#I think I probably just overdid it and should’ve stopped working on it a while back

[bastardcherub]

Sydney in a babydoll has me in a fucking chokehold,

[ higher quality ] [ fun colour alt ]

[dreamii-yume]

Hear me out, Yume! (This is for Epel'e bday)

Epel and a very unreactive darling? She's almost emotionless! Everything he does to try and impress her is only brushed off by her saying a simple 'good job' with a blank face. He hates it so much! All he wants, all he craves, is for one reaction, even if it's a negative one! If he can just gouge one reaction from her, he swears, that'll be the highlight of his life! But if he can't get anything out of her with tasks and hard work, so maybe he'll coax one out of her with something a little more...sensual. If he tries hard enough, if he's rough enough, maybe he'll even get a pained whimper from her as he rips her lace panties apart, shoving his fingers inside of her no matter how much MC tells him to stop with such bored eyes and a monotone voice, or how dry she is.

- 🍑

!!! Σ੧(❛□❛✿) Sexually frustrated Epel is best Epel no i am right do not argue with me

Warnings : Non-Con | Non-consensual Drugging | Dehumanization | Kidnapping | Sadism | Non-consensual Bondage | Mind Break

I can see him drugging your drink if you pissed him off enough, that juice you were drinking in his party? Yeah, you probably should’ve thought something was really off when it was sweeter than you expected, but instead, you chugged it down like it’s no one’s business. You’ll feel dizzy, nauseous as if the whole world is spinning around without you in it. You asked to be excused, wanting nothing more to collapse onto the comfort of your bed but you have a feeling that this sense of intense lethargy in you would probably take over your body before you can actually get there. The party wasn’t over, you’d be such a wet blanket if you asked Grim or anyone else to accompany you home so, you’re in a bit of a pinch.

But that’s where Epel comes in, smiling as innocently as ever as he offers his own room for you, claiming how his roommates are not present at the moment. You didn’t think too much about it, you were too dazed and irritated at your sleepy self to actually protest back and just followed Epel as he guides you.

You didn’t know what happened after that, or if you even reached his room as everything just turned black. The next thing you knew, your sight wasn’t working well and you couldn’t move, something that seems to be a rope was tied around your wrist like some kind of animal. The rope burns through your skin and the cause for your unstable eyesight was indeed a blindfold after much deliberation. A gag was preventing you from speaking up as well, it was accumulating saliva inside your mouth that they just began to drip down your jaw. You struggled for a while, flinching as you try find a way to escape.

Then, you heard his voice in the corner of your ear, clicking his tongue in irritation. To your surprise, it was sweet ‘ol Epel, but judging from the tone of his voice, you knew instantly that this was not just some kind of gimmick he made up right on the blue. He was clearly dissatisfied with the way you are right now, with how you’re acting, something that you couldn’t understand yourself, what does he want from you? You can’t see him, but you can pretty much imagine the expression that he’s wearing on his face, something tells you how its not a very good one.

There’s a large chance he’ll actually go to the full BDSM route, tying you up in unimaginably lewd poses that would’ve otherwise destroy a normal human being’s dignity. Your legs unable to close with the leg-spreader tied underneath your thighs, sweat covering your whole entire body. But even if he gropes you roughly by your bare breast or play with your folds until your wet as you can be, you don’t let out anything but simple grunts and shallow breathing. It absolutely gets on Epel’s nerves for such reaction wasn’t enough to satisfy him at all, he starts to think if he should really step up his game. You were in discomfort, unsettled but he wanted to hear you cry and sob, to beg him to stop and release you...

He wanted to break that annoying façade of yours.

After a little bit of experimenting with your vulnerable body in a single night, there’s no way Epel could just let go of you just like that the next day. He’ll kept you locked away somewhere, a place where he can fully play with you without any interruptions from the outside. Whatever weak spots you have, he’s determined to find all of it, both inside and outside. He won’t let you have a moment of relief too until you beg him for it, act like the submissive whore that you are and he’ll finally let you cum after a long, long time. You don’t get to escape when he’s out at school either, he’ll force you to drink an aphrodisiac and leave you locked with nothing to relieve yourself off but your fiery body alone.

If you’ve been bad or if Epel is just in a bad mood, he’ll even tie your hands up to make sure you won’t even have that liberty to yourself. When he comes back, you’d be so desperate and learn your lesson to keep him happy at all times or else you wouldn’t be rewarded with the pleasure of his dick. Your friends wonder where you’ve gone, looking for you whenever they could but as long as Epel is included in that search party, they might as well be searching for physical traces of the wind. His top-tier acting has pretty much convinced anyone at this point, never suspecting where he hid you or even if he’s involved in your disappearance. When in truth, he regularly visits you to take care of your daily necessities like food, hygiene, and another dose of aphrodisiac injected into your system.

You could’ve just been more honest with yourself, maybe then he wouldn’t have to resort into such an extreme method. He just wanted to see you smile with light in your eyes, you know? It wasn’t that hard!

...Well, regardless if you’re actually capable of doing that isn’t his problem anymore. I mean, look at yourself now! All tied up with his marks all over your body, legs spread wide to position himself in as his cock pounds deep into your soaking pussy. It took a while but he finally got you expressing some kind of emotion, although the potions did help him turn you into a drooling bitch in heat instead...Hm, maybe he overdid it a little bit too much...But it’s a step! You’ll get used to it soon, he’ll make sure of it.

Your eyes would roll up at the back of your head every time he would thrust in harsher than usual, a shaky gasp accompanying each action. Epel can’t help but be amused by it, licking his lips at your lewd demeanor. It feels like the fruits of his hard work is finally paying off, you’re finally becoming the bitch that he wanted you to be, desperate for his every touch. With how obedient you’ve become, he could take you back to the outside if he so wanted it and show everyone how you are...But that’s not enough, he wouldn’t stop just yet.

Not until the pleasure finally breaks your mind.

Oop- too dark? Nah...YOU'RE FINE.

[lovelivingmydreams]

Paper Flowers: one step forwards two steps back

Progress isn't always linear. And the setbacks can feel devastating. But it might still be worth it to try and move forward again.

A cute puppy jumps around excitedly, clearly asking to play, in a grassy field, on a sunny day.

Dad lays his hands to his heart. "Aw so cute!"

The dark Lord has his arms crossed, face partially hidden in the shadow of his pulled up hood. "Pathetic," he scoffs, not even looking.

A cat delicately washes her face. Dad gasps. "Elegant!"

Nemesis rolls his eye. "Obnoxious"

A horse prances around a meadow, hair flowing freely in the wind.

Dad stared on in awe and whispered: "Majestic."

Nemesis pinched the bridge of his nose. "Disgraceful"

Suddenly Dad jumped on a bench and pointed frantically at the ground. "Aaah spider!" he screamed.

Nemesis cooed as he knelt down. "Hello there darling!" He gets up, gently petting a massive spider.

Dad screams in horror once more.

 "Well, that was fun," Patton smiled nervously. Virgil looked up at his paternal colleague with a raised brow. The man's body language didn't exactly radiate "I just had fun" energy.

"Plastic spider got you spooked huh?" He mused as he returned his attention to his phone. Thomas just got done filming their character's collab video. Princey's latest very transparent attempt at helping Virgil get along with the others.

"A little," Patton admitted. "But still. I get why Roman enjoys making videos with you so much!"

Virgil suppressed a scoff. There was no real need to point out that it was just Thomas playing caricature versions of them. If Patton wanted to pat himself on the back for this he wasn't going to burst his bubble. So he just shrugged. "I guess," he muttered not noticing how Patton lit up at this small victory.

“Wonderful work you two!” Roman beamed as he entered the commons. Okay, so apparently there was a point in pointing out the obvious.

“Does everyone just forget that it is Thomas who plays these characters? Most we did was toss in a few suggestions. The vine is all you Roman, jeez!” Virgil complained, though he gave Roman the smallest hint of a smile. He wasn’t sure if Roman had started making an effort to give the others credit since they became friends, or if it was just a part of him Virgil only saw now because he spent some actual time around him without shouting insults at each other. Not to say they hadn’t had fights the past… Six months, man time flies. Anyway, their fights could get just as heated as ever. But now after they stormed off to their rooms to cool down, one or the other would eventually knock on the other’s back door with a movie or a snack and an apology. They’d talk things out and make up. It was much better like this. In the past when Virgil’s anger subsided he’d start panicking about… well, everything. Not talking about it afterwards, or even acknowledging that a fight had taken place… Yeah not great.

Roman just rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say Gloom Day. But what did you guys think?” he asked, smile back in place. Roman was already feeling good about today because Virgil had more or less openly complemented him.

“It was amazing Roman! I’m sure the fanders will love it too!” Patton gushed.

Roman gave a little bow. “Thanks padre. Your enthusiasm is appreciated as always.”

