#EDIT: I FORGOT HER FUCKING HORNS. oh well

[mdpikachu]

List of hc’s concerning a clown (mephi fgo) as requested

(Not ordered in any way, old hcs and new ones intermixed.)

-Do not put your clown in direct sunlight for extended periods, he will sunburn SO fast.

--Jeanne’s interlude? Where she thanks Mephi for helping her and his response is, open quotes, “Reeeally? I’m not used to this sort of thing, so I’m not quite sure how to respond to that. But as long as you enjoyed yourself, that’s all that matters. Even better if it made you smile!” Please praise your clown. Clowns require praise to function. Hell, just speak to him. Acknowledge him.

-In Chibichuki, Mephi is shown as a hairdresser, so make that Chaldea occupation #3 under Clown and Alchemist. Wait, no. And makeup artist. he’d 100% help james/moriRuler/what have you, with his goofy makeup. edit FORGOT ABOUT THE CASINO DEALER TOO. At this point mephi’s just talented way outside the expected perimeters that aren’t combat. he does a LOT. buttling/butlering if he HAS to. etc. etc. etc. etc. talent clown.

--His eye color is startlingly inconsistent- Sometimes they’re blue and pink, and sometimes just plain Purple. I think in life they were blue without the pink. here’s a visual complaint. i do like the purple but it’s not... correct?

-There is a joke around here somewhere concerning what it means to have an “ego”. There is also a comment regarding clown gender around here somewhere. Spoilers: it’s a bomb down there. for emergencies. trans rigs. local baby homun goes to dad and says “im boy”. situation over. his ingame bio says ♂? you cannot fight me here. if he really needs to prove it, he’ll let euryale shoot him. for science.

--For the longest time I thought the make-up was permanent markings. In this house they’re permanent markings except when they’re not. 

-Santa Mephi could potentially lead to a Krampus situation, especially if he ends up in half again. I would accept this. I’d also accept getting a costume and being an elf for someone else. I just want him to get into a christmas event for more than 1 seconds. as cute as a lily mephi would be, his spirit origin wouldnt be strong enough to be on it’s own. these are less HCs and more commentary

--I drew mephi in his lab coat once here, take it, and yes that Is an alchemy circle on his neck. Tattoo from Papa Faust. That’s kept covered up 100% of the time. no touchy. (DID DRAW HIM AGAIN RECENTLY BUT NOT DONE YET)

-bc of his panicked reaction to the large ghost in knk, secretly a bit scared of ghosts. a “bit”. only a “little” (BLATANT LIE)

--the tiny horns he can hide at will and are from innocent monster. two of his tails are from the same source. one tail he’s always had.

-this is the absolute hardest take on here, but i dont think he (mephi the homunculus) killed faust. the innocent monster mephi (the demon) would take CREDIT for it, but he’s just acting in accordance to the myth that he caused it, like how salieri’s totally fucked up. who actually killed faust? idk. the church probably. stop summoning demons and making shit. thats not very churchgoing of you. unless faust himself asks, in which case mephi is free to say “no, i didnt!”. cause he didnt and he liked dad outside of the whole “killing people” thing. (which i did NOT know about when that was decided. kept outta spite and it being too late to fix.)

--isn’t mephi gay in at least one version of Faust. I’d need to research that one. highest honor, slaps with both ace and bi labels and then leaves without explaining myself. 

-mephi cares. mephi cares so Fucking Much and probably genuinely struggles with it. the one i write figured it out, kinda, but he’s lucky. canon mephi and generally accurate mephis have Issues with this.

--the mephi i write for is Lucky. the guda that summoned him (her name is Minako, mink for short) is a horror fan and as soon as she saw his name she was like “oh fuck yes”. in hindsight this is hilarious knowing now that Most People in Chaldea or In General do not like him. no wonder her mephis doing so well. Immediate Acceptance. i wrote that in fucking 2017 with a base knowledge of him. im not fixing it. im not linking it either bc i do need to rewrite a small segment. the og rp that came before that is from even EARLIER. mephi betraying his betrayal nature SPEEDRUN ANY % bc mink yelled “YES I LIKE YOU” immediately. again not changing this.

-hates being Not Clowny, esp. in public. he can tolerate it for short bursts, if its to fuck with everybody, or if he’s allowed to be an Absolute Menace the entire time.

--need a read on his emotions? cant trust his face? look at his tails. his hearts on his tails [i am booed off stage for the pun, and i shout “BUT ITS TRUE!” on the way out].  they wag, they wave, they curl up or go still. sometimes they all do different stuff. i know they’re meant to be one splitting into three but consider;;;; no?

-im like 90% sure he called mash his sister once as a joke in the knk event... he’s not far off. shes a designer baby (that hadn’t been revealed yet), hes a homunculus with an ego. hes like... the prototype to most homunculi and to mash. hes absolutely her older “brother” and if u fuck with her, he gets to kill you for free. from this, he absolutely accepts jokes about Lancelot being his dad. He thinks its Very Funny.

--his SERVANT name is Mephistopheles. named after the contract demon (NAME EXPUNGED). as a Just a Little Guy his name was Philetus and No One is allowed to use that. One of the few things hes serious about. (i don’t remember where i go that from. i think bc it sounded good. I genuinely don’t remember. something between the Pheles part and Philos (which is a name for a type of love, and also the name of a completely unrelated oc that has 0% to do with fate or any of this but. i think it was just bc it sounded good next to Faust or Faustus.)

update on above:  Philetos means beloved so THATS also probably where it came from. faust cared him so goddamn much.

-since he’s very much not human, getting sick is a bit easier for him than the average servant. he also doesnt drink booze for the same reason. 0 to 100 speedrun of a clown eating SHIT.

--Something about being good at witchcraft so hes aware of the witching hour. local fake demon can just. abuse a magical extra hour.

-Always knows the time (HES ALWAYS COVERED IN CLOCKS, CMON). ... actually, even without the clocks. thats his Thing.

--Can and will loophole. Someone call a place Hell? Sure, that’s a hellscape now! He can now appear.

-I DID give a rough design for the contract demon and faust but not putting here.

[frostedfaves]

Naive (4)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Wanda decides to share more of herself and her intentions with you.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, dom/sub dynamic (may or may not have thrown the word ‘pet’ in there), a bit of traumatic background/villain origin story, smut: finger (claw) fucking, tongue fucking, brief handcuff use, oh and squirting’s implied at one point

A/N: hi yeah okay so I know I was supposed to post some other stuff first but I literally haven’t updated this since end of August and someone asked for demon!Wanda during halloween...anyway I finally was able to make something coherent from my notes on this part and I hope it was worth the wait lmao

**edit: forgot to say a huge thank you to @lovelyladyships. one of her brilliant ideas made it into the smut (it was the finger/claw fucking)**

Previous part

-

It seems as if every single one of your bones came to the agreement that you were too scared to move, your feet glued to the ground despite the possibility of your shaky legs failing you at any moment. You don’t know how else to respond to seeing Wanda’s true form, her overall appearance the same with a few modifications.

Thick, dark horns grow from within her hair, upward and out to either side. A tail fitting a similar description is positioned behind her back, seemingly the length of two people of average height (or more) but resting in a loosely coiled formation to keep it close. Her eyes that are steadily focused on yours without a single blink resemble rubies on fire, and you almost don’t notice the claws on her fingers until she reaches for you.

“Don’t touch me,” you’re able to get out in time for her to stop, your relief only short lived as she pulls you close with her tail seconds later. 

“I know you’re scared; I can hear it in your heartbeat and your breathing,” she tells you with her glowing eyes scanning you. “But you don’t have to fear me, just respect that I’m in charge.”

“I want to go home,” you whimper and she sighs.

“What’s in your home that you can’t have here?” Wanda places her hands on either side of your neck, her thumb nails lightly scratching your jaw. “You don’t like being underground? That’s what my apartment is for. We can visit it to get some air.”

“You want me to live here?!”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Wanda frowns, her grip slightly tightening. “You’re mine now.”

“You can’t decide that for me.”

“I decide everything for you. I wanted you so I have you now.”

Wanda shifts to wrap one hand around your neck, using the grip to force you to walk backwards into another room, and you’re almost not surprised when she shoves you onto a large bed.

“This isn’t something you have to be scared of,” she attempts to assure you, climbing onto the mattress to hover above you. “Being mine is an honor that any other little human would be begging me to have.”

“Then why not take another ‘little human’.”

“Because I want you!” Wanda growls at a very intense volume, her hand squeezing your throat again as she leans closer to your face. “You’ve already proven yourself to be one of a kind, a treasure in my eyes. You’re the first person I’ve felt comfortable enough to show my true identity to beyond scaring a stranger for temporary enjoyment. Perhaps I assumed incorrectly that you could handle this.”

“Wanda…”

You sigh as you take a moment to study her features, able to see the vulnerability she dares to share with you despite feeling intimidated by her actions. You find yourself freeing a hand from between her legs used to cage you in, and a smile creeps onto your face when she leans into your careful touch on her cheek.

“I admit that this is a lot to discover all at once, but I don’t see you very differently because of how you actually look. What scares me most is the way you want to control so much of me so soon. It’s overwhelming.”

“You seemed receptive to it before,” Wanda replies while removing her hand from your throat and instead using it to cover yours on her face.

“Well I love sexual dominance, but I’ve never really had much more than that. I’d like to explore it but I’d also like to be treated with enough respect that you’ll talk to me before you just try changing something so drastically.”

“I guess I just assumed with my advantages and just knowing what I know of your federal government that all humans wanted every decision made for them.” Wanda pulls your hand away from her face for just a moment to kiss your palm. “I want to use my power to keep you safe, and give you everything you desire as long as you behave. I also must confess that as much as I like cats, I just used visiting the adoption center as an excuse to see you again. I was really only expecting to get one cute little pet today.”

“Oh.”

You grow silent as Wanda’s other hand moves to your neck, her claws lightly tracing along the base of it and suddenly meeting your eyes again with a smirk.

“How do you feel about a collar?”

“You want to collar me?” A grin forms on your own lips as you consider the idea.

“You seem interested.”

“I think I am.”

Wanda climbs off the bed without warning, grabbing your ankles to drag your legs over the edge. You take the hint and sit up as she walks over to a wooden box, pressing one of her rings against the lock to open it and remove a golden collar before returning to stand in front of you. The light reflects in the rubies set in the collar and the red lettering etched into the solid gold pendant that reads “Wanda’s kitten”.

“Have you always had that?”

“Yes, but I added the words after meeting you. The title fits you.” She brings the collar around your neck and fastens it quickly, watching as you touch the cold metal that’s surprisingly warm against your skin. “Let me know if that’s too tight; only I can adjust it.”

“Wait, what if I want to take it off while I’m away?”

“You’re only leaving here when I want you to.”

She’s on top of you again before you can register her words, alternating between kissing your lips and neck, and you find yourself thrusting your hips against her as soon as her thigh slips between your legs.

“It’s a shame that you can’t finger me now,” you tease, frowning when she pulls away to give you a confused glance. “What? Your claws are too sharp; you can’t do it.”

Something changes in her eyes as she shifts above you, yanking your pants and underwear completely off and returning to sit between your legs. She uses the longest claw on her middle finger to trace a light circle around your clit, bringing her free arm to hold your squirming form down by the waist before easing a finger inside you.

“Ow, ow!” you cry out and she pauses, giving you a look as she does so. “Okay, you proved your point! Please take it out; it hurts.”

She removes her finger just as carefully and licks it clean before using that same hand to deliver a slap to your pussy, seemingly pleased with the sound you make in response.

“Don’t ever tell me I can’t do something because I will prove you wrong.”

Wanda instructs you to scoot closer to the headboard so she can cuff you to the bars, lying on her stomach between your legs next and wrapping her arms around your thighs once she’s comfortable.

“Now I normally wouldn’t reward you for being bratty and challenging me, but I really do enjoy your perfect moans too much to not try this. Next time you won’t get off so easily.”

You watch as her eyes seem to brighten even more, and just when you consider asking what she’s up to, her tongue extends from her mouth, bigger and longer than you’ve ever seen. The tip of it teases your clit again, causing you to let out a small moan that grows louder as she forces her way inside. Your back arches off the bed as she fucks you roughly with the large muscle, her hands sliding along your torso to push your shirt and sports bra up and find your nipples, rubbing and pulling at them while she thrusts into you as deeply as you can take her.

“W-Wanda I’m getting close,” you call out breathlessly, feeling nearly every part of your body tense in preparation for the strong orgasm she was pushing you toward.

“Cum for me, kitten” you hear a whisper that seems to come from your own thoughts in Wanda’s tone, and you feel yourself beginning to relax just as you reach your peak. You stop moaning and just scream as the feeling hits you, tensing up again through each wave and shuddering as Wanda slowly removes her tongue that’s now covered in your cum. She curls it to keep from making a mess until she’s able to slide some of it into your mouth, and you take the hint to clean as much as you can until she pulls away, taking what’s left to taste herself.

“I didn’t expect you to be a screamer,” she laughs, and you catch sight of her tongue back to ‘normal’ before she kisses you again.

“I don’t think I have before.”

-

You’re resting in Wanda’s arms a few hours later, feeling yourself drifting off at the feeling of her tail carefully rubbing your back, but you fight it as a thought comes to you suddenly.

“Wanda?”

“Yes, kitten?” She drops her head to meet your gaze and you continue nervously.

“You said that if I knew your family, I’d understand why there were no pictures of them there. Why don’t you like them? Are they demons too?” 

“No, they weren’t.” Her expression hardens and you almost consider dropping it until she continues with a sigh, averting her gaze. “I wasn’t technically born as a demon, just turned into one.”

“What?! How did that happen?”

“My mother cheated on my father as soon as she could have sex again after birthing me. He didn’t know for a long time but her friends did, and she blamed it on postpartum depression so they wouldn’t hate her.” She lets out a chuckle completely lacking in amusement. “I would’ve hated her even more for using that excuse.”

Wanda’s eyes land on you again.

“Be a good girl and grab a bottle of vodka from the bar. I’ll need it if I’m going to tell you any more.”

You hurry off the bed and into the other room as instructed, rounding the bar counter to grab one of many vodka bottles before returning to your place in her arms. She takes a long gulp and you think she’s handing it to you but she simply shakes her head, insisting it’s too strong for you.

“The man she cheated with was in some cult that was dedicated to learning demonic rituals for their own gain, which she ended up joining and ultimately being the first person bold enough and greedy enough to try one. Her side piece gathered all the materials for her the day before, assuming she was going to perform it on my father, so imagine his surprise when he comes over and sees her six-year-old daughter asleep in the middle of all the candles.”

“Did he help her do that to you?!” you ask while sitting up a bit, but Wanda pushes you back down with a shake of her head.

“He was going to tell the police so she killed him before she got started, then got my father’s help hiding his body later by drafting some story of finding him in the basement performing a ritual on me and him confessing to stalking me before she killed him in a fit of rage. Sounds like shit straight out of a movie, right?”

“That’s awful,” you respond with a sigh, lacing your fingers with hers from the hand that wasn’t holding alcohol. “So does that mean you’re possessed?”

“No. I was given power from another demon that looked kinda like this all the time. She saw humans as disposable business partners but refused to live among them; only appeared when she was summoned and only accepted deals that included a large gain for her as well.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

“No. I gained independence from her as soon as I found out why I was being stolen in the middle of the night to do unexplainable things, all so my mother could be endlessly wealthy and famous from a few shitty songs.”

“How did you get your independence?”

“By fighting for it.”

“Oh.” You waited a moment for Wanda to continue, not very surprised when she doesn’t go into further detail. “So where are your parents now?”

“Alright, kitten.” Wanda places the half empty vodka bottle on the nightstand and tightens her grip on you. “I think it’s time for you to nap. Rest now for me.”

You want to sit up and object but your eyelids close without a bit of resistance, your body relaxing under her touch and her quiet singing lulling you into slumber.

[1ore]

Now that I have internet i can spring this on you from the ask meme C:< (edited the wording on it for my own personal clarity LOL) 23. Introduce an OC that has changed a lot from your first draft of them

Oh man. Okay here's a long one because I’m going and going and going and g

Old Mora has the funniest visual development I think, just because she’s as old as Moribund itself is, and you can tell just how badly I struggle to nail down her design. I think I’ve finally gotten the challenging bits out of the way, but I need to draw her more to get everything else in order.

In Moribund, there’s this concept of the world being birthed and given motion by the interplay of two ur-beasts, an osprey and a snake. It’s not technically correct to say that Old Mora is the definitive osprey, but she rhymes with it, if that makes Any sense at all. So designing her is kind of like designing that in terms of “need to be getting it right”

In her earliest drafts (early ~2014 above) she looked a lot like the ur-snake, funny enough. The defining features of her face came to me all at once, like it should be impossible to tell which side is up and which is down, she should have a jowl window that doubles as an eye, a throat that doubles as an iris, streaming light-tears that are like threads in the eye of the needle, an arrow-shaped beak, etc. And I was really attached to this specific face for a long time, but the rest of her body wasn't coming to me.

like this is very cool but this is not my beautiful wife. (also 2014)

At some point, I went in the fucked up handbird direction, and I stayed there for a longo time too.

These wyvern-y ones are from 2014 as well. I remember the bottom one being kind of a bolt of inspiration re: uncanny feethands and winghands, but looking back she does just look like Smooth Lugia here.

2014/2015 was when Moribund started to find its way in terms of like, cohesive vision and feel of the world, (and also just me as a visual artist finding my way to drawing what I really liked to draw) and I think one of those growing pains was Mora moving from slippery handdragon to giant death bird.

Then I finally knocked the silly beak horns off her face.

Then in 2015 Iuhhhhhhh

violence magenta and indigo blue became morb (TM) blue-black and red. her beak is extremely funny here. you can tell i was struggling so bad, but I forgive her. I still like this piece.

she kind of middles around here for a while. She is pretty much quadruped for all of these; I experiment with making her handwings into seperately-motile coverts and primaries.

During this time I am so very concerned with wings and with the launching power of birds vs. pterosaurs and with figuring out a quadruped Mora.

Long story short: Birds can only get so big, because there’s a tradeoff between having more wing muscle and having more leg muscle. Your legs aren’t what you use to fly, so as they get bigger, they’re better for launching but heavier and more unwieldy while flying. If you get more wing muscle to compensate for carrying them, then that means you are now heavier and need more leg muscle to initially get you in the air. Eventually, you hit a ceiling where you either can’t launch, because you don’t have enough power out back, or you can’t fly, because the clap of your asscheeks keeps alerting the gravity. But pterosaurs can get Absolutely Ginormous because their wing muscles are also their launching muscles and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

and then I get over it, because I like birds and mora looks cute but kind of dorky on all fours. (^ 2016)

(2018 ^) She’s allowed to get more organic over time. At some point I ditch the feethands completely, but I still choose to struggle with her beak teeth.

Oh, yeah. I forgot. that’s a design issue I had with her from day one. Drawing Mora from the front was a logistical nightmare because she’s so... shape (^ 2018)

I flirt with giving her perforated nostrils and making her more condor-like. (^2019)

doesn’t seem to stick. im still not giving up her beak teeth, but they’re still causing me problems. I want to go back and fix this piece actually, because it’s so recent but she looks sooooo dorky here. (^2021)

From here I think her most important additions are a.) extremely big feather boots and b.) moving the beak teeth up to her jowls. which fixes everything, for some reason

she's been one of those design journeys where a lot of the ideas were cool in isolation, but had to be abandoned because they just weren't serving the actual character that she is: a really big death bird who is also, like, just a woman.

now i just have to make good on drawing her more. and not at two in the morning. waw.

