#I can’t even consider it as a horror game just because how good it is

[jaybleeps]

Just saw the game “Manny’s” by Bonesaw577. It’s so cinematic OML. The endings were so good, they caught me off guard. Tyler was such a real piece of art

10/10 Would definitely watch it again

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

I’m a fierce believer and defender of Smooth Brain Astarion (affectionate).

I love that, if left to his own devices, he ends up dead in a ditch. I love that this pasty menace of an elf is a walking disaster. I love that his brain produces one coherent thought per day, only to have it backfire on him later on. I love that his first choice in freedom is to unapologetically be the worst version of himself. Because it makes sense. 

That’s what abuse and trauma do to your brain—they fuck with it. 

And in Astarion’s defence, the man didn’t have to use his brain for nearly 200 years—it’s probably the very thing that kept him as alive as he can be; to survive 200 years of pure shit. 

And what use is his brain when his days and nights are dictated by someone else for as long as he can remember? When he has no say in what clothes he wears. When he doesn’t get to choose what or when to eat. When his body and mind aren’t his own, distorted by torture and hunger and self-loathing, forced to obey his vampiric master. Why use his brain when his survival depends exclusively on his abuser’s whims? 

Astarion could’ve come up with the most brilliant plan possible to escape Cazador or save a mark from their doom, but he never stood a chance of succeeding—which doesn’t mean that he didn’t get punished for trying (or even thinking about it) anyway.

Existing under Cazador was a game he couldn’t win, so why bother playing? 

And it’s only by chance that Astarion’s autonomy is returned to him literally overnight. It’s only natural that he’s overwhelmed by his newfound freedom. How is he expected to make sound decisions when he can’t even recall a time when he could do and say as he pleased? 

Of course Astarion is a walking disaster when he finds himself on that beach after the Nautiloid crash—and he’s fully aware of that! That’s why it’s so crucial for him to get on the player’s/other companion’s good side.

He’s self-aware enough to be so insecure about himself that he would rather trust a stranger’s capabilities than his own. 

Being a catastrophe of a person is part of Astarion’s character journey. Not only does he have to reclaim his personhood, he has to learn how to depend on his own brain again and I think that's such a painfully beautiful, important message Baldur’s Gate 3 sends. 

Because healing isn’t pretty. Nor is it easy.

You’re not alright the moment you’re free of whatever horrors you had to live through—and that’s ok! There’s time and room for you to adjust. 

And the moment Astarion feels more or less safe within his new environment, when he’s fed and treated like a person worthy of respect and consideration, his insights, skills and perception are crucial assets to the group.

Astarion knows his art and literature, and although his little remarks are unhinged at times, he's genuinely witty. Even his objections are, considering the circumstances, absolutely legitimate.

Personally, I love seeing Smooth Brain Astarion become more and more secure in his judgement the more Tav/other companions trust and support him.

Astarion is smart, his brain’s just been stewed for nearly 200 years.

[buckets-and-trees]

Peering In My Hollow Core

Fandom: MCU Title: Peering In My Hollow Core Characters/Pairings: Nomad!Steve x Morally Grey!Female Reader Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Even the best laid plans can go up in flames. You're both wrong, and yet also more right for each other than you know.

Content Warnings: explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT due to sex pollen, masturbation, rough fucking/vaginal sex, unprotected sex/ejaculation

Logistical Notes: I claimed prompt 13 for @lunarbuck's Star-Crossed Lovers Soulmate AU challenge and also knocking off I1 "masturbation" for @the-slumberparty's August/September Bingo challenge. And because you know I can't resist... it's also using one of the prompts (first bolded line) for @witchywithwhiskey's Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon! And it's answering an ask I got from one very mischievous @stargazingfangirl18 that's been on my mind for the last two weeks.

Additional Notes: @biteofcherry and @vonalyn let me suss out how this evolved, so thank you for enduring my brainstorming! Eva also gave a line of dialogue inspiration that I found too delicious not to snatch up, and so that's bolded for acknowledgement as well (near the end). Title from Scars by Basement Jaxx.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“What’s your grand plan here, Doc?” The golden-haired, bearded hulk of a man, America’s golden boy now a rogue in the shadows is pacing before you. “Are you even a doctor?”

His tone is biting, angry, and you don’t hold it against him.

He did fall right into your trap.

“You’re a smart boy, you can guess.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I think it will bruise your ego more if I spell it out for you.”

“You should have thought of my rage before you put yourself in this situation, Doc,” he all but growls, still prowling back and forth across the living room floor. “What’s your exit strategy here?”

“You’re getting more volatile and heated, that’s good. That’s what I need.”

“Do you think this is a fucking game? You’re on dangerous ground.”

Your lips curl up slightly, but you try not to smirk. “I dangled myself in front of you. Good Captain America couldn’t resist trying to liberate the poor scientist who got wrongfully entangled with the remnants of HYDRA. You never even stopped to consider that I was dangling myself out in the wind to get you here like this, and you’ve read enough about HYDRA, you know what I gave you.”

“But why?” he barks.

“No one can beat you for strength. You’re driven, resourceful, able to evade an attack. Your weakness is caring,” you pause because he stops his pacing, he looks ready to spring, but doesn’t yet. His eyes haven’t left you for even a moment since he realized it’s you he needed to worry about, not save. “I need your DNA, blood samples, bodily fluid, and I can’t trap you with anything, but I banked on the one physical vulnerability even a super soldier isn’t immune from: a compound they initially developed as something called a sex pollen. In fact, I think you know they tested it on a super soldier, don’t you?”

He slams his fist on the table between you two, and it splits from his actions.

You shouldn’t have provoked him with that. It wouldn’t yield the results you were trying to manipulate him into.

“Easy, Nomad,” you raise your hands cautiously to ease the tension just slightly. “That’s what they call you now – Nomad is the moniker now that you can’t be Captain America out there to the world anymore.” He flexes his fists, another angry reflex, but one you know speaks to a slight de-escalation, self-regulation. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t agree with everything HYDRA has done.”

He lets out a bitter laugh.

“I don’t,” you insist.

“If you’re not in with them, you’ve made a deal with a devil you’ve vastly underestimated.”

“They’re a means to an end.”

“How can you be so foolish to think that?”

“No one will fund my research at the rate and without regulatory oversight the way they do. They’re desperate to have more of you but under their thumb, especially since you’re at the root of them losing their prize assassin.”

“You’re not stupid, so why are you giving them what they want?”

You lift your chin defiantly.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Oh god. You can’t tell me… Really? You think you’re gonna keep your research and development from them in the end?”

“Look at what I’ve done so far,” you gesture. “You’ve evaded every attempt they’ve made to get you, you’re evading all the countries who are supposed to enforce the accords and hand you over, and yet I have you trapped here.”

“Why do you care about a super soldier serum?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m interested in a serum, but I don’t need super soldiers. The list of your medical ailments before you were injected, and then you’re instantly cured of everything? Do you know how many people need even a drop of what cured you?”

“And you think I’d be opposed to that?”

You scoffed, “Yeah, easily. Once the research exists, it will get applied for things it was never intended to be used for, up to and including developing super soldiers for HYDRA and people who pretend they’re better than HYDRA.”

“So, who has made you this desperate?”

“You don’t get to know that.”

He scoffs now. “You don’t get to set the terms here if you intend to get what you want.”

“Don’t I? You’re uncomfortable. You’ve been uncomfortable for a while. It’s going to get worse, but I adapted the formula for what I gave you in that drink of water. All you have to do is ejaculate, and the toxin will abate from your system.”

“How thoughtful of you,” he deadpans.

Then his demeanor changes. He sniffs, and his eyes finally stray from you.

“You said this house is reinforced in its lockdown to keep me in until you initiate and secure your extraction with the HYDRA team?”

“Yes,” you answer slowly, trying to follow his line of sight and decipher what he’s looking at.

“I think you’re going to need to adjust your plans and priorities and do it quickly.”

You open your mouth to ask why, but then your mind quickly makes the leap. “They modified my ventilation system.”

“HYDRA has refused to be eliminated for decades. They can wait for a purebred super soldier and think they can get one in your womb today.”

The heat of humiliation floods your body. How could you have been so foolish not to account for a maneuver like this. They had clearly approved of your strategy too easily.

“Soon you won’t be able to think about anything more than my cock in your cunt, so you better start thinking of how you’re going to get yourself out of this, Doc, because Nomad is not who everyone knew Captain America to be, and I’m certainly not inclined to assist you in any way now. Been doing fine evading capture as you yourself asserted, I can probably figure out my own exit strategy here and fight off the sex pollen until I make it out. But for someone without any biological enhancements… I’m not optimistic over your odds. I read everything on HYDRA. This stuff was nasty when they first developed it, but you can bet they will have reverse engineered whatever you did to the formula to make it even worse.”

As if on cue, you start to feel the physical effects of whatever nearly imperceptible airborne toxin – imperceptible to you, but apparently not to enhanced individuals. Heat flares again in your body, but this time it is a pulsating sexual need.

You close your eyes to try and keep your breath steady and even, but after another moment, you whimper and draw your hands to your stomach as the poisonous desire pulses more strongly, the tremor of need undeniable.

Your eyes burst open again, seeking out the male across the room from you.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, no. I’m not giving you anything you want. If you’re as brilliant as you think you are, you don’t need me to get out of your unfortunate predicament.”

Your body is yearning for him, but you know he’s serious.

You also know he’s right; you need to think fast.

You’re coherent enough to get both of you out of the lockdown state of the house now – because HYDRA was clearly going to come for both of your – you had a failsafe to get out in case there was some loss of electrical power. But could you get away in this state?

And you know if you get out, you’ll never get the DNA you need from Steve Rogers – you’ll never be close enough to or even see him again. You know that in your bones.

Over the next hour, at different points during the feverish state that overtakes you, you can sometimes hear the super soldier nearby, doing things around your home, undoubtedly trying to apply his own ingenuity.

He might be successful.

It hardly matters.

Now you’re in the shower, under a stream of cold water, trying both to alleviate the unbearable heat your body has peaked to and to hide the sound of your sobs as best you can. You’ve stripped down to a nearly naked state. You ripped off your shirt and pants in your room, left them on the floor, your panties are on the tiled floor outside the shower, but you couldn’t spare your hands to remove your bra. At first you were almost experiencing a sliver of relief with one hand between your legs, paying every attention to your excessively slick folds and throbbing clit, thrusting your fingers in and out of your cunt as well, but it was a false grasp at hope.

You don’t know when you slid down the tiled wall of the wet glass tomb where you think you may die, curled in on yourself, one hand still trying pointlessly to trigger the orgasm that will flush the desperate physical pain from your body, surely it must come.

You don’t know how long he’s been standing in the doorway of the bathroom before you try to shift pathetically, your eyes open, and you see him slowly stroking his hard cock, watching you. You shut your eyes again, in agony wondering how he can possibly seem so collected. Why isn’t he pumping his fist in a frenzy? You couldn’t stroke your clit fast enough, and now you can’t bear to touch it, but the heel of your hand can’t help bumping it as you try to fuck yourself on your fingers.

Then a rush of air blasts over your body.

You open your eyes weakly to see Steve reach to shut off the water, before he bends down and without a word grabs your limp body from the floor, drapes you over his arm, where you hand limply, bent in half, and he hauls you back to your room, and throws you on the bed.

You continue to cry and stroke yourself while you hear him unzip and unfasten, your body a trembling heap, facing away from him as he’s undressing.

“I’m going to fuck you, and then you’re going to let me out before HYDRA comes for both of us. You’re fucking clever and I can’t get out of here without you.”

You whimper when you feel his weight on the bed behind you.

He forces you into a kneeling position, but he doesn’t care that you can’t even prop yourself up, head and shoulders slumped down on the mattress, ass in the air. His left hand grips your hip, and he groans as he guides the head of his cock up and down the slit of your dripping cunt before he finally slides in. It’s deliberate, sliding down to the base, his hips pushing into yours. The way he invades and stretches you is painful, and yet you need it, keening at the fullness.

You do catch that his breathing hitches.

He needs this, too.

You’ll give it to him if he’ll just put your body out of its misery.

After a moment of slowly rutting against you, only shifting his girth inside of you a bit, teasing, perhaps warning, you whine, “move, please, more.”

“More than you bargained for,” he growls, then pulls back, and then thrusts back into you, adopting a brutal pace, both hands anchored at your hips now, slamming you back and forth roughly.

He pulls a first orgasm from your body quickly, but the second comes not long after when he reaches around to pinch and roll your clit between his fingers, still using your pussy for chasing his pleasure.

A third, and you’ve gone from whimpers and keens to crying out and a fresh wave of tears. This is rough and you’re over stimulated, and he knows. He leans over your back to smirk against your neck.

“Please,” you cry. You don’t know if you’re begging for more or for less because your body is screaming in exhaustion, but the fire is still tormenting your veins.

Because you haven’t been filled.

The smirk turns to a sneer against your neck, and Steve snarls, "You wanted it. You staged it. So, you're going to take it and keep fucking taking it until I'm done with your pathetic fragile body."

He’s pressing into places you’ve never felt before, and you cry out more, face pressed into the sheets. He pushes back up and pulls his cock out of you. His fingers work the clasp of your bra, and he pulls it off while he flips you over so you’re on your back. You can’t even open your eyes, but you feel him looming above you, kneeling between your splayed out thighs.

But then you feel something shift. He mutters a curse and is suddenly still.

You open your eyes and look up at him, but he’s looking at your chest. His hand moves up to trace his fingers over a scar near your collarbone. You look and see the same scar evident on his chest.

You reach up and your fingers quest along his bicep, and they do find a scar there, very faint but long, matching one you’ve had nearly your entire life.

Your eyes lock on each other now, and the acknowledgement there between you is terrifying.

There are more scars, but you don’t need to continue to confirm what you know.

You’re soulmates.

You’ve betrayed him before you even knew.

You’re still beholden to the drive of the sex pollen, boneless and exhausted, but this revelation drives with adrenaline through the haze, too hard to deny. It gives you enough to say, “We can’t deal with this now if we want to get out of here with a chance to escape HYDRA, fuck me and end this.”

He does, but he can’t look at you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, and spears you with his cock. The fucking is rough, and you take it. It’s punishing penance and painful pleasure. You cling to him as he thrusts you over the cliff of ecstasy again, coming with you finally, and his spend pumps hotly into you. The physical relief from the torture is blessedly immediate. His hand ghosts over your lower abdomen where he’s just planted his seed. With his eyes closed, he touches his forehead to yours, then pushes roughly away and rolls off of you.

“Get up, get dressed, pack light,” he says, stone cold. “Between us we might get out of this dangerous trap. That’s all we need for now.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 12

Chapter Summary: The evil that you thought you had gotten rid of is still very much lurking within Hawkins. You, your boyfriend, and your friends race against time to try and find Eddie before it’s too late.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, knives and blood, jealous Steve

Word Count: 6.5k

Author’s Note: This chapter is starting to get season 4 going, so that’s pretty epic. I hope you guys enjoy it and thank you so much for reading it <3

Message me to be added to the taglist! Also, send me asks! Tell me shit, ask me questions, y’all are fun to talk to ;)

Series Masterlist | Part 11 | Next Part

***

Your Saturday started out like any normal Saturday. Steve peppered soft kisses to your skin as you woke up from your comfortable slumber wrapped in his arms. You ate breakfast together and got ready before picking up Robin and making your way to Family Video. It had taken a significant amount of convincing to get Keith to let the three of you work together, considering there was really only enough work for two people to do, but he finally agreed to it since, in his own words, “Steve barely even counts.”

You all were reorganizing the shelves as Robin recounted her conversation with Vickie at the basketball game the night prior. “Then Vickie laughed. And it wasn’t like a cheap fake laugh either. It was like…it was a real, genuine laugh!”

“Of course she laughed, Rob. It’s my muppet joke. It’s hilarious,” Steve replied as he restocked the horror section. You rolled your eyes from your perch on the counter, glaring up at him as you stopped sorting out the returned movies.

“My point is that Vickie laughed, and everything was just like…it was perfect! But I’m having this problem where it’s like, I should stop talking. I have said everything I need to say, but then I guess I get nervous and the words keep spilling out, and it’s like my-my brain is moving faster than my mouth or…or rather my-my mouth is moving faster than my brain, and…and it’s like I’m digging this hole for myself, and I want to stop digging and I’m trying to stop digging, but I can’t, and I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are,” you responded, looking at her with a great deal of sympathy. You knew how she was feeling. You couldn’t even count the amount of times that you had rambled on and on to Steve about something so completely and utterly stupid because you didn’t know when to stop.

“Ugh, I’m hopeless,” Robin backed up against the wall, throwing her head back in exasperation.

“Robin! Don’t say that; you are not hopeless,” you scolded your best friend, “I mean, look. I was completely and utterly hopeless before Steve and I started dating…like if he hadn’t shown up and the planets hadn’t aligned, I’d be single as fuck right now, but everything that the two of us have, started with us just being friends. So, the fact that you’re talking to Vickie and she clearly at least likes you in that capacity is a really damn good sign.”