This time Virgil could not contain his snort.

“Something funny? Panic at the everywhere?” Roman asked, hands on his hips and a brow raised in challenge.

“Nice one,” Virgil allowed. “It’s just, why even bother asking him? You know he’s going to sing your praises. You can’t sneeze without getting a medal as far as Patton is concerned,” he pointed out.

“That’s not true,” Patton protested gently.

“Well, what did you think then? Oh, sinister one?” Roman asked expectantly, not commenting on the medal thing.

Virgil thought about that for a moment. “I guess it was sort of okay. It was rough on Thomas because Dad and Nemesis have very different energy, but he enjoyed it. The fanders probably didn’t expect the nemesis to interact with other characters,” he allowed, trying to sound reluctant. This time he did see that Patton was beaming. He was really getting too soft around the others.

“Evening everyone,” Logan greeted as he entered the commons. Making Patton get up to get dinner ready and Virgil contemplate whether he’d have dinner in his room or if he could handle a little more social interaction.

“Logan! How did you like today’s project? I am two for two and feeling pretty good, so no need to hold back your criticism,” Roman grinned. Logan cast his eyes to Virgil and then to Patton who nodded, clearly excited to confirm this.

“I see. Well while your intentions were rather transparent, it was a rather good experiment.”

Virgil sat up confused. Did… Did Logan figure them out?

“I don’t have any idea what you are talking about,” Roman grinned innocently.

Logan sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Fine. You ran a test to see how the fanders would respond to the characters loosely based on our personalities interacting. Anxiety and Patton are an interesting first choice. My character and Patton’s would have a more natural combined narrative, but it is effective none the less. I assume that if this gets positive reviews, you will propose other collaborations as well?”

Roman shrugged. “Maybe.”

Virgil felt kind of bad. Roman had promised to stop pushing the subject after things got to a blow with Patton after the whole ‘Marcus’ incident. He should have known that he wouldn’t intentionally push them together.

“Oh Roman! That’s a brilliant idea! That’ll definitely help Anxiety feel less nervous about the whole thing. Right Anxiety?” Patton asked kindly.

Virgil shrugged as he got up to set the table. Just to have something to do.

“You guys do whatever. I’m still not on board.” He didn’t expect them to get it. They represented what people liked about Thomas. His intelligence, creativity, humor, kindness, passion…

He was… as far as everyone was concerned, what hurt Thomas. And yes, he overdid it, a lot. He had tried to be better, honestly, but he couldn’t help who he was.

“We’ll see about that Doominator. I’ll win you over, just you wait. But what did you think Logan?” Roman insisted, pulling Virgil out of his thoughts.

“Well, until we have more data it is hard to say…” Logan started, but then he stopped to ponder. Roman was actively asking for feedback. He had even stated that he could handle it if it wasn’t entirely positive. Maybe he should reward that effort with some of his own.

“Though while I usually would stick with facts, if it is my personal opinion you are seeking…”

An eager nod from Roman confirmed this. Well here goes.

“You all know I am not most in tune with emotions and artistic endeavors. That being said, you did well. The classic broken pattern and the recurring theme of closing off a video including Anxiety and any other character with some form of screaming will almost certainly be well received by the fans.”

Roman was beaming. He had more or less expected someone to criticize the skit in some way, but they all really thought it was good. Maybe the Sanders Sides series could actually happen!

“Dinner’s ready! Thanks for helping out Anxiety,” Patton said pleasantly.

Virgil looked down at the table and found he’d finished setting for four. Guess he’ll be staying for dinner.

He sat across from Patton with Roman to his right and Logan to his left. Roman was brainstorming out loud while they ate dinner, occasionally encouraged by Patton or redirected by Logan when he veered of topic. Once or twice Virgil even muttered a teasing remark which had Roman pouting dramatically and the specs trying to hide their amusement.

It was nice, almost, normal.

He should’ve known then that something was heading his way.

“What do you say Florida Ghoul? Underrated Disney movie night?” Roman asked as they put away the dishes.

Virgil was honestly tempted. Almost all his favorites were in that category. Which Roman knew. They’d argued about the best movies often enough.

But if he started he might lose track of time…

“I have made you all suffer through enough of me I think. I’m going to head down, see what the others are up to.” Thomas was more or less dozing off in front of the tv, he should be fine going down. Maybe he could ask J for a movie night of their own.

“Night,” he waved as he made his way to the door to below. Suddenly he felt someone tug at his hoodie? He looked back, expecting Roman, but it was Patton, looking at him with big shocked eyes.

“Y-you’ll be back though right? We really don’t mind you staying. You don’t have to…”

Virgil raised his hands. “Wow, calm down. What made you think I was going to go back? Permanently I mean.”

Patton looked away, let go of his shirt and started fidgeting with his hands.

That told Virgil enough. He looked up to Roman and Logan. “What did Deceit do?”

Roman got ready to speak, but Logan beat him to it.

“About a week ago, after we first discussed Roman’s Sanders Sides idea, he made a brief appearance. He implied that he might take you back in if we didn’t do a better job of ‘handling you’. Roman and I already assured Patton that Janus has no such power without our aid, but he apparently has not been convinced.”

Virgil glanced to Roman who nodded to confirm that this was how things had played out.

He let out a tired sigh. “I can’t belief this guy. I’ll be right back.”

Before anyone could say anything he rushed down the stairs. His thoughts racing. Was this the first time Janus had tried to guilt the others into being his friends? Had Roman… No… No he couldn’t start down that path. Not yet anyway.

“Janus!” he called out as he entered the living room.

“Virgin!” Remus greeted excitedly. Virgil gave the chaotic gremlin he’d grown up with a quick wave.

“Leave us for a sec Remus,” he growled, not looking away from the yellow clad side.

Janus walked up to Remus, looking at Virgil with confusion.

“Why don’t you go hunt something for breakfast Remus,” Janus suggests. Remus didn’t need any more prompting than that. A second later they were alone.

"Virgil, what's the matter?"

Virgil worked a brow. "What do you think? Why could I possibly be mad at you?" He asked, wanting to give Janus a chance to fess up himself.

Janus took in his body language and expression. This was not the fury he'd expect if he'd somehow discovered Janus had been in his room when he wasn't there.

So that left... "Did the lights really tell on me?" He huffed trying to hide how worried that made him. He had no clue about the context. What did Virgil think happened?

"No. I said I was planning on hanging with you guys tonight with plenty of my usual self deprecating humor and Patton was worried I was planning on staying away. I figured you had something to do with that. Logan told me what happened because I asked," Virgil clarified.

"Now I want to hear your side. The truth J. Please." He really hoped the explanation wouldn't be as heartbreaking as the one in his head.

Janus took in a deep breath. "Okay, bit promise we'll stay on topic. No evading, no beating around the bush." Virgil nodded in agreement.

Janus studied his face for a moment until he was satisfied with what he saw. "Okay. Virgil you have been disappearing. I tried to check up on you a few times the past few months and you were just gone. I allowed you to go upstairs because I thought it would be better for you. But if they are erasing you... I needed them to at least try to keep you. I didn't know what else to do..."

Virgil groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to skip over the fact that you obviously entered my room while I was our, for now." He took a deep breath. It wasn't a surprise really. Janus and Remus both always just appeared in his room when they wanted to speak with him. So of course Janus had occasionally popped in to find it empty.

"I was probably in the imagination," Virgil confessed.

"The... why? How?!" Janus asked shocked.

"Roman gave me a little meadow to relax. Like 5 months ago I think. Not too long after the prince vs nemesis video's started. I go there when I need a break."

Janus stammered for a few seconds before letting out a utterly perplexed: "Why?"

That hurt a little. Was it that hard to belief?

"He only said he felt like giving me something. Maybe it was because I gave him some constructive criticism earlier and he wanted to try out positive reinforcement. You know he always overdoes everything," Virgil explained. There wasn't a single lie in his statement, so Janus believed him.

"But... he's not supposed to know..." Janus collapsed a hand in front of his mouth, realizing he said that out loud.

"What is Roman not supposed to know?" Virgil growled.

Janus took a small step back. "I... before I sent you upstairs I told Patton and Logan what I was planning and why. I wanted to be sure they'd look after you."

Virgil nodded. That made sense. "Why was Roman not supposed to know that?"

Janus couldn't look at Virgil. "I... told them I was worried what it would do to Thomas if you didn't move to a less stressful environment. I wasn't sure if Roman would be helpful or even more wary of you. So I blocked even the thought of telling Roman about our conversation from their minds."

Virgil was silent for a few moments. Somehow he felt a lot better about everything now. It all made so much more sense.

"Unblock it then," he muttered as he turned around.

"Virgil..."

"Unblock it. I'll see you guys next week or something. Maybe..." J had meant well after all... right?

"Virgil!" Janus called after him, but he was already halfway the upper commons.