[schmuckyschmarnes]

Daffodil

anon request: I have a request if that's okay. Could you maybe write about Bucky protecting the reader from some douchebag in a bar?

warnings: unwanted advances, unwanted physical touching (hand on thigh/leg) author notes: this ended up being a lot longer than i intended, i hope this is at least close to what you were after, but if you’d like me to make any changes, please feel free to let me know!!  i included a best friend character and tried not to use any names so it sounds a bit clunky but the y/n ybfn abbreviations always kill it for me when i’m reading so i hope this is ok!! edit: i forgot to mention i also wasn’t sure if you wanted them to already know each other so i wrote a kind of pre-meeting so you could have it both ways 

There was a chill in the air as you hurried down the street, half walking-half running, your heels tapping sharply against the concrete.  An aggressive series of vibrations interrupted your thoughts and you fumbled for a moment, attempting to balance the large bouquet of flowers you were holding in one hand so that you could retrieve your cell phone from the pocket of your trench coat.  The brown paper rustled noisily against you as you finally grabbed your phone, sliding the bar across the screen and putting it to your ear.

“Hey!  I’ll be outside in just a sec, I’m so sorry I’m running late!” you said immediately, feeling heavy with the litany of apologies that you would relay until you arrived at your destination.

You were met with a happy laugh on the other end of the line.  “How long have we been friends?  Did you think I’d wait for you to get started?” your friend teased, and you could hear the beginnings of a slur licking softly at her words.

“I’m offended that you wouldn’t wait for me, you said you would this time!” you accused, biting at a smile as you crossed the road.  A car sped around the corner, tires screeching, and the driver slammed down on the horn as he approached you.  “Oh piss off!” you called, as the car continued to honk after you'd skipped out of the way.

“And you said you’d be on time!” your friend giggled, oblivious to your rage-fuelled exchange.  She had you there.

“I did say that,” you relented, as you walked up the footpath, your destination in sight. “Okay babe, I’m outside, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yaaaaaaaay!” she shrieked, and you moved the phone away from your ear, wincing.

The bar you’d decided to meet at was an old favourite.  Busy enough that you weren’t uncomfortably visible, but not too rowdy.  Perfect for catch ups and your favourite game, people watching.

As you reached your hand to pull the door open, it swung at you, and a body collided with yours.

“Oh shit-”

“Fuck-”

You felt an arm wrap itself around you as your heel wobbled, and when you opened one eye, face scrunched up (still bracing yourself for what you considered an inevitable fall) you found yourself mesmerised by a shade of striking blue. The stranger steadied you, releasing you from his grip.  You opened your second eye, taking a step back sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, that was all me,” he interrupted, his hand pushing through the long waves of hair that had fallen into his face.  “I wasn't watching where I was going.” 

He was gorgeous, sharp lines and stubble and pink lips that stood out against the otherwise dark shadows.  A black t-shirt stretched itself over his broad shoulders, and a pale blue long sleeved collared shirt sat loosely over the top, buttons abandoned and sleeves rolled halfway, giving way to the black gloves on his hands.

“Good reflexes, though,” you noted, moving out of the way of a couple who wanted to head in.  “They make it look so easy,” you said, sighing dramatically as the couple disappeared into the bar without incident, and the stranger laughed. It was warm and deep, and you could’ve sworn you felt it reverberating in your own chest when you saw his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Maybe one day we’ll get the hang of it,” he joked, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.  He could feel the moment slipping. You tilted towards the door, and he didn’t want you to leave, he wanted to memorise you, and as his eyes ran over you a frown settled over his features, his face darkening. “Aw jeez, I ruined your flowers,” he groaned, clearly distressed.  You looked down to find that a few of the petals had been crushed, but all things considered, they’d held together pretty well.  An overwhelming desire to comfort this complete stranger seized you.

“Oh hey, no, it’s okay!” you said.  “Look, if we just-” and you pulled off a few of the sad-looking petals, “see, they’re good as new!” You waved them proudly in his direction and a single daffodil drooped sadly to the side.  “Okay, they’re good as new except for this one,” you amended, pulling the offending stem out, and he chuckled, face brightening once more.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he stated, as he took in the fresh-looking bouquet, and something in his voice made you think he could say anything and you'd believe it.

“Ah, miracle worker is my day job,” you said, smiling.  “I’ve got to get these flowers to the person I bought them for, but here, a souvenir of our time together-” you broke the stem off of the single daffodil you were still holding, throwing the long end to the side, and threading the crumpled flower through one of the open buttonholes of his long sleeve shirt, your palm resting for the briefest second on his chest.

"I knew my outfit was missing something.  Thanks, doll,” he joked.  

"Anytime..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"James," he supplied, putting out his hand and then looking down at the glove with uncertainty.  It seemed important to him.  You took his hand in yours and shook it.

"Anytime, James," you finished, turning to the door.  "Okay...take 2," you said, adjusting the flowers and pulling the door toward you.

"Wait," he called out, and you turned back, holding the door open.  "What's your name?"

The chatter from the bar swallowed the sound of your voice as you answered him.  You watched his lips mouth it, repeating it to himself as if he was determined to remember, and you smiled one last time at him before finally stepping inside.

You’re immediately hit with a wave of warmth, bodies huddled close together, legs sprawled beneath booths, hanging off of stools, hands gripping and fingers holding loosely, glasses that all glinted in the comfortable low light.  A screech from across the room startles you and when your eyes find the source, you can’t help but smile.  You begin to make your way over but you’re immediately hit by an assortment of limbs, this time you move the flowers off to the side.

“You came!” she shrieked, arms latched around your neck, a few people nearby looked up at the commotion before returning to their conversations.

“I came!” you laughed, squeezing your best friend. “Congratulations, you badass, you deserve this promotion so much.”

“I really do,” she nodded solemnly as she released you. “I’ve worked-” she hiccuped “-so hard.”

“You really have,” you agreed.  “This should’ve happened a lot sooner but I’m so happy for you, these are for you.” You thrust the bouquet toward her, and she gasps, taking them in one hand and looping her arm through yours as she leads you to the table she had occupied. 

“They’re so pretty, I love them,” she gushed, and you laughed again, amused at how sweet and affectionate she was when she had been drinking.  “Listen, Jake’s here,” she said, waving at the man in question, slowing down before you reached him, “and we might not stay too long because to be honest with you, I gotta get laid, babe, it’s getting dusty down there.”

“Girl, it’s your night,” you replied, “I don’t mind at all, we’ll have a few drinks and then you go celebrate properly.”  

“Hey Y/N.” Jake said as you finally arrived at the table, standing to give you a quick hug.

“Hey, Jake!  How proud are we of our girl here?”  you replied, as you removed your coat and settled into your seat. 

“Never been more proud,” he answered, throwing his arm around her as she beamed up at him.

The drinks arrive, or, more drinks arrive, and empty glasses are cleared from the table as you catch up, relive what feels like ancient memories, and laugh too hard at stories that continue to hold the title of “funniest thing ever”.  After the tenth round of people watching (definitely divorced, owns a cat “-or a bird”, enjoys infomercials and nasty sex), they announced that it was time to leave, and you were shocked to see that almost two hours have passed.  

“Enjoy cleaning out the cobwebs,” you said as you hugged goodbye, and she giggled, leaning on her boyfriend for support as they walked out. 

You reached for your trench coat, intending to trade the table for the counter when a man sat himself opposite you, and a strong stench of cologne slammed into you.

“Hey,” he said, “can I buy you a drink?”  He smiled, and you could tell that it was meant to be charming, but something about it felt...

“Oh…” you began, unsure of how to proceed. Off.  It felt off. “I’m okay, thank you, though.”

“Come on,” he persisted, “let me buy you a drink.”  

You looked around at the bar and your eyes stopped when you saw him, James, sitting a few tables away, laughing at a joke one of his friends had just made.  He had come back?

“I-”

“Just the one,” he said, holding up a single finger and tilting his head to the side.

“Sure,” you replied, unsure of how else to get rid of him.  “One drink, okay.”

He was an investment something or other.  He liked to golf, he travelled often, his- His tie was distracting you as he spoke, something about the gold and the brown didn’t make any kind of logical sense in your mind and you pondered over it for the entirety of his monologue, sipping gingerly at the drink before you for something to do.

“So what do you do?” he asked, and it caught you off guard.  He had been speaking about himself for so long that had it not been a painful experience you might have actually begun to doubt your presence in the conversation.  He shifts his chair closer, leaning forward when you reply, and places his hand on the bare skin of your leg.  “I think that’s so hot.”

You shift your legs so that his hand falls away, but a few seconds later, it's back, and higher than it had been the first time.  

“Hey, I’d rather you didn’t-”

“Oh come on, baby, I bought you a drink, didn’t I?  Let’s keep enjoying each other’s company.”

You don’t respond.  Your chest filled with panic, your head with static, everywhere else felt as though you’d been dunked in ice.  Your eyes moved around the room again frantically, and this time, when you saw James, he was looking at you.  His expression shifted as he noticed your own, his head tilted the smallest bit, his eyes flitted to the man beside you, and followed his hand to where it was clamped around your thigh.

He stood abruptly, not excusing himself, and you watched as he approached, ignoring his friends who had called out to him.  

As soon as he arrived at your table, you felt the static cease.

“Hey, doll,” he said, his tone casual.

“Excuse me,” the man interrupted, hand still on your thigh. “This table’s taken, we’re getting to know each other here, so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Oh, I can see that, James interrupted, looking down at the man’s hand.  “I see you’re getting to know her real well.”

“Okay, well-”

“I’m going to give you a few seconds, because I’m feeling generous. My friends tell me that counting down helps relieve anger, and honestly, I haven’t found that to be true, but I think if anyone was to benefit from me calming down, it would be you,” James said, voice steady as he placed his hands on the table. 

“Dude, you’re literally wearing a flower right now,” he said, smirking at the daffodil still hanging from James’ shirt.  The man - Chad?  Brad?  You couldn’t remember, scoffed as if to say “this guy, am I right?” 

The second the sound had left his mouth, Bucky’s gloves had come off.  Literally.  You saw a flash of silver and then the heat from your leg was removed as the man went flying across the floor of the bar, knocking into some chairs.  James looked towards his friends and both gave a single nod as they stood, and made their way over to Chad/Brad, having a quick word with the bartender as they dragged him yelling out of the bar.

“You okay?” James asked, bringing your attention back to him.  His gloves were back on, and his hair had fallen into his face.

“Yeah.  Yes, I-” and you were cut off by a sound that, you realised a second too late, had come from you.  Tears spilled down your cheeks and the air you were expelling left you faster than it could come in.  James sat down next to you, and you could tell he was unsure what to do.  “Oh my God,” you said, once you could catch your breath.  “This is such an overreaction, I’m so sorry, I-”

“You’re not overreacting.  That asshole was trying to take advantage of you, you have every right to be upset,” he said.  Your head dropped down into your arms, and as the tears continued to fall, you briefly wondered when the last time was that this table had been cleaned.  “I don’t know what to-” he began.  “I’m just gon-” and he stopped again.  “You tell me if this isn’t okay,” he said, placing a hand on your back.

“‘S okay,” you said, and he moved in soothing circles as your breathing evened out and your sniffles slowed down.  “Sorry for all the crying, it’s just, you always think you’ll know what to do in this kind of situation and when you freeze it’s terrifying like, why can’t I do something right now, you know?  I mean, you probably don’t know, but-”

“I know,” he said.  It was soft, and you believed him.  

“Listen, I’m okay,” you said, lifting your head and wiping the tears from your face. “You should get back to your friends, I’m sorry for interrupting your night, you don’t have to comfort me, I’m a complete stranger-”

“What do you mean, ‘complete stranger?’  We go way back,” he said.  It caught you off guard and you laughed, shaking your head.  “I’m going to sit here until you feel okay,” he said.  “Because that’s what friends who go way back do, and because I enjoy your company.”

There was quiet as you looked at him, his hand was still resting on your back and he suddenly didn’t know if he should leave it, or move away now that you weren’t crying.  His eyes searched yours, and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, almost unnoticeably before you spoke. 

“I’d like that.” 

[darkmulti]

Detention!

Stray Kids

Parings: teacher, incubus! Chan x female reader

Genre: smut, duh

Word Count: 1.9k

HEAVY SMUT

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

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Synopsis: Y/N lies to Mr. Bang and well.... he has to punish her.

~Hope you enjoy~

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A/N: 🤷‍♀️ warnings are after undercut~ not edited, please don’t kill me😔

⚠️Warnings: degradation, compelling, mentions of watersport, rough sex, spanking, slapping, spitting, marking, readers first time, hair pulling, choking, blood, overstimulation, dacryphilia

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Y/N lays her tongue on a flat piece of paper, making it wet. She rips the wet part and rolls it into a ball, then loads it into her straw. One eye closed and the other eye aimed right at her teacher. She blows into the straw and the spitball launches out, landing on her teachers face. “Y/N! I’m trying to teach a class here!” The troublemaker makes a baffled face and says, “it wasn’t me!”

“I saw you spit it at me.” He turns around and puts the marker on his desk. Her teacher walks over and inspects her desk. “Ah ha!” He pulls out the piece of paper and sets it on her desk. “What’s this?” He questions, moving his glasses down.

“It’s a random piece of paper. It’s not mine!” She scoffs and kicks the chair in front of her. “Nice try, detention after school. I need to discipline you for lying.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out to him, “you’re not my mom! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Chan rolls his eyes and goes back to the front to finish off his lesson before school ends. Y/N chewed on her gum, while twirling her hair with her finger. She was half asleep when school finally ended. She quickly puts on her bag and mixes in with the students trying to leave.

“Not so fast, Y/N!” The man pulls her back by her backpack and tells the rest of the students to scurry off. “You have detention.” The brat makes a shocked face. “Oh, I forgot.”

“I’m sure you did…” he goes over to the door and locks it. “Little slut.”

“Excuse me? You don’t say that to a student, sir.”

“I can say whatever I want to say. I can make you do whatever I want you to do. I can stop you from breathing… If I wanted to, I could even piss in your mouth.”

“S-sir, I can report you for this!”

“With what proof?”

The girl's heart raced in her chest and her breath hitched. “It’s still wrong and you know it!” Chan slowly walks closer to her, tracing his fingers along the desk. “It’s wrong, but it feels right.” Y/N starts backing away not knowing what to do. “P-please sir. We can work something out. I-I won’t lie, or misbehave in class. I’ll be a good student!” She keeps backing up until her back hits the wall. She looks to her right for one second, and the next Chan has her arms pinned, above her head. His eyes slowly turn red, and Y/N notices. She rapidly blinks, to check if she was hallucinating or not.

Chan chuckles and cups the compelled girls cheek. “From now on you’ll do whatever I say. You will enjoy everything that I give you, and will take it without a problem. You will call me daddy or master, and be my little housewife. Understood?”

“Understood daddy.” Her cold eyes turned into soft ones and she slightly smiled. “P-please u-use me.” Her eyes sparkle upon saying this. “Gladly.” Chan lets go of her hand and starts kissing her jawline down to her neck. He rips off her clothes and throws them behind in a blink of an eye. “Wow daddy! That was fast!” The demon hums and attacks her tits; sucking on her right one while roughly massaging the left.

“Master! It feels so good.” She throws her head back and arches her back. Her sensitive nipples stung from all the saliva it absorbed, causing her to hiss. Chan left purple marks all over the girl's chest and neck. He picked her up and laid her on the desk. She put her legs high up waiting for her masters order.

Her master takes his belt off and spanks the girls ass. He grabbed her legs and flipped her over, onto her stomach. “Are you ever going to lie to daddy?” He spanks her ass, and pushes her face down. “Tell me babygirl, I’m giving you permission to talk.” The demon spanks her again, this time leaving a little blood. “I-I w-will never l-lie a-again.”

“Good.” Chan gets on his knees and licks the blood away. “I wonder if your cum will taste as sweet as your blood… Let's find out.”

“Uh.. daddy, can you please be gentle? I-it’s my first-” Before she could finish her sentence, the man starts to laugh. “Master, what’s so funny?!” She frowns and looks behind at him. “The school’s slut is a virgin?” Daddyy!” She cries out. “It hu-urts!” She sobs in Chan’s arms and he ruthlessly goes faster. The tiny girl lets out a quiet scream while cumming.

Her legs go numb and she almost collapses to the floor but the man behind her catches her. He bends her over the table and picks up his pace. “WHO TOLD YOU THAT YOU CAN CUM?!” He angrily growls at her. “N-n one, master.” She silently sobs, and looks away not wanting to get in more trouble. “Next time tell me!” He gives her another full thrust and his tip reaches deep in hitting her gspot. “AhHHHH IM GONNA CUM!” She lets out her sobs and cums again. “I-I’m so s-sorry daddy! Please forgive me I-I couldn’t control it!” She shakes in fear under the man.

“You could’ve held it in, but you just like being a disobedient brat. Just you wait. Once I’m done with you, you’ll be afraid to make eye contact with me. I’ll fuck that little brat right out of you body, and fuck her too.”

“N-no! Please don’t hurt me master! I-I love you.”

Chan smirks, knowing that he has her tightly wrapped around his finger. “You love me? Already? Even though I’m fucking your guts out?”

“Y-you don’t l-love me?”

“No”

Y/N gasps and starts screaming and crying under him. “GET OFF ME IF YOU DON’T LOVE ME!” The little kicks her feet trying to get him off of her, clearly hurt that he doesn’t love her. “Listen here you fucking cunt. I won’t EVER love you. I don't love. I’ll fuck you everyday, you take it, no questions asked.”

“NO! I WANT SOMEONE TO LOVE ME!”

“NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE SUCH A NASTY WHORE!”

Chan throws her across the room in anger and his eyes start turning black. “You want to love a demon? Demons can’t love! And even if they could, why would I ever love you?!”

He picks her up off the floor and pins her against the whiteboard, getting closer to her face. “Am I unlovable?” She asked. The man picked her up and held onto her thighs. His tip rubbed her wet lips and Chan titled his head. “Do you think that you’re unlovable?” She nods. “Well you’re wrong. No one will ever love you.” His hand immediately covers her mouth as he thrust his hips up, shoving all of his cock in. She squeezes her eyes shut, but the tears keep coming anyways. At this point his words hurt more than his actions.

Her core began to sting from overstimulation. Each time he would thrust in, her breath would be knocked out of her, as well as some tears. She no longer wanted to talk to him, even though her pussy was saying something else. Her cunt was throbbing around his cock, suffocating it. This drove the demon insane. His black horns started to rise up in his head, indicating that he was sensitive but angry.

He held her still while fucking the attiude out of her. She sobs and tries to get him to loosen his grip, but he only holds tighter. “Daddy I’m going to cum!” Her hair sticks onto her forehead and she rolls her eyes back feeling him destroying her gspot. “Don’t cum yet, hold it in” her eyes widen and she quickly sucks everything in. She clenches her jaw and starts crying again, but this time, a lot louder. “I-I can’t hold it!”

“HOLD IT!” The demon bites on her neck, sucking some blood out. She screams and kicks her feet, wanting out. “Too much- daddy please!”

“Cum for me whore! Cum all over my cock!”

Y/N moans and throws her head back, banging it on the whiteboard. She spills her white juices on his cock, while he releases in her. They stay like that for thirty seconds, trying to catch their breath. Chan drops her onto the floor and she lands on her buttocks. “Get on your fucking knees” the little is quick to obey and gets in knees infront of her master.

“When I cum, I cum a lot.” He strokes his cock super fast until his cum shoots at her face and tits. “Open your mouth.” She opens her mouth and his thick, sweet cum lands on her tongue. Chan looks down and spits in her mouth too. “Swallow.”

Y/N gulps it all down while making eye contact with his black eyes. He picks her up off the ground and praises her for taking it. The man was about to lick his cum off her face until someone walks in,

“Chan, what’s taking-” Felix’s eyes widen and jaw drops.

“Perfect timing brother. I was just about to call you.”

To be continued~

——————————————————————————

Y’all already know an aussie threesome bout to happen.