“I wouldn’t say you would be hopeless, I mean, guys are pretty much throwing themselves at you,” Steve mumbled under his breath, thinking back to how you had interacted with Eddie the night before. You had seemed so comfortable with him and he hated to admit it, but the two of you looked like you belonged together far more than you did with him. Eddie marched to the beat of his own drum. He dressed different, he acted different, he didn’t go with the crowd or hop on the bandwagon. You were exactly the same. Sometimes Steve worried that you would wake up and realize that he was way too stereotypical and boring for you and that you would leave him. He pushed the thought aside as you spoke up.

“What do you mean?” Before Steve could answer, Robin began rushing across the room.

“Oh! I think I found our morning movie!” She held up a copy of Doctor Zhivago.

“Ugh, you know I don’t do double VHS,” Steve groaned, shaking his head as he walked past the counter towards her. You stopped him, smacking him in the chest before he could try and take the tape away from Robin before you spoke up.

“We’d actually love to watch it Robin,” you smiled, your eyes still glaring at Steve. Robin jumped up and down a little bit before turning on the television to get it set up, but all of you paused when the news came on.

“We’re in the Forest Hills trailer park in east Roane County. We don’t have a lot of details now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning. Police have not yet released the victim’s name…” the reported stated, detailing all the information that was known and released.

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered, his and Robin’s eyes transfixed on the screen. His voice sounded far away as your vision blurred with tears. You could barely breathe as you thought about the only two Hawkins High students you knew that lived there: Max and Eddie. If it was either of them, you weren’t sure what you would do. You weren’t sure how you would be able to live and move on.

You stumbled backwards, and you knocked over a pile of VHS tapes as you blindly grabbed for the edge of the counter, beginning to hyperventilate. Robin and Steve snapped out of the trance the news had put them in, as Steve’s head whipped around towards you just in time as you collapsed to the floor.

“Robin turn that off!” Steve yelled, and she grabbed for the remote, quickly silencing the news. You were in a heap on the floor sobbing, barely able to hear Steve as he quickly sat with you on the floor, rubbing big circles across your back to try and calm you down. “Shhhh, y/n. I’m right here, okay baby….I’m right here with you and I’m not going to go anywhere,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your temple as you cried.

After a while, you finally found the will to calm yourself down, and you had been the one to turn the TV back on. You wanted to know as much as you could. You wanted as much information as possible to rule out the possibility that it was either of your friends. Really the only additional information you got was that it was definitely murder and that the police hadn’t released the names of any suspects, which was a whole lot of nothing to go off of.

You were biting your nails, staring at the screen with furrowed brows, when suddenly the chime of the bell above the door rang out into the otherwise empty store. You jumped, turning around to see Dustin followed by Max Mayfield herself.

“Max!” You shouted as you hopped over the counter and pulled her into a bone crushing hug. She groaned, not expecting the sudden demonstration of how much you cared before she reciprocated.

“Hello to you too, I guess?”

“I’m just so glad you’re okay,” you breathed out, feeling a sense of relief flood your body, knowing that Max wasn’t the unnamed victim from the news. Max was struck by your words, not really even considering the fact that some of her friends may be led to believe that she had been killed based on the location of the murder.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Steve chimed in, pointing to the TV screen in the back corner of the room.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asked suddenly. You looked at him with confusion plastered across your face.

“Someone was just murdered,” Steve replied, annoyed that the boy could be asking about phones at a time like this.

Dustin just slammed his hands on the counter in response, causing you to jump again in your anxious state, before he repeated himself. “How many phones do you have?”

“Two…why?” You spoke up, furrowing your brow.

“Technically three, if you count Keith’s in the back,” Robin corrected you, a similar look flashing across her face.

“Three works,” Max spoke up, looking at Dustin. Dustin paused, looking at Steve and Robin behind the counter before throwing his backpack across and hopping it. You and Max were civilized, walking around the counter to join them while Steve protested.

“My tapes! Dude! What are you doing, man?!” Steve groaned. Dustin had a special talent for making things significantly more difficult for Steve…especially at his place of work.

“Setting up base of operations,” Dustin replied, typing into the computer.

You attempted to shove him to the side, away from your computer, but he swatted your hands away. You glared at him with the might of a thousand suns before hip checking him, causing him to stumble to the side. “What the fuck do you guys need our computer for?”

“To look up Eddie’s friends’ phone numbers,” Dustin retorted as if it was obvious.

“Oh Eddie, your new best friend you think is cooler than me because he plays your nerdy game,” Steve grumbled back, but you were only half paying attention as you made eye contact with Max. Clearly the two kids knew something that you didn’t and you were worried what that meant in conjunction with the shit you were hearing on the news.

“I never said that!” Dustin looked at Steve, and you rolled your eyes.

“Seriously, you guys, maybe on a Monday you can play around, but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day,” Robin spoke up, reorganizing the shit that Dustin had knocked off the counter.

“Robin, I totally empathize but this cannot wait,” Dustin sighed as he started writing on a clipboard.

“What because calling all of Eddie’s friends is an emergency?”

“Exactly!”

“Do you want me to strangle him or do you want to?” Steve asked you. The chuckle he was about to let out died in his throat when he saw the look on your face.

“I really think we should hear them out,” your voice was small when you replied. You all looked over at Max and she took a deep breath before she began talking.

“The victim…it’s Chrissy Cunningham,” she started, “I saw her body this morning when the police were leaving. The thing is, I saw her go in Eddie’s trailer and shortly after, my TV started going nuts and the lights started flickering like crazy, which isn’t really super out of the ordinary, my electricity is shit….but then I heard screaming and looked out the window and I saw Eddie leave and—and he looked scared. Like really scared.”

Steve reached for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours before he spoke up. “So…Eddie killed Chrissy?”

“Steve! No, he fucking didn’t. That’s why we need the phones so that we can find out where he is so that we can prove that he’s innocent,” Dustin glared at your boyfriend, shoving him a bit.

“Just calm down,” you interjected, standing in between the boys. This was all a lot to unpack and you weren’t going to solve anything if they couldn’t stop bickering. When they both grumbled and crossed their arms, you moved around the counter, swiftly moving to the door and flipping the sign to indicate that the store was closed. “Just, you guys can use the phones, okay? But that’s it. We don’t do anything else until we have something solid to go off of. Do you understand?” You looked between Max and Dustin.

They both began to nod and you shook your head. “No, I need to hear you say it. I’m serious, someone was just killed and we are not putting our lives in jeopardy without some serious cause, okay?”

“Yes, we understand,” Max responded. Dustin spoke up in agreement, and you paused to look at them one more time before turning around.

“I’ll get Keith’s phone from the back. You all start making calls.”

You swiftly headed to the back, grabbing the third phone. You were turning around to leave when you about nearly jumped out of your skin, when you were met face to face with your boyfriend.

“Steve! You scared the shit out of me! Don’t fucking do that!” You put a hand on your chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“Y/n, I don’t have a good feeling about this. I mean, the most likely scenario is that Eddie killed that poor girl and now we’re actively trying to find him. He could be fucking dangerous, and I don’t want anything to happen to you, okay? So, let’s just stop all this bullshit before it’s too late,” he grabbed your hands, rubbing his thumbs along the backs of them as he looked you in the eyes. His brow was furrowed with worry, and you felt a pang in your chest. You knew you had to see this through, if not for Eddie, then for Dustin.

“Steve, I know Eddie. He wouldn’t do something like this. Trust me,” you told Steve, looking him in the eyes with so much conviction that he decided to let it go for now.

You brought the phone out and Hawkins’ Family Video soon became a bustling call center as you all took turns trying to get ahold of anyone who may possibly know where Eddie was. Name after name after name got crossed off your list as you found no answers, and you were beginning to feel hopeless when Max spoke up.

“Hey guys, I might have a lead,” she started, “apparently, Eddie gets drugs from some guy named Reefer Rick, and sometimes Eddie crashes there.”

“Alright, that sounds promising. So where does this Reefer Rick guy live?” Robin asked.

“See, that’s the thing. No one knows. He’s more of a…legend than someone that people actually know.”

“What about a last name?” You spoke up, attempting to find any additional piece of information that you could follow to find Eddie.

“I don’t know that either.”

“I bet the cops know the last name,” Steve spoke up. He hadn’t been super helpful in calling around, instead choosing to reorganize the store and do some light cleaning. He was reorganizing some tapes with his back to you all and he had said it so nonchalantly.

“What?” You questioned him, irritation settling in your tone.

“I said the cops probably know,” he shot back, “I mean, listen, if this Reefer Rick is actually a drug dealer, I guarantee you he’s been busted at some point. Means he’s in the system.”

“The cops? Really, Steve? That’s your suggestion?” Dustin asked incredulously.

“I just think at this point they should be filled in on what we know; what’s going on.”

“You think Eddie’s guilty, don’t you?” Dustin stepped forward, but you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to settle him. You could hear the hurt in his voice and you wished that Steve hadn’t been the one to cause it, but then again, tensions were high with everything that was going on; like the implications of Max’s account of her electricity going haywire around the time that Chrissy would have died.

“Woah, woah, woah, I believe in innocent until proven guilty and all that constitutional shit…I just, you know….I just don’t think we can rule it out,” Steve spoke up, avoiding making eye contact with any of you as he messed with a Rubik’s cube on the counter.

“Steve!” You scolded him. Why can’t he just take a leap of faith and believe you guys?

“That’s precisely what we’re trying to do here, Steve,” Max spoke up, glaring at the boy.

“And maybe we’d have a little bit more luck if you spent less time reorganizing shit that doesn’t need reorganizing and more time trying to find Eddie,” Dustin chimed in.

“Hey, someone’s gotta make sure things are in order here. Do you see how many fucking movies we have? It can be overwhelming for the average customer,” Steve tried to defend himself.

Suddenly an idea popped into your head, as you darted over to the computer, typing away into the system. “What are you doing?” Max asked.

“Maybe we don’t need a last name,” you started as you pressed enter on the keyboard. “Twelve Ricks already have accounts here…now it’s just a matter of narrowing it down.”

***

After determining the Rick most likely to be the Reefer Rick, you waited until it got dark to go scope the place out. You decided that you’d be more inconspicuous at night, not wanting to draw any attention to yourselves while you tracked down a potential murder suspect.

You were all piled in Steve’s BMW as he pulled into the driveway of one Rick Lipton. You felt nerves settle in your stomach as you tried to take a deep breath, Dustin quickly getting out of the car and ringing the doorbell. No one answered and after Dustin pressed the button repeatedly, Steve put a hand on his shoulder to pull him away from the door.

“Okay. Well, that’s settled, I guess he’s not here,” Steve spoke up. This did nothing to stop Dustin from continuing to pound on the door, yelling for the boy to answer. So much for being inconspicuous, you thought as you walked around the side of the house. Your hands trembled a bit, being a tad anxious about being out here at night, when your flashlight finally caught sight of a boathouse on the lake.

“Hey guys?” You called out. Steve was quick to join you, followed by the rest of the gang as you cautiously approached the metal lined shed. There was no real signs of life in there as you entered, and it seemed just as abandoned as Rick’s house. “Hello? Is anyone home?” You shouted into the darkness as you took a hesitant step inside.

“What a dump,” Steve muttered, taking in the sight of all of the clutter. In his mind, there was no way in hell that Eddie was here, so though he was taking all of this seriously, he wasn’t too committed to really inspecting the place with great detail.

You grabbed an oar off of the wall, walking over to the small boat docked in the center of the room as you shoved at the tarps with it, not wanting to get close just in case something was awry.

“What are you doing?!” Dustin whisper-shouted at you, perplexed by your actions.

“He might be in there,” you answered simply.

“Then take the tarp off!”

“If you’re so brave, you take the tarp off!” You whisper-shouted back at him, though when Dustin moved forward to do just that, you and Steve both yanked him back by his shoulders. You continued to poke at the tarp, and Steve placed a gentle but nervous hand on the small of your back, not wanting to stray too far from you.

Max suddenly spoke up from across the room, pointing her flashlight at some odds and ends on a small table. “Hey, guys. Someone was here.”

“Maybe he heard us? Got spooked and ran?” Robin suggested, joining Robin to inspect the items before her.

“Don’t worry. Y/n will get him with her oar…isn’t that right y/n?” Dustin spoke to you sarcastically. You were glad you had the self control to not swing it at the infuriating child beside you as Steve moved away from you to pull Dustin aside. He didn’t need the two of you arguing with each other. You two bickered like siblings and now wasn’t the time for a pseudo-familial spat.

“I know you think you’re being funny, Henderson,” you started, continuing to jab at the tarps, “but considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight—“

Your words were cut off as a figure under the tarp sprung to life, grabbing you around the shoulders and pushing you against the wall. You heard the familiar flick of a pocket knife, feeling the sharp tip of the metal press against your throat. The boathouse erupted into a chorus of shrieks and screams, as you leaned your head back, unable to breathe as you stared wide-eyed at the boy you were tutoring for physics.

“Woah, woah, woah! Eddie! Eddie, stop!” Dustin shouted. He took a step closer and Eddie pushed you back farther into the wall, letting you all know that he wasn’t playing games. Steve felt like his whole world was crashing down around him. To Steve, Eddie’s actions confirmed that he was dangerous, that he had likely killed Chrissy, and that he was about to do the same thing to you. Steve’s mind was working double time trying to figure out how to get you away from the freak, as he started to take a huge step towards you when Robin roughly grabbed his arm, preventing him from getting any closer.

“Robin let go of me!” He shouted at her, trying to shake out of her grip.

“Steve,” she warned, and the way that she said it made him stop to reevaluate the situation, realizing the closer he got to you, the more he was putting your life in peril. A small cry escaped your lips as you tried to blink back tears, and Steve’s heart sank in his chest. He felt his hands trembling at his sides, wanting nothing more than to hold you and to tell you that everything was going to be okay, but watching as the knife threatened to break the skin of your neck, he wasn’t so sure he even believed the sentiment.

“It’s me, Dustin. This is y/n,” Dustin continued, gesturing to you, “she’s not going to hurt you, right, y/n?”

“Right, yeah,” you barely were able to whisper, the muscles in your neck all tensed as you tried to get as far away from the knife as possible. Your chest heaved as you swallowed and breathed out a shaky breath.

“Y/n, why don’t you drop the oar,” Dustin cautioned. You hadn’t even realized you were still holding it, barely even being able to feel the white knuckled grip you had on the handle. You willed your fingers to let go and as the oar crashed to the floor, the sudden sound caused Eddie to jump, leaning in farther and nicking your neck a bit in the process. You yelped in pain, and Steve started to freak out, unable to control his breathing. Robin continued to try and calm him down, but it wasn’t working super well.

“She’s cool, she’s cool!” Dustin reminded Eddie, still trying to talk him off of a cliff. Steve wished he had trusted his intuition earlier and kept you all far away from Eddie the freak Munson.

“I’m cool, man, I’m cool,” you spoke up, your voice shaky, “I’m helping you in Ms. O’Donell’s class, remember?”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked, his eyes wild as he refused to let you go.

“We’re looking for you, we’re here to help,” Dustin spoke up, “Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band. This is my friend Max, the one who never wants to play D&D. And obviously that’s Steve; I know you know him because you hate him, okay? Eddie, we are on your side. I swear on my mother, right guys?” He looked to the three of your friends behind him who all desperately nodded in agreement.

“Yes, yes, we swear!” Robin agree.

“Yeah, on Dustin’s mother,” you squeaked out. Eddie looked at you and you could tell he was acting out of fear. You knew this wasn’t him. That still didn’t quell the fear in your own chest as you spoke up once more to whisper, “please.”

Eddie paused, his eyes searching yours to try and determine your intention. He knew that you were a good person. Hell, you’d been helping him through fucking physics which wasn’t exactly a cake walk. Seeing the terror across your face as you whimpered, however, was what finally broke Eddie, as he finally let you go.

You let out a small cry as the tears you had been attempting to blink back finally spilled down your face while you crumpled to the floor. Steve rushed to your side, sitting on the floor with you, not unlike he had earlier in Family Video when the news came on. Your hand clutched at your neck. Even though Eddie had only just slightly nicked you, your blood had dripped enough to stain the collar of your shirt, and began to seep through your fingers as you held pressure to the cut. It stung like a bitch, but you were more scared than hurt.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me see, okay baby? Can you do that for me?” Steve asked softly, as one of his hands wrapped around the nape of your neck and the other gently tugged on your wrist. You obliged, trembling fingers dropping from your neck as you shook in Steve’s arms.

He used the sleeve of his jacket to put pressure on the cut to attempt to get it to stop bleeding. You took several deep breaths, wiping the tears away from your face as you began to finally calm down. It helped that you knew that Eddie wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. In your mind, he wasn’t a threat in the slightest, just a boy that was scared and needed some comforting.

“Eddie, we just want to talk,” you heard Dustin’s voice ring out in the empty boathouse. Eddie looked like a mess as he sat in a heap on the floor, looking equal parts defeated and terrified. Dustin tried to take the knife away from him, but Eddie tightened his grip so Dustin relented.

“We just want to know what happened,” you breathed out, your voice still shaky as you continued to calm down.

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie sniffled. You moved out of Steve’s grasp despite his protests, putting a gentle hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He tensed up but soon relaxed into your touch.

“Try us,” you replied. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the look on your face or the sincerity in your voice, but he decided in that moment that he could trust you guys.

He began by explaining that she was at his house so that he could sell to her, discussing how everything had been fine and normal…until it very much wasn’t.