When he walked in Roman, Logan and Patton were standing there waiting for him.

"Janus lied. So you don't have to pretend anymore. And you should be able to tell Roman," he said. Hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the doorframe. His old walks back in place. It was better that way.

"Anxiety... kiddo no. You..."

"Just drop it!" Virgil hissed in his tempest tongue, the briefest glimpse of his feral form was enough to make Patton stagger backwards into Logan. Roman was reaching out though. He was still on Virgil's side.

"I was getting sick of all this sappy family stuff anyway," he scoffed before leaving for gos room.

 Roman stormed into the meadow ready to break down Virgil's door if he had to. Virgil hadn't knocked not even once. But he couldn't be left alone with his thoughts now!

He was barely two steps inside when he spotted Virgil sitting there, a crown of purple daisies in his hand.

"You came," the anxious man breathed in relief.

Roman sat down next to him careful to keep enough distance but also be within reach.

"Of course," he said gently. They both knew ge wanted to defend Patton and Logan. To assure Virgil that they never did what they did because they feared he would be pushed to the edge and hurt Thomas in the fallout.

Virgil had explained to him that his discomfort around Patton was due to feeling like the moral side saw him as a ticking timebomb.

The reason for that was painfully obvious now. But how to make Virgik see that Patton was more distant than he wanted to be instead of more welcoming?

"I knew it was all too good to be true. The bubble was bound to burst... I told myself not to get too attached, cause it would end up hurting... I didn't realize... not until earlier. My room is almost back where I started Roman. I litterally pushed them away. And I thought... I thought I'd pushed you away too." Roman could tell Virgil had been crying.

"Preposterous. I'm much too stuborn to get rid if that easily," he assured Virgil. The darker side cracked a smile at that.

"I'm glad I was wrong about that..."

Roman nodded. Virgil had told him how much he hated being right.

"Did I ruin movienight?" Virgil wondered tensely.

"Well I don't know about Logan and Patton. But you and I are going yo watch all those tragically underrated movies."

And with a wave of his hand Roman set out an out doors movie theatre complete with snacks. The sky darkened and Virgil was handed a movie menu.

He smirked as he looked it over. Roman really did have to overdo everything. Including distracting him.

It was appreciated though.

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @riverdoesbadart @vpow @apinkline2715 @frida43 @tired-yeetling @firegirl156

Later Virgil would discover that his room was moved just a few feet closer to the upper level again.

Next: adjusting

[robodaydreamer]

RadioHusk Week - #2 To Love A Dumbass

I meant to write a drabble and my hand slipped.

I’m sorry.

[ EDITED 4/5/20 ]

I want to do a drawing for every fic, it just takes my dumb butt forever to do anything. Forewarning, this was done at 2 am, so it might be a bit jumbled? I edited what I could to fix it. I hope you all enjoy!

To hell’s general population or the few who knew of him, Husk was a lot of things. Temperamental, apathetic, tired of everyone’s shit... the list could go on, but he liked to think he was a pretty simple guy.

Uncomplicated and easy to understand. You leave him alone, he’ll leave you alone. You get on his nerves, he’ll probably claw your eyes out. Maybe. If he actually had the energy for it. A fair trade if you asked him.

And he didn’t ask for much. To most, he didn’t like to be bothered, he enjoyed card games, he depended on alcohol to get him through the day, and he had a fondness for magic tricks.

That last one was a little-known fact to their small group of misfits. The hotel’s residents didn’t need to know about it. The only reason any of them had even found out was because of Angel Dust challenging him to a card game.

He was more than a little drunk at the time. Hah, he’d been fucking plastered.

Kicking that fluffy arachnoids ass was just a bonus. While he never doubted his own hand, being that uncoordinated never usually ended well for him. He tended to keep to himself when he was at his worst.

He was surprised he even agreed to do anything at all instead of telling that perverted walking stick to shove off! Even more surprising was as trashed as he’d been, he was still apparently unbeatable.

Husk wondered if he had an ace up his sleeve… and he didn’t even have sleeves… or wear clothes.

Yikes. Did bow ties and tophats count?

Hmmmm… wait. No. He wasn’t doing this to himself again. It was hard enough accepting he was an overgrown catbird. He’d leave this complicated crap alone. Besides, trying to wear clothes over fur was a pain in the ass. Not to mention extremely uncomfortable...

Lucky streak aside, Husk won whatever bet they’d made. He couldn’t quite remember what it was since he’d been blackout drunk, but he knew Vaggie had enough blackmail on Angel to get about a week’s worth of good behavior out of him.

That alone had made this whole thing an even bigger victory. The only problem was that with his drinking, while his gambling was on point, his mouth… wasn’t. 

Plenty of sinners gave away personal information when they were drunk. People did it while they were alive, so it wasn’t an uncommon thing down in hell. The only problem was where it ended up… or who it ended up with.

Long story short, he’d apparently let Angel Dust in on his appreciation for magic and had even shown him a trick or two with his cards while they were playing. He couldn’t remember jack shit, but it was possible.

How else would Angel have found out? The only other demons who’d know would be Alastor or Niffty and he doubted Alastor would randomly share something as insignificant as this. He may have a thing for pushing Husk’s buttons, but he didn’t think the other would just throw that out into the open without any context.

Actually, he probably would.

Either that or Niffty spilled the beans… she liked his coin behind the ear trick. She made for a great audience, even when she had to stop him to sweep up his stray feathers or dust the furniture in his room. He wasn’t a total slob, but he was rarely in his hotel room to begin with, so it wasn’t really his top priority.

Like right now. He could clean up the broken glass next to the bed, but he wasn’t going to. He drank often enough, so hangovers rarely bothered him, but sometimes even he overdid it.

His tolerance was absolutely phenomenal. A blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he could enjoy his booze and watch his drinking buddies fall over after a few shots of the hard stuff. On the other hand, it was tougher to get buzzed or even just flat out drunk if he wanted a quick way to escape his own mind.

Last night had been one of those times and he absolutely went overboard. The hangover he was nursing could definitely attest to that. If the pounding in his head grew any worse he’d probably die. Again.

With a sigh, Husk shifted into a more comfortable position, trying to keep his wings in mind. He didn’t need any other problems right now.

Speaking of problems, he hoped he didn’t do anything too stupid. How did he get back to his room, anyway? He tried to wrack his brain for answers, but all he got was a flash of white-hot pain radiating throughout his skull for his trouble.

This was the beauty of alcohol. It made you forget, even if it was only for a short time. He’d already made that mistake twice in one fucking day… One with Angel Dust, and the other with-

A knock at the door made him tense, the sound not at all helping his headache. Who was bothering him at this hour? Wait, what time was it? Shit… was he late for work? Most likely. He didn’t actually give too much of a shit, seeing as to how he worked seven days a week. 

The only one it would actually bother was-

//BANG//

The sound of the door slamming open and ramming into the wall made him jump so hard his teeth clacked together. 

A loud boisterous voice filled the quiet of his room moments later, “Ohhhhh Husker! Wakey wakey, my darling kitty cat! Your shift started hours ago, and our sour sinners are hankering for your testy temper. And quite possibly a beverage or two, but that is no concern of mine. Hahah!”

Husk groaned, curling into a ball. Maybe if he hid in his wings, the bastard would take the hint and leave. He was too exhausted to deal with this shit.

Of course, he wasn’t that lucky. Give him a deck of cards and you’d see him win the whole pot! But a radio demon that he just so happened to be in a relationship with? Not so much.

Hold on a damn minute… Was it a relationship? It was probably the closest thing to one. They never agreed on an actual title, but Alastor had been pretty pushy about them trying this… whatever it was out.

In fact, if he thought back to it, he hadn’t believed the guy at first, having been pining over said demon for years. Why would he come waltzing over to Husk, demanding him to be his significant other?

He’ll fucking tell you why. His own mouth betrayed him. With Angel Dust, he’d been very loose tongued thanks to his over drinking.

Alastor had come over to watch their game of cards, and by the end of it, had decided to poke fun at his old pal Husker. 

He’d given Husk a round of applause for his card tricks, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that he’d won the game and left Angel Dust flipping the table in despair. None of it mattered because it hadn’t been enough to fill Alastor’s endless need to be entertained.

He just so happened to believe that ‘drunk Husk’ was an absolute riot. He’d told him as much in the past. 

Although, instead of the usual banter or wobbly cat behavior he would have normally provided, Husk decided to share an even more personal secret than his fucking magic tricks.

He’d told the cannibalistic serial killer he was in love with him.

And it didn’t end there. To make it worse, since he’d been three sheets to the wind, he ended up forgetting everything that happened.

Angel Dust finding out about him being a magician was fine.

Alastor finding out about his undying love for him?

Husk would sooner have jumped in front of an Angel on extermination day than to have revealed his feelings to Alastor.