Not edited… too tired 😓

Edit: I STILL HAVENT EDITED IT SOMEONE HELP ME! SCHOOLS SLAPPING MY ASS HARDER THEN BANG CHAN!

Don’t make fun of me for dumb mistakes:(

It 1:34am 🥺

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 26

I finished my call with Connie, who was begging for details about just how hot things had gotten between Bucky and me, forcing me to ask her how she’d feel if I pressed her for details about her sex life with Joey.

“What do you want to know?”  She asked, clearly settling in for a LONG chat.  “Favorite positions?  How we have to squeeze it in between games or how we have to smother noises so Bryn doesn’t hear us having fun times and want to see what Mommy and Daddy are doing so she can join in?”  I cringed so badly that I felt certain she could FEEL it.  “Seriously, Brooke, I’ll share anything you want to know.”  

“Yeah, I’m good,” I shook off the idea of Joey naked, a guy who was like a brother to me.  “I thought it would nip your curiosity in the bud, weirdo.”

Connie snickered.  “Sure,” I could hear her opening a can of something, soda or booze I couldn’t guess.  “I have to live through you, Brookie, you’re my single friend who is dating an AVENGER.”  I shook my head and rolled my eyes.  “Bucky Barnes isn’t just an Avenger, he’s Captain America’s best friend who happens to be over a hundred years old and still looks like he looks.  I mean, there are LAYERS of hotness there.”  

I couldn’t disagree with her there, so I gave her a few nuggets to keep her from going completely batty.  Enough to whet her appetite, but not enough to make me unable to make eye contact when both Bucky and I were in her presence together.  After promising to check in with her within REASON, I told her goodbye and got out of the car - grabbing my camera from the trunk and then locking the car before heading down the docks in search of inspiration for my portfolio.  

I spent the day capturing life on the docks in a small Louisiana town.  Instead of focusing on Sam and Bucky, with a dose of Sarah and her sons, I weaved through the other boats and fishermen snapping shots that caught my eye - the way the light danced off the ripples on the water or the way the men and women worked with purpose but also with a shared love of their jobs.  No one posed, even when they took notice of me snapping pictures, they simply took my presence as a normal one.  Maybe equating me with Sam’s return and Bucky’s added residency - just one more person to join their group and the camera came along for the ride.  

I was sitting on a bench going through the frames as the sun was sinking lower when I felt him join me, his shadow my first warning, but his warmth coming soon after.  

“You kept your distance today,” Bucky’s arm found a home along the back of the bench and across my shoulders, the scent of hard work and his musk invading my senses and getting the smile I’d decided was his alone to curl across my lips.  “Did you get any good shots?”  He leaned closer, our temples touching so he could see the viewer.

“I didn’t do too badly,” I offered, tilting the camera a little so he could see better.  “How about you?  Is the boat looking good enough to sell?”  I moved closer, like a moth to a flame, needing to be closer to him.  

He hummed, moving his free hand to help my immobile finger click through my pictures.  “It’s getting there.”  He paused at a picture I’d taken that had the boats out of focus, but the ripples of the water were perfectly in focus, the light capturing each ripple and you could see the fish just below.  “How do you do this?”  He sounded so impressed, like he couldn’t imagine anyone being able to do it.  

I shrugged.  “It’s the same as with the boys and the shield really.”  It was, you just had to capture the light at the right moment.  “The light has to hit at the right moment, and you have to be in the right spot.”  It wasn’t that huge of a deal, almost anyone with a camera and patience could do it.  “It does look nice.”  

“Nice,” he shook his head and turned to stare into my eyes.  “Brooke, you amaze me.”  I opened my mouth to tell him if he was shocked by this trick he should see what I could do with a color splash editing, but he didn’t give me a chance, his head dipped and his mouth met mine and anything I planned on saying died as the urge to taste him took over.  

Just like when I arrived and we first saw one another at Sarah’s house, everything else fell away and we forgot where we were and that there were other people nearby.  When Bucky touched me, when our lips met we forgot the world - but lucky for us Sam was close by and he came to our “rescue”.  With a gentle tap on Bucky’s head and a LOUD reminder that we were still on the docks, we managed to pull apart, but it was a close one.

“Y’all are going to end up in jail for indecent exposure,” Sam was smirking, dimple digging deep in one cheek.  “I swear to God, I think a few of these folks were using their cell phones to record y’all and no one wants to see that go viral.” My eyes went wide just thinking about Connie getting her eyes on that - Shit.  “Yeah, exactly.”  He shook his head, but his grin didn’t leave his face.  “Might I suggest you head back to your hotel?  You know, before someone calls the police, or the dock catches fire?”  

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “You act like no one down here ever kisses in public,” he stood up and held out his hand to help me up.  “I swear, Sam, you’re a prude.”  He shook his head.  “I expected someone from YOUR time to be more OPEN.”  He was staring at Sam like he expected better and that had me biting my lip to hold back my laughter.  

“PDA is a fine line to walk, Bucky Barnes,” Sam countered.  “A FINE line, and what y’all were doing was crossing the line into the indecent.”  Sam shook his head.  “Should head to a church and light a candle, that’s what you should be doing.”  

“You’re advising that I go to Mass?”  Bucky was staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind and I was thinking I was going to end up pissing my pants from this showdown.  “Are you even Catholic?  Are you sure I am?”  He was staring at Sam and I couldn’t look at either of them anymore, or I’d fucking die.  

“Pretty sure Brooke is,” Sam tossed out and I snorted, I couldn’t help it, it just slipped out.  “See!” Not sure how my snort was proof, even though I AM Catholic, but still.  “She is, told you.”  

“She snorted at you because you’re crazy,” Bucky sounded like he was about to call the loony bin to have Sam locked up.  “Light a candle.”  He sighed.  “We’ll light candles, alright.”  He was still holding my hand, but his fingers were sliding over my knuckles in a way that told me those candles weren’t going to be anywhere near a church.  “Candles, a nice hot bubble bath, then bed -” my stomach clenched and a few other places.  “And trust me, Sam, if we DO go to church?  The priest is gonna need to go to Mass to have someone to confess to afterward.”  

We were in the car on the way to the hotel and I was still holding back laughter and I was feeling a little - well to be honest, Bucky set a pretty high fucking bar.  It was quiet again, but I had some thoughts to be lost in.  Finally I had to let something out, so I went with the giggles from the utter insanity of it all. 

“Better?”  Bucky asked, once I let out most of the hysterical laughter I’d pent up during his and Sam’s back and forth.  I gasped myself back to some sense of calm, and nodded, but then the absurdity of what he had alluded to about what we would be getting into during our alone time started to set in and I wondered if I could even manage that level of - what the fuck was he thinking?!

“The priest is gonna need to confess after is he?”  I was fidgeting, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into with this superman?  

Bucky chuckled, pulling into the lot of our hotel, but then he realized that I wasn’t joining him and he parked and turned to me.  “Brooke?”  Seeing my fingers tugging at my shirt hem and fiddling with the seatbelt, he unbuckled it.  “What is it?”  

“That’s a pretty damn high standard, Buck.”  I bit my lip and his thumb met my teeth and traced where I was worrying the skin.  “I don’t want to disappoint.”

“Oh, doll, no.”  He shook his head and unbuckled his own seatbelt.  Pulling me to him, he held me and told me that I couldn’t disappoint him, ever.  “You are more than I deserve, more than I can ever hope to deserve.”  I was about to argue, but he stopped me.  “This is me calming you down, Brooke Ashley,” he reminded me.  And I smiled at him.  “I may have went a bit overboard in baiting Sam, but what we have - it’s more than I ever expected to ever have with anyone.”  His brow was furrowed and he was cupping my face between his hands, holding me as carefully as if I were made of glass.  “You and me, Brooke.  We could make a priest blush without trying, but if we DID try,” and that did it, I laughed, and his smile came back.  Then our lips met and all was right in our world again.  

We didn’t need the car horn to stop us this time.  We even managed to bring my camera equipment and our phones upstairs with us.  We ordered dinner and ate first.  We did have a bubble bath, a tight squeeze in that hotel bathtub let me tell you, but then - like he’d taunted Sam, we came together in the hotel bed with enough force and need to make sure that should I choose to mention it during my next confession or Bucky during his - the priest would no doubt want to have a moment with his own confessor. 

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 5)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 My Master Post

Emile hummed a quick tune as he pulled into the grocery store parking lot near his apartment. He’d just finished his last session of the day with Kai and Remy had asked that he watch Virgil this evening after work and possibly this weekend, so Emile was picking up something to cook for dinner before heading over there. He was going to grab ingredients to make Virgil’s favorite dinner, spaghetti and meatballs (well his actual favorite dinner was pineapple pizza from the local pizza joint, but Emile wanted to serve the boy something at least somewhat healthy for once in his life.)

That in mind, he went straight to the pasta aisle. While contemplating which of the spaghetti noodles he should grab, he noticed a man with a cart also perusing the aisle. He glanced at the contents of the man’s cart. “That’s a lot of cheese there friendo,” he commented.

“I’m trying to make homemade macaroni and cheese,” the man divulged with a smile.

“That’s always fun,” Emile replied, smiling back himself.

“I’ve never done it before. Do you have any suggestions for noodles?”

“Hmm… how about shell ones?”

“Ooo, like the boxed Velveeta shell macaroni, but better!” He enthused. “Aw! They have mini ones!” He snatched the box excitedly. “They’re so cute!”

“They are,” Emile agreed as he finally selected the whole wheat store brand spaghetti and slid it into his cart.

“Thanks for the suggestion! Have a nice day,” the man said and turned to leave.

“Bye!” Emile called after him.

He then continued on his quest, grabbing pasta sauce and a lot of fresh vegetables to sneak into the canned sauce as well as to leave in his brother’s home with the hopes that either his brother or his nephew might actually eat something healthy for once if it was right there. (Doubtful, but Emile could hope.)

He then spent an inordinate amount of time, debating which popcorn to get. Emile was thinking tonight would be a good night for movies with Virgil, and Virgil’s favorite snack was popcorn. He really should get the less buttery one, but he knew that Virgil liked buttery popcorn more. Perhaps he should compromise and get plain popcorn, but that one healthier ranch flavored powder topping that he liked. Decided, he grabbed the popcorn and the topping and went to exit the snack food aisle. “Hey,” a man with a mustache drew his attention away from his task. “My friend lost his little brother in the store. Have you seen a younger teenager walking alone around here? We think he might have gone to the snack food aisle.

Emile frowned. “Nope I haven’t seen anyone. I hope you find him soon.”

 “Thanks,” the man said already distracted with looking around again.

“Maybe try the front desk,” Emile suggested. “They could call over the intercom.”

“My brother’s already there,” the man replied waiving the suggestion off. “But thanks.”

“Well good luck!” Emile said as the man walked away towards the back of the store.

Gee, it took him almost 40 minutes to get groceries, he realized when he glanced at his phone in the checkout aisle. He shouldn’t let himself get that distracted.

Once he’d paid for the groceries, he took everything to his car and shoved them in the backseat. Right as he was about to stick the key in the ignition, he got a text message from his secretary.

‘Kai forgot his phone in your couch again, but your office is locked. Are you able to swing by really quick to let him in?’

He texted back ‘Sure! I’ll be there in 5.’ He wasn’t going to keep Kai away from his phone for the night and it wasn’t like the groceries he’d grabbed were extremely time sensitive. So, he drove back to the office.

Kai seemed thankful for his willingness to drive all the way back even if his ‘thank you’ was rather distracted as he was already typing something on his phone the moment after Emile handed it back to him.

He said goodbye to Kai and to his secretary and hopped back into his car intending to drive to Remy’s house. He’d just started the car when his phone started to ring.

“Yello,” he said cheerfully.

“Emile,” the serious voice greeted on the other end of the line. “This is Logan Sanders.”

Emile sobered immediately. “Hi Logan. Is something wrong? Do you have a patient for me?”

“No, actually,” Logan said. “It’s… about your brother.”

Emile froze. “What about my brother?” he asked. “Remy is on light duty.”

“He was yes,” Logan said. “However, there was a complication.”

“What type of complication?” Emile said and a bit of anger came to his tone unbidden.

“He was specifically targeted,” Logan said, and despite the calm way he spoke, Emile could detect the distress in his tone. “I’m very sorry, but he’s dead.”

“Oh, god. What about Virgil?”

“That’s the other thing,” Logan continued. “As soon as I heard of Mr. Gates death, I dispatched an agent to his home for protection, but when he arrived, his son was not there. There were signs of a break-in, but the perpetrator’s car was still there, and my agent believes Virgil fled the scene and was followed on foot. My agent is currently searching for him…”

“There’s a ‘but,’” Emile concluded.

There was a slight pause, just enough to tell Emile he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he was pretending to be. “I haven’t heard from that specific agent in over half an hour.”

“Okay,” Emile gulped, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. There were hundreds of explanations for that, but many of them were bad. “Okay. I’ll go look myself since I know him and where he might go. I’ll,” his voice cracked a bit. “Call you if I find anything.”

“Alright, and I’ll…” but whatever Logan was going to say was lost as a hand touched Emile’s shoulder.

Emile screamed and tossed his phone as he accidently slammed his elbow into the car horn making it blare.

“Calm down! It’s just me,” said a voice.

“Frickin Frozone shitake mushrooms terrible tigger fish paste and cabbages, Remington!”

“You could curse like a normal person, Emile.”

“And you could not break into my car like a normal person,” Emile shot back turning around in his seat to face his older brother. “I’ll presume you’re not dead then.”

“Aw, were you worried about me?” he asked.

Violence is never the answer. At least that’s what he told his patients. Emile punched his shoulder the best he could from this angle. It clearly didn’t hit too hard as Remy just laughed.

“Sorry, Em,” he said reaching forward to ruffle his hair. Emile slapped him away.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Mega Bitch Ex decided she wanted me shot in the head and I decided I didn’t want that.”

“What does that mean?” Emile asked.

“It means,” Remy answered. “I faked my own death and while she thought I was dead,” he dug something out of his pocket and dangled it in front of him. It was a flash drive. “I stole this.”

“What is it?”

“Super-secret spy business.”

“Remy.”

“All that matters is she really shouldn’t have it and Logan will be very happy I got it away from her.”

“Speaking of Logan…” Emile had dropped his phone when Remy had surprised him, and the call had ended. He picked up the phone. “I should call him back.”

The phone was slapped out of his hand the second his picked it up.

“What the kriffing kriff Remy?”

“Please just say fuck. I beg of you,” Remy groaned. The phone starting ringing again from its place on the floor. Doubtlessly it was Logan since the last thing he’d heard was Emile screaming like he was being murdered.

“I need to answer that, Remy,” Emile said with a frown.

“You can’t. It’s too risky.”

“You literally just said you stole it for Logan. Why can’t I just answer the phone, say Remy’s fine actually, and he has a super-secret spy flash drive to give to you?”

“Because you don’t say shit like that over the telephone,” Remy told him while starting to wiggle his way into the front seat. “We’re going to take this thing to Logan in person and no one can know I’m alive until then.”

“I know you’re alive,” Emile pointed out.

Remy grabbed Emile’s phone when it stopped ringing and hit the power button to turn it off. He stuck it into his pocket. “Family doesn’t count,” Remy said. “…Also, I needed a ride.”

“Are you really going to keep my phone hostage this whole time and also what happened to your car?”

“It… uh… blew up,” Remy said. Emile stared at him blankly. “Yeah… so, anyway.”

“What do you mean it blew up?” Emile asked.

“I said ‘anyway.’”

“Saying ‘anyway’ doesn’t mean I just magically forget what you just said.”

Remy waved that off. “Anyway,” he said again. “We’ll have to pick up Virgil and … do something with him. I’m not leaving him home alone during this.”

“Right. I assume since you’re not dead that Virgil isn’t actually missing,” Emile concluded.

But instead of agreeing and telling Emile where Virgil was to go pick him up, there was silence. “Virgil is what?”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 6

[quizzical-paradox]

OK FUCK THIS NOISE IM GONNA CLASSPECT FUCKIN INVADER ZIM CHARACTERS BECAUSE I CAN AND CRINGE CULTURE IS DEAD. WELCOME TO THE HYPERFIXATION ZONE

(please keep in mind that this is a huge shitpost and isnt meant to be taken seriously at all--)

Zim = Prospit, Bard of Doom

Ok this one should be kinda obvious. Abusing and manipulating the powers of doom and never even benefiting from it in the end? Overall being full of themselves and is ALWAYS confident, no matter what? 100% Zimcore. Need I say more.

Gir = Prospit, Knight of Heart

Never thought I’d see the day when I’d have to classpect GIR of all people. Or, dogs. Or, robots. Anyhow, GIR being a Knight of Heart...kinda works. After all, what the IZ universe mostly lacks is optimism, heart, and overall that kinda positive stuff--which is what Gir brings to the table, along with Minimoose. I’m smart.

Minimoose = Derspit, Witch of Space

I AM CLASSPECTING A FLOATING PURPLE MOOSE. Oh my absolute god. Anyway, I couldn’t decide on a lunar sway for Minimoose, so I just went with Derspit because yes. Anyway, as we can see in ETF, Minimoose CLEARLY has space-manipulating powers. He teleported an ENTIRE PLANET, for god’s sake. He uses it mostly to the advantage of others, but he mostly benefits from it indirectly because Zim is an idiot, so I made him a Witch. For all we know, Minimoose could be god-tier already and noone would bat an eye.

Dib = Derse, Seer of Void

Pretty much any paranormal investigator character could be a Seer of Void, not gonna lie. They're just like that, ya know. Anyway, a sense of wanting to understand the unseen, the unknown, and even the nonexistant is a TOTAL Dib move. Like holy shit that fits way too much.

Gaz = Derse, Rogue of Rage

Gaz. Gaz sweetie. You can’t just hoard all that rage. You gotta leave some for another poor bastard--shit she’s already gone. Fuck. Anyway, I feel like Gaz being Ragebound is...kind of a given. I mean, she already canonically saves up and hoards a bunch of Rage and unleashes it on some other poor utterly fucked soul, so this works. Trust me.

Membrane = Derse, Heir of Space

Okay just hear me out here. He’s well-versed in creation, he does it mostly for the benefit of others, AND he’s pretty space-oriented in the first place. Seriously, everything about the man just SCREAMS Heir of Space. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong. See, you can’t. Checkmate.

Almighty Tallests = Prince(s) of Hope

Welp, the Tallests are Eridan kinnies, who knew. Also YES they share a classpect, they're practically identical, gimme a break. Anyway, the reason I chose Prince of Hope rather than Prince of Space was 1: we already have way too many space players so we dont need two more. And 2: they already destroy hope by being galactic monarchs and conquering planets--plus, they destroy WITH hope by being naive to the consequences of their actions, as seen in ETF. Also, they're MONARCHS, so of course they're princes. Hee hoo I'm smart.

Tak: Derse, Mage of Doom

Yo holy shit, Tak is a Sollux kinnie. ...I need to make a shitpost of that now. Anyway, the reason I made Tak a Doombound mage is because she has CLEARLY, canonically, fought against Doom throughout her backstory (failing the exams and being banished for god knows how long, only to return and fall to Zim after carefully constructing a plan, etc.) and, since Zim is a Doombound Bard, that would make her defeat as his hands a way of her suffering Doom, therefore further securing her Magehood. She could have god-tiered after getting thrown into the sun, for all we know.