“…her body just, like, lifted up into the air and, uh…and she just, like, hung there. And her bones…uh, she…her bones started to snap. Her eyes, man…it-it was like there was something inside her head pulling,” he whimpered with a faraway look in his eyes, “I…I-I didn’t know what to do, so I…I ran away…I-I left her there,” he scoffed, “you all think I’m crazy, right?”

“No, we don’t think you’re crazy,” Dustin began to assure him, but Eddie quickly cut him off.

“Don’t bullshit me, man! I know how this sounds!”

You moved in between Eddie and Dustin, pushing Dusting behind you protectively. “Hey, we’re not bullshitting you,” you started, your tone leaning on frustrated, “we believe you and we’re probably the only people who fucking will, so I would suggest you find a way to calm down and shut the fuck up because what I’m about to tell you might be difficult to take.”

“Okay,” Eddie finally said. No one was really expecting you to be that blunt about things, but it needed to be said.

“You know how people say Hawkins is…cursed?” You started, trying to find the right words. Eddie nodded. “They’re not…way off. There’s another world; a world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours,” your hand subconsciously went to the cut on your neck, the bleeding having finally trickled to a stop.

“Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asked hesitantly.

“There are some things worse than ghosts,” Max spoke up quietly, and you felt a chill creep up your spine as she said it.

“These monsters from this other world,” Dustin continued, “we thought that they were gone, but they’ve come back before and that’s why we needed to find you.”

“If they’re back again, we need to know,” you emphasized.

“That night, did you see anything?” Robin questioned. You all waited with bated breath for Eddie’s answer. You were afraid of what he might say and Steve stepped forward and grabbed your hand, sensing your anxiety.

“No, man, there was nothing you could see or, uh…touch,” Eddie responded, “you know, I tried to wake her man, but she couldn’t move. It was like she was…she was in a trance or something.”

“Or under a spell…Vecna’s curse,” Dustin whispered.

“Who’s Vecna?” Steve asked, pulling you into his chest. He needed something to hold onto.

“An undead creature of great power,” Dustin answered and you shuddered thinking about it. You had thought you got rid of whatever entity was calling the shots from the Upside Down, but maybe you were wrong.

Maybe everything that had happened before was merely the beginning.

***

You all had taken turns recounting the last two years worth of events to Eddie as he sat there in silence trying to take it all in. After everything that he had seen, he really had no choice but to believe you guys, glad that you were all on his side. You promised the boy that you would be back with supplies in the morning, swiftly piling back into Steve’s car.

“Hey, you know when we had that really sweet convertible and I had you drive it up that big ass hill so we could use my radio?” Dustin suddenly spoke up.

“Yeah?” Steve responded, not quite sure where the boy was going with this.

“Well, bad news is we’re gonna need to go use it again before we all go home because I have an idea, but good news is that it’s at my house now so that’s cool.”

Steve sighed and you all silently made your way to Dustin’s house. There wasn’t much to talk about. You tiptoed through his kitchen to avoid waking his mother as you all crept up to his bedroom. He started messing with all his radio equipment as you sat on his bed. While he was searching for the right frequency, Steve darted out of the bedroom and into the hall bathroom, opening the cabinet under the sink and rifling through it. He found what he was looking for and quietly slipped back into Dustin’s bedroom.

“Here,” he said as he sat down next to you. You looked at him confused until you saw that he had a first aid kit in his hands. He took out an alcohol wipe and started cleaning up the dried blood on your neck. You hissed when the wipe touched your cut, the alcohol burning as he disinfected it. He put some antibiotic ointment on a band aid and placed it gingerly over the cut. He noticed some of the hickies he had left on your neck the night before, quickly moving your hair to make them more inconspicuous. “There. All better.”

You couldn’t help but flush with how sweet Steve was being. Even if the world was undoubtedly ending, at least you knew that he was going to be there for you. You could tell that he was on edge, probably more so given how Eddie had reacted, and you just appreciated that he wasn’t overreacting…yet.

Suddenly, Dustin’s Cerebro came to life, and you heard the distinctive sound of police chatter over the radio as you were clued into what the Hawkins police department knew of Eddie’s involvement in Chrissy’s death. Unfortunately, though not released to the public yet, Eddie was prime suspect number one.

“Shit!” Dustin exclaimed. “Fuck!”

“Woah, woah, whoa, calm down Dustin. We’re gonna figure all of this out okay? Freaking out isn’t going to make any of this shit easier, so we might as well all stay calm,” your voice was remarkably even as you said it and it was starting to freak the rest of your friends out. Of everyone here, you should by all accounts be the most freaked out.

“Look, I don’t think that we should split up, given everything that’s going on,” Steve spoke. “My parents aren’t home, so how about everyone spends the night at my house? You can all call your parents and make arrangements when we get there.”

Everyone agreed with Steve, and you all made your way out to his car, Dustin leaving a note to let his mom know he would be gone before he left. “Y/n? Are you, like, okay?” Max asked hesitantly. Your mind flashed back to what it felt like to have a knife held up to your throat.

“I’m fine, Max. I promise,” you said, but it didn’t sound very convincing. You were honestly more worried about the kids. You thought about the fact that they were deprived a normal childhood, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. You were the babysitter, you were supposed to be the one to make sure that they were okay and safe and happy.

Steve finally pulled into his driveway, leading everyone inside and showing them around. “You all can sleep wherever. There’s a guest bedroom upstairs or you could sleep in the family room. I don’t care,” he sighed, just ready to go to sleep. Everyone got comfortable, Max and Robin choosing to sleep on the couches and Dustin taking the guest bedroom. You and Steve went to his room and you collapsed onto his bed.

“This can’t be happening again,” you spoke up as exhaustion from the day’s events settled in your bones.

“Yeah, I can’t quite believe it either,” Steve said, flopping down on the bed next to you. “Y/n, you have to promise me something okay?”

“What?”

“That if this all gets to be too much again, we call it quits. We get the kids out, we get Robin out, we get the hell out.”

“Steve,” you looked at him, trying to read his expression, “I can’t make that promise.”

“Y/n, everything has been escalating. First it was just one demogorgon, then it was a fuck ton of demo-dogs, then it was Russians and a giant flesh monster…I don’t know how we can handle anything worse, I mean we barely handled everything last summer!” He exclaimed, shaking his head at you. You could tell he was getting more irate, anger seeping into his tone.

“Steve, we either do nothing and die when the whole fucking world ends, or we do something and maybe die trying, or better yet, we fix the fucking problem and never have to worry about it again,” you replied, sitting up, slightly irritated with his tone. He stood up, looking down at you with a furrowed brow as he continued.

“You’re not understanding, y/n. Look, someone died. Unexplainably, just up and died in the most gruesome fucking way. We don’t know anything about how it happened or why or if it will happen again, and I’ll be damned if it happens to one of us, okay. Just promise me.”

“Steve, I can’t, and you know I can’t.”

Steve scoffed, trying to find the right words. He felt anxiety creep up in his chest as he decided that now was as good a time as any to get really fucking real with you. “Y/n. I want a future with you. We can’t fucking have that if one of us is dead.”

“We can’t have a future if the world fucking ends either. I have a massive fucking headache and I just want to go to bed, okay?” You got up and began changing into pajamas, and you heard Steve sigh behind you. He remembered his pinky promise to you in the woods that you were in this together. If you couldn’t make a promise to him, the best he could do was uphold his.

“Fine. But I’m not gonna be able to live with myself if something happens to you,” he warned as he crawled into bed, scooting towards you to spoon you. It was odd how casually you two could have a conversation like this, about the end of the world and the possibility of losing each other at any given moment.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” you replied, turning in his arms and placing a kiss to his chest. You willed the words to be true as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

***

Dustin threw the door open to the boathouse and you rolled your eyes, knowing it would likely scare the shit out of Eddie. You seemed to be right as you heard him shout from across the room, finally making it into the shed to see him pressed up against the back wall, knife extended out in front of him.

“Delivery service,” Dustin smiled at his friend. You waved sheepishly at Eddie, hoping that he could find it in his heart to forgive you guys for nearly giving him a heart attack…twice.

You all moved to stand around the boat as Eddie sat down in it, tearing into a box of cereal and eating it as if he hadn’t had a meal in days…which to be fair he probably hadn’t.

“So we have some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer it?” Dustin cut to the chase.

“Bad news first, always,” Eddie spoke through a mouthful of food. Your nose scrunched up in disgust as you scanned the room, noticing similar expressions painted on Robin and Max’s faces.

“We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with Dustin’s Cerebro, and they’re definitely looking for you,” you quickly spoke up as you gave the boy a sympathetic look.

“Also, they’re uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy,” Dustin chimed in.

“Like, 100% kind of convinced,” Max agreed. You rolled your eyes. So much for breaking the news softly.

“And the good news?”

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet. But if we found out about you, it’s only a matter of time before others do too, and once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother will be gunning for you,” Robin spoke up.

“Hunt the freak, right?” Eddie clarified, his eyes staring off, unfocused.

“Exactly,” Robin breathed out.

“So before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence,” Dustin outlined.

“That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?” Eddie fumed. Sure he loved the Henderson kid, but the boy got on his damn nerves like all the time, and this was one of those moments.

“Believe it or not, we’ve been through this kind of thing before…a few times actually,” you reassured Eddie, hoping that your words would calm his nerves but that was definitely a bit of a stretch.

“You’re telling me that you, Ms. 4.0, have been off fighting monsters while maintaining a perfect GPA?” Eddie asked in disbelief. “Bullshit.”

“I know, it’s pretty impressive,” Steve spoke up, throwing an arm around you, “we usually rely on this girl with super powers but, uh, those went bye-bye.”

“So we’re kind of in more of the brainstorming phase,” Robin spoke up and you all nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, you really have nothing to worry about,” Dustin reassured Eddie, but all of you knew that that was far from the truth. There was definitely a shit ton of stuff to worry about. Before Eddie could ask anymore questions, you all heard sirens wailing in the distance. He quickly covered up with the tarp as you all ran to the window, watching as several emergency vehicles passed right by Reefer Rick’s house.

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you concluded that there must be another body. You all raced to Steve’s car again, following the waling sound of sirens, afraid of what you’d find.

***

a/n: thanks for reading people of tumblr! If you wanted to reblog, I promise I wouldn’t be mad ;)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @maeve-wileyy @palachannie @chaerfull @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @bethsvrse @aheadfullofsteverogers

[inbarfink]

The deaths of all the Finch kids are really so unbearably tragic. It really speaks to the quality of the writing and storytelling in ‘What Remains’. They’re written as so vivid and human and real, but also so many of them died so young. They were children, it’s so much harder for me to do the whole ‘well, let’s appreciate the life they did have’ thing when the majority of them didn’t even have a chance to become the people they could have become. And yet the image of who they could’ve been if they survived is so vivid in my mind. 

Edith had that line about how she always imagined Molly as a girl she could be good friends with. Obviously if she didn’t die back in 1947 they wouldn’t really be at the same age group, but she’d be one hell of a Cool Aunt. I can only imagine her Weird Girl tendencies would’ve only grown stronger and stronger with age. Considering her fascination with animals, maybe she would’ve gone to study Zoology or Biology when she grew older? And since she was dissecting a sea star just before her canon death…

Sadly, I’m not sure if Barbara would’ve been able to resurrect her acting career. But there’s some subtle hints in her room that in reality she was more willing to move past it compared to her fictionalized version in that horror comic (which can’t be easy when you live in a room your dad themed entirely around your child-star years THANKS SVEN). That ‘horror convention’ seems to be an invention of the comic, Barbara’s actual room has a flier for a ‘Witch’s Ball’ at Orcas Island High School and a dress ready for it. 

Barbara Finch didn’t actually spend her last day on earth hopelessly trying to revive her dead career, she was hoping to have a fun Halloween party like a regular teenager. Maybe the fact that it was hosted by the Orcas Island High School Drama Club implies she still had an interest in acting and theatre. Maybe she could’ve ended up as a classically trained actress with the child-stardom as just a fun quirk of her past? Or maybe she just wanted to take part in the Witches Ball because she likes Spooky Things? And she could have found her way back into the Horror Scene in a different way, like being a writer or costume designer or something?

Maybe Calvin could’ve become an Astronaut like he always wanted? But I think Calvin might’ve been more enthralled with the fantasy of science fiction than the reality of space travel. I’m thinking a lot about how Sam described Clavin in Gregory’s memoriam as ‘lost in his imagination’. Maybe he could’ve become a science fiction writer or something?

Walter didn’t technically die young, but he still certainly lost most of his years to the Curse. Like, a big thing about the tragedy of Walter to me is realizing his original childhood bedroom was themed after “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” and trains. 

Lil’ Walter did have an interest in adventure and travel, before his fears took it all away from him. If it wasn’t for the Curse, Walter could’ve actually something with it. Maybe he could’ve traveled around a bit and written about his experiences.

Lewis would’ve probably gone into game design. It’s not just how his fantasies manifest to us the players, but you can actually find books about game design and coding in his room. It seems that the problem was that his crappy job and his depression took away any opportunity he might have had to actually pursue this idea. Maybe if Milton never left, these three Finch siblings could’ve combined their creative skills together to make like, a very cool artsy game.

Speaking of which… man, Edith’s death stings the most because we got to know her far better than anyone else. And it’s not even the fact that she never got to share her all of her thoughts and creativity with the wider world that makes me the saddest. Getting to the end of the game and hearing just how much she was looking forwards to be with her son - even with all the hardships of being a teen mom, she was really looking forwards to it. To meet him, to share her stories with him. But instead, that worn old diary is the only connection between them...

And that’s like… part of what’s so great about WRoEF’s use of its own format. Like, the faux-interactive linearity of the Narrative Exploration/‘Walking Simulator’ is so perfect for selling this tragedy. The way each Death Flashback only moves forwards based on the actions of the Player, but it always moves on the same unchanging doomed path - really highlights both how stupidly preventable so many of these deaths feel and really make the Player wish there was a way to change them. After all, all they need is for Calvin to not swing so hard, for Gregory’s faucet to not turn back on, for Walter to not stand directly on those train tracks and everything would’ve been fine. But at the same time it’s so, so clear to the Player that this is an impossible wish. There is no other way these sequences can go - these deaths have already been written. The most you can you is linger, all you can do is delay the inevitable. 

But it hurts.

[shawnxstyles]

prank? more like spank

DATE: JANUARY 28, 2023

summary: after a day out with your friends, they convince you to prank your boyfriend tom that you got a vaginal piercing. once you break the news, he has to see for himself.

request: yess

words: 3.6k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [pussy spanking, clit play/edging, masochism, slight nipple play], dirty talk, aftercare) language, and fluff.

note: THIS TITLE IS SO FUNNY PLEASE. the gif is so random too 😭 sorry i’ve been so inactive, i’m so busy!! tom masterlist

soft dom!tom

—

“What if I just got a tattoo?” You ask spontaneously as you approach the tattoo and piercing shop. You and your friends were wandering around town, having a much-needed girl day. The two girls stare at you for a moment before giggling hysterically.

“You hate pain and plus, Tom would freak!” Alina laughs harder at your ridiculousness. She had a few simple tattoos herself; small ones on her hands and elegant drawings on her arms. Her black hair was long and sleek, always looking on-point. Even though her tattoos fit her beautifully, it didn’t convince you to get one. You could never get a tattoo, even if you were paid.

“What about a piercing?” You suggest. You have had your lobes pierced since you were young, but you’ve never desired anything else. Nose and lip rings were trendy when you were in high school, but you never understood why anyone would ever put metal inside of their face, let alone the more sensitive parts of their body.

“Again, your pain tolerance is very low,” Alina says, swinging her small bag of leftover food from lunch. “Did you know people pierce their vaginas?”

“Of course. I’ve considered it,” Reyna nonchalantly inserts. You and Alina gawk at her, dumbstruck because she’s never mentioned anything like that before. One thing about Reyna was that she always surprised you; there was always something you didn’t know. One day, she said she was getting a tattoo, so she did. Another, she said she was going to Venice, so she did. In a way, she was very good at keeping her word, which made her a great friend.

Her body was littered in tattoos from top to bottom. Her drawings were thick, dark, and colorful along her naturally tan skin. Her ears were engulfed in pieces of jewelry, while her nose held a septum and two opposing studs. How did she breathe? Her red-dyed hair was frizzy and wavy and shaped her face just right. Her eyes were a hazel, but could easily pass for a shade of green.

“What does it even pierce? Where does the jewelry go?” You ask, trying to imagine how painful it would be on a scale.

“Your clitorus,” Reyna answers, sipping from her straw casually.

“That’s like the most sensitive part!” Your face screams in horror. Why would anyone ever do that to themselves? You feel your legs clench in protection like you can feel the blinding pain just picturing it.

Unfathomable out of ten you decide on when thinking back to the scale.

“I don’t think you could pay me to get that done. Even if I could have it removed,” Alina shakes her head in disapproval.

“When I told Riker I was thinking about it, he was freaking the fuck out. He was trying to be supportive, but I can tell he was scared,” Reyna chuckles. Her boyfriend was the complete opposite of her. She is sociable and outgoing, and is always at someone’s place to party. Riker, her boyfriend of eight months, was a homebody who played video games in his free time. Their largest sharing characteristic is that they are extremely hardworking, which led them to meet while working at the same job.