When he’d found out about what he’d done, because of course the insufferable jackass had to bring up his mistake as soon as he was sober, he may or may not have tried to jump out of the nearest window.

That was a tough feat to accomplish considering his bar was on the first floor. Had he done it anyway? Well, he tried to, but the other put a stop to his attempt so he hadn’t gotten very far.

In the end, Alastor had told him he should’ve confessed sooner because they could’ve been spending quality time together. He may have spaced out after that due to his brain short-circuiting.

It was almost too good to be true.

Husk agreed to Alastor’s demands, feeling like he would’ve been an idiot to refuse an opportunity to spend more time with the demon that held his heart in the palm of his hand.

Should he have paid more attention to what those demands were? Hell yes. His impulsive decision left him with more questions than answers.

After all, making deals with demons was a dangerous game.

The lowlifes he used to play poker with regularly would’ve told him to suck it up and take the offer for what it was worth. Taking chances was their shtick. 

Jerry, the cheating piece of shit, would have asked, “Why look a gift horse in the mouth?”

This was why. He had so many regrets. 

Husk heard the tapping of hooved shoes making their way toward him and scowled from beneath his feathery shelter. If Al did what he knew he was absolutely going to freakin’ do, he’d give him the silent treatment for the next three days.

He’d say a week, but Husk would cave long before Alastor… He may like his space, but he liked Alastor more. The guy had a way of making him crave for his attention, even if the radio demon himself didn’t always want it in return.

Hell, Alastor rarely showed any interest in him to begin with. And no, having an interest in causing him constant aggravation did not fucking count. He was busy with the hotel and all of the ragtag tenants he got a sick pleasure tormenting. 

It was hilarious. Honestly, it was, but he wanted more… It was selfish, especially since he fell in love with Alastor for who he was and not for some warped soap opera version of himself that he was sure plenty of demons daydreamed about.

Eugh...

Husk was guilty of daydreaming. He daydreamed plenty when it came to his ‘partner.’ Husk would be the first to admit he was a hopeless romantic… well. Maybe not out loud. 

He liked the thought of tender touches, passionate kisses, and appreciative glances. Did he need them? No. Did the thought of them make his heart race? Fucking Christ, yes they did.

He knew Alastor wasn’t interested in any of that. It wasn’t who he was and Husk could accept that, selfish desires be damned. He just wished someone would give him a hint as to what exactly Alastor was playing at. 

Was this something he actually wanted? What was he getting out of it? Why would he even bother with something he usually thought was so ‘tedious?’ He’d said so plenty of times to Angel and Charlie.

It’s already been a few weeks since they’d made this little agreement. Now that he was thinking back on it, it's almost been a month! You’d think he’d know the answers to all of these questions by now, but he was left in the dark when it came to Alastor’s intentions. 

He was torn from his thoughts when a hand gripped his furry ankle and dragged him to the end of the bed. 

Husk let out a warning growl to try and ward off the other from his oncoming attack, but it was useless.

Alastor only chortled in response and Husk felt the hand wrapped around his ankle tighten briefly before moving away. He knew better than to believe that was it. This was only the beginning.

He was proven right when his wings were forcefully pried apart, revealing him to his attacker who looked way too smug for his own good. “My Dearest Husker, why must you hide from me? You know, while I do love your volatile personality, I’m only here to help!”

Holy shit… 

Had he actually fallen in love with this dumbass?

Husk sneered, the stabbing pain in his head only growing worse as he locked eyes with Alastor. “Help? How is this helping?”

He watched Alastor’s brows furrow for a split second before his grin stretched impossibly wider. “Why, of course it is! You would have missed your shift, otherwise. After all, your job is crucial! You’re the first face our lovely residents see!”

Sitting up, Husk felt his wings fluff up. This was getting ridiculous. He was hungover and more than a little unstable in the feelings department. Alastor was only making things worse, seeing as to how he was the main cause of his emotional turmoil. 

He could start yelling and throwing a tantrum, but that would only amuse the bastard and leave him with an even bigger headache. 

No. He had to catch him off guard.

Maybe he’d try something new… he had nothing to lose except his dignity and he’d lost that years ago.. 

Fuck it.

“I want a divorce.”

He felt a swell of pride at Alastor’s blank stare. So that actually shut him up, eh? Sure, this didn’t at all make any sense, but if he had to deal with Alastor’s bullshit, then the idiot was going to get bullshit thrown right back into his stupidly handsome face.

“Pardon?”

“I want a divorce.”

Alastor’s smile waned as his brows went back into a furrow, his head tilting to the side. “Husker, my good man… we aren’t married.”

Husk felt himself relax. Al’s voice had quieted immensely from his earlier shouting. He always had to project his voice, no matter where he went. This was a hell of a lot better for his head. He could already feel the pain lessen.

With a distracted nod, Husk huffed out, “I know. I still want a divorce.” He watched as Alastor’s grin strained, eyes narrowing as he studied him. He felt a shiver travel up his spine at the others searching stare.

Unsatisfied with what he seemed to not be able to find, Alastor released the firm grip he had on his feathers only to move those deft clawed hands behind his back. Husk was sure he was clenching them tight with frustration. 

He couldn’t tell if this was funny or sad. He didn’t want to piss off his ‘steady,’ but he also wasn’t in the mood to be pissed off himself.

Looking at Alastor, he had to admit it was actually pretty damn comical.

“No.”

Husk blinked, feathered brows raising high in confusion. “What?”

Alastor’s expression morphed into a sharp smile, his glowing red eye’s staring unwavering into Husk’s. He seemed to radiate extreme disapproval. “No. We aren’t getting a divorce, Dearest.” His smile gave an irritated twitch.

Holy shit. This was unexpected. He hadn’t actually thought something like this would upset the overlord so much. This should be funny. He should be laughing…

It wasn’t funny. He loved Alastor too much to keep this up, but he also didn’t understand. Why was Al taking this so seriously? The radio host would usually have laughed something like this off or made an even bigger joke out of it… so why wasn’t he doing that now?

He really needed to get answers. If they were going to be anything they needed to start by finding common ground.

Mind made up, Husk stretched. If he was going to do this, he might as well be comfortable. He let out a pleased hum at every pop or crack he worked out of his spine. That felt so much better…

He glanced back up at his uninvited guest, only to pause. Alastor’s previous expression was gone. Husk wasn’t sure if he could put a name to it… but it was softer. Not a word he was used to using when it came to this particular demon. He looked downright distracted as his eyes traveled along the length of Husk’s body…

There was absolutely no fucking way this was happening right now.

He felt hope well into his chest, but he buried it down deep, he had some questions that needed answering. “Okay. We won’t get a divorce… we can still be friend-married or whatever. I didn’t think you’d take what I said so seriously...”

Alastor seemed to tune back in at the sound of his voice, his smile taking on a more satisfied curl. “I’m glad you’ve changed your mind! A divorce, hah! How silly…-” He stilled, a record scratching sound following his abrupt pause as one of his brows raised in question. “Friend-married?” 

He grimaced, “I do believe we have taken the next step in our relationship to a status higher than mere friends. Though I suppose that wouldn’t take away our actual friendship, I was hoping for a more committed type of companionship.”

Husk felt his jaw drop in shock. Hold the fucking phone, what? 

Alastor didn’t seem to notice his surprise, carrying on with a look of distaste. “Honestly, Husker… friend-married? Is that a word young folk are using these days? Taking two separate terms and mashing them together?” 

He let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head at the thought. “I miss the days where words were used more appropriately.” Another twitch of his wide grin. “Besides, why crush words together when you can crush skulls?”

Husk gave a hard blink, his tail thumping on the sheets behind him. Holding up a clawed paw, he cut off the other’s rambling. “You… Do you seriously want to be in a relationship with me? You’re not just pulling my leg for a laugh?” If he was, he’d kill him. He’d probably be the one killed, but he would die trying.

Alastor’s confusion was palpable at this point as he tilted his head for a second time. “... I do believe I asked this of you before we began our partnership, yes. Besides, I may have just literally pulled your leg a short while ago, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I would spend so much time doing all of this just to cure my boredom..."

Husk felt like he was going to pass out. His heart was hammering so hard he thought it was going to beat right out of his chest. 

He was serious. Alastor wasn’t doing this for a laugh. He was actually interested in some form of relationship with him that wasn’t just friendly or work-based. 

Holy fucking shit what the fuck?

Husk’s ears were swiveling about, his fur was bristling, his tail was curling, and his wings were poofing out. He wasn’t sure what kind of fucking response his body was having to this unexpected situation. 

Was he confused? Was he flustered? Was he offended? He had no clue because he was feeling too much at once to comprehend a single thing.

He was able to stutter out a rushed, “Me? You want to be with me? Of all the demons in hell, you chose me?” 

