥ call me cort or 2k; she/her

❥ I write fanfic, monster romance, horror, and other original content

❥ blank blogs & minors will be blocked. do not interact with my work or me.

ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱ ɪ'ᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ:

your utopia by bora chung

a certain hunger by chelsea g. summers

the vegetarian by han kang

this thing between us by gus moreno

𝚄𝚙𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐

DECOY MECHANISM | aquatic monster x reader

SEE HOW THE CAT JUMPS | gunslinging outlaw x reader

PERSIMMON & INK | yakuza!getō x tattoo artist!reader

tags

.01 personal | .02 writing & reading | .03 fandom & fics | .04 aesthetic & fashion | .05 asks | 2k writes | 2k reads | 2k has friends! | 2k fic recs | cw: (triggering content)

deleted blog remake cardeneiv ➺ 2kmps

[oeyateyam]

「 “ɪ’ᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ.

ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴍᴇ…” 」

「 “ꜱʜᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʜᴀꜱ.” 」

𝐒𝐈𝐀. 𝟐𝟎’𝐬. 𝐒𝐇𝐄 / 𝐇𝐄𝐑. ༶ 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐋 𝐁𝐁𝐘 + 𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌’𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄.

*:･ﾟ 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 — @loverofhim *:･ﾟ

*:･ﾟ𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫. 𝐬𝐟𝐰 / 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 & 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐬 & 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬! 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 <𝟑 *:･ﾟ

= 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 ༶ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ༶ 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 ༶ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ༶ 𝐚𝐨𝟑

= 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:

will be posting works soon !

= 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍:

coming soon…

𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃: 05/14/23

© 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

[pashminalamb]

『 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤. 』

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀 ||

[kirk-says-wah]

𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬!

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐞𝐬, 𝐢’𝐦 𝟐𝟏 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫, - 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚! 𝐈'𝐦 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 (𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐜)

「ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ ɪ’ᴍ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ: ɪɴᴛᴏ ʀᴜɪɴ ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱɪɴᴋɪɴɢ , ʀᴇqᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ, ʙʟᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ, ᴅɪᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ」

𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

♱ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 - 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 (𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲)

♱ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐨𝟑 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

♱ 𝐈 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐈 ��𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 🤧

♱ 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

♱ 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 ❤️

♱ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

♱ 𝐅𝐘𝐈 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭

🚨 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍!!! 🚨

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆:

♱ 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐭𝐜

♱ 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 (𝐢𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐤/𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬/𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐟/𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐤, 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐭𝐜)

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆:

♱ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐛𝐡 - 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞

♱ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐨’𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐜

♱ 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐨

♱ 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞!!!)

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩ ✩⍣¯·.¸¸.·✩·.¸

✩ 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭! 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥

✩ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 ❤️

[spiralwriting]

Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇs

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{𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑛𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎, 𝑛𝑜𝑛-𝑐𝑜𝑛, 𝑑𝑢𝑏-𝑐𝑜𝑛, 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑤𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑑. 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝐷𝑁𝐼.}

{Not proofed}

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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞: (𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞). 𝐈𝐧 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐦 𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝.

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Malleus's didn't turn out very long, I really didn't have much of an idea for his, but it's still something. I might remake it another time.

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𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑟

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𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎; 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍, 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜. 𝚂𝚘, 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝.

𝚈𝚘𝚞r 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜, 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚘𝚗, 𝚛𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚢, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙰𝚒𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚙, 𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚣𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚣𝚒𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚑 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎, 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚌𝚑𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍, 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚞𝚙, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚗.

𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎, 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚘𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏𝚏, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝚂𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝑆𝑒𝑏𝑒𝑘 𝑍𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑡

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𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎; 𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚎𝚔 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚊𝚕. 𝚂𝚘, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚓𝚘𝚋 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗, 𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚎𝚔 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝. 𝙷𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢.

𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍? 𝙸𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚡, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝙽𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚙, 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜.

𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑.

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎 𝑉𝑜𝑛𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝑒

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𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎; 𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜.

𝚂𝚘, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍, 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍, 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜... 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 (𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍) 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 '𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙' 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢. 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔ing 𝚊𝚋𝚘��𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚙, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚢.

𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑢𝑠 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑎

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𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎; 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜, 𝚜𝚘, 𝚑𝚎'𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚙, 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍. 𝙳𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗 ��𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚎'𝚜 𝚒𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 ��𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢.

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑... 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚎'𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚍𝚘, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙, 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.

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𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 (◍•ᴗ•◍) they/them; mid 20s; little alien; i write 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 & 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭.

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