Ah. Romance.

“I can’t even imagine how Tom would react,” You say, eyes wandering the ground.

“You should see,” Alina suggests.

“What do you mean?”

“Tell him you got a piercing. See what he says,” Reyna adds for clarification.

“Oo, you should record it!” Alina claps giddily and you laugh at their ideas. You shake your head at the recording part, but heavily consider the main idea. Why not have a little fun? You turn over your shoulder and peer at the tattoo and piercing shop that fades in the distance as you continue to walk. Your sundress flows in the spring breeze as you bite your lip.

“Okay,” You shake your head, somehow convinced to play a stupid joke on your innocent, loving boyfriend.

“Ah, how I love a good prank,” Reyna smiles to the sky as you all approach the car.

—

When the girls drop you home first, you wave goodbye to them and then head straight for the door. The sun was beginning to set in the evening, and you wondered what Tom had been doing all day.

“I’m back!” You shout, removing your shoes and hanging up your purse. His response echoes from the kitchen and you walk toward him with nerves.

You weren’t the most convincing liar, so trying to pull off a prank was going to be difficult. Your fingers fiddle anxiously as he turns around from the stove to face you. A soft smile curls on his lips and your insides melt. However, your heart races in extreme nervousness because he looks so innocent and unknowing.

Oh, he’s so going to fall for it.

“Hey, baby. How was your girl’s day?” Tom’s hands slide under your arms and hug you securely. His lips press a firm and tender kiss on your forehead and you sigh softly.

“It was… exciting,” Your eyes sparkle as you stare at him. He looks at you, patiently waiting for you to continue. But you don’t, you wait for him to ask.

“What was so exciting, love?” He delicately brushes the wispy hair from your face, admiring every one of your facial features. Tom was so in love with you, he couldn’t help but stare in disbelief that you were really his.

“I got a piercing!” You smile widely as you squeeze Tom’s biceps in exaggerated excitement. Tom raises his eyebrows, not expecting you to say that. He always just assumed you went out for lunch or went shopping. He would have never assumed you got a piercing, especially knowing how much you hate unnecessary pain.

“You did? Where?” Tom smiles as he curls your hair behind your ears, scouting for the nonexistent jewelry. His eyebrows scrunch when he searches your face as well, but doesn’t find anything.

“It’s on my clit,” You whisper sweetly, biting your lip. Your heart pounds in your chest and you’re hoping he can’t feel it. You tried your best to hold in your laugh at his reaction.

Tom’s eyes widened so much, you thought they were going to pop out of their sockets. He blushes profusely and pulls away from you, cheeks a rosy pink as his jaw practically slides along the kitchen tile. He dryly coughs, trying to hide how flabbergasted he is.

You smile wider and harder, trying not to break your act. Seeing Tom so shocked makes you want to burst out laughing at how easily he fell for it. He knows you absolutely hate pain, yet he still believed it.

“I-I thought you hated pain…” He starts breathily, “What…how…?”

“Reyna convinced me. She said it feels great when having sex,” The lies spill from your mouth before you could even process what it meant. Did that even make sense?

Tom blinks rapidly, mind racing at the change. He didn’t even know that one could get their clit pierced. He never would have thought you would want to get yours done. He remembers early on in your relationship when you told him you cried the entire time when you got your ears pierced. And when you got your shots at the doctors. He even remembers you telling him you cried when you first had sex… but that was understandable. But being reminded of that just makes him even more confused on why you would get something so painful.

You must have cried a lot, he thinks. His heart aches a tad because he wasn’t there for you.

“Well… can I see it?” Tom tries to cool down his burning red face, but it only seems to intensify as he imagines seeing it; your clit irritated and puffy as a bar of metal sears through it.

Now, it was your time to widen your eyes. You tried to hide it by wandering your eyes all over the place, but if anything, that just made it more obvious you were hiding it. Tom contorts his face in mild confusion at your hesitation as you laugh nervously.

“Y/N, can I see the piercing?” He repeats, stalking a bit closer to you.

“No!” You deny too quickly, backing away from him like he was psychotic.

“No? Baby, I’m going to see it eventually. Might as well see it now,” He smiles, reassuringly as you struggle to come up with more lies. Why did you think he wouldn’t want to see it?

“It’s um… really swollen and puffy. You can’t even see it,” You shake your head as you wave it off, swallowing your nerves dryly. Tom skeptically squints his eyelids, puzzled at your sudden defensiveness.

“I can’t see it? How do you know? I haven’t even tried yet.”

“I looked. It’s like it’s not even there,” Nervous laughs release from your mouth and you would be surprised if he still believed you.

Then he quirked an eyebrow, sensing your deceitfulness. Your nervousness gives him a growing confidence. He licks his lips and clicks his tongue, a sly smirk threatening to curl up on his lips.

“Let me see it, Y/N.”

“No!”

Before you could even take off in a sprint, Tom’s arms are tightened securely around your waist. He drags your flailing body and hoists you up onto the kitchen counter, forcing you to stay seated. You wiggle profusely underneath his strong grip, but realize it’s no use compared to his thick muscles. You huff, annoyed that he captured you.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself since you want to be so stubborn,” He grumbles as he crumples the sundress up to your waist. You hold your breath, hands gripping the counter. He forces your legs to spread, eye level with your panties. Your cunt aches as it begins to dampen the material.

“Is the piercing making you that wet? Or is it something else?” Tom taunts, yanking the flimsy fabric until it’s tossed along the kitchen floor. Waves of heat creep up your neck at how close he is to your cunt. He’s seen you naked a million times for your usual sensual, soft sex. But with a lie in between you, you don’t know what to expect.

Tom’s arms lock your thighs to the marble counter. He stares at your pussy, looking as gorgeous as ever. He takes his rough fingers and carefully spreads your soaking folds, inspecting for a piece of jewelry. You gasp as more arousal leaks out of your pussy, begging for more friction. As he gets closer to your clit, you whine from the teasing.

“Well, your clit is puffy… but I don’t see any piercing,” Tom pretends to pout like he hadn’t known you were lying most of the time. His thumb delicately taps your neglected nerves, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. “Why did you lie, baby?”

“I don’t know,” With clenched teeth, your eyes focus solely on his devoid touches. Your mind is so distracted by the tedious teasing, you barely comprehend his words. Before you could even reconsider your answer, Tom slaps his hand directly on your clit. You yelp as your hips thrust forward at the mixture of pleasure, pain, and shock that sears through your body. Your clit throbs as you continue to seep on the cold counter, more desperate than ever.

“Another lie. You’re being such a bad girl today. Do I need to punish you?” He questions, palm rubbing deliberately slow on the hood of your clit. Your body trembles as you roll your hips against his hand. With an upset growl, his hand comes down on you again, harsher and more demanding than before. A needy moan escapes you, your hands clawing at his T-shirt. “You just never learn.”

Tom tsks disappointingly and spreads your legs impossibly wider, juices leaking onto the solid surface below you. The texture of his hands roaming your skin created the most sinful scenes in your head. You imagined his thick digits pushing into your cunt, slippery and soft as he thrusts deeper and deeper. You mewled just at the thought, causing him to stare at you curiously.

“What are you thinking about? Hm? Answer me truthfully this time or I won’t even consider you coming tonight,” Tom demands as he flicks your pulsing clit, causing your body to jolt in surprise. Your hands squeeze his muscular shoulders as you try to remain still.

“Your hands. I love your hands,” You admit breathily. Tom slowly removes the loose straps of your dress until they’re slipping off your smooth shoulders and down your arms. He reveals your breasts, nipples pointed and neglected.

With a smirk, his dominant hand continues to deliberately stroke up and down your clit, while his other toys with your nipples. Your breathing heaves as your eyes gawk at his motions, getting more turned on just from the sight. He twists and pulls on your buds until they’re aching painfully good. Tom makes sure his hand tickles your skin when it trails down your torso to add more stimulation to your clit.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, darling,” One hand forces your legs open while the other collects your arousal too lightly. You clench around nothing, pleading for his teasing to end. He resumes his delicate tapping on your nerves, making you whine in agony. “Why did you lie?”

Your heart races and thighs begin to shake from being stretched out.

“I-I wanted to see how you would react,” You reply breathily as he repeatedly taps you. You roll your hips in circles, trying to get more friction against the pad of his thumb. He hums, satisfied yet evilly.

“So this is what you wanted?” Tom slots his middle finger into your seeping hole, causing you to gasp as if it was your first time. With all the teasing, you were sensitive to any little touch, grateful for what he was giving you. “Wanted me to freak out, wanted me to punish you?”

You release a nosy moan, clutching around his digit as it sinks into you deeply. You nod your head to every thrust of his finger, slow and tedious. As your high builds from the edging, his finger is removed from your cunt, empty and aching. You elicit uncontrollable whines as you scoot to the edge of the counter to get closer to his hand. His hand grips your hip tightly to ensure you stay still.

“No, no. This is a punishment, baby. If it gets too much, let me know, but,” Tom husks with a soft expression. When you nod impatiently, waiting for his next moves, his sinful glare returns to your eyes. “you said you liked my hands, so I’m going to give you one.”

Tom’s hand strikes down on your pussy, a wet slapping sound against your arousal. You squeak with a strong grasp on his shoulders as he smirks, pleasured from catching you off guard. He spanks you again, clit throbbing under the palm of his hand. Your stomach tightens as you grind into the air, begging for more. When his hand slaps you again, he makes sure to directly strike your bundle of nerves, making you tremble immensely.

Fireworks shoot through your body like you’ve never felt before. The sensation was a mixture of pleasure and pain; so shocking and blissful you thought you might pass out. You never would’ve thought you’d be enjoying something as agonizing as spanking, especially on one of the most sensitive parts of your body.

You felt hypocritical and pious; for someone who hated even the idea of pain, enjoying spanking was the last possibility crossing your mind.

But each slap of skin sent you higher into the sky as you floated with ecstasy. Even though you were inching closer to heaven, you’ve never felt more sinful and devilish in your life.

Tears slip down your face as you moan in euphoria. Your core clenches and your eyes roll back as you lose your grip to reality. Your legs beg to close, but Tom’s hand and body forces them to remain open.

“Look at you. Enjoying your punishment,” Tom tsks as his thumb rapidly circles your clit. You gasp with a cry, shaking violently from the blinding pleasure. “Are you going to come from me playing with your clit? Hm? From me spanking you?”

His words have your stomach tensing and mind spinning. You felt like you were flying through a starry haze; a dreamland where everything felt too good to be true. Your high builds and builds until you’re falling down so fast, you’re floating gracefully. Waves of euphoria crash through your body as your muscles spasm, chants of his name repeatedly leaving your lips.

A knowing and encouraging smirk is in your view as he rubs you out, draining you of your orgasm. The white moisture coats his hand before he brings it up to his lips and licks his fingers clean.

Your pussy lips pulsate as your clit continues to throb in irritation from the spanking. Your breathing relaxes as you blink away the glossiness from your eyes. Tom licks his lips, smiling goofily at you as he wipes away your tears.

“You did so well for someone who doesn’t like pain,” Tom compliments as he smooths your wild hair away from your tear-stained cheeks. You roll your eyes with a raspy chuckle and shake your head. “Let’s clean you up, yeah? And how was it?”

“I didn’t think… I never would have thought…” Your mind continues to blur as you forget the words on your tongue. Pulling up the straps of your sundress, you try to recall what you were going to say. “I liked it, surprisingly. A lot. Like a lot a lot.”

Tom chuckles at your enthusiasm and leans in to you. His lips lock with yours in a breathtaking kiss, rocking back and forth. Similar fireworks spark in your body again as you wrap your hands around his neck to sink deeper into him. His tongue slots into your mouth with ease, making you melt in heart-bubbling bliss.

To catch a breath, you release from each other, you now both wearing silly, fond smiles.

“This doesn’t mean you’re going to get a piercing… right?” With skepticism and hopefulness, Tom looks at you. You bite your lip, pretending to really consider it.

“I mean, now that I have an amazing tolerance to pain, I might as well. I have nothing to lose!” You push Tom away and hop off the counter with an overwhelmingly ecstatic smile. With shaky legs, you sprint out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

A burning sensation is felt on the skin of your vagina as your legs rub against the irritation surface. You hiss and wince as you make your way up the stairs. You regret running away from Tom because he said he was going to take care of you. Your skin screams in agony as you make it to the bed. You didn’t think it would be this painful, especially after he just spanked you. And you liked it.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He shouts as he jogs up the staircase. “Swear, she’s going to be the death of me.” He mumbles to himself before entering the bedroom.

He finds you lying on the bed, wincing with a pinched face. His expression softens as he comes to your aid.

“What’s wrong, lovie?” Tom rubs your shoulder, searching over your body for injuries. Your hands push down on the material of the dress right over your burning mound. He nods in sudden understanding before heading toward the bathroom. He comes back with a tube of some type of cream or ointment. “Lay back, baby.”

You do as he says and crawl back until your head is relaxing comfortably on the pillows. He slowly widens your tense legs and flicks the flare of your dress up to your hips. He takes a peek at your irritated skin, a deep frown on his lips. With the cream on his fingers, he very gently rubs it onto you. It’s cold, almost too cold compared to the heated burn on your skin. But the contrast cools you and relieves all your pain, causing you to sink into the mattress calmly.

“Better?” Tom asks, softly applying the medicine to the bare areas.

“Yes,” You sigh with your head thrown back, breathing steadily. Tom bites his lip, looking at your distraught figure.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I went too hard. I’ll never do it again—”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, Tom. Really, I liked it. I’m not lying this time,” He smiles softly at you and you return the favor reassuringly. He hovers above you and gives you a graceful kiss on the lips. He falls beside you and stretches to grab some tissues for his hands to clean off the cream. Then you two lay in the comfortable silence of each other.

“If I really did get a piercing though, how would you react?” You question, turning your head towards his.

“Probably the same.”

“Noted,” You smirk, causing him to turn his face in slight horror at your back and forth attitude. “Kidding! I can’t even handle moderate pain.”

“You’re crazy.”

You infamously roll your eyes before he kisses you again, making you forget everything. You laugh against his lips, causing the whole kiss to be a sloppy mess. In hysterics, you both laugh full heartedly as you pull away.

“Come on. Let’s go finish dinner,” Shaking his head, Tom gets up from the bed and begins to walk back downstairs to the kitchen.

“What if I got, like, a tongue piercing?” You shout from the bedroom. You hear him groan in annoyance as you follow him to the kitchen.

Oh, you loved pranking your boyfriend.

—

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter eleven: i am always running back to you | read chapter ten

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.7k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

━ a/n: SO SORRY.... it was the horrors (midterms). hope this chapter makes up for it because boy it is a lot of fun

The rest of the evening passes slowly.

It does nothing for your nerves, truthfully, but you keep yourself preoccupied with Wade. He crawls now and that leaves him wanting to explore every space possible. So, while Wally runs out for dinner and Linda wraps up a meeting with her editor, you watch over him and make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.

Dinner is deep-dish pizza—directly from Chicago. It’s all very indulgent, the way Wally can do things like that; he spoils you in that regard and you tell him as much as you wash dishes and he puts them away.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he says, shooting you a small smile. “Besides, it’s for me, too.”

And you can tell that’s true by the four empty boxes of pizza that he ate, with two for you and Linda. 

But still. When he leaves…

It’s not just that that you’re going to miss. With or without the speed, you’re going to miss him. Him, Linda, and little Wade.

Despite not saying that—because you don’t want to be a downer, because their home is in Keystone City, not here, and you don’t want to be selfish like that—he senses the shift in your mood.

“You know,” he starts, “me and Lin were thinking…”

“That’s never good.”

He nudges you gently, grinning. You shake your head, smiling, too. You pass him a freshly-washed plate and he dries it. 

“Well, wait until you hear what we were thinking about.”

“What?”

“We think you should visit us every now and then.”

The thought that they want you around is warming, as usual. But…

“I mean, I would love to, Wally, but I can’t really afford that… Maybe, after I see how everything adds up during the fall, I can come for the holidays or something. But…”

He shakes his head. “Come on, kiddo. You think we’d say that and leave it up to you?”

“I don’t expect—”

“I know. But you should. We want to do whatever we can to see you. You aren’t the only one that’s going to miss something when we leave, you know. That’s why we’re doing this. Besides,” he grins at you, lightening up. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I can get you to Keystone in under a minute right now.”

Considering that Linda has told you that his speed is efficient but leaves one with a horrible bout of nausea and vertigo—at least in the beginning; she’s barely affected these days—you feel some mild apprehension.

But those things are temporary. You can withstand that, if only to see them again.

“Or,” he goes on, “we can fly you out, but that would honestly be pretty cumbersome and would also take too long.”

“It’s a plane, Wally. That is the fastest form of transportation we have in this country.”

He sniffs. “I’m the fastest form of transportation we have in this country. In the world! One of them, anyway.”

“Well, that’s how we normal human beings function. Not everyone can run faster than the speed of light.” 

“Not everyone should,” he agrees. “I’d lose my appeal. That would suck.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So, is that a yes or—?”

“Alright,” you relent, smiling. “How often are we talking?”

He smiles a tad bashfully. “Once or twice a month? You can come on the weekends… Just—you know. I know you’re gonna be busy with classes but…”

“It sounds like I should be getting a nice break every month if we do that. I mean, I can’t promise I won’t have work—”

“Just as long as you’re around, kid. That’s all we want.”