Alastor gave a slow nod, regarding him with a curious gaze. “Why waste my time lavishing affection on just anyone when I can focus my attention on one demon in particular?” 

His hand rose from behind his back, cautiously reaching out towards Husk only to let it hover in the air between them as if he were worried about spooking him. He continued, “And who better than one whose company I enjoy… and one who I am so very fond of?”

Husk couldn’t fucking believe this. Alastor liked him. Alastor liked him to the point of wanting to be with him. Not just to terrorize him to get a reaction out of him. This whole time. This whole god damned time he could have been getting to know this crazy sonofabitch and here he was, wasting his only chance to do exactly what he’s wanted to for fucking years because he couldn’t just get over himself.

Husk shrunk in on himself with a horrified gasp, “Oh no. I’m the dumbass.” Before Alastor could question him, he ran his paw down his face, groaning out, “This whole time I thought you were just doing this because you were bored. You like pissing me off to the point of me ripping my own fur out!” 

His wings moved to cover him back up, he couldn’t bear to look at the demon in front of him anymore. This was too embarrassing. “I’m a fucking dumbass.” he muttered dejectedly.

The room was quiet for a few moments. Hell, Alastor could have vanished and he wouldn’t have been able to tell from beneath his feathery cocoon. This was amazing and awful all at once. He was an idiot, but he was a happy idiot.

He jumped at the feeling of gentle hands resting against his wings. He felt them hesitate before they began to caress him, palms moving in long even strokes. When Husk didn’t move to pull away or stop him, Alastor began to alternate between petting and running his claws soothingly through his feathers.

It felt nice… 

Husk felt himself begin to relax, not at all realizing how wound up he’d actually been. This was ridiculous. He needed to get a hold of himself… well. Maybe after a few more minutes of Alastor touching him like this... Alastor was comforting him. Would this ever happen again?

He really hoped so.

“Husk?” He felt his eyes snap open at the other’s hushed voice. He’s never heard Alastor so quiet before. They’d known each other for decades and not once has Alastor gotten even close to speaking in a volume this low that wasn’t a sinister threat. This was a soft plea for his attention.

Well, if he hadn’t had it before, he certainly had it now. He mentally prepared himself as best as he could before he shifted, immediately mourning the loss of the other’s hands as they retreated from his wings to give him space. 

Crossing his arms, he sat up and allowed his wings to part open, folding them down to rest over his legs and along the bedspread. Seeing as to how he’d let them drag across the floor plenty of times in the past, letting them hang off of the bed wouldn’t hurt them.

He glanced up toward Alastor, taking in his surprisingly patient smile and couldn’t help returning it with a smile of his own. Husk’s smile only widened as he grumbled, “You’re stuck with a dumbass for a partner. Hope you’re happy, ya wiseguy.”

Blinking owlishly, Alastor took on a more bemused grin. “Well… while there are several names I could call you, that one definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice. I prefer goofball!” He leaned down to get into Husk’s space, their faces only a few inches apart. “You’re a goofball, my Dear! But you’re my goofball.” 

Husk was glad he had fur because he felt his whole body heat up at just how close their faces were. It was harder to deal with his feelings when he was able to see Alastor up close. And this was really fucking close.

Alastor took notice of the change and seemed to study him, though he’d probably been doing that the whole damned time with how stupid Husk had been acting. Embarrassing. Absolutely humiliating. He was going to pretend this never happened. 

He was hungover. That was his excuse and... why was Alastor giving him that look?

Said overlord was giving him a large smirk, eyes lidded and teeth glinting from the minuscule light coming in from under his hotel’s door. His expression was one that told him he was about to get on Husk’s last nerve… he wanted to kiss that look right off his face.

Alastor closed the gap between them, purposely bumping their noses together. “My Dear sweet Husker. There’s no need to be shy! I had no idea you were so insecure. I’ll make sure to be more considerate of your feelings in the future.”

That little shit. He was teasing him! He had some fucking nerve.

Husk wasn’t about to let Alastor make fun of him. He was purposely trying to rile him up because he went all googly-eyed over him. It wasn’t his fault he fell in love with the guy! What right did he have to take advantage of that?

He made sure to give Alastor the stink eye and a very displeased noise that was definitely threatening and not at all pathetic. Okay, it was kind of pathetic. He was flustered, okay? It was tough to control his body when his instincts had a mind of their own!

Alastor beat him to the punch, making any thought of retaliation fly right out the window by gently nudging their noses together. “My Darling, don’t look so cross. I’m only teasing you!” 

Hah, Husk fucking knew it! The bastard.

The radio demon moved to press his face into Husk’s neck, his shoulders shaking with his laughter. 

Husk would have throttled him if he wasn’t currently trying not to combust. He was used to Alastor touching him, but this felt different. They were dating. It felt intimate when it really wasn’t. Was it? Oh shit… 

Normally he’d push him away, but it suddenly felt like the wrong thing to do. As if this was a moment he shouldn’t… couldn’t ruin. 

It was getting increasingly hard to not do anything, especially when the huffing breath against his neck was making him twitch. He was ticklish, and if Alastor ever found out he’d be screwed.

Okay, he had to move. He didn’t have to stop touching him, but he did have to stop chuckling into his neck. “Al, buddy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you gotta stop.” He leaned back, arms moving behind him to support his weight. 

Alastor let him go, laughter dying out as soon as Husk had distanced himself. “Oh? Have I gone too far? Did I offend you?” 

Husk shook his head, “Nah, not that you’d give two shits about offending anybody. Too far is never far enough for you. I’m just gonna have to get used to all of this…” He quickly cut the other off when he saw his mouth open to question him. “I’m not used to all this touchy-feely crap!”

Alastor gave him a wide-eyed stare. “I’m quite certain I touch you very often, my fine feathered feline. I’ve always been very affectionate with you. What is making this so difficult for you?” 

Well, he had a point. “Okay, look. I know nothings actually changed. It just feels different now that we’re together. I don’t know how else to explain it… Like I said. I just have to get over it.”

“Hmmmmm… Righto! Then I suppose we’ll just have to get you used to it!” Alastor leaned forward, his knee coming up to rest on the mattress between Husk's legs. The mattress dipped at the added weight, bringing Husk up slightly.

Husk blanched, too startled to question what Alastor was doing as the overlord wrapped an arm around his waist. “Stay still, my Dear. We’ll solve this little dilemma of yours in no time at all!” As he spoke, his head came down to nuzzle his face into Husk’s chest fur. 

This resulted in Husk arching his back to better accommodate for the body suddenly clinging to him.

Why was this happening to him? Was he being blessed or punished? 

This felt an awful lot like a fucking punishment. 

Is this what he got for being a dumbass?

Alastor's free hand moved to rest on top of his own. “Husker, my Darling… your heart is beating very fast.”  He could practically hear the smug smirk in his sweetheart's tone.

He could live with it...

[inkrabbit]

I haven't posted much, but I have been writing little snippets here and there when I'm not doing something else. So I decided to gather all the snippets I liked and put them together to show what I'm working on, and what I want to eventually work on. Most of these are stories I have planned for WD: Legion, but a couple are for my own personal works.

Unnamed Prison Love Story

Of course the other inmates had liked her. Most of them hadn't even seen a woman in years. But apparently she had more to offer them than just a pretty face to stare at. Everyone had said how nice she had been, talked softly and treated them with respect. She let them vent and talk about whatever they wanted, and she was a lot more lenient than any guard would ever dream of being. She would remove their cuffs and set it on the desk next to her chair, and she would sit only a few feet away. She pushed every boundary she could, and she took every chance with the inmates. She even argued with the guards who told her otherwise.

Sitting before her now, he finally understood the excited rumors he heard in passing. A calm and serene vibe had filled the warm room, and for a moment, he almost forgot he was trapped in prison and would soon be escorted back to his small, cold cell. She had kept a smile on her face, spoke softly and respected his boundaries when he didn't want to talk about a subject. She made him feel safe and acknowledged, encouraging him to talk about his day or how certain things made him feel. She made him feel like he was more than just another number in the system.

What's more, the woman was free. She didn't dress in the finest threads, opting for shirts that displayed band names he had almost forgotten, and her hair was never pulled back like it should've been. Another boundary she pushed; a test for him. To see if he would lunge at her like some of the others would try, use her hair to their advantage. But why would he? Sitting across from him, a notepad in hand, she didn't ignite anything violent inside him. If anything, she calmed down whatever fire stayed lit.

She became his breath of fresh air, and he found himself almost anxious for each session with her. The sweet scent of her perfume would always make his head spin as it filled the room. He had considered asking her once before in the beginning what it was, but the Devil on his shoulder had forced him to stay quiet. Back then, he had hated the woman and would refuse to talk, figuring she was just as bad as everyone else and that these little “therapy” sessions were just a way to find any weaknesses he had. But she never seemed exhausted or irritated by his silence. She gave him time, sat there with her soft smile and blank notepad and told him they would talk whenever he was ready. He never intended on giving in, but the one day he had gotten blood on his hands, he heard that change in tone.