(EDIT: I FUCKING FORGOT THE BONUS CHARACTERS SO HERE YA GO:)

Chammy Wamboo = Prospit, Knight of Blood

Okay not gonna lie this one's a big brain move. See, Chammy's one of those shippers, focused on interpersonal relationships, right? Lil Meulin kinnie. So of course, she'd be Bloodbound. Since that's what the IZ universe lacks, then she's a Knight attempting to defend it and bring it to the table. (she shares a classpect with KARKAT OF ALL PEOPLE. WHAT THE FUCK)

Keef = Prospit, Thief of Blood

Yeah Keef being a Hero of Blood is kind of a given anyway. Poor boy, he doesn't MEAN to steal Blood per se, but he ends up doing it anyway because he just wants human connection. Tragic, but still annoying. RIP.

Zib = Derspit, Mage of Rage

Not to toot my own horn, but THIS ONE IS FUCKING BIG BRAIN. See, since Zib's backstory is heavily ambiguous, this one was a challenge. BUT, Zib has been shown to be fighting (and losing) against his own Rage in the form of his Zim half, and eventually suffers the consequences of his Rage by failing and being deserted in the Void. I considered Void for him due to the aforementioned reason, but I think Rage works better.

Pilot Dib = Derse, Thief of Beans Time

Now, this one is less big-brain, but it still works. Since Pilot Dib is suspended in IZ canon, and is widely regarded as the most feral character in that suspended canon, as well as being the most memorable character in the pilot itself, he basically has a monopoly over the entire time he spends on-screen. So, he basically stole the pilot's runtime and became the ULTIMATE DIB. Good for him, good for him.

Concept Dib = Derse, Seer of Mind

Hee hee, Concept Dib is a Terezi kinnie. Anyway, since Concept Dib is basically just Dib if he was Dexter, I feel like he'd be very Mind-oriented. And, being a scientist, he'd be dedicated to understanding his mind, so of course he'd be a Seer.

ANYWAY, that's my stupid fuckin analysis because im dumb and cringe culture is dead. if you see this no you dont <3

[musekicker]

A sort of into drabble to one of my oc’s Harris. 

Harris was a new face to IMP.

He was on the shorter side for a imp, long necked with curled horns and a series of splotches going up both arms.

Harris didn't really differ from most imps physically, and would just kind of meld in with the background of hell if not for the fact that the imp enjoyed his colorful make up. Anything shiny and bright in mostly eyeshadow, Harris loved. Not to say he did not love other make up products. It was just for him that eye shadow for some reason was his favorite.

There was plenty of time for him to practice his make up, even on work time as more often he stayed at the office, dealing with customers or whatever shit needed to be done around the office.

That wasn't to say that Harris couldn't be deadly. He knew his way around a weapon or two. But what made Harris a danger and a asset to the company was that he was good with coming up with strategies for missions.

A true asset since having been caught by humans at least twice. And the last time they had been caught needing Stolas's help. That was the reason that Blitz gave for hiring Harris when he had came in to apply to the company. 

Though that had been the reason he had been hired, it was also a bit of the root of some annoyance in the office. This was because the imp had the insufferable character trait of being very, very observant. That meant he was good at reading people and his surroundings.

He also have the trait where he had no filter and would not shut up about what he observed. Harris had started off the interview with Blitz talking about the downsides of the office layout and maybe one or two harsh observations about Blitz's suit.

The only thing that really saved Harris from getting kicked out of Blitz's office with a possible volley of bullets after him was the other details he had noted. That being the possible origin of Blitz's most recent wounds and then rattling off a series of things Blitz could do to lessen the chance of it happening again.

Not long after, Harris was announced as the newest member of IMP.

And while Harris could be irritating with his lack of filter, he did make friends with the team. Most surprising though was his friendship with Loona. Turned out they had the same taste in music and both liked to work with make up.

So one slow afternoon when Harris was working on his eye shadow, Loona took note of the long, black case of eye shadow had that had a pink dots logo on the top. She knew instantly what that was.

"Fuck, Isn't that a limited edition make up color pallet from- ?" Loona asked.

Harris looked up to Loona, having just finished up his eye shadow.

"Yes it is." Harris said. "I had to fight this one  six armed demon for it. But I won that fight. And it was worth it."

"I didn't even know they were in stock." Loona said.

"The store I got it from was being very secretive about the roll out of the product. But I've been to the store enough times to observe how the employees act when they are about to bring out a high demand product. I happened to be there to observe that behavior so hung around a little longer." Harris said, closing the eye shadow case.

"Oh."

There was barely a lull in the conversation before Harris pulled out another case.

"I have a extra one. Do you want it?" Harris asked.

"Shit, really? Give it!" Loona said.

Harris handed the extra eyes shadow case to Loona.

She immediately opened the case to look over the color pallet closer.

"I don't normally go for the same shade of make up you go for, but I do like the grave yard grey enough I might try that out." Harris said.

"Dark as my soul black is my favorite." Loona said.

She thought a moment.

"I'm surprised they didn't limit the number of eye shadow cases you could get." Loona said.

"Oh." Harris said "They did. But they forgot to put up that sign declaring that before they put out the make up. I made that point and rambled on about it for awhile. I think they just wanted to get rid of me so let me buy two."

"Nice." Loona said.

Loona settled in to work on her eye shadow a bit when Moxxie walked in.

"Are you two working on your make up again?" Moxxie asked.

"Fuck off Moxxie." Loona said.

"Moxxie is only jealous that he can not pull off this season eye shadow colors so very well." Harris said.

"I can so! Wait... I don't even care-" Moxxie said.

"Poor Moxxie, always a autumn, never a spring." Harris.

Moxxie, who had only been in the room for mere seconds just threw his arms up in defeat and stormed right back up, not interested in dealing with this nonsense.

Harris and Loona high fived.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-05-19

Figured an upd8 was coming, it’s felt like enough time has passed for one.

Huh, looking at my last post I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to play through Pesterquest sometime... work is busy and stressing me out a bit, I’m not sure when I’ll have the energy on the side to do that.  (Maybe I’ll livetweet it like I did Undertale a while ago, but this time not looking at my twitter replies so I don’t get spoiled by One Guy™?)

Also, including bonus commentary on A Threat Sensed.

Okay, going in completely blind.  I’d guessed from context that we’re hopping over to Meat side to get a chapter there before we can come back to actually see Yiffy?

Yep.  Okay, what is this about exactly?

(Agh, dammit, I’ve been copying and pasting so much at work remoting into Windows lately that now I’m automatically trying to hit control-C instead of command-C to copy.)

> CHAPTER 9. How Goes The Eulogizing, Dear?

CONTENT NOTE: This chapter contains Child Abuse.

Which one???

Wait

JANE: (Where is he?) JANE: (It's a question I've found myself asking many times in recent days.)

Holy SHIT we get two Candy chapters in a row???  So we might see her right away??  No, it’s gotta just be another tiny glimpse.

(Has two Candy chapters in a row happened before?  Future Boots, scroll back up and put this here. FUTURE BOOTS: “I forgot to scroll back up and put that here.” EDIT: Also, not the first time with two in a row, but it IS the first time with THREE in a row, huh.)

So Jane has to be talking about either Tavros or Dave.  --Oh, if this was a Candy Side chapter title, I guess Rose or Jade is eulogizing Dave for John?

> (==>)

JANE: (Where now is our merry savior?) JANE: (Where is the horn that was honking?) JANE: (Where is the cape and the codpiece, and the...) JANE: (The...) JANE: (Oh, fiddlesticks.)

What?  Is she reading a childrens’ book?  --Oh.  She’s eulogizing Gamzee.  So that gives us a third option, where the rebellion crashes the funeral somehow, probably audiovisually rather than in person.  (Which would make sense, given Candy practically began with Gamzee crashing Dirk’s funeral.)

> (==>)

Ah never mind, she’s still writing it.

That sure is a single button drama-remote that’s going to be pressed at some point.  Oh, and who the fuck keeps a spork in a pen cup???  --No no, don’t say it’s one of those pens with a spork at the eraser end, either ready-made or rubber-banded to the side.  That would make sense.  You totally know it isn’t that and is just a spork.

JANE: (Okay, poetry is out.) JANE: (What else?) JANE: (Hrm...) JANE: (I've always been pretty good at crying on cue.) JANE: (Could I try staging an emotional breakdown?) JANE: (That could work; playing to people's humanity.)

Why were you crying in Jake’s arms about his death if you didn’t care that much?  Did you just want him to hold you and kinda make him feel in on things again?  Or did you just cry yourself out about him?

JANE: (Or whatever is the more inclusive term.)

I bet the rest of Earth C figured out a more inclusive term millenia ago FUCK I accidentally added millennia to my dictionary misspelled instead of correcting it hold on--

...There, killed the entry for it.  ...Huh.  Take a look at my Chrome dictionary’s custom-added words over the years, apparently:

Caliborn Eridan Kanaya Matriorb Meenah Tavros alchemiter dichotomic nephilim reblogged uncaptchalogues uncaptchaloguing

That’s fun.

Okay back to reading. Millennia.  Phew!  Where was I.

JANE: (One really good and calculated weep could do it, I think.) JANE: (But then there's the danger that I might get carried away and do it for real.) JANE: (And I can't risk that.)

So still feeling something, just too used to calculating over the past years.

JANE: (What can I say about him that will stir up their emotions?) JANE: (Do I mention the stuff about the milk?) JANE: (Think Crocker, think.)

WHY would you-- how much did Gamzee normalize adult breastfeeding?!

JAKE: Ahoy over there!

Not the best time.

(The thing with the divorce papers from the Epilogue and John implying he was planning with Jake to execute something that sounds like a divorce... is that going to be sprung here?  Did her lawyers send the divorce papers way back when she was in a fit of pique, and he just had them available to sign now at the tactical moment? Or... let me pull the exact text...)

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along. JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being. JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later. JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today.

(So is John going to submit the papers? Or did they already go through a while ago and default custody to John or something who’s going to adopt him too or some nonsense?  And did he plan this out with Jake NOW, or a while ago, and if only a while ago, is Jake going to KNOW whatever John’s about to pull in that respect is about to happen??)

> (==>)

Butte

Janepalme

> (==>)

JAKE: Er... how goes the eulogizing, dear?

Gah.  I completely forgot again that capitalized-first-letter chapter names don’t mean KANAYA is saying them.  That probably makes a lot more sense out of my wondering about the chapter title earlier to those of you who didn’t realize I was making that mistake.

JANE: It turns out that it's mighty difficult to find touching things to say about a person, the relationship with whom was predicated on deep-seated mutual loathing.

Hah!

--A loathing you regarded as largely more important to you than Jake ever was, by the way.  You asshole.

JANE: I imagine this is one of the reasons no funerary tradition was ever established on Alternia, besides the barbarism of their culture. DIRK: Jesus christ. JANE: Not only did a significant proportion of their interpersonality depend on romance in the form of hatred, but it was a society based on cruelty and violence. JANE: What reason could they have had to provide for the dead? JANE: What kind of last rites could they have even imagined?

I wondered for a moment why (bg!)Dirk of all people would react to a single line of her starting to bring up prejudices, but then I realized that (1) Brain Ghost Dirk is a little more Jakey, and (2) Dirk knew that more ranting would follow the first line.

JANE: I can't think of anything good to write about him because deep down, I hated his guts. JANE: But he was and is beloved of the multitude, so I have to think of something regardless. JAKE: Im not sure i understand. JANE: Don't worry your pretty little head about it. JANE: This is politics, Jakey. JANE: Lying through your two front teeth about people you hate is about as good a definition as it's possible to get. JANE: But, by gum, is it tiring work.

Mm.  It’s a position Jane put herself in, but it’s still a legitimate position once you’re there.

JANE: The funeral is tomorrow, after all.

Got it.

DIRK: Dude, the bowl. JAKE: Hm? JAKE: Oh, right. JANE: What is it now, Jake. JAKE: I brought something for our guest as well. JANE: You mean the prisoner. JAKE: Y...es.

Wait, bowl?

Oh god damnit which of you had the idea to feed her with a DOG BOWL.  Either of you could have thought of it, and either of you would be horrible for it.

> (==>)

Huh, that outfit on Yiffy looks familiar, like a reference to something.  And a black tail?  This definitely isn’t quite the look I was expecting from Jade Plus Rose, but I suppose the snazzy tie is a Roseish vibe.  Also reminiscent of Jade’s old Dead Shuffle dress.  Formal wear and soccer cleats??

JANE: She's over in the corner. JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite. JANE: I've seen to that already.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN.  I don’t see anything over her mouth!  Did she stick something in it, or drug her?  File her fucking teeth???

I mean I did forget the Child Abuse trigger warning to be fair.  Hoping whatever would be on her mouth is just not shown in-panel yet for stylistic reasons.

> (==>)

JAKE: Its only mac and cheese, sorry. JAKE: Its all I know how to make, haha. JAKE: ... JAKE: I um... hope you can safely partake of cheese? JAKE: ... JAKE: Well, JAKE: Bon appetit.

How the fuck did Jake eat on his island then?  --Oh right, preserved food cans that Grandma Jade stored up, I think I remember.  Why would cheese not be a thing for them, if it’s fine for Jade?  I know he’s probably not just worried about lactose intolerance.

Either way, if she’s drugged here, that’ll mean we won’t get a good idea of her for a while, so which is it...

> (==>)

DIRK: Bon appetit. DIRK: Seriously dude? JAKE: (What? Did i pronounce it wrong?) DIRK: Jake. DIRK: You put the food in a fucking dog bowl. JAKE: (It was all there was, ok???) JAKE: (I feel awful enough as it is without you getting on my case about it.)

Ah, missed the bone pun.  AND, yeah, Jake, you’re a fucking idiot, you could have put it in a cup or something.

JAKE: (So far ive yet to see anything come of that brilliant plan of yours.) JAKE: (Are you sure sending that message to the others was enough?)

Okay, so he IS coordinating this slightly.

> (==>)

Horrifying image to contemplate, eh Jane?

Or anger-inducing?

> (==>)

Seems about right!

> (==>)

Oh that’s a GREAT exasperated Jane face.

JANE: I hope you're not expecting dessert, young lady.

I like how Jane didn’t notice, comment on, or care about the bowl.  How can you hate a kid so much??

> (==>)

Oh I know why I felt like I recognized the outfit style, it’s because it’s ANIME AS FUCK.  Feels like some Persona 4 Arena nonsense, and I say that not having played any of those games or even remembering what they looked like.  Also, white hair, black fur’d dog parts?  Nice change of pace.

YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR... JANE: Oh no you don't.

Red text?  What color exactly... “#D00009”?  Huh.  That’s nowhere near Alt-Callie’s #FF0000, and darker than Dave’s #E00707.  In fact, let me go back and check those spilled color pins the commentary pointed out from an update or two ago...  no, the red pin is #E63225, closer to Dave’s color.  (Also, is Yiffy blocking the doorway out?  That’s a pretty slack chain then.)

Did Jane see to it that she wouldn’t bite with like, a water spray bottle?

(EDIT: Oh my FUCKING GOD, THAT's why it's #D00009...)

> (==>)

FUCK I didn’t notice the shock collar in the Yiffy image!  FUCK YOU, Jane.

> (==>)

Keeping someone in line with collars, especially ones that punish whenever one strays out of line, has always been a decent way for her to mix in some Doomy control of others to show how she’s “grown” to balance her main role and her Tiara-controlled-like inverse for more power.  Doom in part represents boundaries that you can’t cross without getting hurt or punished.

> (==>)

FUCK, those little buck teeth!?  D’:

JANE: That's more like it.

She HAS to have more of a reason for hating her than hating her parents, right?  Like, more than that and general racism applying to partdogfolk?

> (==>)

Hey fuck off with that!

> (==>)

This is a pretty cool ima-- are those piercings on her dog ear?  I didn’t notice that in the first shot, neat.

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam. JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake. JANE: I'm no longer going to play nice with you just because of your parents, however. JANE: That truce is over. JANE: Do I make myself understood?

What the fuck?  WHY would you do that?  Why does Jane run "Ms. Paint’s Home for Inconvenient Girls”?  What did Yiffy do to piss her off so much there, how much trouble could she have caused?

I don’t know if she’s referring to the behind-Kanaya’s-back part as disgusting or she’s just being MORE racist.

> (==>)

JANE: We don't want you passing out during the ceremony, do we?

Oh, just showing the hostage off during the clown funeral, huh?  Classy much?

> (==>)

JANE: Now, be a good hostage and get some rest, Yiffany dear. JANE: We've got a big day tomorrow.

For a politician, Jane’s not good at looking at herself in a mirror.

> (==>)

JANE: Night night. JANE: Hoo hoo.

> (Yiffy: Lights out.)

Huh, dream stuff is gonna be relevant out in Candy then? *click*

Okay, dark background all of a sudden.  Properly dramatic?  You even have to highlight the non-link “>” part of the Next link to see it.

> (==>)

-- thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG] --

Well, I don’t know WHY it’s happening, but the white-backed pesterlog suddenly on the dark site framing is certainly evocative.  Of like, a mood, or something.

TG: i thought he was pretty quiet down there. TG: we'll make a rebel of him yet! AG: Lol. AG: I think it's more that he can't sleep. AG: I know how he feels. TG: yeah. TG: today was a lot. AG: ... TG: do you wanna talk about it? AG: Ugh, not you as well.

It’s really jarring to transition between Homestuck’s “kids jarringly mentally resistant to freaking out about the end of the world” to HS^2′s more realistic “kids traumatized by their first firefight even though it was an overwhelming victory-escape”.

TG: but seriously, do you? AG: Not really. TG: not even about... you know? TG: her? AG: No. TG: ... are you sure? AG: A8solutely. AG: What are you, my moirail? AG: Just leave it, Harry. TG: ok.

Are they about to have an “I wonder what Yiffy’s like” talk?

> (==>)

Very similar Tav/Vrissy convo to the previous one.

GG: I havent ever shared a bedroom before,,, GG: Not even for a slumber party,,, AG: Tavvy, you are just a8out the saddest person I've ever met.

Well, we have an even better idea how horrible Jane can be with kids, now.  From Nanna to THIS is quite jarring.  I wonder how the double Nannasprites that must still be around here somewhere feel?

> (==>)

TG: nothing about my dad is cute. TG: what are you even saying. AG: Lmao. TG: seriously! TG: i think he has something against that word, even. he gets super weird about it. AG: He's a strange and funny m8n. TG: yeah. TG: ... TG: i think something bad must have happened.

...um.  What?  Why would John have some sort of trauma about the word cute or being called it?

Did John dress up as a hint of his buried June ambitions as a kid and Dad lavish him with “SO CUTE” praise in an epic supportiveness backfire that caused him to shelve the idea of wearing non-masc clothes and being happier on the flipside of gender ever again???  Because if that’s how June gets canonized as promised, it’s a little harsher than the back of my mind was hoping.  I guess it kind of had to be though from the premise of how it was read into his childhood for the original idea, though.  Fuck, I hope this Cute business is about something different from that (like a Terezi reference or such) just to get less John Sads.  (But still June.  Definitely still want to get June.)

> (==>)

Oh, and now Vrissy is doing nothing but talking about what she said she didn’t want to talk about, of course.  (Also I like how JANE’s now being called the Batterwitch.)

AG: And the worst part was they didn't even fight a8out it! AG: That made me madder than 8nything else. AG: It felt like I was the only person who even W8S mad! GG: I dont think thats true,,, AG: What would you know a8out it?! GG: Maybe nothing,,, GG: Sorry,,, GG: Its just,,, GG: To me,,, all the way through the conversation,,, aunt kanaya looked even angrier than you,,, AG: ... AG: Adults are so fucking weird.

Guh, I don’t want to be reminded how hurt a good chunk of the fanbase is by Kanaya getting hurt this badly.

Original Tavros was always SLIGHTLY perceptive of others sometimes, but maybe perceptiveness is being hinted at as a Tavros specialty?  We still don’t know his classpect/hero-title or have any firm guesses based on purely him evidence.  (Also, frightened kids of abusive households tend to learn to get perceptive pretty fucking quickly I hear.)