Your face warms at the earnestness in his words, embarrassed, though you know you really shouldn’t be. “Wally.”

“Hey, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’ve been in this game too long to try and dance around feelings. Hopefully your boy will learn that, too.”

“You aren’t wrong,” you mutter, shutting off the water and drying your hands, making a mental reminder to put on some lotion before they get annoyingly dry from the hot water and dish soap. “I’m just not… used to that.”

He shrugs, tossing his dish towel over his shoulder. “Like I said. In a world like ours… it’s important.”

You don’t disagree. But you can’t rail too hard on Tim. Questionable decisions regarding his feelings aside, the both of you only came to your senses after he had a close-call today. What does that say about you, that he has to nearly die for you to realize you need to see him again? Need to clear the air? 

It’s human, you think. So very terribly human of you.

It’s not like you’re unappreciative of him in your life but… you know this dance and song. You only realize what you have when you lose it. Look at your parents. You’ve slipped right now but you’ll fix it. You’ll make sure he knows how much he means to you.

But more importantly, right now…

“You guys… mean a lot to me, too.” You turn, seeing Linda pause near the island, and meet her brown eyes and even though it makes your face hot and the words get stuck in your throat, you force them out, underpinned with what you hope they can tell is sincerity. “You do. So much.”

Your throat tightens and you duck your head as your eyes burn. 

Hard to quantify. Hard to put a label on what they mean to you.

But you know that much. That they mean the world to you. 

Warm, strong arms come around you, squeezing you tight. You sniffle when you feel Linda come up behind you, squeezing you, too.

It’s an emotional day, you decide. For all of you. 

So, you take a long shower to try and pull yourself together, then head to bed, bidding Wally and Linda goodnight.

You don’t intend to fall asleep when you crawl into your bed. It’s better to stay up, to wait for Tim to get here. But the day’s events start weighing down on you as you curl up beneath the blankets.

You try valiantly to stay awake by scrolling on your phone but it’s a Sisyphean task to do so. As your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, you know it will be a task that you fail as you stop fighting and give in to sleep.

It’s only the vibration of your phone that rouses you. 

Groping for it, the display is obscenely bright in the darkness of your room. But the text waiting for you is unmistakable, impossible to miss.

i’m here

Suddenly recalling what you and Tim had agreed upon, you shoot up in bed, ignoring the head rush the action gives you. 

The window that leads out to the fire escape is right next to your bed, covered by curtains. You toss your phone aside, rolling out of the warm cocoon of blankets; the AC in this place works well, a little too well, you think groggily as your bare feet connect with cold wood floors. 

You shove aside the curtains and though you know who is waiting for you, that it is Tim, just Tim, your best friend, the still-not-fully-awake part of you clenches up in fear, thinking it might be Batman that is moving in the shadows, only barely illuminated by the full moon. But you know better than that.

It helps that your eyes are already adjusted to the darkness, recognizing the figure crouched in your fire escape. Dressed in… oddly enough, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a light jacket. Completed with a plain black domino mask—not the usual one he wears, more akin to Robin, save for the color—that obscures the blue eyes you know and love.

You reach for the window. Well-oiled and taken care of by the owners, it is virtually silent as it slides open. 

Muggy July heat rushes in, chasing away the cold.

Without the window and with your vision quickly clearing from bleariness, you can really take him in. The tension in his body, the way a breeze ruffles through dark hair, the twitch of his hands to you before they clench into fists. Waiting. 

For you. 

Your throat thickens painfully when your eyes snag on the white gauze taped to the left side of his neck. 

Just a graze, Steph told you. But he lost a bit of blood anyway and his neck… if it had been the right side, would he not be here right now? Maybe it doesn’t matter. It’s his neck, there are so many important arteries running through there. 

If anything else had happened, if he’d moved even a little bit, he wouldn’t be here.

That realization, coupled with the overwhelming emotions at seeing him again since everything, pushes you over the edge.

Your eyes burn with tears. You reach forward, ignoring the soreness in your belly, one hand grabbing his wrist and tugging him right into the circle of your arms. 

That breaks the stalemate. He goes quickly, arms sliding around you as the first of your tears start sliding down your cheeks.

“Tim…”

He holds you tighter, impossibly warm, letting out a shuddery breath and whispering your name, too, everything inside you shivering at the sound, at the warmth that wraps up the syllables of your name. 

“I’m okay,” he breathes. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“You were shot.”

An exhale of a laugh. It sounds shaky with emotion.

“Technically, I was grazed.”

“Tim.”

He presses his nose to your hair, hand stroking up your back.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, lips brushing your forehead. “I wasn’t going to die before I got to see you. No way.”

You sniffle. The two of you are quiet, speaking lowly, but you’re suddenly too aware of the other window on the fire escape, the one for Linda and Wally’s room. You don’t want to wake them—or god forbid, Wade—so you reluctantly extract yourself from his arms, tugging him again.

He follows easily, sliding through the window with a grace you aren’t used to. He shuts the window silently behind him, banishing the muggy air that had leaked inside. You wipe away your tears, attempting to piece yourself together. 

As he turns back to you, hesitantly now, the air conditioner clicks on, and a second later, cold air starts blowing into your room. It should help cover your voices a little bit.

For a moment, it is silent. 

Tim shifts on his feet across from you. The domino mask renders him impervious. Impossible to read without seeing his eyes.

But not totally impossible. The way he bites his lip doesn’t just draw your attention to his mouth, tempting, traitorous thoughts briefly crossing your mind, but it also clues you into his nervous state. 

“I’m sorry.”

He speaks first, blurting the words out, seeming almost surprised at the way they escaped him before he decides to go with it, doubling down on it.

Taking a deep breath, he looks at you, whispering your name. “I’m sorry. For lying to you. For coming to you as Red Robin instead of myself. For everything. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know.”

You were in that position, too. You didn’t fuck it up this badly but… you each had your parts to play. No one is blameless here.

“I just,” he stops, looking away, hands clenching at his sides. “I want to be friends. If anything else. I want that.”

If anything else.

You understand what he is saying here.

He isn’t here under any pretenses. Isn’t expecting you to take him in with open arms. Would be fine as friends.

Well, you don’t want that.

“Tim.” 

He looks at you. You extend a hand. Waiting. Not demanding.

Slowly, he comes to you. Palm sliding against yours. Warm and a little clammy, calloused but still soft. 

A few inches of space separate you when he stops. 

This close, you can feel the heat of him. Smell his shampoo, soft and fragrant. Eucalyptus. 

You squeeze his hand once then let go. 

He and Red Robin are two sides of the same coin. There is no Tim Drake without Red Robin, you think. Not right now. 

Maybe it’ll change, down the line. One part of you selfishly hopes so.

You’ll always want him. But as Red Robin, the risk of losing him triples and you are greedy enough to want to mitigate it. The same with Steph. Even with Wally, who is considerably more durable. All of them, duty-bound, honor-bound. You cannot ask that of them. 

Right now, though, you think you can make that demand. At least temporarily.

You reach for him. Pausing when your hands near his face. But he doesn’t move. Just looks down at you and you wonder if he can hear your heart, with how hard, how loudly, it pounds in your chest.

You have to be certain.

So, when your fingers finally touch the smooth material of the mask, before trying to lift it, you ask, in a whisper, “Can I?”

“Yes,” he breathes, some emotion you don’t know underlying his voice, one that makes your face warm and your heart skip a beat.

Your fingers find the edge, slowly, gently peeling it up. It peels and peels and peels until finally, it detaches into your hands. Almost flimsy now but with a certain weight. 

That’s not what retains your attention, though.

It’s him. It’s always him.

Tim’s eyes are closed, the tiniest of wrinkles found between his brows.

You imagine what it must be like to him. Letting you do that. Peel back the final layer of him once and for all. Letting you see him. Tim. Your Tim.

Keeping the domino mask loosely grasped in one hand, your other reaches for him, your thumb finding the wrinkle between his brows. It smooths out instantly at your touch and his eyes flutter open.

There they are.

It’s a shade of blue that haunts your dreams most nights.

Usually a lighter, softer color in the light, something like cornflowers, but right now, they’re midnight sky blue, looking at you with a heavy kind of affection, warm and unbridled. 

Your hand settles on his cheek. He leans into the touch. Your thumb strokes over the sensitive skin under his eye. Where dark circles mar the skin, exhaustion finally clear in his face.

You smile sadly. “You look tired, Timmy.”

“Last couple weeks,” he swallows, “have been… rough.”

“Tell me about it.”

He smiles. It’s a small thing but no less beautiful to your eyes. 

Then he sobers up, gazing at you, pained. “I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I was an idiot.”

“I know.” You take a deep breath. “We both were.”

He opens his mouth to protest but you speak before he can. 

“It’s true. You know that. We didn’t handle this like we should but it’s… it’s in the past. We can’t change it. We just have to move forward.”

A slow nod, then his eyes flicker to your hand, still between you two, still holding onto the domino mask. He takes it from you. 

You aren’t sure what you expect, but it’s not for him to toss it away, landing somewhere in the darkness, a near silent sound. 

“Tim—“

“It’ll never come between us again,” he whispers and your breath catches at his words; his hands find yours, pulling the one on his cheek into his own, squeezing. “I promise.”

You take a second to compose yourself, letting out a slow breath.

“I believe you,” you finally say. “And… no more lies. Please. Tell me the truth. The whole truth. I want to be there for you, for all of it.”

“It’s going to hurt.” 

Not a protest. Just a statement. A warning. 

“So, it’s even more important for me to be there.”

He swallows, eyes searching yours. “Are you… are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“So… we’re okay?”

“No.”

His face falls. “Whatever it is… I’ll make it up to you. I swear. Whatever you want.”

“I want you.”

“You have me,” he promises. 

“Not like that.”

He stiffens up, breath catching as he understands what you mean. He looks down at you, shock clear. Understanding but not truly believing. That won’t do.

“I love you, Tim. Not just as a friend but…”

You’ve said it to them both. I love you. And this ‘I love you’ isn’t better than the one you tell Steph, than the one you told him for the first time, back when your feelings were still strictly platonic. It doesn’t mean something more, something deeper, something elevated just because it’s romantic. But it’s different. In what you want. In what you long for. 

He whispers your name. 

You let out a slow breath. “And if you want that, too, then…”

“Of course I do,” he breathes, letting go of your hands to cup your face, bringing you closer. “Of course I do. There’s nothing else, no one else, I want. I just… I never wanted to assume.”

“I know.”

“But if you’re on board then… then we can try it out.”

It feels more like ‘trying it out,’ though. Despite the uncertainty, the whirlwind of emotions, everything that has happened, finally talking it out, finally laying everything out on the table… you’ve found solid ground. A foundation you can build upon. 

It is no mere crush. No simple infatuation.

You are in love with Tim Drake. Plain and simple.

And he is in love with you, too.

You close your eyes, fingers curling around his wrists. After a beat, he presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you, too, you know,” he whispers. “I have for a long time.”

Your face is hot, flushed with heat, your heart pounding. You feel so light, like you might fall up, untethered by gravity and floaty from the cotton candy-sweet warmth unspooling in your chest, clogging your veins and the arteries of your heart. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go. 

But before you do…

“Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

He kisses you.

Gently at first, tenderly, lips warm, soft, tasting faintly of spearmint. You feel like you might melt into a puddle of goo at it, at knowing it’s Tim who is kissing you so sweetly, making your knees feel a little weak.

You shuffle closer. He inhales sharply at you pressing into his space, curling around you to close the final bits of distance. It turns the kiss a little fevered, a little hungry, a little desperate.

You’ve missed him so much. You can’t stop yourself from whispering that, pulling away to do so.

He shudders at your words, lips pressing to your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck, and you open yourself up to him, too willing, too happy to let him have you like this.

He keeps saying it. Whatever you want. But he can have whatever he wants from you, too. Anything. Everything.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck and your breath catches at the reverence in his voice. “Can you—can you say it again?”

“I love you, Tim,” you whisper and it pulls another shiver from him, lips pressing to your fluttering pulse and your knees really feel like they might give out. 

Your fingers grasp the material of his jacket, tugging, and he brings his lips back to yours, giving you a mind-numbing, synapse-slowing kiss. 

You separate eventually, foreheads pressed together, trying to catch your breath.

“Will you stay?” you ask softly.

“I’ll stay,” he promises, leaning back to press a heartachingly tender kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, holding onto him.

After a moment, he pulls away, shedding his jacket, draping it over the footboard. You close the curtains over your window, then crawl into bed. When Tim comes over, he tries to push you over. Not hard. A gentle—persistent—nudge to your shoulder, keeping in mind your injury, though you should tell him that it’s healing much better at nearly three weeks since it happened. Enough so that Steph said she could see about Crystal coming over to take the stitches out, just to avoid waiting at the hospital, and the bill, too. 

“Oh, hey—”

“Let me sleep there,” he urges. “I feel better if you’re furthest from the window.”

“Hero types, I swear.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he leans down and scoops you into his arms. You yelp and he shushes you. You can’t stop your giggles as he unceremoniously drops you on the other side of the bed, the one closest to the door. He crawls in after you.

“You’re going to wake them up,” he whispers but he’s grinning, too, as he slides under the covers, laying on his side.

“Who’s fault is that?” you shoot back. “Just ‘cause you and your savior complex need to be by the window—”

He muffles his snickers into the pillow, eyes closed, lips spread in a grin. Your chest warms and you wiggle closer to him. 

Tim lifts an arm so you can settle against his side. Wary of the gauze on the hollow of his throat, you settle for tucking your head underneath his chin, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He strokes a hand down your back, a warm brand between your shoulder blades. Sleep isn’t far off your conscience, right at the edges of it, and with the warmth of his body and the reassurance of his embrace, you’re moving fast to it.

But before you do…

“Tim.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll… you’ll be here in the morning, right?”

His arm tightens around you. You feel him press a kiss to your hair.

“I’ll be here. I promise.”

And he is. 

When you rouse an indeterminate amount of time later, awakened by the sounds of activity outside your door—Wade’s high-pitched giggles, Wally’s low murmurs to him as he feeds him breakfast, the water running in the pipes as Linda uses the bathroom—Tim is still there. With you.

Deep in sleep, still, even with the slivers of light that come in from your window and the noises coming in from outside. Probably the repercussions of his ‘rough couple weeks.’ It’s quite similar with you, if you’re being honest. Besides, you hardly mind, basking in the feel of your legs tangled together underneath the blankets, the heavy but reassuring weight of his arm around you.

You manage to pull away a little bit to look at him, blinking out the bleariness in your eyes as you rest your head on the pillow, his face a couple inches from yours. Eyes shut, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheeks, breathing soft and slow. His hair is a mess, some parts of it flat from the pillow and sticking up in other areas. You spy a few creases from the pillow on his cheek, too. But even with that, he is still so beautiful to you.

You sigh, snuggling closer to him, shifting so you can run your fingers through his hair, your eyes falling shut again. You can stand to sleep a little while longer.

He lets out a soft, contented sigh as your fingers glide through his hair, gently taking out tangles as you go. 

You pull away after a moment, feeling sleep lapping at your senses again. 

You doze for a little while, rousing again to more noise from outside. The sound of the TV. Wally and Linda murmuring to each other. Wade giggling. 

Tim shifts, groaning quietly. The sound, rough with sleep, makes something inside you clench, sparks of heat waking you up more fully so you can watch him wake up, too.

He rolls onto his back, stretching, then sagging into the mattress. You stay curled up on your side, your calf thrown over his, watching him wake up with a small smile on your lips that you know must be horribly lovesick.

Finally, he turns to look at you, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hi.”

He gives you a sleepy smile. “Hi. Watching me sleep? Weirdo.”

He still has pillow creases on his face. You reach up to trace them.

“Well, you like this weirdo.”

“I love this weirdo,” he corrects. “Guess it’s fair, considering my night job.”

“Right. Watching you sleep—which I wasn’t, by the way, I was just waiting for you to wake up—”

“Sounds an awful lot like watching me sleep—”

You grin and pinch his cheek. He grunts, halfheartedly batting your hand away and taking it in his, lacing your fingers together. 

“Anyway. That’s not that big of an offense compared to, oh, I don’t know, dressing up and fighting crime each night.”

“Think that’s part of the whole ‘we love each other thing,’” he teases.

You smile. “I guess so.”

“So, then…” His eyes stray from your face, to something else, nerves clear as day; too early in the morning for him to make a solid attempt at hiding them from you and well. You know him. For better and for worse.

“Mmhm?”

“I guess I should take you on a date.”

“You guess?”

He blushes, red settling high in his cheeks in a way that is… decidedly tempting. “I mean I should. If—if you want to, of course.”

“I didn’t kiss you just for kicks, you know.”

“I sure hope not,” he agrees, looking back at you, face softening. “Will you, then?”

“Of course, Timmy.”

“And maybe…” He turns, reaching for you. You go easily, your fingers still tracing the pillow creases on his cheek. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders as he turns onto his side. In the warm light of the morning, his eyes are a softer shade of blue, the one you know and love. 

“Maybe…?”

“Maybe… you’ll give me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

Oh, geez.

Your face flares with heat, heart skipping a beat.

“You cornball.”

“You love it.”