The soft voice turned to concern, but she didn't throw accusations at him like he had expected. Oh no, she had actually asked him what the other inmate did to make him upset. The adrenaline that coursed through him had calmed down and he had finally opened his mouth. Not once did she interrupt him. She sat there and listened, scribbled down whatever she seemed important, and went back to listening. And when he was done, fists clenched and his body barely shaking at the rage that threatened to rise up, she finally moved. Slow and almost hesitant, testing the waters. He watched her carefully, how her rings shone in the bright sunlight that poured in through the windows, silver bands with various symbols. He let her approach him, and he let her take a seat on the old couch with her. Her touch was gentle and warm when she took his hand in her own, admiring his bruised and busted knuckles, flecks of dried blood decorating the skin that hadn't been properly washed.

“You did what you felt you had to,” she told him softly, “Maybe you overdid it. Maybe you should've stopped sooner. But you stood your ground for what you believed in. There's nothing wrong with that.”

It was the first time he had looked her in the eye, and he had immediately gotten lost within them. The feeling that quelled his rage had scared him, a certain type of vulnerability that made it seem like the woman could read his deepest and darkest thoughts. And yet, a part of that excited him.

WD: Legion – Dark AU – Love Path

“Daniel!” Sabine’s steps are hesitant as she walks forward, gun trained on the Irishman sitting on the edge with his back to her. He’s fiddling with something in his hand, a soft light illuminating his glove.

“Don’t suppose you found her on the way up?” he calls back, not even picking up his head.

“Who are you talking about?” He hadn’t mistook her for one of his members, had he? No, she was certain he recognized her voice. He had easily picked her out before.

She flinches when he starts to move, fist closing around the item in his hand as he slowly curls his legs back and lifts himself up. It’s the first time she’s seen him actually hunch over, and those once cold hazel eyes are alight with an emotion she’s not certain of. Still, there’s a slight smile that’s pulling at his lips, but it’s not the normal confident and smug grin she’s grown accustomed to.

“I always thought Dalton was a right idiot for liking you,” Dan laughs softly, “Didn’t understand what he felt until I experienced it meself...”

Dalton’s name leaves a bitter taste on her tongue, but she’s still focused on the man standing before her. The way he’s speaking isn’t normal, a distant tone in his voice instead of calm and velvety. Her eyes flicker over to his wrist, a silver bracelet glistening in the dull light that surrounded them. That was new. From what she knew, the only jewelry he wore were the piercings he had in his ears. He seems to perk up at this, extending his left arm and showing the bracelet off.

“She gave this to me. I’m guessing you didn’t hear?” She furrows her brows. Hear what? “Met a young woman that actually liked me. Made me feel... something. Enough to actually try and get help. I even stepped down as leader from DedSec. Let Jeremy take over.” This was news to her. From what she knew, Dan still led the group. Guess that wasn’t the case anymore. “She’s disappeared again. I thought Jeremy had something to do with it, but...” He opens his hand, tossing the item out. It was an optik, still glowing as it clattered to the ground. “I only found this when I got up here. I take it you didn’t see anyone on your way up?”

“No,” Her response draws a soft but sad chuckle from him. His step forward forces her to take one back.

“Well come on, then!” he calls out, raising his voice and straightening up, outstretching his arms to the side. She can tell he’s doing his damnedest to look normal, but that faulty smile on his face is throwing it off. It all looked wrong and out of place. She has gotten so used to doing the cocky and manipulative man. “Don’t think I wanna stick around if I can’t find her. Medicine and “fixing meself” don’t mean shite if I’m doing it for nothing.”

Something Stupid – 50's Love Story

“Did you want anything while I'm out?”

Of course he knew the answer, his second-in-command, Luciano, having been annoying him about pancakes all morning. But the look on the younger man's face was priceless, honey colored eyes widening as he stands from his crouched position. A bright smile spreads across his face as he wipes away the dirt on his hands, standing straight before his leader.

“You're finally gonna get me those pancakes?!” he squeals, “I just want those with extra syrup.”

“You're lucky I'm gettin' 'em at all,” Lighting up a cigarette, Kazimir turns his heels, headed for his car. “If that's all, I'll see you later. Gonna see if Nick is gonna cooperate this time and give us that protection money.”

“Good luck!” Starting up the engine, he waves goodbye to his friend and pulls away from the old compound, keeping the window rolled down as he takes a drag from his cigarette. There was a little diner the gang frequented that was a few minutes away. The food was average, and he hated how stubborn the owner was with the protection fee, but there was one waitress in that establishment that made it all worth while: Aurora Rossi, a beautiful Italian woman with the personality of a saint. She had treated the gang just like she would any other customer, and she indulged in the small conversations they had dragged her into here and there. He stayed quiet most of the time, knowing if he got too rowdy himself he would lose control of everyone, but he could never take his eyes off of the woman.

The parking lot is thankfully empty as he pulls in, parking in a spot closest to the door. He wouldn't be long; he knew the workers there hated him and his crew, always desperate to make them leave quickly. The little chime of the bell atop the door rings in his ears as he enters the diner, eyeing the staff. He can see them talking among themselves, scared eyes flickering back and forth between coworkers and himself. He was used to this treatment, especially in this little restaurant. No one ever wanted to help him, and if it weren't for the fact they all had a job to do, they probably would've went running.

Oh, but there's his little angel he had been dying to see, her red lips curled back in a genuine, friendly smile. He leans against the counter as she approaches, hands folded in front of her.

“Did you need to look at the menu, sir?” she asks. Her sweet voice makes his heart flutter, but he maintains his cool, shaking his head.

“Just a couple things to go,” He watches her dig out the notepad from the pocket of her apron, sliding the pen out of the metal spirals. A small smirk forms. “Nick also in today?”

“Not today, sorry. He should be back tomorrow though!” Ah, so the old man was hiding from him. Nothing new. They would come back day after day if they had to for that money. But for now, he loses himself in those green eyes, purring out his order and watching her hastily write it down. Pancakes with extra syrup, a ham and cheese omelet, some coffee to go; the list goes on and she stops him occasionally to ask for any sides, how he'd want the toast to be or how the eggs were supposed to be cooked. He knew the gang's order by now. There weren't many who hung around him and the compound they worked out of, but he preferred it this way. He had a group of members he considered close and actually cared about, and the rest ran the odd job for him when he couldn't be bothered.

Aurora rings him up and he makes sure to pull the twenty dollar bill out of his pocket, holding it between his index and middle finger as he hands it over. She looks hesitant, eyebrows raised as she inspects it, and Kazimir chuckles when she asks if he's sure.

“You deal with enough here, sweetheart,” he coos at her, “You deserve to be compensated.”

“Well, that's why I get paid,” Sweet as ever, but he finally coaxes her into taking the money, and she won't stop thanking him as she tucks it into the pocket of her apron. She gives him the estimated time it would take for the food to be ready as she disappears back into the kitchen, and Kazimir takes a seat on one of the stools at the front. He looks around the old diner, the light peach colored walls almost looking white in the afternoon sunlight, and the teal accents popping. Heaven's Diner was known for its bright but calming colors, and the staff were friendly to everyone except Kazimir's gang. Then again, he didn't blame them.

He listens to the soft music playing from the nearby radio, some blues band he didn't know the name of. It's calming, but not something he's used to. Maybe he had just gotten so used to the rock and roll that would play throughout the compound. Still, the music doesn't drown out the clanking of kitchenware in the back, and the occasional barking order from one of the chefs. He rests his elbows on the counter, lacing his fingers together and hooking his thumbs under his chin to keep his head up. Hazel eyes slip shut as he drinks in the ambiance. It was always nice when the diner was empty. He didn't have to deal with the judging looks, or the sour remarks thrown his way from some holier-than-thou old patron. The funny thing was, all of the staff workers would agree with the customers about how horrible he was. Aurora was the only one who never judged him, and had shown a hint of defense when anyone would bring up the gang.

“It's none of my business what they do. I just come here to work,” Those responses were the only time he had ever heard the woman lost her natural bubbly and friendly attitude, her tone turning firm as she would end the conversation there. Maybe that was why he liked her? She never judged them, and never shied away from taking their orders like the other waitstaff had many times before. In fact, Luciano had joked about how she was their personal waitress many times before. The group loved her personality just as much as he did, and they always made sure to leave a tip that went well over that old twenty percent rule. They normally left before they could see the look on her face, but Kazimir had caught her reaction through the window a couple times. A look of surprise that soon turned to excitement, and he cherished those memories.