> (==>)

TG: dad was sitting in the cafeteria with aunt jade and your moms. TG: it looked like they were discussing something important... they were whispering and stuff.

[etc etc] Alright, the what-happened-to-Dave bit.  And I imagine they’re kind of helping John grieve there, since Rose and Jade have talked that out already.

TG: aunt kanaya's was the only face i could see. TG: she was standing next to them, but she wasn't looking at what was going on. TG: almost like she couldn't bear to. AG: I doubt it. Kanaya's got a8out as much Emotivity as a very reclusive stone. TG: ok, i think that is bullshit but whatever. TG: she saw me standing there, but didn't say anything. she just shook her head slightly, and pointed back out into the hallway i came down.

Yep, giving them some space to grieve.  Also-- gosh, shouldn’t Vrissy have the same emotive senses that Aranea implied Vriska shared with her?  Kanaya isn’t that EXPRESSIVE but she’s certainly full of emotion.  Also, I hope part of her not bearing to watch wasn’t lingering anger toward Jade and Rose mixing with that, but there probably was a bit of that too, though Dave being gone is so much harsher than that. --I just realized they might not have broken the news to Karkat yet, either.

AG: I guesadxcxzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz TG: vrissy?

Put to sleep by someone slumping down on your phone keypad, or surprised by something about the other conversation?

Oh shit, “other conversation” reminded me I didn’t look at Tavros’s chumhandle:

glutinousGymnast [GG]

HHHHHhhhhuh.  Hm... huh? hhhh.  huh?  what, but.  Why would.  ?????

I really don’t understand what that chumhandle or any of its entendres should signify in this context.

Also, this means for our new four kids we have TG, GG, AG, and ??.

> (==>)

GG: I think she might have succumbed to sleep quite suddenly,,, GG: It would explain the,,,,,, interesting messages I've been getting for a while,,, TG: hehe. TG: i guess that tracks. TG: she does that from time to time.

That’s... strange.  Homestuck’s taught us to be suspicious of that.

TG: ... TG: tav? GG: Yes,,, harry anderson,,,? TG: what does it feel like to know someone who's died?

Who is Harry referring to? (EDIT: Yes I know Gamzee for Tavros, but I meant Harry talks like he's worried he'll have to feel that way soon?)  Is he just kind of inferring that something bad might have happened to Uncle Dave?  Got that perceptive “parents are about to tell me about a death in the family” vibe?  Or did he overhear more than he let on to Vrissy?

...alright, that’s the last page of this update.  Looks like this chapter is going to continue to have a good bunch of grieving, or talk around it.

---

Now for Bonus Commentary for A Threat, Sensed.  For some reason I have a dim memory of like... reading this myself without commenting on it?  Or skimming it?  But I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that.  Weird.  Must have imagined doing it.

Ah, I think I saw the opening paragraph scrolling Patreon, and my mind kinda filled in the blanks, this is still looking new to me.

Okay, mostly banter and japes in the commentary here.  About Dirk “throwing a huge tantrum in his philosophy cave”.

We’ve had quite a bit of speculation on whether this is “really” Andrew. To that, I think we’d say that it doesn’t “really” matter.

Really?  That was speculated about?  :/

Here we discover that Dirk has not, as some people have speculated, been directly intervening into the Candy timeline, or influencing it in any way. In fact, he has a very hard time seeing anything going on there at all.

Mhmm, and that was a pretty important thing to learn.

A couple of years ago I might have agreed with the take that everything happening in Candy is simply too outlandish to ever happen naturally, without direct, villainous interference, but that was before literally every fucking batshit insane thing that has happened on Real Life Earth started going down, and now I will believe literally anything. 

This is a nice bit of distraction from the idea that at least the opening parts of the Candy story were written/narrated by Original, Alive Calliope over on meat side.  To refresh your memory of what was pointed out to me:

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls TEREZI: WH4T? ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise ROXY: some of it is like ROXY: weird and violent?? ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um ROXY: nudity???? TEREZI: >:? ROXY: yeah yikes ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

Which tracks with the initial out-of-character-seemingness of almost everyone at the start of Candy, and how they kind of tried to railroad things back onto the “Happy??” track after Dirk derailed it with his weird self-accumulation suicide, along with some of the flowery-idyllic descriptions of characters seeing each other bathed in a halo of light and such.

Of course, they’re not going to out-and-out STATE that Calliope was at fault for that narration, helping the Candy story not necessarily fall out the way it did “naturally”, until we finally get a glimpse of her on the heroes’ ship in Meat probably still painting the continuing Candy events, inspiring them into the void of the singularity with her latent powers.  Til then, it’s a bit of misdirection whenever the topic is to be brought up.  Along with a mix of Roxy’s late-Candy point to John of more or less “why COULDN’T we have done this naturally? you don’t know”.

He might even think that he has more direct power over the narrative than Hussie does himself. Surprise, motherfucker, you are a fictional character. 

:p

I’ll quote this next part in full:

There’s been talk of whether or not this bonus was written in the two days between its release and the Yiffy reveal chapter. The answer is--no. It was written over a month ago. But I think the things it addresses were not difficult to suss out. Obviously, Dirk is highlighting the issues that the readership are having with Yiffy, in his typical Dirk fashion. If it seems a little defensive, well...I suppose it is. Yiffy is one of the two hard lines drawn in the sand, and all of us love her, and we’re hoping that everyone else will love her too. But more than that, it focuses on the fact that update culture has a rhythm to it--shock, revulsion, acceptance (or not), and then excitement (or not). Will it follow that pattern this time? Who knows. I guess we’ll find out. 

Yeah, given what was going to be dropped on us I expected they would have had exactly this lined up, especially because Andrew specifically mandated Yiffy.  --I wonder why they aren’t mentioning that somewhere in the commentary and only on one of their Twitters?

Also quoting this:

There’s something both incredibly “cringe” and self-indulgent, as well as philosophically intriguing, about the author arguing with his villain, especially since he’s writing both halves of the conversation himself. You are, for all intents and purposes, trying to solve a problem that you have created for yourself. You are looking an aspect of your personality in the eye and asking, hey, what the fuck, man?

But in the end, isn’t that what every story is? Trying to untie knots that you put in the rope yourself?

Since it’s part of the central struggle of this story, and kind of the question Andrew’s tried to imply with every Homestuck work about what right we have to keep these characters trapped in a story, and if they’d be better off escaping it.

I’m really trying to avoid quoting so much of this, since the commentary is paid...  but I think we can make an exception here?  I’ll have only quoted about half of it; just, the really plot-important half.  Plus, I left out a LOOOT of japes.

Dirk has a certain idea of how stories are supposed to go. That’s pretty much what the Epilogues is about. The audience also has a certain expectation of how a story is supposed to go. In a way, the Epilogues were also about that. They were taking a story that had reached the traditionally “acceptable” happily ever after, and saying, wait, no. What happens next? Thinking past happily ever after in any story is a terrifying prospect. Once Cinderella marries the prince, what then? Sure, she got what she wanted, but who knows that it will be everything she dreamt it would? What if she changes her mind, if not today, what about ten years from now? What if the prince dies of malaria? 

And I’m...

Yeah I don’t have anything else to add here, I’m kind of out of brain juice to think about this tonight.  BUSY day I had.  Y’all take care!

[child-of-hurin]

notes to myself... random LPM disjointed thoughts and comments / book 3 & 4 spoilers

1. Book 1 and 2 - Ophélie is the girl in the tower - The tower of Farouk. 

Despite living in a so-called ~matriarchy, the Doyennes/society keeps trying to make her submit to a family-based society, and, failing to do so, send them to the patriarchal tower of Farouk. They hope that, if the mother-oppression can’t force Ophélie into the wife-mother role, the father/husband-oppression will. 

2. Book 4 - Apart from the obvious ‘Tower of Babel’ symbolism, it also makes me think a lot of the tarot card The Tower, also called The House of God. It is actually impressive how much it fits...

(Also: two towers! Makes me think of that thing I saw here that the only people who live in towers are princesses and wizards. And Ophélie is one on book 1 and 2 and another on book 3 dbhnjmkf... and then on book  4 instead of ascending, she finally descends... heaven and hell)

3. It is obvious that Blasius and Wolf are echoes of  Ophélie and Thorn respectively, down to communication issues. IMO Elizabeth seems a reflect of Thorn as much as a reflect of Ophelie....rigid, thin, distant, brutal in her communication, as desperate to form a real bond as to keep as distant as possible... except she loves Hélene where Thorn hates Farouk...    

4. I really like how Ophélie and Thorn’s communication issues are handled in book 3; it is easy to focus on Ophélie’s fuck ups because we are her, but I think it’s fascinating that Thorn doesn’t have a mirror. It is definitely a way of (symbolically) locking Ophélie outside, as well as locking himself inside. He doesn’t give himself an escape route. 

5. There’s a lot about mirrors and how one sees oneself... because Ophélie saying Thorn looks disgusted before crossing a mirror makes me think that there isn’t a ‘true’ reflection, or a universal truth about someone’s character? It’s gotta be more subtle than that... It makes me think of how Thorn is always embarrassed to catch the way Ophélie looks at him: he stares at her when she’s fighting him, but looks away when she’s looking at him with love or admiration. “I’m not used to being looked at me like that”?? The self he sees in Ophélie’s gaze is a self he has trouble recognizing/accepting...

6. I’m absolutely fascinated by how in moments of vulnerability Thorn has some attitudes that are more often seen in female characters... I love love love their first sex scene, I love that Ophélie tells him to undress, I love the development where Thorn is always the one asking for physical affection one way or another but usually waiting for Ophélia to take the initiative... Culminating with Thorn saying she will have to ASK HIM IN MARRIAGE... I love that Thorn is Eurydice to Ophelia’s Orpheus... .. Of couse it’s NOT a reversal but, basically:

7. I love that book 3, when they go to Babel, the arc of ultimate gender equality, Ophélia - who  comes from a matriarchy and has always had an extremely feminine presentation - steps up to some more traditionally ‘masculine’ performances, both in appearance but esp. in taking the active role in the relationship with Thorn, who takes the passive, waiting role. In this book, Thorn is the prisioner in the tower, isolated, unattainable, (wearing the bride’s white in a bedroom ‘virginal and spare’), who will be freed only by the partner’s proof of true love... I mean... Fuck!!!! Ophélie even needs to complete some tasks in order to get information (from Mediana, the wizard in the tower dfbnfjmkd) and ascend to the tower and find Thorn!!!.... Oh, I don’t know, I just like it...

7.5 (EDIT). I almost forgot, but also!! 

The tower of Babel: the tower built by humans trying to reach heaven and godhood. Check.

Ophélie joins at the very bottom. She and her peers wear midnight-blue and silve. Meanwhile, Thorn, locked at the very unattainable top, wears white and gold, and an unsubtle golden sun brooch.... Let it be noted that the Genealogists know their symbolism well enough :O

Thorn goes from his black Pole uniform to a completely white uniform Ophélia goes from gray to black, and then to white in book 4....

Ophélie tries to climb the tower from within, because she wants access to the top. Failing that, instead of ascending (book 3) she descends (book 3, book 4). In both cases, she achieves the truth at the top (Eulalie’s work room and mirror, the horn of plenty) once she hits bottom and accesses Another Self (the mirrored isolation room in Book 3 as well as the end of the program in Book 4). 

It’s really interesting though that the horn of abundance is simply fake. Rather than give, it takes....Book 4 is so symbolically juicy, it makes me want to sink my teeth in it!!!!!! I really wish someone more competent than me analyzed and wrote more about it sdbhnjdmk

8. I think it is FASCINATING that Eulalie is a WOMAN and that she creates LIFE but?? once she (becomes fixed in her trauma and) usurps the god she becomes recognized as a ‘male’ entity... The Father... tbh it is amazing, I love it, no explanations, it just Is. Good job CD I love it  👌

[adozentothedawn]

First Playthrough Log Pathfinder: Kingmaker Part 31

Oh joy, it seems the mirror quest is bugged, because it doesn’t tigger. The only mention of this I found was in a post from may 2019. 

Aaaand now the game got stuck.

Ah there you go! Now it works.

Is that one ghost guard the elf king? A little disapointing but okay.

This feels weirdly anticlimactic. I haven’t taken a single of damage in the fight against Nyrissa because all she did was just heal herself. What to do with her now...

I mean I’m really tempted. More gameplay? And it would fit Tamary’s character... I’m just annoyed at myself that I didn’t save after defeating her.

j/ Mister, you are a giant floating ball of fire. With spikes. Calling you a lantern is like calling a burning house an oven. Like yeah I guess you can use it for that, but it seems kind of overkill.

I just realized I never saw Lander again, so maybe he’ll show up here. Edit: Yeah, there he is!

j/ Those are way too many Irovetti’s. At least they’re fittingly weak.

I just got my decleration of love from Kanerah and Kalikke and I must say I’m impressed. It’s great. I love it. It was so sweet and all I want is to hug them. I promise they’ll get a better wedding than just that though. 

j/ The last battle and Nyrissa just killed a dominated Jubilost. Thanks Nyrissa, remind me to never recruit you again.

What to do now... Not gonna lie, essentially becoming a fey does sound kind of dope. But also... immortality? Meh. At least if my wives don’t get same I’m very hesitant. Not gonna deal with Nyrissa though. I really don’t know why, but have less pity for her than for the Lantern King. Maybe it’s the voice actors, Nyrissa’s voice actress is just too good at sounding like a bitch.

I can’t find the actual ending slides unfortunately, but I did find something that said he was the chaotic ending and Nyrissa the good one, and like, why? What about Nyrissa is good? Like I get that she was fucked over and all, and we can totally have a discussion on her moral ambiguity, but how would allying with her lead to a good ending? Because in all honesty, but her and the Lantern King are kind of wonky with morals. They’re both selfish dicks, but they’re endgoal isn’t to hurt people. They’re very fine with it, but it’s not the point of what they’re doing. Anyway, I think I’ll both to fuck off. They can have their game somewhere else, Tamary is fine with the absolute batshit insane story she gets out of this. Becoming a fey would be dope, but also he admitted to being lonely and seem kind of insane. So yeah no thanks.

Aw, no he’s sad. If I’d been able to I would have told both they’re welcome to visit as long as they behave themselves. I can play tricks with him alright, I just don’t want immortality.

Okay, and now I’ll put a break, because after this will be my reactions to the ending slides, which make this thing even longer than usual and I don’t want to annoy people too badly. At least not with long posts.

You know, I pity what happened to Nyrissa in the beginning. It was a bad idea, but the Lantern King is also a dick with no sense of scale. She didn’t deserve that. But I don’t really pity her for her following fate, because that’s entirely her choice. He pulled back and gave up. She could do whatever she wanted to, for example apologize to her sister who were definitely the victims here, instead she chooses pointless revenge.

The republic thing is weird but okay.

Oh fuck you, I didn’t spend frivoulously. I was rich beyond reason in the end. 

My treasury is full of artifacts, but I’m out of money. Okay.

I can live with Brevoy sulking at me. 

Oh come on, no need to be so mean to Lander. It’s not like he was ever a real threat, and he actually did his job fine. I just hope he doesn’t get himself killed again.

Good for Amiri. Did her job well, and when she noticed it wasn’t for her, left them better than they were before. 

Not sure I’m too happy with Pitax, but it’s not bad enough to really annoy me. Let Moskoni have some money if he does his job well. (Even though apparently I don’t have any.)

I’m fine with the academy thing. As long as the leaflets are more creative than the last ones they’re at least entertaining.

Good for Varn! He’s a good man and deserves good things!

I’m glad Kesten stays. Tamary’ll see if she can find his sweetheart and she’s interested will make sure she can live here with her mother. For Tamary, fucking over noble marriage rules is a matter of principle. (As will be shown in the thing I’m currently working on.) Edit: Nevermind, she showed up on her own. Well good for them.

I’m glad the Sweet Teeth are having fun.

I’m a bit dissapointed at this non explanation for the Storyteller. Especially after that last bit it really feels like there’s something missing. Oh well, I hope he has fun wherever he goes. Maybe he’ll come visit later.

Yeah, like I said I have some issues with Valerie, but that would take too long to do here. Maybe later. But it’s not really the ending and more the general concept that I have an issue with, for what it’s worth the ending is fine I guess.

I like Harrim’s ending better than I expected. Nice.

I absolutely adore that Jaethal is now hanging out with Salim. I desperately need a buddy cup story about these two. I would die laughing.

Octavia is fine. I’m not really sure what else to say. Not very surprising, not very interesting, but fine. Good for her.

I like that Regongar’s plan for the future is basically just woo Octavia. That’s a romcom I’m down for!

Tristian stays, which is nice of him. Thank you.

I’ll gladly be godmother of Ekun’s baby, but I won’t lie, I’m not terribly into him marrying Elina. She was a kind of a creep. I’ll just have to hope Tamary managed to talk some sense into her, much like the Watcher does with Xoti.

I love Jubilost. He’s great. Not super into the game trying to ship him with Nyrd, it just seems kind of pointless, but I’m super into the rest. You are always welcome here Jubilost!

I’m so glad that Nok-Nok is happy. Even if his ending slide is still worded a bit... well mean, at least he seems to have found his place.

The whole Tartuccio Tartuk story is still kind of weird but I’m strangely into it. You go kobold man! (Also was it the Lantern King who reserructed him? If I ever found out who did it I forgot, but who else would it have been?)

!!!!! That’s so fucking cute!! Why aren’t there more tiefling shippers? I don’t get it. I love them so much. I hope Idream of the wedding tonight. This is absolutely adorable. Also, it’s tradition now to put little horns on the wedding hats? Oh hell yes! I love this so much... It’s so fucking cute I’m dying. I don’t think anything can top this. Excuse me while I go cry over my tiefling wives.

Bitches, I just got married! You can keep your marriage proposals, my wives are the best!

I still don’t know why they thought they had to do this to poor Linzi, but okay I guess.

Well, I guess now my last question is how I’ll start Varnhold’s Lot.^^ Not today anymore though, it’s already midnight. I want to though. Hmmm...

[sailorchiron]

Merry Christmas @tasyfa !

I loved the prompts of sunlight, ribbons, and poetry!  I confess I forgot to check for your response to my anon ask...  I decided to do a moodboard of a bookshop au, and had so much fun with it that I actually wrote a fic to go with it!  I hope you have a happy holiday season filled with joy and Malex!  

Sunlight, Ribbons, and Poetry | Read on Ao3

When Michael Guerin parked his beat up truck in front of Chapter and Verse, he wasn’t really sure what he was doing, or what to expect. All he knew was that Isobel loved poetry, and he loved his sister, and he was determined to get her a better Christmas present than Max for once in his life.

Chapter and Verse was a popular book store downtown, next door to Uncommon Grounds, which was universally known to be the best coffee in town. According to the barista he’d unsuccessfully flirted with two weeks ago, it was because the owner had connections for an expensive Italian roast that was usually too pricey for small town tastes. Also according to the barista that turned out to have a boyfriend, Chapter and Verse was well known for carrying a wide selection of poetry as well as fiction and nonfiction, and for having antique and special editions as well as new books. Seemed like a no brainer to pop into the quaint store and grab something pretty for Iz, but there was a problem.

Michael knew absolutely nothing about poetry.

He had some vague, foggy memories about studying poetry in high school English, but math and science were his things, not poetry and literature. He had no idea what to get. None.

The bells on the door chimed cheerfully when he went in, and he had to admit that the store was absolutely charming, with sun streaming in the front window and tall, dark wood shelves crammed with colorful volumes. The scuffed wood floor was broken up by old oriental rugs, and the counter sporting the cash register was an antique relic of days gone by. Michael noticed a hand painted sign hanging from the ceiling pointing the way to Uncommon Grounds, and sure enough, there was a door connecting the two businesses that he’d never noticed before. He looked for other helpful ceiling signs, and followed the one to the back right corner labeled ‘Poetry.’