Your palm finally settles on his cheek—hot to the touch, too, flush still lingering behind. You lean forward to press your lips to his forehead. He lets out a shuddery breath, arm tightening around you briefly.

“Yes, Tim,” you murmur against his skin. “I would be happy to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, but it doesn’t like he’s thanking you for agreeing to it—at least, not just that. 

Maybe for everything. 

But— “You don’t have to thank me. It’s not… I love you. That’s all there is and that’s all there ever will be.”

You pull back, thumb stroking over his cheek. He leans forward, lips pressing gently to your cheek. Your fingers find their way into his hair, sighing contentedly as he kisses down to your jaw. 

You get so caught up in that, the knock on your door scares the shit out of you both.

Wally calls out your name. “You up, kiddo? Lin’s makin’ eggs and rice.”

Tim pulls away quickly and you sit up, your face hot.

“I’ll, um, be out in a few.” Your voice is steady, thankfully, but you can’t say much about your pulse, your heart beating out of your chest. Tim is sitting up, too, looking around the room—presumably for the mask he discarded last night. 

“Okay,” Wally says. “Will Tim be joining us?”

You both freeze. 

You should’ve known better, really. Wally’s been doing this for a long time. Nothing much will slip by him. Not unless he lets it. 

Tim turns an impressive shade of red. Tempting, like it always is, but mostly, you just feel like a teenager caught red-handed with her boyfriend.

…Which isn’t too incorrect of a description.

You look at him, lost. 

He clears his throat, raising his voice to respond. “I—uh, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine,” Wally responds cheerfully. “Hope you aren’t allergic to sesame because I don’t care and I’m not going out to get something different for you.”

“Wally!”

Tim smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not allergic.”

“Too bad,” he says. “It’ll be ready in a few.”

Footsteps leave. Wally hums to himself loudly, happily. 

You and Tim look at each other for a second before a giggle escapes you. Then another. He joins you in the next second, until you two are laughing loudly, listing into each other and flopping onto the bed.

In the kitchen, even from here, you can hear Wally and Linda laughing, too.

You grin breathlessly, looking at Tim’s smiling face, and decide the embarrassment of getting caught out is worth it, if you get to have this. All of them. 

reblogs are appreciated!

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[dorianwolfforest]

Hello I can’t stop thinking about all the stuff Harry can just. Carry around. And therefor I’ve decided the frittte bag is actually a bag of holding.

///

“Please tell me you brought everything with you when we left.” Jean has barely stepped foot into the precinct when a realization seems to come over him. You’re not sure you understand. “The gun, for example. Please tell me you have all of your shit, on your person, with you, because I’m not driving you back.”

“Oh sure”, you say, raising the frittte bag you used to haul things around with you. “Should be in here.” You didn’t need to pack as you left, everything you picked up during the investigation, you would keep in the bag.

“Should be.” He repeats with barely concealed disdain. “Check.”

You stick your hand into the bag, fingers latching onto something cold and metallic. That’ll show them, you think, as you pull out… the Kvaalsund multi-tool. The gathered crowd stares in silent disbelief at the small, pathetic little plastic bag which had somehow held both the length and weight of the multi-tool. Okay, that wasn’t your gun. Try again. The chain cutters, prybar, and flashlight all come out as you fish around for metallic objects. Kim doesn’t mention that those are technically his and probably shouldn’t be in there at all. The rest of them blink slowly as a green monkey pen, a cube that looks too valuable not to sell for some kind of substance, and several tare bottles which you insist you found on the street, appear on the desk in rapid succession. You even fish out a board game that Judit picks up and looks over. She considers telling the rest of the precinct it could be a good bonding exercise, but the realization hits that the rest of the precinct would turn it into a drinking game. Kim must realize it too, because he doesn’t tell Judit how great Suzerainty is and how you should all play it sometime. You guess you’ll have to raise that brilliant idea to the group on your own.

Eventually you tire, and turn the bag upside-down. Piles upon piles of clothes, some worn, some not, all stolen, spill out in droves on your desk. Your badge lands gently on top. No one says anything. It’s too weird to say anything, as if reality itself will hear them point out that the bag shouldn’t be able to contain most of these things and realize what a conceptual horror exists within it. You stick your hand in one last time, and finally your fingers clasp around the barrel of your gun.

“Bada-bing, badaboom!” You shout, triumphantly, as you pull it out. Attached to the other end, as if glued to the handle, is a small child’s hand, followed by an arm. Cuno’s red hair and face follow the gun out of the frittte bag.

“Fuck does Cuno care! Finders keepers, pig.” He spits, and tries to pry your grip off of the gun. Was he attached to the gun when you put it in there, or did he crawl into the bag himself as you were about to leave?

It would be so fucking funny to let him go, INLAND EMPIRE whispers, it would be so funny to just drop the gun and let him run wild in the precinct. He could live in the walls, with a gun! You give Cuno a small smile, and he scowls back, questioning your intention. Clearly, you two aren’t on the same soundless communication wavelength yet, but Kim notices it. Jean notices it. As your hand loosens around the gun, they descend upon Cuno like wolves upon a chicken.

Kim’s “Absolutely not, officer!” and Jean’s “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” are drowned out as you bellow “RUN, CUNO, RUN!” And Cuno takes off, deep into the precinct, shrill laughter scattering against the halls like light bouncing off of a disco ball. Possibly never to be seen again. Yeah, you’re pretty proud of that decision.

LOGIC - “He definitely got in on his own. You would have noticed a child attached to your gun.”

[l00rem]

So Spinel fr said fuck those kids huh? I had a genuine murder attempt from him on my ep64 bingo tho so i consider this a win. When he was running around in the caves it reminded me of those horror games where you see little girls running all spooky as a jumpscare (can you escape the spinel obby??) Umbreon 100% looked ready to maul Amethio to death when it was on drugs, good thing terapagos stopped it before it could lol. And now that the anime has depicted a genuine murder attempt (even if they hide it behind words like disappear) i do think the odds of ames dad having bit the dust have increased substantially, especially now we know what the rakrium can do

I don’t have as much to say about this episode so i’ll probably save a lot of it for next weeks but I really liked all the little moments showcasing Amethio and Ceruledge’s bond like ame running up to check on him when he’s defeated. I liked how both Amethio and Liko had a very similar moment with their respective partners before entering the cave, really showing the similarities between the two. Him telling Liko not to follow him was also sweet, now we can look forward to some fun campfire bonding! (something something the power he left to search for at the end of ep54 was actually the power of friendship the entire time)

At first i was confused and thought this scene was showing Ame already back at the base, but i’m guessing this is some backstory for his and Spinel’s beef with eachother instead. Tbh i don’t think we’ll get too much ame backstory next week, and i kinda feel like it would be weird for him to just tell everything about himself to this girl he’s barley talked to, even if they think they might die.

Interesting that Spinel calls Amethio ‘Amethio-kun’ Amethio probably despises being treated like a kid more than anything so he definitely does that to get a rise out of him

Agate mentioning how his blood connection to Gibeon would lead to hardship really intrigued me- It seems she’s also involved with Spinel’s potential betrayal plan (but now knowing how much rakrium gibeon has i would not wanna cross that guy- we saw what it did to umbreon imagine that stuff on zygarde 😧) maybe Sango and Onyx are in on it too, but obviously they can’t include amethio because his blood tie makes him too loyal. I also wonder if Agate’s comment will reflect anything about herself as she says ‘now and then’ glad we’re finally get some crumbs for her she’s been deprived for far too long.

Amethio does seem to have been convinced to join liko by the fire at some point (i wonder if cerueldge lit it in the first place?) so i’m really looking forward to what they talk about. this shot particularly is intriguing- liko looks surprised by whatever amethio’s saying and he has a look of conviction… i wonder if they’ll talk about their mutual losing streaks or something and bond over it. I hope terapgos warms to amethio next ep too, or at least stops getting triggered by his similar looks to gibeon.

That’s the most of what I have to say for this ep, overall very enjoyable ep but now i’m gonna drive myslef crazy waiting for next weeks episode lol

[def-ace-ing-it]

Batfam head canons that I need to Expunge

(Some of these might actually be canon but who knows anymore)

• In a kitchen, Bruce Wayne can and has burnt water and has almost caused a building to burn down, all of which were on accident

• HOWEVER. If you sat Bruce in front of a campfire in a forested area and told him he had one hour to put together a meal, he would make the most delicious and nutritious plate you have ever eaten out of fungus and lizards and anything else he could scrounge up. This infuriates Alfred every time

• Bruce’s canines are sharper than most, as does Damian. No, they have not beaten the vampire allegations in or out of costume

• Despite being terrified of them, Bruce knows an absurd amount of bat facts as a way of coping

• Cass has a wide range of musical taste. She often flutters between genres being her favorite and will occasionally loop a song until it no longer gives her dopamine

• Cass wears a lot of bat paraphernalia i.e. bat earrings, bat ears, often Batman merchandise. She’s just very proud of her family and even if she can’t express it in public she wants everyone to Know how proud she is

• Jason mainly listens to punk rock and rap, but he does make an exception for pop punk SPECIFICALLY from the eighties

• Jason is one of the few people who has a direct line of contact to Talia, and while he barely uses it he will occasionally call to get a recipe from her because he misses the food he got while training

• Dick cannot decide whether he wants to keep his hair long or short, and he has considered bringing the mullet back to everyone’s horror

• During one of his rebellious streaks, Dick learned how to pole dance. Nobody but the Titans know this

• Stephanie ABSOLUTELY believed in unicorns as a kid, and though she’s not as much of a hardcore believer she’s still holding out hope with how weird the world is

• Stephanie also had one of those “I hate pink/purple phases”, she’s healing from it obviously <3

• Despite not even living with the Bats, Stephanie is the WORST clothes thief, because she steals Cass and Tim’s clothes which are in turn stolen from the others. Nobody has noticed yet

• Time hates how wearing a suit feels, but he often goes out of his way to make sure all of his suits fit well because damnit he’s gonna look good if he’s gonna be uncomfortable while wearing them.

• Tim hates the smell of alcohol, to the point where he’ll gag if the smell is too strong

• Damian is SEVERELY allergic to pollen because he wasn’t raised around it as a kid, he’s the only one in the family who can be taken out by spring and he gets pissy when it’s mentioned

• Damian has an impeccable sense of smell, more so than any of his siblings

• Babs is arguably the most stable of the batfam, but even then not really because she decided to become a vigilante without Batman’s training which was arguably worse than the rest of the family’s origins

• Barbara could never decide what she wanted to be when she grew up as a kid, she would always switch jobs every week

• None of the batfam is straight or neurotypical, let’s just state that here

• Everyone has an Assigned Color for galas and other public appearances, outside of that barely anyone wears their assigned color. All except for Bruce, whose wardrobe is exclusively made of black turtlenecks and the occasional dark grey hoodies because he refuses to wear anything other than his Assigned Color

• There is a persistent game of tag happening exclusively on patrol with a long list of rules to keep things “fair”, currently Tim is It. They’ve kept this from Bruce, but Alfred knows and is the one to remind them every patrol

• Somehow, Stephanie is the only one who hasn’t been It yet this cycle, and Jason has been It ten times so far and he is pissed about it

I have just… so many thoughts about them

[depravitymoon]

The Dark Side Of Narancia (cont)

This is part 2 to my Yandere Narancia post. I wanted the previous post to still be considered Safe For Work horror. Now, this post gets more violent and Not SFW. Furthermore, thank you guys SO MUCH for getting it over 250+ notes. I was not expecting it to get that popular. 

Note: Some of Narancia’s dialogue is in all caps. Yes, I know that can be annoying but it’s on purpose because Narancia’s being annoyingly unhinged.

Warning: Violence, Dub-Con, Non-Con, Knifeplay.

Level 7: 

For most darlings, they’d only see Level 6 Narancia. Level 7 Narancia is if you really insist he’s an asshole and to destroy his delusions.

This results in Narancia getting violent with you. He holds you down and warns you to stop being an ass. 

If you continue to resist, he’ll cut you.

If you keep trying to fight him (or worse, start a stand fight), he’ll use Aerosmith to shoot up your legs. Have fun trying to fight/escape him now.

Also, your closest loved ones are now free game to injure (or worse).

“I GIVE YOU MY HEART AND YOU FUCKING BETRAY ME?! Whoever is making you feel this way, I WILL FUCKING KILL THEM!”

Not SFW + Level 7: 

Since fucking solves marital problems in movies….. fucking must be the solution to your behavior!

Narancia loves knife play. Plus being on-edge, he’s sliding that knife against your body. 

To clarify, he’s sliding the flat part against your skin…..unless you keeping fighting him.

Typically, the blade part is tearing at your clothes. Don’t worry! Narancia will pay for more clothes! 

Trust Narancia! He’s gonna make you feel so good! 

He’ll overstimulate you without mercy. You’re relaxed, right? You forgive him, right? 

While he tries to fuck you gently, he's too mad. He ends up fucking you like he hates you.

It's a good thing he still preps you, because his thrusts show no mercy.

C’mon! You’ll never find a lover that can please you like he can! He’s not stopping until you forgive him!

Narancia has high stamina, so it is possible for him to go multiple rounds a night.

You’ll be forced to forgive him if you want the ‘love making’ to end. 

“I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU, MIELO! SAY IT! SAY IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” “STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! I WORK SO HARD FOR US TO WORK! I ALREADY SAID SORRY! FUCKING FORGIVE ME ALREADY!” 

Not SFW + Level 1 to 6:

Narancia's thoughts on consent? OPTIONAL. You're not in the mood? You dont want to fuck Narancia at all? Just let him fuck you and you'll change your mind! You wont regret it.

Knifeplay is still there, but if he’s in a good mood, you can talk him down and he’ll discard the switchblade.

He focuses on getting you off. Oral is his favorite method. He’s always worried his hands are too rough for fingering/Handjobs.

He’ll still overstimulate you and pleasure you without mercy. How can you think about other people when he treats you so good?! 

Only an idiot can't see how good he is to you and he knows you're smarter than that!

He’ll force you to look him in the eyes while you two fuck missionary.

“Mielo! Don’t look away! You have so many sexy faces! It drives me wild!” 

Extra Notes:

Narancia doesn’t like being considered a baby nor cute. That doesn’t stop him from acting like a cute baby to his advantage. Just dont say it to his face. 

Narancia also pays your bills to keep you dependent on him. This is an aged up Narancia, so he should have some semblance of  adult responsibilities.

I still can’t see him kidnapping you. I dont think Narancia really wants that responsibility and I doubt the Bucci gang would allow him to take him that responsibility. Invading your home and paying the bills seems more efficient.

When Narancia doesn’t care about someone, he’s extremely willing to resort to violence.  Even burn down a whole street, remember? Before he tries to hurt you, he will hurt your loved ones. 

In fact, Narancia can unintentionally blackmail you into obeying him. I say unintentionally because he was about to stab your cousin for insisting you dump Narancia, but you doing what Narancia wants distracts him from his bloodlust. 

Conclusion

Narancia may be the cutest yandere of the Bucci Gang, but he's not harmless. As a consequence of being so childlike, he's unhinged and prone to temper tantrums. Personally, I'd suggest manipulating him so his dark side is tolerable. Just dont make it obvious you're manipulating him, because he will take betray harder than anyone else.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

You ever thought about the fact that, if Killer retains his SAVE, LOAD, and RESET abilities he's, like, basically a necromancer but for whole ass universes?

Like, he could genuinely go into any universe, reset it to Frisk's fall, kill them for good (aka convince the Player that their game is bugged by spawn killing them until they give up), and voila! The universe is fixed!

Like, I don't think he'd actually do it (especially considering the fact that to him Players are basically gods and he doesn't seem to want to challenge them) but I do think that if this possibility is ever revealed to others there are quite a few people who'd try to pressure him into it.

Perhaps not, like, Dust. 'Cause he's already too far gone to think there's any fixing his universe. But what about Horror or Cross? (It probably wouldn't work with Cross since there is some far greater bullshittery going on there, but he'd definitely nag at Killer until he at least tries).

I'm firmly of the belief that Color would never pressure him into it. But what if word spreads? What if it reaches Dream? He definitely could use something like that, and it would be for the greater good. I don't even think the pressure from him would be malicious, but Killer's not in the mental state to take it well.

And if the rumor spreads to someone like Error, he may be incentivized to get rid of him. As for Nightmare, he'd probably double his efforts to yoink him back.

I also don't think that Killer would be a fan of using any of those powers since they're heavily related to Chara and his trauma. Like, no matter how this goes, no matter if he agrees to help or not, he's gonna have a shit time.

Holy hell, no matter where this guy goes, someone just always wants to use him as their weapon, huh. Can’t he ever just catch a break.

And id imagine both the idea of going against Players, saying no to saving universes (because he’s trying to be “good” now and “good” people would save universes right?), and actually saving universes which actively goes against what he was made for would create an absolute shitstorm of psychological, mental, emotional and behavioral regression in killer.

color is definitely gonna have to step up and defend killer against being used again. killer is already struggling to think of himself as a person let alone a “good” person, it’d be so easy to guilt trip him when he’s in stage 1–knowingly and intentionally or not. And it’d be so easy to take advantage of him once he’s in Stage 2 and too apathetic to care about his own well being.