When Aurora finally returns, she has little to-go boxes piled up on top of a tray with the drinks on the other side. She always was careful bringing everything out, and it's something he appreciates. He knew some of the waitresses would “accidentally” spill drinks on themselves in order to receive larger tips, but his little waitress would always take her time and set everything down gently. Maybe that was another thing he loved about her? Her dignity and pure attitude. He watches her pack them into a bag and slowly load up the drinks in a cup holder. She's slow, diligent, making sure nothing is lopsided and won't move. He can't stop the smile forming on his face as he watches her. A part of him hated how the woman affected him, wiping away that permanent scowl on his face and making his whole body feel lighter than normal. He takes the bag from her, his fingers brushing her as he hooks it around his arm before grabbing the cup holder. She stands before him just like every other time he would order his food to go: a sweet smile on her face, hands folded in front of her as she makes sure he has everything, occasionally smoothing out her apron if she felt a wrinkle in an odd spot.

“Have a good day, sir!” she calls out to him as he makes his way for the door, and he turns his head just enough to shoot a smile back at her. The bell chimes again as he opens the door and walks out, unlocking his car and sitting everything in the passenger seat, even going so far as to put the seat belt over his items so they don't fall on his way back. One last glance inside the diner, and he almost feels disappointed when he sees Aurora has disappeared. Well, he would be back tomorrow to talk to Nick anyway. Maybe he could find an excuse to get the woman's attention as well?

Unnamed WIP

By the time he pulls himself up and trudges to the bathroom, the stinging pain in his throat has faded. He looks at himself in the mirror, his neck and cheek bruised, and his eyes dark. He looks horrible, but he supposes it's not a surprise. What the Kelleys did to him – what the woman just did to him. There's no doubt his body is littered with bruises and cuts, but he can't bring himself to look again. It already caught him off guard when he had bathed in that freezing water. He didn't want to be reminded of the abuse.

The spacious bathroom in itself is cute, albeit bland. White tiles were devoid of any imperfections and dirt, and the bar of soap seated atop a colorful orange dish seems brand new. He leans against the counter, bringing his hands forward and admiring his wrists. They're still bleeding, drops of blood dripping into the sink and staining the once spotless white surface. Hesitantly, he reaches down to open the drawers, stopping once he sees a first aid kit placed in one of them. He's slow to bring it out, the ache in his wrists forcing him to move like a snail.

Everything's new when he opens it. Had the woman just bought these? He picks up the peroxide that was laying inside, tearing into the protective coating and unscrewing the cap. One more seal and it's open. Taking a deep breath, he grabs the bottle and splashes the contents onto to his left wrist, making him cry out. It stung as the cuts started to bubble, white foam covering his skin and dripping into the sink, mixing with the blood. His body is shaking, but he forces himself to douse his right next. It almost feels worse, and he has to hold onto the counter for support, his knees buckling underneath the pain. Deep breaths, anything to calm him down. He sets the peroxide on the counter, picking up the bandages next. He wraps it around his left wrist first, then the right. It stings, but in some odd way, he feels better. The bandages are soft against his skin, comforting and the only thing that feels secure.

He leans against the counter, lips pursed as he focuses on the blood and foam slowly rolling down the drain. He's lost as his body slowly stops shaking, mind blank and eyes stuck. He listens to everything going on around him. That soft hum of the light bulbs above, the beating of his heart, the sizzling in the drain as the excess peroxide runs down. Finally, he moves, turning his wrist to admire it. Blood easily shows up, a stark contrast against the white bandages, staining the area red. Why did any of this have to happen?

He glances to the side of the bathroom, a luxurious bathtub installed, the tiled walls surrounding it shining in the bathroom's light. It seemed so welcoming, the thought of a hot bath, but he can't bring himself to indulge in it. Not yet. He's too tired and too lost in his own thoughts about everything going on. So instead, he moves to the door, flicking off the light and crossing over the bedroom. The bed is soft as he lays down, trying his hardest to keep his weight off of his wrists as he lays on his side. Suppose this was his little home for now. He was scared to know what he was listed as. No doubt the woman would tell him soon enough.

WD: Legion – This Time, I'm staying – Beginning

“Arthur: the one that got away. What does that mean? The one that got away?”

“It's about losing someone you don't want to. Human stuff.”

“Am I… getting away?”

No matter how hard he had tried, that conversation replayed itself over and over, and try as he might, he couldn’t make it stop. It was like a busted record player, stuck in a loop and it was driving him crazy. The snippets he could remember before he was shut down, the thoughts of where he’d go and that fear he finally felt. It was all disgusting, to feel that weak and vulnerable. And yet… he craved more. To finally understand what the operatives felt – what they went through on a daily basis. He had heard them laugh and he had seen them smile. The fading fear in their eyes as they would return from being kidnapped, and the anger in their voices whenever they would pick fights. He wanted to finally understand.

It wasn’t exactly a request on his part, oh no. One of the operatives had caught his attention one day after they had figured out the truth, conjuring up all sorts of ideas. Make a body for Bagley, sort of like the androids and let him roam freely. At first, he had scoffed at the idea, hurling insults his way, but when the concept came up again, he gave it more thought. He was always sending out the operatives on missions, guiding them through everything. Sometimes they couldn’t even complete them properly, either being apprehended or landing themselves in the hospital. So with a bit less hostility, Bagley let the man continue.

Bradley was to be used as the base model. Same facial structure, eye color, body build – the works. Give him back the life he had lost, and the first thing that came to mind was Arthur. Perhaps, after he learned how to act more human, he could track the man down and see why he was so important to him in the first place.

WD: Legion – This Time, I'm Staying – Finding Arthur

“Down, boy,” He watches Dan reluctantly release the man and move back to stand by his side, though his pistol is still drawn. A soft sigh escapes Bagley's lips as he scans the Kelley's optik, just to be sure. Arthur Evans – Johnny Kelley's second-in-command.He knew he was right, but had hoped that he had made some sort of mistake somewhere. Still, he doesn't feel the connection he had hoped he would. Anything that would jar his memories and give him a hint of what he had with the man before Skye Larson had taken it all away from him.

“Who the fuck are you?!” The question is directed solely at Bagley, Arthur's blue eyes wide and looking horrified. Oh, the thoughts that must be going through his head right now.

“I'm Bagley!” he announces proudly, jabbing his elbow against Dan's rib when he hears a soft chuckle. He had a whole speech prepared before this, but looking at Arthur now... had he chosen the right words? He knew how complex human emotions were, and he knew how hostile the Kelleys were. And yet, the curiosity he saw in the man was enough for him to make his decision. “Dan, step outside, will you?”

“And let ya stay in here with this fucker?” he counters. Instead of replying, Bagley just shoos him away, and he's pleasantly surprised when the Irishman takes his leave. The moment the door closes, he steps forward, extending his hand.

“None of this is making sense,” Arthur whimpers out. It's not the tone, or even reaction, he was expecting. He seems dazed, confused, and almost scared. “Just who the hell are you?!”

“I told you. I'm Bagley,” He cocks his head. Had the man not heard him the first time? “I think you know me better as Bradley Lar-”

“Don't,” There's the hostility he was expecting, the hateful look as he grit his teeth. “You don't deserve to say his name!”

“Fine. Since you want to act as a child,” Bagley extends his arms to the side, showing himself off. Arthur is watching him carefully as he turns around, showing off his body and clothes. “I'm Bagley, DedSec's definitely-not-stolen, highly-advanced AI assistant! Do you know who created me? Skye Larson! And do you know whois my neural template?”

“Bradley Larson...” There's a moment where everything goes quiet and still. Before he can say anything else, Arthur is wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace and burying his face in the crook of his neck. It startles him, the feeling of Arthur's breath tickling his neck. He awkwardly brings his hands up, resting them on his back and stroking like he had seen other operatives do when they were consoling someone. This was supposed to make humans feel better right?

“You bastard...” There's a wavering in his voice, something Bagley can't detect. He only realizes the man is close to crying when he pulls back, tears filling his eyes. “You left me, you know that? Planned the wedding and fucking left...”

“I didn't mean to,” he tells him softly, “Or rather, Bradley didn't mean to. I'm still trying to figure this out. I just-”

Arthur is pressing his lips against his, something Bagley easily recognizes as a kiss. This was meant to be a sign of affection, right? This was good, right? He's slow but he finally pushes back against the man, his hands traveling down to rest comfortably on his hips. He knows there's something he should be feeling right now; positive he should be feeling as desperate as Arthur is acting. There is something deep inside him that feels like it wants to awaken, but for some reason he can't make it come out.

WD: Legion – Even if I Die Tonight – Ending of Chapter 9

When the doors open, he follows her down the hall and in front of her flat, waiting patiently as she unlocks the door and flicks on the light. He nearly jumps when he sees Michael groggily sit up, eyes squinted as he looks at them. He finally smiles brightly after a few seconds, waving at Dan.