He walked up and down the aisles for a few bewildered minutes, completely out of his element, and not having a single clue what to get. Some of the clearly antique books were beautiful, but what if they were poems about like death or something? Isobel was a romantic and wouldn’t want depressing, morbid poetry. He was starting to get nervous about finding anything, and considering a Target gift card for Christmas, when he decided to find an employee to help him.

Aaaaand, didn’t see a single soul. In fact, it was strangely quiet in the store. Am I the only person in this entire building?

Michael was on the verge of just leaving when he spotted someone in a little alcove with a colorful rug and walked over. French doors were propped open into what was a little reading nook, and sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book was the most beautiful man that Michael had ever seen. He just stared for a minute. Messy dark hair, a little attractive scruff, neck that was begging for his lips, elegant hands, a face you’d definitely write home to mama about. The gorgeous man had kicked off his shoes and a crumpled apron was on the floor next to him. He was engrossed in what he was reading and hadn’t noticed him standing there trying to keep his tongue in his head. “Um, excuse me?”

Michael had been unprepared for that pretty face and his jaw might have dropped open.

“Yes?”

Fuck, his voice is amazing. “Um, do you work here?”

The beautiful man raised an eyebrow and glanced at the apron...then the coffee.

“Oh, you’re on your break, sorry, I’m just completely lost.”

“It’s okay.” He stood up. “What are you looking for?”

“Romantic poetry?” He watched subtle signs of disappointment in the gorgeous clerk. “For my sister! She’s just a really romantic person and I think she’d like love poems.” He watched the man’s face brighten. “Maybe an antique or really pretty book?”

“Sure. I’m Alex, by the way.”

“Michael.” They kind of looked at each other for a minute. He was struck by just how pretty Alex’s dark eyes were.

Alex, for his part, was internally screaming. Who needed a lunch break when someone that sexy wanted help looking for a book? He’d been momentarily crushed by the request for love poems, but the hurried explanation that it was for a romantic sister led him to believe that Michael might be interested. He shook his head to break the tension. “What kind of things does she like? Just in general, not specific to poetry.”

“Um, flowers? Korean dramas, aesthetic photography, huge parties, girly clothes, and make up?”

“How old is she?” Alex laughed, amused by Michael’s exasperated tone.

“28.”

“I was totally picturing 16, okay, revising my poetry ideas.” He led Michael down a narrow aisle. “Does she have a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

“Not right now.”

“Hmm…” Alex pulled the step stool over to the shelf he wanted, cognizant of the fact that he’d been so taken by amber eyes and springy curls that he’d forgotten to put his shoes back on. “Does she like to make grand gestures?”

“Oh god, yes, that’s Isobel to a T.”

“Wordsworth.” He pulled out two books. “Antique or new edition? I have both for this collection.” He held out the old book, black with elegant silver scroll work next to a smaller paperback with a picture of the sky.

“Definitely the antique. What kind of poems are they?”

“Wordsworth basically started the Romantic movement in England. Here, let me read you a poem.

“The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers — Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

“Not romantic like lovers, but romantic, like grand and expressive.”

Michael just stared, entranced by that beautiful voice reading poetry so passionately. “I love it.”

“There are other good ones, too. Here, hold this one.” Alex handed the book to Michael and stepped down before walking down the aisle. “This is another Romantic poet, Keats.

“Bright star! Would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores, Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow up on the mountains and the moors-- No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever - or else swoon to death.”

“Uh, that’s dramatic.”

“Would your sister like it? Or is it too dramatic?”

“I think she’d like it, actually. She’s kinda dramatic herself.”

Alex laughed and handed the antique book, bound in red leather with faded gold lettering, into Michael’s careful hands. “Does she like Shakespeare? I just got a really nice edition of his sonnets and those are mostly romantic.”

“I have no idea, but I’m game.” Michael decided he’d basically follow Alex anywhere in the store for the chance to just bask in his presence.

The book was a new edition, not antique, but it was bound in deep rose leather with a fanciful design of roses in gold, pink, and green on the cover. The pages were gilded, and it had a ribbon bookmark. “Sonnet 116 is my favorite.”

“You have a favorite?” Michael blinked. He hadn’t considered that ordinary people had favorite sonnets.

“Well, yah, I’m in here all day selling books of poetry, some of it is bound to stick.”

Michael laughed softly. “What’s your favorite poem of all time?” Not that he’d know it, but he mostly wanted to keep talking to Alex until he could guide the conversation to exchanging phone numbers.

“That’s impossible to answer, because poetry is so dramatically different from era to era. That said, I like early American poetry more, like Walt Whitman and Emily Dickenson, than Romantic poetry.”

“I have to confess I’ve never heard of them. Or if I did, I totally forgot.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at him. “Here, I’ll read you a Whitman poem.” He walked back into the alcove where Michael had found him and picked up the battered paperback he’d left on the floor.

“PASSING stranger! You do not know how longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,) I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured, You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me, I ate with you, slept with you--your body has become not yours only, nor left my body mine only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass--you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return, I am not to speak to you--I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone, I am to wait--I do not doubt that I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.”

“I really love that,” Michael admitted, touched by the words. “That’s what so much of life is, just passing by a stranger and wondering if he’s your soulmate.” He hoped that ‘he’ would ensure that Alex knew he was very interested in him. “It’s beautiful.”

Alex smiled, feeling a connection to Michael. “One of my favorites.” Michael really has the most beautiful eyes.

The door bells chiming broke the spell that was keeping their eyes locked. Alex realized that his break was probably long over, his apron was on the floor in the reading room, and he was in his socks. The last thing he wanted was to walk away from Michael. “Which book do you want to get?”

Michael blinked. “Um, I think I’ll get all three. It’s Christmas, she can have three pretty books.”

“Alright.” Alex started walking to the cash register. Now that there were other customers, he couldn’t just hang out with Michael, no matter how cute he was. “I keep forgetting it’s almost Christmas.”

“How can you forget?! There’s Christmas shit everywhere!”

Alex laughed. “I think it’s because my family doesn’t really do much. We don’t even have a tree.”

“Oh, that’s no fun.” Michael was hit with pure, genius inspiration. “We’re decorating our tree tonight, you should come over.”

“What, really? Wouldn’t that be awkward for your family?”

“No, man, the more the merrier. My family loves guests. Especially my sister.”

“I don’t know.” Alex was sorely tempted, he really wanted more time with Michael. “Hey, do you want me to gift wrap these? We have some really pretty wrapping paper and ribbons.”

“Oh, that would be fantastic.” He watched Alex slide behind the counter and start ringing up the books. None of the books had barcodes, they had handwritten labels that Alex was carefully removing. The wrapping paper was really pretty, it was deep blue and shiny with dark pinecones frosted with white glitter. Michael was impressed with Alex’s wrapping skills, he couldn’t do that well if he was given explicit instructions. The ribbons were red satin, and he stacked the three books and tied the long ribbon around all of them. “That looks beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Alex answered, compliment warming him.

Michael had to look away to keep from staring into Alex’s dark eyes, and noticed a rack of postcards with words on them. “What are these?”

“Oh, little poetry quotes. They’re hand lettered.”

“Are you an artist?” Michael smiled.

“Oh, no,” Alex denied, waving. “I’m not an artist, I didn’t do those. I’m a musician.”

“Really? I dabble in guitar.”

“I play, too.” Michael was getting more and more attractive.

Michael reached the decision that this was fate. “Hey, you’ve got glitter on your face, here.” He held out his hand and Alex leaned in for him to brush the sparkles off his cheek. His fingers lingered, and before he knew it, they were moving together, eyes slowly closing as their lips met in a sweet, sweet kiss.

Time slowed down and both Michael and Alex forgot it existed.

Until someone cleared their throat and they pulled apart, surprised that they’d gotten so lost in each other. Alex was immediately flustered, and Michael was grinning so wide that his face almost hurt.

Alex put the books on the counter. “I’m so sorry, I want to keep talking but I have to work,” he apologized. “Can I get your number?” He patted his body. “Fuck, my phone is in my apron.” Which was on the floor in the reading room. He grabbed one of the postcards and scrawled his number on the back. “Text me, I’d love to come over and decorate your tree.”

“I’ll see you tonight then.” He just smiled into Alex’s eyes until they both jumped when more throat clearing interrupted them. He grinned and winked at him, then headed out the front door with his festive package and a phone number.

In the truck, Michael looked at the postcard and immediately added Alex’s number to his phone. He sent a quick message of his name and a heart emoji, then flipped the card back over. It was a Walt Whitman quote.

“We were together. I forget the rest.”

[automatic-external-defibrillator]

My Best Friend, the Demon 1/4

Based off of this post. Also I'm really sorry if you didn't want this. (It's finished! Part 2, part 3, and Part 4 are out) THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE SHYAN.

“But sir!” a small man cried, exasperated.

“No buts! Convince the dead to come back, or be banished!” the larger of the two commanded. The smaller man sighed dejectedly.

    “Yes, Satan.” He bowed, leaving soon after. Once he left the castle gates, he was immediately met by another man.

    “How’d it go, Ryan?” the man asked. “What was the summons about?”

    The other, Ryan, turned to him, sighing. “I have to go to the surface, convince some wayward spirits to come to hell. Same shit Brent went to do,” Ryan explained. “Not having horns or a tail is going to throw me off, dude.” Upon mentioning these, he anxiously ran a clawed hand over his smoothed-back-looking horns while his spade-shaped tail curled loosely to the front.

    His friend scoffed. “Better than me. Other demons see my tail shape and refuse to even look at me. I can’t even get a job around here!”

    Ryan gave him a sympathetic look. “You know there are crescent communities. You’ve no reason to stay here while I’m gone.”

    “Yeah, I guess it’ll be better for me. Stay safe, Ryan.” His friend left and Ryan headed to the surface to begin.

~~~

    It’d been a month since Ryan came to the surface. In that time, he managed to land a job at a place called Buzzfeed, as per his friend Brent’s idea. About two weeks into said new job, he’d had the idea for a thing he called “Unsolved”.

Brent had agreed to do it with him, as long as they did a segment on crimes. Brent was always fascinated with the cimes humans committed. They pitched the idea and they’d filmed about 8 episodes of the crime segment, “True Crime”. Today they were filming the first episode of the “Supernatural” segment, the topic being “the Men in Black”.

It was also Brent’s last day on the surface, meaning if Ryan didn’t find someone to film with, Unsolved would be over before it even began. Ryan sighed as he compiled his notes, still not entirely used to not having claws. Brent pulled him aside.

“I found someone to take my place,” Brent started. “His name is Shane Madej. He said he’d do it because he wants to, and I quote, ‘fuck with the human embodiment of sunshine’.”

Ryan smiled, a look of disbelief gracing his features before he burst into a fit of laughter, Brent joining in soon after. “You didn’t tell him, though, did you?” Ryan asked through chortles.

“No, no. I’d never risk that secret getting out. Satan’d have our heads,” Brent chuckled. “I just laughed and said okay.”

Calming down, the two went to film the episode, Ryan feeling more relieved than before.

~~~

The next morning, Shane was pulled from his thoughts by the incessant beeping of his alarm clock. Unfurling one of his long arms, he smacked it, shutting it off. “How the hell do humans do this every single day, and why am I subjecting myself to it?” he grumbled to no one.

He all but rolled out of bed, stretched, and got dressed in his signature button-up shirt and pair of jeans. He was taking over for a demon co-worker of his who had returned to hell today. He’d asked him about a week before he was to leave, and Shane said he’d think about it. To help him make his decision, he watched what was available of this “Unsolved” show, and decided he’d fuck with this overly positive son of a bitch.

He’d heard from Brent that Unsolved was planning to start a whole “are ghosts real” bit and also that Ryan, his co host, was an avid believer in the paranormal. Thusly, Shane decided to play the unrelenting skeptic.

Shane went to work, and when he got there, he headed up to where his new desk would be, and to meet the poor, unfortunate soul he’d be working with. Ryan was already there when he arrived, too chipper for Shane. Especially at 8 AM. He wanted to ground pound the guy, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t. This guy was human and no match for Shane’s demonic strength.

“Ah, you must be Shane! I’m Ryan Bergara,” Ryan introduced, standing to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Shane managed, sitting down with a coffee. The room fell into an awkwardly tense silence, as they were the only two there.

“So, uh,” Ryan started, trying to start a conversation, “what caused you to agree to doing Unsolved?” Shane could hear him tapping his knees, anxiously awaiting a response.

“Brent asked me to about a week ago. Poor guy, what happened to him,” Shane answered, faking a sigh when he said the last part.

“You make it sound like he died. He just moved to help with his family,” Ryan chuckled. Shane sipped his coffee. Is that what his cover story is? he wondered.

“You heard what happened to his mom though, right?” Shane asked, deciding to start the fuckery now, and judging by Ryan’s confused look, it was working.

“No?” Ryan questioned, drawing it out as if to say “go on”.

“Yeah, she has a brain tumor. That’s we he moved,” Shane “explained”. Ryan, still looking confused, just slowly nodded and turned to do something on his phone. Shane took this opportunity to text Brent.

Shane: Man, this guy is fun to mess with.

Brent: Don’t mess him up too bad though

Brent: He’s still a good friend of mine

Shane: Is he always this chipper at 8 am?

Shane: Because if he is, we’re gonna have some problems.

Brent: No, it’s only when he’s excited or anxious about something

Shane let out a small laugh at that. “Poor little anxious baby,” he mumbled to himself with a small smile.

“What was that?” Ryan inquired. Shit. Shane forgot where he was for a moment.

“Nothing of concern to you, Bergara,” he snarked. Ryan looked slightly taken aback. His brown eyes seemed to turn black for a second, but when Shane did a double-take, his eyes were still brown. Did someone accidentally inject him with heroin? He figured it wasn’t that, as a lot more would be wrong than just his new co-worker’s eyes, so he chalked it up to paranoia and continued on with life. “So, what exactly do you do on this show?”

“Oh, uh, basically I research topics and you just kinda react to them. Although, I did get approval to go on location for the episode after today’s filming session,” Ryan explained, perking up slightly.

“What’s today’s topic, then?” Shane asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, if I told you, how would you give a genuine reaction on camera?” Ryan bantered back. “Fake surprise?”

Shane gave him a look that said “fair enough” and shrugged. “You got me there, Mr. Tanned Man.”

Ryan looked at Shane for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Mr.一 Mr. Tanned Man!” He wheezed. “That’s good. That was一that was good.” Ryan wiped a fake tear from his eye.

    Shane sat there smirking at the man. He had to protect this bright ray of sunshine. He could see why Brent took a liking to him. He was a genuine person with a great laugh. Damn, he liked that laugh. It reminded him of a warm summer’s evening. He vowed to be the funniest bastard alive so he could hear that laugh more often.

    A voice pulled him from his thoughts. “-ane? Shane?” Ryan was waving his hand in front of his face. “Are you listening?” Shit, he was staring.

    “Yeah, sorry. Lost in thought there for a bit,” Shane blinked. “What were you saying?”

    “I was saying that Mark is here. The cameraman?” Ryan said that like he was trying to jog his memory. “We can start filming now. You can help edit while I research the next topic.”