Because yes it would definitely improve his standing in the eyes of the multiverse and it could do a lot of good, but not only would it draw in more people who want to use him, and would once again set him back to viewing himself as a weapon. Different from a killing machine, but still nonetheless someone’s machine.

He’s already struggling under Nightmare to not kill, because the Boss needed people alive for negativity and yet killing is Stage 4’s first instincts.

And putting him in a similar situation as the one with Chara and Nightmare is just asking for his soul to tip over into Stage 4 permanently and completely losing himself. Perhaps this is the situation that sends him mentally regressing back to the early days with Chara even.

{ @stellocchia }

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

In Defense of the FNAF Movie…

I was thinking about the FNAF Movie again today and I wanted to go on a little tangent if that's alright with y'all lol.

I know most fans enjoyed the movie, which is great! But I did see some fans, especially some OG fans, who did not like the movie at all, saying it didn't take itself seriously enough, it was too campy, it wasn't scary enough, and it didn’t follow the lore. I can understand those criticisms to an extent. But as an OG fan myself, I think the movie captured the tone of FNAF perfectly.

FNAF at its core, is silly. The concept of kid-friendly animatronic characters that are mascots for a Chuck E Cheese type restaurant being possessed is a ridiculous concept. Granted, how they became possessed is where the horror of the franchise comes into play. FNAF was never all campy or all horror, it was always a mix of both, even in the first few games, just based on the concept alone.

I think too many people expected it to be really scary, but I believe that was the wrong perspective. There were jumpscares in the games, yeah, but I think the most prominent emotion from the early games would elicit dread, not horror. I went into the movie knowing it would be campy and goofy, but I also knew there would be some horror aspects. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT FNAF IS!

I think if the movie took itself too seriously, no one else would, because fans know it’s not an overall serious franchise. This is the same franchise that brought in Exotic Butters and MPreg in one of their books! That’s not to say that there aren’t serious subjects in the game; a serial killer, multiple child murders, grusome deaths, loss of family members; the game is not all sunshine and rainbows.

But what I think FNAF does as a whole is mix those horror aspects with its campiness really well. You can’t have one without the other in this series. And that’s what I think the movie did a great job with. I don’t think I would have enjoyed it as much if it was too serious or if it relied on humor alone. Don’t get me wrong, this was not a perfect movie, there were definitely things that needed improvements. But I don’t think the tone was one of them.

At first I was a little disappointed that the movie wouldn’t be rated R, but now I can appreciate why they stuck to PG-13 instead. FNAF has never been bloody or gory, any deaths that would occur in the franchise would be off-screen or portrayed in the 8-bit mini games. I think the only time we see blood is during the springlock failure in FNAF 3, and again, it was 8-bit blood. Most of the horror is left up to the imagination of the viewer, which in my opinion, is a lot scarier than just outright showing you what happened. Fear of the unknown is extremely powerful.

The last point I wanna bring up is the fact some people do not like the deviation from the game’s lore. Need I remind you, this is not the first time the franchise has done this. The books have their own separate lore! Some of it lines up with the games, a lot of it doesn’t. But what all of these continuities have are animatronics who are possessed by children who were murdered by William Afton; that is the core story of FNAF no matter if you’re playing the games, reading the books, or watching the movie. They each take their own liberties in telling different versions of the story, but they all revolve around the same main focus. In my opinion, I think it would have been a little boring to see the movie play out one for one like the games, especially considering how confusing and convoluted the game lore is!I’m curious as to where they will go in future movies!

I can see why general audiences and critics would not like this movie, because they wouldn’t understand the tone that it was going for. They wouldn’t get the references or the story beats that the fans would. But it wasn’t really made for them, which is fine! I think the movie we got was really great, not a masterpiece, but just a really good adaption of what FNAF is: a campy horror game. And I’m looking forward to see where they take it next!

Also, if I hear one more person complain about the “Building a Fort” scene in the movie, I will gnaw your arm off. I’m happy we actually got to see the ghost children ACTING LIKE GOD DAMN CHILDREN!

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Could I possibly request a bit of angst like maybe Teruko, Xander, Whit, and one other drdt character that I can’t think of (all of them separate of course) finding their s/o injured and bleeding out from an ambush and how they couldn’t tell who did it from how fast it happened while they’re being patched up ? Hopefully this is cool with you :)

Don’t worry, I’m cool with this! I wrote this so the ambush takes place during the killing game, I hope that’s ok! Also I have no idea which other character you were referring to so I added Veronika because I thought it would be fun to add her! Hope you enjoy!

Teruko, Xander, and Whit with an S/O who was injured in an ambush

Gn! Reader

Warnings: blood, injury, mentions of death but no actual death occurs, mentions of torture in Veronica’s part, mentions of drugging, mentions of the movie Hostel in Veronika’s part (it’s horror movie about torture so I figured it deserved a warning)

-Knowing her luck, she was most likely the one to find you, and surprisingly, she’s not as hysterical as you might think she would be. I mean, she’s still pretty freaked out, but she knows that right now her main priority is getting you medical attention, and focusing on her emotions might get in the way of helping you

-Her first step is to get you to the infirmary before you bleed out, she’s surprisingly strong so she can carry you there just fine. On her way she questions you on who attacked you and if you were hurt anywhere she couldn’t see, once she gets an answer to those questions her main priority becomes keeping you awake

-It wouldn’t be until you fully lost consciousness that she begins to freak out, she was distracting herself by distracting you, but now that you’re out she has no way to keep herself from acknowledging how dire the situation is

-She doesn’t trust herself enough to try to heal you on her own (bad luck and all that), so she either forces Arturo to do it or she forces Monotv to do it, although since you don’t know who attacked you, he’s reluctant to let a potential murder go to waste. Considering how badly you were injured, it takes awhile to heal you, and nobody’s sure if you’ll even make it.

-Through it all, Teruko seems to have completely shut down her emotions. She refuses to cry or show fear in front of the others, not now, not after how they’ve treated her. She won’t show weakness, especially since the person who tried to kill you is still alive and free.

-Inside however, she’s a wreck. She’s lost the few people she allowed herself to get close to in the past, if she loses you she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Probably kill whoever killed you before Monotv can get his paws on them, it’s not like she was ever going to escape this place anyway.

-She doesn’t leave the infirmary area until she here’s news about your condition, good or bad. If you’re gonna go, she’s going to be there with you, she won’t let you die alone.

-Once she gets the news that you’ll live, she breathes the biggest sigh of relief anyone could possibly imagine. She stays by your side until you wake up, but when you do she has no idea what to say. I mean, what are you supposed to say to someone who’s had a near death experience? So she opts to stay silent, instead hugging you carefully until you say something

-Once she’s sure you’ll be alright, she makes it her life’s mission to find out who hurt you. She’s not above getting aggressive with the others if they refuse to cooperate with her search, especially since it comes down to your safety. She most likely won’t pick a physical fight with whoever did it if she find out, but she will make sure they can’t come within 30 yards of you ever again, and she makes sure everybody else knows what they’ve done too.

-There’s no way in hell Teruko is gonna let you out of her sight for the rest of the game, even with those who she knows didn’t attack you. She was already pretty protective of you given the circumstances, but your near death experience has increased her protectiveness ten-fold. Nobody except her is allowed near you anymore, no matter how much you protest. Call her overprotective all you like, but she’s not playing when it comes to your safety.

-She won’t tell you how scared she is of you dying or getting attacked again, not unless she’s on the verge of sleep when you ask her about it. But it’s easy to tell how scared she is from the way she grips you in her sleep, or how she pulls you closer whenever anyone passes you two by

-Just…stay alive for her, ok? She can’t afford to lose another person she loves, not like this.

-Veronika could tell something was wrong long before she found you, call it a sixth sense or something. She’s very perceptive so I think she could guess that someone was going to try to kill, she just didn’t realize you’d be the victim

-When she does find you, she is scarily calm. Like, there is not a single ounce of emotion showing on her face. You couldn’t begin to guess what she’s thinking right now.

-Without hesitation, she picks you up and books it for the infirmary a lot faster than you would imagine someone carrying a limp body would be able to run. Veronika knows better than anyone how quickly a person can bleed out, so all she’s focusing on is keeping you conscious until she can get you medical help. She doesn’t bother asking you who did it, she doesn’t want to upset you any further and besides, she could figure it out on her own later. Instead, she tries to engage in some regular conversation to help try keeping you calm but awake.

-You best believe Monotv is fixing you up, Veronika has no way of confirming Arturo’s innocence in this moment so she won’t allow him near you, and she’s scary enough that even Monotv can’t deny her request.

-Now that you’re unconscious, she knows that she won’t be of any help to you. So while Monotv is trying to save you, she goes on a witch hunt for your assailant.

-Nobody, and I mean nobody, is safe from her wrath. She’s gone back to acting like her regular, bubbly (disturbing) self, but anyone within a ten mile radius of her can feel the stone cold rage that’s radiating off of her. Nobody bothers lying to her when she questions them, they know she would know if they lied, and they aren’t stupid enough to risk feeling her wrath over a silly lie, even if they’re innocent. Of course, the person responsible lies right to her face, but she knows. And she’ll be damned if they get away with it

-Veronika doesn’t wait to hear if you’ll live before enacting her vengeance on whoever attacked you, if she waited and you did die then she won’t have time to mess with the killer before the trial begins.

-It’s not hard for her to get her hands on the would-be-killer, all she had to do is drug the water they’re drinking without them noticing (Monotv was more than happy to supply her with the pills) , and drag them back to her room. And oh boy, does she go to town on them.

-You ever seen hostel? Yeah it’s kinda like that except she keeps the attacker alive. She will not hold back, she will go as far as she can without outright killing the perpetrator

-She might let them go after their “punishment” is over, or she might keep them tied up in her room somewhere, who knows! It all depends on if she feels bothered enough to feed and water them

-She’ll then check up on you, hoping that you’re still alive. Fear and concern begin to eat her alive now that she got all the murderous rage out of her system. She’ll stay with your unconscious body as long as she can, only leaving to grab food or use the bathroom.

-When you finally wake up, she’s ecstatic! She’ll hug you and kiss you and wait on your every request. She basically treats you like royalty

-She won’t tell you about how she handled your attacker, she doesn’t need you worrying about her safety or thinking about that gruesome scene

-She doesn’t worry about it happening again since she took care of your assailant , but obviously you might, so she’ll do her best to reassure you. Anything that’ll make you feel safer, she’ll do. She comes with you everywhere if you’d like (it gives her a little piece of mind too), and she does her best to distract you by any means necessary to keep you from spiraling into terror

-Eventually your fears will dissipate, nothing bad has happened to you when Veronika’s by your side, so there’s nothing to fear anymore. She makes sure of it.

-Afraid, very afraid

-He wasn’t the one to find you, Teruko was. He found out after a very concerned David saw her carry your limp and bloody body to the infirmary

-He immediately rushes to the infirmary, terrified that you might be dead. He’s relieved to see you still alive, but also extremely worried when he sees the extent of your injuries. With no way of knowing if you’ll pull through, he stays by your side, constantly watching to make sure you’re still breathing

-He blames himself for your attack. If he had been there with you, if he hadn’t left you alone, then maybe he could have stopped your assailant from nearly killing you. At the very least he could have been there to defend you, most of Xanders classmates wouldn’t anywhere near strong enough to face him.

-Teruko informs him that before you passed out, you told her that the attack was too quick for you to identify the assailant. He thinks briefly of trying to find out who did it, but he won’t leave you in the condition you’re in by yourself, no way.

-He keeps an eye on whoever’s healing you, even if it’s just MonoTv. He’s not risking your safety, especially after he failed to keep you out of harms way the first time.

-Once you regain consciousness, he’ll be all over you. No one in the school can rip you from his arms, he refuses to let you go (unless he’s hurting you, in which case he’ll refrain from intense physical contact.) He asks you a ton of questions, mostly along the lines of “are you in any pain? or “can I get you anything?” Anything you want, he’ll get. He’s at your beck and call

-He refuses to leave you by yourself after that. The only other person he feels he can trust around you is Teruko, anyone else can only interact with you when he’s in the room. He hates being overbearing, but the fear that you’ll get attacked again is far greater than his dislike of hovering.

-If he gets any indication of who the attacker was, he is on them so quickly it’s not even funny. He doesn’t care who’s around to see it (except you) or what the consequences will be for him, he’s pounding their face in. He won’t stop until his victim is either unconscious or on the verge of dying, as much as he wants them dead he doesn’t want to get executed. He also makes sure everyone else is aware of what they’ve done so nobody else falls victim to that person

-He’s also not leaving you alone ever again (unless Teruko’s with you). As the game progresses his trust in the rest of the group goes down astronomically, he can’t afford to risk leaving you with everyone when anybody could kill next.

-Still, it eases your worry to have him around. He’s the strongest out of everybody there so as long as you stick with him, you know you’ll be fine

-Oh he’s an absolute w r e c k

-He’s likely to find you first as well, he’s extremely clingy and was probably looking for you when he found your unconscious body.

-He’s terrified, he has no idea if you’re even still alive or not, he’s just trying to get you to help as soon as possible. He screams for help until someone shows up, helping him carry you to the infirmary while he sobs

-He’s not leaving your side, he refuses to. Even when Monotv is patching you up, even the smell and sight of blood become too much to bear for him, he’s still there, watching your every move (or lack thereof). He stays at your side all night, sleeping next to your unconscious body

-Whit has no idea what to do. He doesn’t know who did this, he doesn’t know how to help you, he doesn’t even know how to help himself. He can’t dark humor his way out of this one, not while you’re actively hurting. He knows he can’t really do anything to find the perpetrator, so at your side he remains, waiting for you to wake up

-Once you do, he’s immediately peppering your face with kisses, beyond relieved that you finally woke up. He was afraid you would fall into a coma and never come back to him, but you’re here now, alive and conscious.

-Anything you need, he'll get. He waits on you hand and foot, anything to make your recovery easier. He doesn't want to overwhelm you, but he will ask if you remember who attacked you. While he's disappointed that you didn't get to see them, he won't push it any further. He's just glad you're safe.

-He doesn't stop you from seeing the others once you've recovered enough, but he will be watching over you like a HAWK whenever you're with anyone else. The only person he even remotely trusts around you is Charles, solely because he knows Charles couldn't hurt you without passing out.

-If he gets any indication of who did it he will make their life a living hell. He won't hurt them physically, but he will make sure they're ostracised from the group. He'll also bully them horrendously, making it his mission in life to annoy the attacker any chance he gets.

-He won't tell you worried he is, and it may be hard to tell, but don't be fooled. He's so scared you'll get hurt again. He tries to hide his feelings from you, but you can hear him crying himself to sleep sometimes when it all gets to be too much. He feels like it's his fault, like he didn't do enough to protect you.

-Please comfort him, he needs a reminder that it's not his fault and that you're still here, safe with him.

I hope you enjoyed!

[precious-little-scoundrel]

What do you have in store for Ida and Rosie’s story? Because they are the only pairing who aren’t at the POW camp.

Aha!! This is gonna be a long answer, hence why I let your ask molder away as I worked on a reply, thanks for your patience.

I can’t wait to weave this whole thing, and it’s honestly the only postwar story I’m at all sure about in this universe so far. Let’s just say it’s a hella slow burn. Even after getting married. Because they do marry. Rather soon. But they are a bit of a buddy cop duo. Romantic love -at least for Ida- comes later.

I think it’s safe to assume that dear Ida was present when Rosie first introduced himself to the Bucks, told his underwear story and generally made a magnificent entry. Now, one must consider two things with this:

1. Rosie’s regret over what the hell he was thinking telling that story would be compounded by telling it in front of a female officer

2. Ida might have always been a stiff spined stickler before her trauma and the Stalag, but she did have a sense of humor. I like to think she found him funny, plus, with the Bucks beginning to fray a little in their own morale, flagging in offering encouragement to the newbies, I think Ida would be the sort to fill that role, best she can. Surprisingly, Rosenthal, Nash, Pappy, they’re not the sorta men to resent a woman giving them a pep m-up chat.

Now, keep in mind it’s three missions later and she’s been downed so there was not really a connection made there. Although I love to think that some night in the Stalag when everyone is bored and playing ask games with each other, one of the questions is:

“Who was the last person ya danced with?”

And Bucky gets to tell about Paulina and Gale gets chafed about choosing Meatball over Maureen and Brady bemoans having been so stuck on the bandstand playing sax instead of taking his chances and then when it’s Ida’s turn she’s just: “it was one of the new ones, the ‘egg frying on the instrument panel,’ guy.”

This is met with a chorus of “Rosenthal???”

“Told me to call him Rosie.” Ida shrugs. “He had some fun moves.”

Anyways. That’s a far off thing by April of ‘45.

SPOILERS ABOUT ESCAPE:

….

when Ida get away with Gale and makes it back first of anyone to England? Best believe she is beyond distracted with worry for her girls. Who’s there to meet her and welcome her and Cleven to Thorpe? Crosby of course -and Rosie. Malnourished, ptsd riddled and burdened with responsibility for her girls, Ida isn’t exactly the sparkly female Colonel that Rosenthal remembers meeting and dancing with.

In fact, that first initial interaction goes a bit sourly. She needs a nap, he awkwardly needs a deposition on her treatment. It’s a little rough, ok?

But the longer she is back at Thorpe, reunited with her few girls still there who were never downed, she learns how well their new Lt. Colonel -Rosenthal- has looked after them, fought to resend the grounding orders after Ida went down, generally been a good bean.

Also, due to being her superior now and having been given the legal burden of collecting information and evidence on the girls treatment by the Germans, Rosenthal and Ida start spending time, a lotta time, together.

There’s Jeep chauffeuring, Coffee Breaks and Mercy Runs where he goads her into buzzing the tower for the first time in her life -“of course I haven’t done it before, Rosenthal. One of you cats do it and it’s cute, I do it and I’m fired. No, I don’t mean discharged, I mean plainly fired.”

And then there’s the depositions, eventually full of her having to dictate shit that she’s never vocalized since it happened to her. Somehow, Rosie makes the whole thing easier than she ever expected. Not to say it’s easy. Although if you asked his female secretary, she’d say the one more visibly affected by it was the male lawyer, not the half catatonic victim spewing a rote litany of horror.

One time, his grip on his pencil gets so tight that it snaps. Ida replaces it. His quiet rage for her is about the best closure she’s felt so far. And that thread of such shared knowledge between them and them alone, even if it was in professional context? -That’s Intimacy. Far more than kisses or rings.

A righteous vengeance duo? Yes please, they’re a force to be reckoned with as the war winds down.

Before long Ida is asking Croz, “Was Rosenthal always that pretty?”

Harry is cackling over it, “Yeah.” He goads her, “But he is more confident now.”

“Confidence.” Ida repeats, trying to convince herself, “Yeah, that would be it.”

The thing of it is, Ida was unsure or marriage before her brutal treatment in captivity. Now? And after her military experience? She’s very sure she could never be a wife. Not even of a smart and secure man like Robert Rosenthal. Men just expect certain things and dynamics from their wives and Ida has never been sure she had that in her. Now she’s positive. And she’s too proud to marry only to then “turn a blind eye” as he finds what she lacks in women elsewhere.

Rosie? His argument is that what they’ve already built these last months, it’s what he wants. Marrying her is to keep that. If that’s all they ever have that’s enough, he couldn’t stand to lose it.

A chaste honeymoon on the way to Nuremberg to go fuck up a bunch of Nazis for the second time in their young lives? You betcha.

[nikethestatue]

Plot Twist

for my darling beautiful hilariously funny kind and irreverent @impossiblescissorspeachpaper

Happy birthday, my love! I hope you find this familiar and enjoy this gift. This also goes to @tswaney17 because she is the star of this. And all the girlies!

Based on a true story

There he was. The most beautiful man in the world. 

Strong and lean. Muscular. Powerful legs steadily pumping the pedals. Thighs of a Greek god. Arms of a Roman god. Face worthy of a Raphael’s painting. 

He was so handsome, she wanted to cry.

He also paid her exactly zero attention.

She loved this trail and has been jogging around the pond, the hilly slopes, the grassy knolls, and the paths shaded by massive cypresses and oaks for two years now. Bicyclists, frankly, were usually nothing but a nuisance. They sort of tried to stick to their side of the path, but it was like they were just so very important they expected everyone to move and give way. 

Well, she was Elain fucking Archeron, and she wasn’t moving for nobody!

Beep.

Beep-beep.

Beeeeeppp.

She pretended not to hear the annoying sound of the bike bell, but then someone was shouting ‘On your left!’ and she made a panicked swerve to avoid being hit by the cyclist. 

“Dipshit,” her sister Nesta muttered next to her, throwing daggers at the cyclists’ backs, as they rolled smoothly past the two sisters.

“T!” Elain muttered in turn, blushing. 

Nesta, who usually went by T, because she felt that her name was too weird for an average American to comprehend, was sharp and bristly, and would’ve been perfectly fine getting into a shouting match for a bunch of muscular bikers. Elain was…well, not cowardly exactly, but she preferred to think of herself as rational. Yes, she was a rational person who did get into fights with strangers.

She just ogled them.

This one particular stranger.

Pulling her AirPods out of her ears, Nesta threw Elain a withering glance and said, without slowing down, while Elain was beginning to pant.

“Why don’t you just approach him?”

“No way!” Elain exclaimed in horror. “I am not approaching strange men in parks!”

Nesta rolled her eyes and then gritted out,

“Can’t you think of something? Not weird, but just…friendly?”

“No!” Elain wiped her brow, as she attempted to keep pace with her more athletic sister. “Because it’s always weird. It’s like that scene from ‘Get Hard’, where they go to the gay bar brunch and Kevin Hart is instructing Will Ferrell on how to approach a man and ask him to suck dick! And Will Ferrell is like ‘Oh hi, hello. Can I…uh…can I suck your dick?’...”

Nesta was laughing. Elain was ridiculous, but also adorable in her inability to approach men, have conversations with them, or even look at them without being painfully obvious. Elain, her sweet sister, who was pretty as a peony, smart and funny, who wrote excellent fanfiction for her favourite series ‘A Court of Thorns and Roses’ and was a superstar on AO3, who volunteered at dog shelters, and dreamt of brooding dark dominant men, who’d come into her life and sweep her off her feet–Elain had no game. None. 

Nesta wasn’t exactly surprised that the idea of approaching the biking hunk was abhorrent to Elain. She’d never even consider it. 

“Well, it’s that, or Tinder,” Nesta shrugged, her expression somehow fatalistic.

Elain shuddered and shook her head vigorously.

“Why?!” she demanded. “Why can’t I just meet a good man and fall in love,”

“You don’t want to fall in love with a good man,” Nesta argued. “You want to fall in love with a bad boy with knuckle tattoos!”

“No I don’t,” Elain argued prissily, though she was blushing ferociously, and Nesta knew that she hit the spot. “Why would I want someone like that?!”

“Why? Because you think that Zade Meadows is a romantic. And your Pinterest is filled with hot dudes with knuckle tattoos. You literally have a board named ‘Hot Dudes with Tattoos’.”

Elain stared at her sister in abject horror.

“You snooped??!?!” she screeched. “You snooped on my Pinterest?!!?”

“Simmer down. It’s not like I went through your PornHub history! Jeez,” Nesta shook her head.

“I don’t have a PornHub history!” Elain exclaimed.

They were standing in the shade, and Nesta was stretching her long, slender limbs. She didn’t need to stop, but her less fit sister definitely did. Therefore, Nesta pretended like she needed to massage her hamstring and roll her shoulders. 

“El, you need to go after what you want,” Nesta insisted. She knew the conversation was pointless and Elain never would, but it didn’t hurt to remind her. “Listen, you are a 30 year old virgin,”

“I am not a virgin!” Elain’s eyes popped out of their sockets in righteous indignation.

Nesta cocked her brow and put her hands on her hips.

“Uh-uh,”

“Yes! No! I am not a virgin! Also, I am not 30!” Elain yelled. “I am not a virgin!”

Two things happened.

The hot cyclist, and his posse, were just below them, resting and drinking, parked at the curve of the road. Elain’s shouting about the state of her hymen to the whole world solicited sniggers and chuckles, and the hot dude lifted his head and looked up. 

Nesta could see the appeal–he was handsome indeed. Excellent body. A smirk on his lips–which she felt was warranted–as he looked at her sister, while Elain was about to explode where she stood. The rest of the cyclists saluted them, grinning and laughing, and got on their way, while the Hot One lingered behind. He was staring upward, his eyes skimming over Elain’s voluptuous body, gliding over her ample chest and her long slender legs.

The second thing that happened was Elain scrambled backwards, gasping like a fish out of water, staring at him in horror. Before Nesta could make a snide remark about hoping that the Hot One was up for the challenge of deflowering a virgin, Elain tripped on the rocks, slipped and fell on her ass. Her leg shot out in front of her, pushing on a large rock, which skidded down the path and bounced against the dry slope. It was like watching a murder in slow motion. They all saw it. Elain–arms outstretched in silent horror. Nesta, her hand flying to her mouth, while screaming ‘look out’ and then the Hot One being knocked on the head by the rock.

“OHMYGOD!!!!!!!!” Elain screamed violently. “I killed him!”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Nesta took off at once, running as fast as she could down the path, with Elain flailing her arms and hurrying behind her. 

“Is he dead?” Elain wailed loudly, “I killed him!”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Nesta muttered to herself. 

They finally reached the man, who was splayed on the dirt path, arms out, head bleeding.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Elain clucked incessantly, watching him in horror.

“Yeah, he is gonna need some help,” Nesta decided.

“Am I going to prison? For murder?” Elain cried.

“Well, let’s see if he is dead,”

“He can’t be dead!”

Callously, Nesta murmured, “could be dead…”

“T! What the hell!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have been announcing to the world that you are a freakin’ virgin and none of this would’ve happened!”

Elain dropped to her knees in front of the man and pushed her face to his chest, and her fingers to his neck, feeling and listening for his heartbeat.

“I am not a virgin!” she grumbled angrily.

“Yeah?” Nesta demanded. “And what are you?”

“I’ve had sex!”

“With who?”

“Men! With lots of men!”

“Yeah, okay Mata Hari,”

“He is alive!” Elain declared excitedly, while Nesta was dialling her phone.

“Well, thank god for small miracles. Guess you aren't going to prison after all.”

“Shut up,” Elain pouted.

Smirking to herself, Nesta turned away from her sister and then tossed over her shoulder, “I think he needs mouth to mouth.”

“What?!” 

“Yeah, you know, CPR. Give him CPR. Revive him.”

Unsure, Elain looked down at the unconscious man and murmured,

“But…I…but it’s like kissing…”

“Okay, well, it’s not really kissing, but you’ve had sex with many men, so kissing shouldn’t be an issue for you,” Nesta noted. 

“T!”

“Elain! You might save his life!” Nesta cried out dramatically. The things she had to do to get her sister a boyfriend!

Then, she added, “911 is telling me to give him CPR!”

She was lying of course. 

Reluctantly, Elain crouched over him and wincing, pressed her lips to his.

Someone somewhere was having a good laugh at her expense.

Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.

This was just hilarious. Her first kiss should be with an unconscious guy who probably got brain damage because of her.

“Deeper!” Nesta urged her on. 

“Deeper?” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what 911 is saying. Put some…you know…muscle into it!”

Elain frowned, but breathed more air into the man’s lungs. She didn't want to think about how soft his lips were and how he smelled nice–something earthy and citrusy. He definitely took good care of himself, and even clad in all spandex, she could smell the cologne on him. 

“They are on their way,” Nesta said, placing the phone back into her arm pocket. 

She looked down at Elain who was still trying to revive him, and then commented,

“His package is…moderate.”

Elain’s head jerked up and she stared at her sister in disgust.

“What is wrong with you?!” she demanded, “he is half-dead and you are looking at his…his…”

“What?” Nesta teased.

“Penis!”

“Yes. His modestly moderate penis.”

“You are gross!”

“Why isn't he waking up?” Nesta crossed her arms on her chest. “What a wimp.”

In the distance they heard the wailing of a siren.

“I hit him with a rock!” Elain exclaimed, “a boulder!”

“Please. It was a pebble.”

Elain gently smacked his cheek, and then dipped back in to blow more air in his lungs.

“Please wake up…”

With a moan, the man twitched and groaned, and then hissed,

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Taken aback by his tone, Elain quickly explained, “We called an ambulance…I am sorry…I am just trying to revive you,”

“Trying to revive me?” he grunted menacingly. “Maybe don’t fucking throw rocks at me in the first place. No wonder you are a virgin!”

Elain blushed profusely and gasped, “I am sorry?”

Nesta frowned at his tone and stepped forward.

“Simmer down, bud,”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snapped, “she threw a rock at me,”

“It was obviously an accident,”

“Yeah, an accident where I have a rock embedded in my head.”

“It’s a scratch. Calm down,” Nesta argued lazily.

“Can I get you anything?” Elain offered softly.

“Yeah, step off, missy,” he suggested and then tried to move, but moaned loudly instead.

“This guys sucks,” Nesta whispered, “I wish we didn’t help him,”

“T!”

“What did you just say?” he glowered at Nesta but she ignored him.

Thankfully, the tense moment was interrupted by four brawny paramedics who were running up the path.

They surrounded the man, asking him questions, taking vitals, looking at the gushing wound on his head which was spewing blood.

Nesta shrugged and said, “Head wounds always bleed a lot.”

“Nesta, he got hit in the head by a rock!” Elain reminded her crossly. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll follow them to the hospital.”

“We have to go to the hospital with him?” Nesta gritted indignantly.

“Obviously!”

The drive to the regional hospital was only fifteen minutes long, during which Nesta was silent, but rolling her eyes excessively.

…”It’s been almost two hours. How much longer do we need to sit here?”

It has been almost two hours. They’ve been sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by some ‘shady people’ in Nesta’s words. She kept trying to guess what was wrong with each individual, proposing things like “definitely herpes!” and “you think a bear attack?” and “oh god, this dude is hacking out a lung!” and “I think the clap!” and “jeez, I hope it’s not ebola”.

Elain was chewing on her nail, her head jerking every time the door opened, as she waited for the cops to come in and arrest her.

“Miss?”

She looked up at the sound of a deep, gravelly voice.

The first thing she saw were big, scarred hands holding an IPad. Large male hands, covered in tattoos. Each finger and knuckle has a symbol of some kind inked into the tanned skin. Looking up, Elain was faced with a man dressed in civilian clothes, but in a blue scrubs coat, which, it seemed, he wore out of expectation, rather than necessity.

“Miss…?” he repeated, and she just stared at him.  Because he was breathtaking.

“Elain,” she answered, her voice hollow, her eyes roaming over the man’s imposing physique and enormous height.

“Mamma mia,” Elain heard Nesta’s breathless whisper behind her.

Mamma mia indeed.

“Miss Elain then?”

“Yeah. Elain,” Elain repeated stupidly.

He smirked and said,

“I am Doctor Azriel King. You came in with Mr. Nolan?”

“What?” she mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away from the stunning beauty of this man, who was all sharp angles and gorgeous hazel eyes, which were a dreamy combination of gold and earthy brown and emerald green. Thick black hair, stylishly cut, crowned this exceptional specimen of raw, aggressive masculinity. Even his neck had tattoos. Elain was beginning to hyperventilate. If she fainted here, would this Dr. King give her mouth to mouth? If she knew he was a doctor here, she’d come here every day to faint!

“Mr. Nolan, Graysen Nolan,” he glanced at the IPad, “you came here with him? He said that you hit him with a rock?”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, no concussion. Just a bad cut on his forehead, for which he received stitches.”

A smirk played on his beautiful mouth.

“Mr. Nolan doesn’t tolerate pain very well it seems.”

“Did he cry like a little bitch?” Nesta huffed, standing behind Elain.

“I would say…” he pretended to think for a second and then grinned. “Yeah. Yeah he did.”

Eyes back on Elain, he asked,

“Why did you hit him with a rock?”

“I didn’t!” she said defensively. “I mean, I did, but I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He looked her over, something dark and desirous flashing in his unusual eyes and said sternly,

“You shouldn’t be hitting people with rocks, Elain. Especially your boyfriends."

“Usually I don’t. And he is not my boyfriend! You are a doctor here?” she blurted out and then blushed furiously.

He gave her a slow, languid look, and then drew his thumb over his lower lip, sizing her up in the same manner he would a delicious, sinful meal.

“The hospital is low on staff. I am filling in. I usually travel during forest fire season with smoke jumpers,”

“Oh my god, that’s so dangerous!” Elain gasped.

“Yeah, tell it to my brother Cassian. He’s been a smoke jumper for 7 years. I head their medical team.”

Abruptly, he changed gears, and looked at Nesta.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Her eyes bugged out and she cried, “Excuse me?!”

“It’s just that you are exactly his type–sharp and beautiful.”

For once, it was Nesta who was out of things to say. She just glared at him in shock.

“She is available!” Elain piped in right away. “She is not seeing anyone. Does he look like you?”

Dr. King laughed softly, and Elain fell in love with the sound at once.

“He sure does. Just brawnier.”

Elain turned to her sister and hissed at Nesta, “his brother looks like him!”

“I…I…I am not going out with a smoke jumper!” Nesta protested feebly.

Dr. King popped his lips and said, “well, you are in luck! This is his last season. We are both done, and he won’t be smelling like a smoked mackerel anymore.”

Elain giggled. That caused him to look back at her, and he drew the tip of his tongue over his lips.

She swallowed. Loudly.

“And you?” he asked.

“What?”

“How serious are you about Graysen Nolan?”

“Who?”

He smiled a savage smile.

“That’s what I thought.”

Extending his scarred hand to her, he ordered, “phone”.

Wordlessly, Elain handed him her phone, courteously unlocking it for him.

He took it and quickly typed something into it.

“Cassian’s number. And mine. Your name, miss?”

“Nesta,” Nesta breathed.

“Perfect. He’ll love it.”

He handed the phone back to Elain and said,

“You and I are going on a date tonight. Seven PM."

She just stared at him in shock.

"I am not a stalker," he assured her lightly, those eyes sparkling with mischief. "Unless you want me to be a stalker?"

"Ummm, not particularly."

"Alright then. Just a bit then. Not Zade Meadows level stalker,"

The expression of shock and bewilderment only intensified on her face.

"You know Zade?" she gasped.

"Well, not personally. He is a character in a book. But I am familiar. So. I shall see you at seven tonight. And every night after that.”