    Shane nodded. “Right, yeah.” As they got up to go film, Shane realized he got himself in some deep shit.

~~~

    Hiding being a demon just got a lot harder.

    Ryan and Shane were at a church about to meet with a certified exorcist to talk about ghosts and other spirits that might be roaming around. Ryan had done the introduction outside and now they were headed into the chapel to talk with a man named Father Thomas.

    Ryan was panicking, as he’d never been in a church before. He’d been on the surface for a month, give or take a week. Shane eyed him quizzically, and Ryan knew he had to calm down as to not raise suspicions.

    “What’s wrong there, buddy? Never been to a church before?” Shane asked jokingly.

    “Yeah,” Ryan answered.

    “Yeah you have or yeah you haven’t?” Shane questioned, raising an eyebrow at the shorter man.

    “Yeah I haven’t,” Ryan clarified. Shane stopped while Ryan continued walking.

    “Never?” he asked, wide-eyed. Ryan hesitated a moment before nodding.

    “I don’t think一” Ryan cut himself off before he finished his sentence, almost revealing his true nature. “I don’t think my family was all that religious.”

    “Do you not remember them or something?” Shane asked, catching up to Ryan in two strides thanks to his long legs.

    “Or something,” Ryan muttered. Shane, catching on that Ryan didn’t want to talk about it, dropped the subject.

    The two walked into the sanctuary silently, and sat in a pew to talk with Father Thomas.

    After that mess was over, the two headed down to the Winchester House. Once at the maze of hallways, stairs to the ceiling, and doors to death, the two got to ghost hunting. Ryan gave a synopsis of the place and they soon made their way to the basement, the alleged most haunted place of the house.

    Ryan was quick to search for any lost spirits of the house to convince, hoping to fill his quota quickly and return home, much like Brent had. Fortunately, Shane had the idea to split up first.

    “Alone, how about? I’ll go first,” Shane suggested. Ryan nodded, gladly letting him go first, as he was absolutely terrified of the place. Ghosts had nothing to lose, so they didn’t care if they hurt someone. Soon, Shane’s time alone ended, and Ryan was next.

    Ryan set off to find some spirits. For the first five minutes, Ryan didn’t find anyone, but he managed to find a woman in Victorian era clothes at around minute seven. She seemed scared of him, turning to leave before Ryan called softly to her.

    “I just want to talk,” Ryan stated, eyes turning black. “I’m here to request that you go to hell. I have my orders, and I will not leave until you do.”

    The woman, still looking frightened, nodded, warily looking around before fading from sight. That was easier than I expected. Ryan thought to himself. The interaction lasted for about a minute, so Ryan still had two minutes to see if there were others.

    Unfortunately, Ryan didn’t find anyone other than the woman, so he went back to the group consisting of Shane and Mark.

    “How’d it go, Bergara?” Shane asked, bemused at the smaller man’s terror before heading down. “See any ghosts?” Shane used a weird version of Goofy’s voice when he said ghosts.

    “Nope, but we still have two more places after this,” Ryan countered, cockier than he’d been the rest of their time here. Shane looked at him, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he raised his eyebrows.

    “Where to next then, buckaroo?” Shane asked as they exited.

    “Oh jeez, next we’re headed to Mexico to view the Island of the Dolls,” Ryan stated.

    “Spooky,” Shane commented, “but neither of us speak Spanish.”

    “We’re meeting up with someone from Buzzfeed Mexico,” Ryan told him. They’d reached the car and packed everything, their next location being a hotel until their flight to Mexico the next day.

[winchester90210]

The BH 90210 Rewrite. 1x10: Isn't It Romantic?

Rewrite Masterlist

Read the previous chapter here!

My work is not to be reposted and/or edited without my expressed written consent. (Reblogging is fine and encouraged!!)

Chapter Summary: Dylan and Brenda's hook up causes everyone to reassess how they feel.

Warnings: A makeout scene! Lots of feelings, colds, condoms, more feelings, 2 different fights, mentions of sex, a little fluff, guilt, cuddling with a sick person, platonic (?) cuddling, swearing, angst, possible pining depending on how you look at it?

Word count: 4,000

A/N: This was definitely one of my favorites! Brenda and Dylan are one of my favorite couples ever so I'm looking forward to that. Don't cuddle with contagious people, folks.

Feedback is incredibly appreciated!

"Hey, B," you strolled over to Brandon in the Walshes backyard. The sun, per usual was unrelentless and aggressive, bright. But the birds were chirping, you were at the Walshes, and you felt great.

"Hey Y/N/N,"

"Uh-oh, how's Mondale?" You placed your hand on the hood of the Chevy, and tapped it with the pads of your fingers, observing the car's fleshed out state.

"Oh, he's fine, just tuning him up a little," A loose grey tank top hung on his shoulders, grease from the car in every odd place on his body. And he still had the audacity to look that good. "We're still on for the movie tonight, right?"

"What, like I would miss seeing Animal Crackers on the big screen? I'd hope you wouldn't take me for a fool, Walsh," You smile, and he grins back, wiping off the tool, twisting it in his hand.

Dylan slides out from under the car, just as grease-laden as his friend. He smiles up at you, squinting from the sun. He takes the wrench from Brandon, "That's what I kept tellin' him, no girl in her right mind can resist Animal Crackers."

-

All four of you crowd around the movie theater table, setting your drinks, various amounts of snacks, and a large bucket of popcorn down. A girl, tall with curly blonde hair struts over.

"Hi Dylan," she smiles.

"Hey, how you been?" He chuckles, lips wrapping around the straw of his soda.

"Great," she taps her straw on his shoulder, breaking it open and pulling it out with her teeth. With that, she walks off.

"Friend o' yours?" Brandon asks.

"Well, we used to hang out a little bit. I would've introduced you guys, but I forgot her name,"

"Nice," Brenda nods.

"What a gentleman," you add.

"Wait, it's not my fault! She keeps changing it! To-- to things like 'Tanya' or 'Blue' 'cause her real name is something like 'Gertrude', or 'Beatrice', or 'Brenda,'" He quips, dangerously close to cracking up at his own joke. Brenda takes her straw and jams it against his shoulder, taking it out with her teeth and walking off. You smile delightedly to the boys and follow Brenda in.

-

Rock music fills the apartment as you sit down on the sofa, Brandon directly to your right.

"This sound system is incredible! I mean, it's like it's alive!" Brenda praises the stereo as she sits down onto the ottoman.

"Yeah, you don't just hear it, you feel it!" Dylan enthuses.

"Sub-woofers, right?!" Brandon asks.

"You got it," Dylan answers. The doorbell to the apartment buzzes, making him hop to his feet. "Foodage!"

"Hey, thanks for letting me come with you guys," Brenda says.

"Oh, no problem! It's nice having another girl here,"

"Yeah, and you play cards, right? Maybe you could come with us again," he leaned over the back of the sofa, "What do you think, McKay?!" Brandon shouts back to him, who's got four paper bags in hand as he makes his way back.

"Absolutely!" The four of you pounce on the bags, immediately digging into them.

"Hey, these fries are just like at the hotel," Brandon comments.

"They are from the hotel, ever since my dad closed the suite, Henry sends them to me because he knows we need our fix," He juts his pointer finger out and wiggles it between you and him.

"He gave up the suite? What happened?"

"Long story," he sits onto the floor, and looks up at Bren, "Hey! It's your turn, pick 'em!" Brenda shuffles through the different rock CDs on the table.

"Okay, okay! What about--" she hands one to Dylan, "--that?" Dylan gives her a sceptical "Are you serious?" Look before taking it.

"Ha, yeah okay," He giggles, taking it out of the case. Dylan shows both you and Brandon,.to which Brandon responds

"Oh, no, absolutely not!" All four of you begin to bicker light-heartedly, the CD issue clearly very polarizing.

-

Oh, joy. Let the wonders of the Health class sex unit begin. With Steve Sanders directly behind you, Brenda to your left, and David & Scott in front of you this class was always... interesting. The class period starts and Steve leans forward.

"Did you ever notice that when the subject turns towards sex Mr. Kravitz starts playing with his beard?" You and Brenda turn forward and see-- you guessed it! Mr. Kravitz your 45-year-old, Jewish, white, male teacher playing and scratching beard. Twin looks of disgust are thrown back Steve's way. He was right. And you were never going to be able to unsee that. Gross.

-

You're sitting at Brandon's blanket-covered feet as he sneezes for the tenth time that night. The blue robe he's wearing matches his eyes and his scratchy, deep, sick voice has got you melting when it definitely shouldn't be. He's still hot when he's sick. What an asshole.

Brenda waltzes in, her shoes clicking against the hardwood, ready to go for the second night of Marx Bros. festivities. She sits next to Brandon on the ledge of the couch, legs on the ground.

"I hope you feel better!"

"Hey, come on. It'll be fun. You can be the nurse, and Dylan can be the orderly," He jokes, his voice low and raspy. Fuck hormones and the horse they rode in on, because you're actually attracted to him right now.

"You don't want us to get sick, do you?" She responds. Brenda hops up when she hears the car horn. "Bye guys!" She's out of the door before anyone else can get a word in.

"Wait a minute, she's going out alone with that guy?" Jim complains, stacking up the piles of paper on his desk.

"Apparently," Cindy shrugs. Jim's pouting like a child, and stomps out of the room. His wife is following behind him, looking to calm him down.

"So I see your dad's a fan of Dylan," you jokingly muse.

"Yeah, they're buddies, I think I think he’s inviting Dylan out for golf and a movie," He smiles, "Are you sure you want to stay here? I don't know how much fun this is going to be." Brandon raises his mug of tea to his lips.

"I'm positive. I mean I've seen Duck Soup about a million times anyway," you assure him, "How are you feeling, by the way? Need more cough syrup?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks," He sits up, scooting over yo the far edge of the couch, "C'mere."

"What? Brandon, you're sick,"

"C'mere!"

"Brandon,"

"Y/N,"

"Fine," You show faux discontent as you lie down in the empty space, "I'll bite. What are we watching tonight?"

"Well, I've narrowed it down to either Quantum Leap or Magnum P.I."

"Oh, go with Quantum Leap, no question."

-

You stir back onto your side from your stomach, and your nose is met with the soft skin of Brandon's cheek. You moan sleepily and inhale, preparing yourself to get up even though it's the last thing you want to do. You open your eyes, trying to blink the sleep out of them. Your left hand is currently draped over his chest, with your legs intertwined with his. You needed to get up but... he was warm, and welcoming, and gentle and... your home definitely was not. You inch yourself up, getting up as gently as possible, lifting your arm up from him. He lets out a gravelly groan and wraps his arms around you.

"Stay."

"It's late, B," you yawn, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He mumbles a sleepy "mhmm," and you stand up, straightening out your clothes. "Love you, Y/N/N." WHAT?!

Okay, he's hopped up on cough syrup. It doesn't mean anything. It might've been an accident. Y'know, like when you tell the pizza guy you love him? Right? Right?

-

You're sitting own on the carpet of your bedroom floor, parallel to Dylan. The plush eggshell carpet is soft under you but the air in the room is hostile, uneasy, tense. You were sleepy, fighting to keep your eyes open due to it being 3 in the morning. He got here around midnight, and it's been nothing but utter chaos since.

"So, you're sure you're good with me and Brenda?" He tries to catch your gaze but you actively avoid it, your eyes darting to the window, the closet, wherever.

"Brenda and I," you correct him jokingly, but the playful part of it doesn't carry through in your voice. "I'm happy for you guys."

"Y/N," He starts.

"Dylan, don't," you beg, "On the off-chance that I wasn't okay with it, what good would it do? What would it change?"

"I- I need to know where we're at," He stresses, "Because you're sending me about a million different signals right now. I'm exhausted, Y/N/N. I need to know how you feel."

"I think..." you sigh, pondering, "you need to be with Brenda, if that's what you want."

"Stop telling me what you think and tell me how you feel," He urges. You bolt to your feet looking to escape, but he joins you, with a gentle grip on your shoulders. If he was anyone else, you would've been scared. But it was him. And you weren't.

"I feel like you need to be with my best friend. She's the one wanting to be with you, and she's the one you started dating." His jaw clenches, and he takes a deep shaky breath. His grip on you drops before he speaks again, his voice much quieter, much softer than before.

"Do you have feelings for me?" You're taken back by his boldness, your eyes widened and your brows furrowed. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing seems right. So you stay quiet. "Y/N, come on." His eyes search yours, desperate for an answer, a hint to what's going on inside your head.

"Maybe I did when I first got here, but--" you run your hands through your hair, inhaling. "Dylan, we're friends. That's all we're ever going to be, and that's all I want to be," He paces around your room as you sit back onto the foot of your bed, it faintly squeaks under you.

"Do you really believe that?" He laughs sourly. "We've never been just friends, and you know it." The faintest scowl was on his face, whether it was from disappointment or annoyance you couldn't tell. "You really think there isn't anything between us?"

"Yes! Because there isn't!" You're shouting now, desperately. And by all meanings of the word you're frustrated. Intensely. And thankful that your parents decided to go out tonight. "I can't do this to Brenda!"

"You wouldn't be doing anything. She's not my girlfriend, we're not getting married, hell, we're barely even friends! It was one kiss!"

"If the kiss was so insignificant, why tell me at all?!"

"Why are you so bent out of shape over this--"

"Why are you?! I--"

"Would you just shut up for a minute?!" His voice was boisterous, livid, you wouldn't be surprised if Eric could hear from the other side of the house.

"Make me!"

You're not sure how long you two had been bickering at this point. It had been going on all night. About Brenda, about Brandon, Steve, Dylan's dad, Mondale, pie. And every single time it circled back to the same topic: feelings. It was a topic that both of you were well acquainted with but not always willing to talk through. Especially when it had to do with each other. But you weren't losing this without a fight, because if you cared about your friendship with Brenda at all, you had to stick up for her. The weird thing is, these past few months you and Dylan had been drama-free. No spats, no arguments, no sparring. And now? You were both swinging at the other person whenever you could get a hit in.

-

Wednesday morning came around, and Brandon was trying to catch up with Dylan as he raced down the hall.

"Dylan? How's it goin'?"

"Gettin' by, how's the cold?"

"Better, thanks,"

"Where's Y/N/N? Aren't you two usually following each other around like lost little puppies?"

"She's sick," Brandon sighs, "I feel real bad about it too, it's kind of my fault. She stayed over the night you and Bren went out." Yeah, cuddling with a guy that has a major cold? Bad idea. "How was the movie, by the way?"

"We didn't make the movie," He shrugs.

"Hi," Brenda grins. She places a soft kiss to Dylan's cheek as he puts his arms around her.

"Brenda, hi,"

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't go to the movie?"

-

"How'd it go with Brandon playing nurse?" Kelly smirks.

"Fine," you laugh, "He came over, we played monopoly, I got high on cough syrup, we watched some Hartley House reruns. It was... fine."

"Oh, he is majorly into you," Kelly muses.

"He is not!" You argue. Crossing your arms over your chest, you continue, "He's just returning the favor."

"He's totally hooked. What guy would spend 6 hours at a girl's house when she's phlegmy and sneezing if he wasn't already completely in love with her?"

"I agree with Kel, Y/N/N. Brandon didn't stop talking about you after he got back! Y’know, he can be so sweet when he's not faced with the challenges of sticking up for me and Dylan. It's like they're all in this conspiracy to take away the most exciting and best thing that's happened to me since we moved here!" Brenda rants. Kelly lies on her side, flipping through a magazine with her back to you both.

"That's why you're going to keep your date with Dylan and sleep at my house," You pick up one of Kelly's discarded magazines. "You can't let your parents stop everything fun that ever happens to you."

"This is going so fast," She's apprehensive as she speaks, her brows creasing slightly.

"And we're just talking about it, wait till you get to the real thing," Kelly smirks.

"I guess I'm more into the romance angle, like in the movies,"

"That's all well and good for the movies, but you do have protection right?" Kelly looks up from her Cosmopolitan to eye Brenda up. Brenda pauses, and swallows.

"Well, no,"

"Open that drawer," She points to her nightstand, and Brenda pulls out a small wooden box, "Basic rule number one-- Never rely on the guy. Memorize that." She opens it up,

"You sound so clinical," Brenda criticizes anxiously. Kelly rolls her eyes, taking a silver condom out.

"Dear, clinical is 'What time shall we schedule the procedure?'"

Brenda's jaw drops, "Kelly, that's awful!"

"Would you rather be sitting around and thinking about names? How about Dylan Jr. or Brendina?" Brenda sighs jaggedly.

"Fine, I'll take 'em. But this is not the part I want to be thinking about."

"If it goes well you won't be thinking at all. Here Y/N/N, take some too." She tosses a few to you, and you catch them with a soft clap.

"Kelly, I'm just getting over my cold. I don't think I'm going to be bedding anyone soon," you laugh.

"You never know," she shrugs, "it could come in handy."

-

"Hey Dylan, where you going so fast?"

"Got to be someplace, what's up?"

"I was hoping you could help me work on my car this weekend,"

"Look, I'd like to, but my old man got back in town. He's got... it's a long story,"

"You don't have time to tell me about it?"

"Not really,"

"Oh, but you do have time to make out with my sister and flirt with Y/N," He bites, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowed.

"What's your point?"

"My point is you better really like my sister. She's very romantic, and dreamy, and sweet and she's not going to move on that easily! Dylan, she's a virgin. And I don't think you should be messing around with Y/N/N when you've already got Brenda.

"I haven't been messing around with-- what kind of jerk do you think I am?" He scoffs, shaking his head, "Have a nice weekend."

-

You're frantically helping Brenda get dressed, get undressed, get dressed again, and are now helping her do her hair and makeup in the mirror. She's been so nervous all night, now you're nervous and it's not even your date.

"Earrings?" Brenda asks, playing with her hair, "No, I don't need earrings. What else do I need?" Brandon stands in the other side of the bathroom doorway, watching you both pace around the entire time.

"Shoes!"

"Shoes!" She repeats, "Shoes, shoes, shoes!" You race over to her small, but albeit nice shoe collection and help her slip both black heels over her feet. "Okay, okay! What do you think?"

"You look perfect, Bren!" You smile genuinely and excitedly, your eyes crinkling at the edges. She hugs you, and you could practically feel the nerves bouncing around in her. "Have a great time tonight, okay?"

"Okay! Bye Brandon, bye Y/N/N!"

"Bye!" His voice startles you. You'd been so wrapped up in helping Bren look flawless that you didn't even notice he was there.

"I hope everything goes well tonight." You pause, and then step over to him, "What's going on in that head of yours, Walsh?" He was watching you from the moment you got there-- not predatorily or creepily but... fondly. It was unlike him. He was always talkative, with a joke to crack or a comment to make. Dylan was more of the silent observant type. So to see him so speechless was almost concerning.

He says nothing and places a gentle hand under your chin. He lifts it and brushes his lips against yours. If this was a cheesy 80s sitcom, this would be the time the live studio audience would be going nuts because this kiss was... wow.

You return it, and it's an immediate switch of energy. Your hand goes to the back of his head as his hands find themselves against the small of your back and the kiss becomes hungry. Desperate. He worked his mouth against yours, and with his hands and his mouth and the way he felt against you-- your senses were ignited.

You pull away abruptly.

"What?--" you begin. You're both panting lightly, and he's just as flustered as you are. He draws intoxicating little circles on your arm as you both let your breathing calm.

"You wanted to know what was going on inside my head. There you go." Were you blushing? It felt like you were blushing.

"Oh." You look up at him, "Is there a possibility that your train of thought might need to be examined further in the near future?"

"Yeah, I think that's a possibility."

-

"Brenda?" You enter her bedroom through the conjoining bathroom. Inching closer to her, you see her as she's curled up at window sill, wet cheeks and puffy eyes. She drops the curtain wordlessly and turns toward you. Silently, you wave Brandon in. He tiptoes in and sits at the foot of her bed. You'd never seen her like this before. So vulnerable, so upset. So broken.

You wanna talk?" You ask, sitting down beside her as she sniffles.

"I've been talking to Kelly all night. And it didn't get me anywhere," She bellows, her voice breaking as she speaks. Your stomach wrenched.

"Well, we're open for the morning shift," Brandon offers,

"He didn't show up," she croaks out, "I was ready to spend the night with him. And he didn't show up." Oh, you were so going to kill him later. Brenda looks up at you for the first time that morning, shaking her head in disbelief. "What a jerk, huh?" That total asshole.

"He can be," you nod.

"Not him, me! I thought I was special," her voice comes out wavering and sad.

"You are, Bren," Brandon insists.

"Well, not to him obviously," she tucks a hair behind her ear, "And then finally I call him, and this man told me he was there but that he wouldn't speak to me."

"Brenda, you can't beat yourself up over someone like him," you put a soothing hand on her back.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know. I thought he was different... but he doesn't let people in,"

"I don't understand, Y/N! We were so there! Even yesterday out on the lawn, we were together! We were in sync! I was so happy," She's working herself up again, eyes redder and bottom lip quivering as she shouts, "I don't know what happened but something happened!" You were going to crucify that son of a bitch.

"I'm really sorry, Bren,"

"I have to find out what I did wrong," She cries out, "I need to know what happened."

-

You waltz into the robotics lab on your free period and find exactly who you were hoping for, sitting at the computer.

"Busy lately, Dylan?" Your arms cross over your chest as you lean against the doorframe.

"Well, if it isn't the queen of tact and diplomacy," he retorts, face still in the monitor.

"What the hell is going on with you?" You spit out, "I know you moved. Brandon and I went to your old house. They said you didn't even leave a forwarding address!"

"It's a long story," he dismisses, wheeling over to the other end of the table on his desk chair.

"Would you rather tell it to Brenda?"

"Y/N, don't start that with me, alright! I got the message," he barks, "you don't want me to hurt your best friend!"

"Then why is that exactly what you did?!" You reprimand loudly, trailing behind him as he gets up and walks to the other table. "I need to know that I had nothing to do with you standing her up, and that I had nothing to do with the utter pain that she's in right now." Your eyes are narrowing as he turns to face you.

"Look, it wasn't because of you. Okay? You gotta believe me-- something came up! That's all!"

"It's one thing not to talk to me, Dylan, I get it. But when you do it to her, she feels like she did something wrong!" As you finish your sentence his jaw clenches.

"It wasn't her!" He fumes, "It had nothing to do with her!" His fists clench against the white table.

"Tell her that! She was so upset, Brandon said she even stayed home from school today." You wait for his response, but he ducks his head, breaking eye contact with you. You scoff, "Fine. It's got nothing to do with her, nothing to do with me. Meanwhile, you're not talking to either of us. Makes a ton of sense!" You huff silently, "See you later, pal."

-

“I can’t believe him! He swears it’s no one’s fault but--” Steve cuts you off.

“You’re just way too emotionally involved with this, who cares? If he says it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault. Guys don’t beat around the bush like chicks always do. if he says it, he means it,” He scoffs as you both trail down the hall. You think for a minute. Somewhere under the misogyny and the blatant Steve-ness of that sentiment, there might have been a point. Maybe you were putting too much into it.  Maybe you just needed to take a step back and look at it objectively.

“Actually,” you sigh, “you might be right.” Steve’s eyes go wide. 

“Wait, really?” You nod. “Can I get that in writing? I want to have it tattooed.” Your eyes roll and you send a light push to his shoulder as you both laugh.

Objective. You could be objective. 

-

The next day you're standing against the beige walls of the school auditorium, as Dylan trots over to you.

"Dylan, before you say anything-- I'm sorry. I totally flipped out on you. It's just been a weird confusing week for me, so if I took out my frustration on you--"

"No, I put you in a weird position with this whole Brenda thing, If it felt like I was trying to make you choose... sides or somethin', well... I'm sorry," He says. You smile at him, and he goes to smile back but he sneezes into his sleeve. "But you can be sorry for giving me your cold," he laughs.

"So, you worked everything out with Bren, huh?"

"Yeah, uh, everything's worked out,"

Before you can respond, Brandon waltzes over to your other side, mumbling a "hey," and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Brandon, hi," you grin as he clasps your fingers with his, bringing your knuckles to his lips. He matches your grin, leaning into you.

"You guys good?" He asks, finger wiggling to you and Dylan.

"Yeah, we're good," you nod, "You two good?"

"We're good," Dylan confirms.

"Good!"

"Good."

"Good."

-

-

-

Taglist: @be-patient-be-good @mpmarypoppins @bevelyhills90210 @blueoz @harleylilo88 @princess-ghost-alien @hueycat2004 @l4life

[sleepnginstardust]

Werewolf boyfriend and girlfriend (part 1/??)

I really enjoy the short stories by @momolady @monsterywriting and @monstersandmaw. So I wanted to write something that hopefully would live up to some of their amazing writing. Fair warning I don’t have anyone who’s able to proof read for me so I’ve as best as I can to make sure that everythings okay. Let me know if y’all find anything! This 

Castle Hill,  the sign was almost too perfect. When I was first looking at places to move this place hadn’t even occurred to me than someone I know of brought a listing to my attention.

“I know you’re thinking of moving to a less populated place, wouldn’t want anyone to bother your writing now would you!” The little jab at my writing career was annoying, but kind of spot on? I had been stuck in a rut for my second novel in my series for a while and while I don’t mind living in a densely populated area. The noise and just all of the people get to me after a while. It takes more energy for me to head to the corner bodega than it should. So I had been looking for a house in a small town that was within at the most a three-hour drive from the city. 

The listing my acquaintance had posted on my facebook was for a house in the small town of Castle Hill. Bigger than what I needed but still cheaper than owning an apartment in the city. So I booked a viewing.

The realtor I talked with was surprised when I contacted them, he said something about not a lot of newcomers to the town. Never a good thing to hear if I ever wanted to sell the house again. I vaguely remember asking a few more questions.  Something about the community college that was in the town and I asked about a motel or an AirB&B in the area.

The realtor laughed, he said that there was a small Bed and Breakfast in the area and that he could give me the number if I was serious about wanting to see the house. It was odd when he asked me again if I was serious about seeing the house. When I said I would be up at the end of the week to see the house, he hesitated and said that he looked forward to someone so obstinate.

So I drove the three-ish hours, it took to get to Castle Hill, the drive was gorgeous. The busy city by the bay slowly gave way to winding roads through farmland. Slowly the farmland gave way to rolling hills and soon the hills became forests. The trees were small at first then slowly growing larger the farther I drove. 

By the time I reached the town sign, I was truly in a  forest. There were small clearings here and there, in fact, the town was built in one such clearing. The town sign showed the edge and while it was a large clearing tree still peppered the area causing a rustic feel that I remember from my childhood spent in the mountains.

Quaint wooden walkways were in place of the concrete sidewalks I was used too. It made me feel like I had moved back in time. The Old Fashion buildings made everything, even the modern day coffee shop seem like it had all been there for years. As I drove past I saw, a butchers place, a florist's and a small hardware store. 

The small crafts store was something that drew my eyes, it's bright exterior showed only a small portion of what was inside. As I made my way through the more suburban portion of the town I started to notice all the families. Naga men and women with their clutch of young, I saw a small satyr with a stunning woman and three children jumping up and down. I saw a beautiful Centaur woman with an equally stunning woman and a small centaur girl jumping around them. 

As I pulled up to the Victorian house a woman not much older came out to greet me. She stood tall and proud which honestly made me feel a bit like a slob. especially after driving the three and a half hours it took me to get here.

"You must be Abigail, I'm Kara. It's so nice you are able to join us. I'll show you the room." As she took me through the house I looked at all the old photos slowly morph into newer ones. I felt like I was walking through a carefully preserved museum.

"Okay, is this a family home? I'm seeing photos from the 1880's 1870's at the earliest." Kara paused for a moment and looked back at me while giving a small smile.

"I'm surprised you noticed, most people just assume that I find old photos in antique stores or something like that." I looked down with a small blush on my face. History was one of the few things I enjoyed. Feeling a little embarrassed I muttered something I don't remember. 

"My family has been in this area since the early 1860's. This house itself was built around 1904 right after the large earthquake that struck San Francisco." Kara  showed me the house along with many more photos of the town from the early days. 

The house itself was beautiful. Old but wonderfully kept wooden floors and antique looking wallpaper throughout. Each room was its own separate room. The furniture in each room seemed like it had been made especially for each room. The dining room had a large table with what seemed like 14 chairs.

She showed me the kitchen with its cozy dining nook where Kara explained that she served both breakfast and dinner there if I would want to join her. I couldn’t turn down such a wonderful woman so I readily found myself agreeing. 

Finally she led me up the stairs and to the upper story where opened the door to a decent sized bedroom with an ensuite bathroom. The entire room smelled lightly of lilacs, which normally would bother me but with how light the sent was it didn’t bother me.

She carefully bowed out and put a key with rose shaped key fob attached on the nightstand. Slowly I dragged my battered carry on bag onto the almost pristine white luggage stand. I carefully pulled out my small makeup bag and a small toiletries bag. I put away the small amount of clothes I brought with me and debated whether to keep the sweater in the bag or with me. I pulled it out just in case.

After that I freshened up in the bathroom. I reapplied bits of my foundation and added a translucent setting powder over the top to cover my greaseball forehead. I pulled out my favorite lipstick and put that on instead of the tinted lip balm I had been wearing most of the day. I looked at myself in the mirror and realized that this was going to be the best I was going to look for the day.

Grabbing my laptop bag I made my way down the stairs. As I hit the downstairs landing I heard Kara talking with another person. I slowly made my way into the sitting room where I had heard the conversation coming from.  I pulled short before the doorway and knocked like the sheepish person I am. I looked and saw Kara sitting down with two people both in firefighters uniforms. Not the heavy kind but the lighter kind that they wear while on duty. 

“Look I know I’ve been here for” I checked my phone. “An hour, but I promise I haven’t set anything on fire. That I know of.” The Female firefighter snorted, and the male one had this stupid grin. One I kind of wanted to punch off of his face. Sort of.

“Oh Abigail This Anita Galassia the Chief Firefighter for the town.” The man made a disgruntled noise and Kara made soothing motions. “And this is Anita’s Second in command Nathan Fraye. They were checking in on me, one of my neighbors had a bad fall (she’s pregnant with her first child) and they wanted to assure me that if anything happened they would be here lickty split.” 

“Wait, firefighters still do that? Sorry my local firefighters live an hour outside of the city and hardly know anyone.” Anita and Nathan hadn’t stopped looking at me even while Kara had been talking and I started to feel the anxiety creep into my brain. I felt like I had been cornered by two wolves, and my flight or fight feelings started to kick in. “Oh I forgot, I’m heading down to that coffee shop. You didn’t say anything about wifi and I have a few things I need to send in to my editor.”

“Oh my gosh Abigail I am so sorry! I do have wifi. I know I have the information around here somewhere. If you still want to go to the cafe I can have the password for wifi when you get back.” I nodded, feeling my anxiety kick it up a notch and my heart rate go up. I gave a small wave and started to turn around.

“Abigail right? Did you want us to take you down there? The fire house is close by and it wouldn’t be out of our way.” I turned back around looking at Anita’s earnest smiling face.

“Ahh no thanks I drove like three and a half hours to get here and a short walk would help get the cobwebs out of my brain before I have to edit like six chapters.” Anita’s face fell a little and she nodded.

“Understandable, maybe we’ll see you there. They have some good pastries.” I was still feeling like a cornered deer. So I put on my most brilliant smile and nodded. Waved again and made my way out of the room. On my way out I heard one of them mutter to Kara “She’s cute.”

“Don’t get any fucking ideas horn dog” was all I heard as I  quickly made my way out of the house and onto the small sidewalk through the neighborhood. Walking past the houses on my way towards the town center made me realize how many families were here. Like I had seen kids playing before but I only saw three or four of them. Now I was seeing whole groups of them.

In the 15 minutes I had been walking towards the coffee shop I started feeling invigorated and almost inspired. I say almost because as I was passing the local park, I noticed a small group of kids playing. I stopped for a moment and stared. As I watched the children playing I felt a small pang in my stomach. I wanted children but with my busy schedule I couldn’t even fathom having children. I quickly shook my head and started walking again.

Or well I would have if I hadn’t have run into something. Thankfully I didn’t fall over, I just happened to bump into them. I muttered sorry and started walking away. 

“Are you okay?” I looked up and realized that the person that I bumped into was someone who could probably bench press me. Again my flight or fight response kicked in.

“Oh I’m fine, sorry for bumping into you.” I gave a small wave to the person and thankfully he took that to mean that I was fine and he thankfully left it at that.

“I’m pretty sure your new in town, if you need anything stop by the local newspaper, I’m Fred, I run it and can help you if you need anything.” Still feeling a little nervous. I nodded and started walking away. I could swear I could feel him watching me as I got farther away.

I started loosening up the farther I got away from the park. I kept my head down and I started counting the squares in the sidewalk. I started looking up when my anxiety started slowly going away. It was another ten minutes to the coffee shop and I was thankful when I noticed that it quiet. I made my way up to the counter and placed an order for just a pot of black tea and a plain scones.

“So are you just visiting or maybe just passing through?” I looked up at the orc girl behind the counter, and tried to figure out why she was asking.

“I’ve got an appointment to see a house tomorrow.” I said in a slightly dead tone. I had hoped the orc girl would take a hint and just leave it. But she was young and wanted to be nice. I think.

“Oh that’s awesome, we don’t really get a lot of new people who’d want to move into a town out in the middle of nowhere. Do you have some sort of business you’re opening up?” She started finally gathering my things as she had been talking and I tried to repress the urge to snap. I know I should watch my temper but damn I was really not in the mood to talk

“I’m a novelist. I need a more quiet area so I can focus a little better on my novel.” At that the girl looked up from filling the small pot of tea. “Hey watch out or yo-”

“Fuck!” my warning came a little too late as she poured boiling hot water over her hand. I put my laptop down on the counter.

“Are you going to need burn gel? Use room temperature water by the way.” The Girl looked at me, I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. She switched over the water temperature and pulled a red bag from under the register. 

“Sorry I just realized where I had seen you before. I’ve seen your instagram, you have like a million subscribers.” I had the decency to be embarrassed. I knew I had a few subscribers here and there but I didn’t realize that people would actually recognize me.

“Yeah that’s me I guess.” The girl had remade the teapot and started heating up the scone. I grabbed my bag and saw a table in a corner that faced the street. I pulled out my laptop and looked around the table for a place to plug in. I found one a smalle ways away but still close enough to plug in my laptop.

The girl brought me the scone and the teapot with a murmured sorry. I nodded and took the pot and the scone laying them down on the table. I poured the tea and started nibbling on the scone putting some lemon curd on. As I settled down I opened the email from my editor with the edits he’d like to see and I sat down and started to write.

Writing had always come easy to me, easier than dealing with people at least. With writing I had control over everything, what people said, how people reacted, and honestly it was way easier to deal with things that I put onto paper. My first novel happened that way.

It had started as a way to deal with the fact that I wasn't what people wanted me to be. So I wrote a story about it. Fiction of course, because who would want to read an autobiography about a no one. And it sold, stupidly well. Then I was told they wanted a second book, and a third. So I rolled with it.

Now that I was working on the second book in the series I realized I really enjoyed writing. So here I was 200 miles away from my apartment and my editor trying to finish the last bit of editing before the book went to publication. Listening to the barista girl talk animated with someone. 

I heard the clink of someone setting a ceramic cup down on a wooden table. Looking up with a scowl on my face I recognized the two firefighters from Kara’s place. My scowl deepened making me look like I was going to punch someone. Trying my best to ignore them, I went back to work.

”Wow and I thought I was scary when I'm mad.” I ignored the voice of Nathan as put in some rework to some dialogue. ”hello did you hear me?”

”yes i heard you, yes I am ignoring you. I have a few things to finish before my book goes to printing next month.`` I looked up to stare at Nathan who had this bewildered smile on his face. Anita sat down next to Nathan and punched his arm.

“I told you not to bother her, yet here we are. With her about to rip your throat out.” Anita gave a small snort.

“I wouldn’t rip his throat out, that’s too messy. I’d poison him, less blood that way.” I said not even missing a keystroke. I heard someone choke a little, and the sounds of someone thumping on someone’s back. The more I got into writing the less I noticed. I was almost finished with the final couple of revisions when I saw a hand in front of my computer screen. Blinking a bit I looked up.

“Sorry to bother you but you haven’t looked up in two hours and we were starting to worry.” I looked at the clock on my screen and realized I had been at the coffee shop for three hours. It was closing in on Six O’clock and I needed to get back to Kara’s. I looked back up to Nathan.

“Aw crap, I’ve got to get going, thanks for checking in.” I saved what I was doing and closed my laptop. I unplugged the charger from the wall and started shoving it and my laptop in my bag. I shut my bag and stood forgetting I had been sitting for a long period of time. Of course I would get dizzy after having nothing but scones and tea since last night.

As I steadied myself I felt a hand on my shoulder and stiffened. Looking back I saw Anita and Nathan both looking concerned? I didn’t know anything about these people and still they had concern for me. I had no idea why people like them would be concerned but here they were showing concern anyway.

“I’m fine, just haven’t had decent food since yesterday. I’m heading back to Kara’s where she promised a good home cooked meal. I think.” I raised my hands in defeat and walked over the counter. The Barista was looking between myself and the two behind me. “Can I just get a cup of water, need to stay hydrated you know.”

She handed me the cup and I waved to Anita and Nathan and left. As I popped outside I realized how cold it had gotten in the three hours I was there. I shivered a bit realizing that not everywhere was in the 80’s during September. I started walking back the way I came as the street lamps came on. I looked up and noticed that the street lamps were some old time looking ones with the fake flicker light bulbs.

I walked quietly by the stores with bright interiors. As the stores gave way to houses I started feeling like something was watching me and I started getting nervous.  I started walking faster and as I was walking past the park I looked over. Two sets of glowing eyes stared back at me and I nearly screamed.

Needless to say, I walked faster back to Kara’s house and as I saw the lights on I quickly made my way inside. Not running mind you, but close. As I opened the door and slammed it shut my heart was racing. Kara came through the door to the kitchen and looked at me up and down.

“Abigail you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I nodded, not paying attention to what she was saying as she led me into the kitchen. The smell of what seemed to be chicken and something else came to my nose. She took my bag and put it on a hook next to the door over some aprons. “Okay, tell me what happened”

“I- I  don’t know, I was walking back from the coffee shop and I started feeling like I was being watched. Which by the way is terrifying because the last time that happened I was nearly killed. Well I started walking faster, not running because then that lets them know you know they’re watching and when I passed the park I look up and somewhere past the park there where these eyes. Two sets of them, and well I started panicking and now my anxiety is throu-” She didn’t let me finish my sentence as she engulfed me in a hug. I tensed up waiting for the whole “You shouldn’t be so cautise” talk I’ve heard from many different people. Instead she just rubbed my back in soothing circular motions.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I’ll talk to a few people to see what we can do. Now we need some food if you can stomach it. I know sometimes anxiety can be a real monster.” As she said this my anxiety dropped a little enough where I wasn’t hyperventilating. I was still having issues seeing, and I knew from experience that tunnel vision took a while to go away. I started to tremble so much so that my knees finally gave out. Kara grabbed me before I could hit the floor thankfully. She manhandled me into a chair at the table and gave me a glass of water.

 “Maybe I should call the fire department for you.” Hearing that all I could think about was the look of pity from Anita and Nathan I would get and my stomach dropped. I grabbed her wrist and shook my head no.

“P-p-please don’t I have medicine in m-my b-bag.” I pointed to my laptop bag, and she hurried over and searched the front bag finding the small bottle of anti anxiety medicine. She brought over the bottle and handed it to me. I opened the bottle and took out a pill and put it in my mouth and drank the glass of water. I put the glass of water on the table and put my head between my legs.

“Do these attacks happen often?” I turned my head to look at her and nodded slowly.

“They were manageable most of the time, but there was this incident about five months ago? I don’t know. Anyway they become worse almost to the point where I couldn’t leave my apartment.”  Kara nodded her head and started making a plate of food. I watched her bring a chicken thigh onto a plate before I spoke up. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat that, I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. Besides I can make you something easier on the stomach. How about some soup and maybe a grilled cheese?” I looked at her perplexed, this woman had known me four maybe five hours and she had treated me better than my own mother. The tears came faster than I realized and when Kara looked back at me from the freezer where she was pulling out what looked like homemade soup, she gasped. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, do you not like chicken noodle, I think I have some leftover Minestrone from last week still,” I started crying harder, trying to make sure the sound wasn’t loud so the neighbors didn’t hear. “Oh dear, what’s wrong, you can talk to me.”

“N-n-n-not e-even m-m-m-my own m-m-mother cared, she just cared that I wasn’t making money for her anymore.” At this Kara stopped put the soup down on the counter and walked over to me.

“Abigail I’m going to tell you one thing about this town. If you do end up taking buying a house here know one thing. We look after our people no matter what. You’ll never have to worry about walking home alone. If you’re ever sick we’ll look after you. If for whatever reason you’re gone for long periods of time we’ll look after your yard and feed your cat if you have one. We care for our people, you won’t be alone unless you want it.” As she said this I started crying even harder this time not caring who heard. Kara just kneeled down and rubbed circles in my back. After a couple of minutes my tears started winding down and the fuzzy feeling of just having a long cry started creeping in.”

“Now Abigail let’s get you some soup, a nice grilled cheese and some more water okay?”  I nodded and watched her refill the glass I had from earlier. She gently placed the water in front of me and I hesitantly picked it up.

“I’m sorry for the breakdown there, It had been a while since I had one and I never expected to have one here.” I sniffled and looked around for some paper towels or maybe a paper napkin. Kara was looking at me as she warmed up a thing of soup in a sauce pot. I looked down at my knees very interested in my knees. 

“Amelia you don’t have to apologize, most people don’t hold half the things inside them that you probably do and they still break down.” She flipped a sandwich over in a pan on the stove top & stirred the soup. “Honestly one of the hardest things in life is being strong enough to understand that you don’t always have to be strong.” 

I sighed, maybe I knew I was due to break down but I had been hoping that maybe I would be able to get through the final draft of my novel and purchase a new house before I had one. Wishful thinking I know, but I had hoped. Rubbing the back of my neck I knew I should say something but all I was able to do was nod and hang my head. I heard the clack of bowls and plates. The rustle of silverware followed. 

I bowl of steaming soup was placed in front of me. MInestrone I realized, and a plate with a grilled cheese cut in half was placed next to the bowl. Kara refilled my glass with more water and set it down in front of me.

I looked up and saw her sitting down in front of me with the same thing. I looked at the counter with the beautifully prepared chicken, and rolls. 

“I’m sorry, I ruined your dinner.” I looked down feeling like a child who had ruined Christmas for their family. I heard a small sigh.

“Has no one ever told that not everything your body or mind does is something you can control.” I looked up at her then back down quickly. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about all the times as a child I wet the bed only to have my mother slap me for waking her and make me sleep in urine soaked sheets as “punishment”. Kara honestly looked like the type of person to hunt down my mother and punish her.

“If it didn’t come up in my mothers “Parenting for Narcissists” book then she probably forgot.” Kara let out a bitter laugh and I picked up some of the sandwich. I carefully dipped it in the soup and pulled out. The soup tasted perfect, as I expected. The sandwich had a decent cheese to bread ratio. Not that I was expecting anything less.

“I haven’t  known you for long, maybe a day or so at this point, but there’s something I don’t get. You seem to be hurting a lot and from what I can tell, what ever drove you to come here terrified you so much that you decided to leave everything you know behind. Why?” I looked down thinking about what had happened, and how people I thought to be my friends acted afterwards. 

“I guess I’m prying huh? You don’t have to say anything I know you’ve only been here for less than 10 hours. So finish your soup and go to bed, maybe take a bath. Since you’re the only one  here the communal bath has a nice big tub.” I nodded and I finished my sandwich and soup I got and went to go put my dishes in the sink. “Don’t you even dare, just go take a bath and relax.”

“Kara? Thank you.” Kara waved her hand at me and moved to gather the dishes. I left to her too it.