“Didn't think she'd be bringing you over!” he laughs out, “You guys couldn't have gone next door? It's late.”

Dan can feel his face heating up as he follows Rabbit to another room, the woman yelling at her friend to stay quiet. She tries to ease his nerves, telling him to not listen to him as she sits him down on the bed. The room smells exactly like her perfume and he can't help but look around, laying his jacket on the covers next to him. Just like the rest of the flat, there isn't much. A couple dressers and the bed he sat on, along with a bedside table that held a small, porcelain lamp. However, he can see the stack of books piled up across the room, though it's hard to make out the titles.

“You read?” he asks, catching her attention. She's over by the window, and he can hear things clanking around. Did she store items in a mug?

“Sometimes, when I can actually focus,” she responds. He's surprised to see a small pair of scissors in her hand as she walks back over. Just like last time, her touch is gentle as she cups his face, using her thumb to pull his lip ever so slightly. A soft warning and he hears that little snip as she cuts the thread. There's a little bit of pressure he almost doesn't even register, and once she's set the thread on the bedside table, she cut the remaining stitch.

“Do you read?” The question catches him off guard and he looks up at her. She's not smiling at him but her eyes... oh, he could easily get lost in them. There's a sort of serenity in there, overpowering other emotions he couldn't quite explain, but it drags him in and all he can do is nod. “What do you like?”

“History, mostly,” This seems to make her perk up, and he's pleasantly surprised to hear that was her favored subject. He can't help but smile, especially when she takes a seat next to him on the bed. Their conversation carries on about books, what subjects they prefer to read, and what they like overall. He's not surprised when they don't share many stories, but it's still interesting to listen to. She brings up being interested in psychology, but scoffs when he asks if she ever read any good books regarding the topic. “They're all a load of self-help bullshit.” He can only chuckle. He never really was interested in psychology himself, but she did make it sound interesting; knowing how the human mind worked, what made people tick. He supposed he saw the appeal.

He doesn't stay too long, guilt setting in that he's keeping the woman up so late. Grabbing his jacket and standing up, he follows Rabbit as she walks him out, and he can only laugh when she picks up a pillow to hit Michael when he makes another comment regarding the two. Still, they both wish him a goodnight as he exits the flat, and he can hear their muffled voices on the other side as he closes the door. He shakes his head, though he can't pull the smile from his face as he works on unlocking the door to his flat and slipping inside.

He brushes his fingers over his lip, an odd feeling of relief washing over him when he only feels skin and doesn't come in contact with that damned thread. With a small smile, he makes his way to his room, shedding his clothes and kicking off his boots. Hesitating for just a bit, he makes his way over to the dresser, pulling open one of the drawers and peering inside. He tries to bury the feeling of surprise that comes over him when he sees his gun is still tucked beneath some clothes, sitting right where he had left it.

Shutting the drawer, he moves over to his bed, crawling inside and underneath the blankets. He's not too tired; not enough to the point he'll fall asleep as soon as he head hits the pillow, but he also doesn't have enough energy to find something to pass the time. So instead, he settles on closing his eyes, letting his mind wander here and there. The new job, the hope of getting Bagley back, the newly taken out stitches, the smug look on Michael's face and the peaceful feeling Rabbit radiated. Before he knows it, he's fast asleep.

[kareem-mohammed]

[Monday, Sept 24rd, 2019]

I wish I can explain it to you, but I still don't have the words for it.

It's been weeks of feeling this way, as if I'm functioning on autopilot, as if I'm not there, someone/something else is occupying my body, controlling it, since I seem to be failing to do so.

Weeks of feeling utter numbness, with sudden intervals of feeling everything. Nothing and everything. Innocence and Instinct. Enemies and familiar friends. And yes I am referring to RED, since it is some sort of a fight inside. Only I haven't really chosen it. I'm not doing anything, sweety. Not ignoring my feelings, not bottling them up, not distracting from them. And yet, I am forced to bear this fight I didn't plan to fight.

I was on my way to get a few books, today, when I noticed where I was. Last time I was there, it was night, and I couldn't be sure where exactly was that, only that it was familiar. The sudden flashbacks I got once my brain registered it is, in fact, the same place, unsettled me. And while the scorching sunlight made it an almost alien place, I still panicked. So, on instinct, I looked up to the sky, expecting to see the dark grey of angry clouds, but saw clear, blue nothingness. Then, why was I feeling the burn of raindrops on my aching skin?

___

‘For much like Icarus and the Sun,

When it rained I cursed the skies.

Fearing it would put out your flames,

Even if it would heal my burning pains.’

—My subconscious recited these at one of my recent dreams, and I wanted to have a word with it; mostly because of how cliché these lines were.

___

Accepting things doesn't necessarily mean they'll stop hurting. It only means that now when it does, we'll understand why it's hurting. It doesn't lessen the pain, doesn't prevent the panic attacks accompanying the unexpected resurfacing of the to-only-be-accepted shit. It's easier to accept our mistakes, our shortcomings, because we've got something to blame it on, even if it's ourselves—especially if it's ourselves. So, we acknowledge the mistake, and work on not repeating it again, or at least not too many times. Basic actions and reactions. You make a mistake, and the universe makes you pay for it. Except it never really required any actions on my behalf for the universe to beat the living hell out of me.

See, we've all been raised on the idea that bad things happen to bad people. And then we grow up, and we find that bad things happen to almost everyone. Bad things happen to us. Does that mean we're bad people, then? Or does it mean that shit just happens anyway? To everyone, every time, everywhere? Whichever concept is true, can you accept either of them?

________

[Tuesday, Sept 25th, 2019]

[23:57]

Heart, it's raining. Again.

And so, I am stuck between the raging storms behind my shutters, and the siren screams echoing against my brain walls. Again.

Triggered. Again.

And I don't know when is this absurdity going to stop.

A couple mornings ago, I started my day with school it is raining that day.

And:

___

‘I hoped it was wrong, but I opened the shutters and there it was: The static, the weighted atmosphere, the greyness—it is going to rain, sweetheart, and I'm not sure I can handle a single raindrop descending on my skin.’

___

That was what I wrote at that moment, the first thing I've written in month of silence.

And I almost caved in again. Because, see, ever since then, every time it would rain, I would hide in my room for even longer.

It is that bad, and, I don't know what to do.

________

[Wednesday, Sept 26th, 2019]

It's 03:35, now.

And something is happening to me.

My brain snapped into a sudden shutdown once that rain continued for over 2 hours, and I can feel it slipping deeper and deeper, and I don't know how to stop it before it's a total shutdown.

It's still raining.

In fact, it's getting even heavier now.

I'm not panicking, yet.

But I feel like I'm drowning.

I am breathing.

But..

Do you know how it feels to take a breath underwater?

Every breath I'm currently taking, feels this way.

I've got a lot of things to do.

I've got a mug of chamomile in front of me. I currently have 4 different types of chamomile at home. And while none of them currently helps me sleep, they just help in keeping me calm. And right now, I'd do anything not to panic just because it's raining again.

That's why I'm writing. Actually, I'm forcing myself to write.

Much like I've been forcing myself to do everything lately.

study. Exercise. Go to walk.

Except, I force myself into starting, and my subconscious forces me to overdo it. Last Sunday, I sat for too many hours overworking on some drawings. I finished 47. I didn't even notice how many I've finished until my hand was tremoring bad enough and I realized I couldn't make a straight line. Last time I exercised, I overdid it until I collapsed breathless. Last few times I forced myself to go to school, it forced me to walk for nothing less than 2 hours on my way back.

And , there must be a reason why I'm beating myself up that bad.

___

‘Nolan: Logically, people punish themselves for something they did, or something they didn't do. So what have you screwed up?

House: I don't know.

House: Okay.. there may be a problem.’

—House M.D., Season 6, Episode 21 ‘Baggage’.

___

And heart, it's not just a ‘september’ in my case, because there IS a problem. It's that rain have been a major trigger for me the last month. I know my triggers. Some of which I outgrown, some I know how to handle, some I still struggle with but can be managed, and some I avoid at all cost because they'll take me back places I'd rather forget ever existed. Rain had never been one. And right now, it makes no sense for one natural element to encompass every single trigger I've fought to avoid. Now all it takes is a thunderclap, a raindrop on my skin, the smell of the earth during rain, and they're all unleashed at me, and.. I'm not sure if I'm really that sleepy, or if I'm just losing consciousness bit by bit..

It's 18:00, now.

My subconscious won.

The triggers came one after the other.

Thoughts of putting an end to it all became louder.

At some point I couldn't fight it anymore, and I surrendered to it, lied down and felt it all. Listened to the thunder claps echoing with my screams; the muffled ones, and the ones which slipped out there to pierce the atmosphere.

I don't remember when I slipped, only that suddenly I wasn't awake, and I was stuck in a self-created hell.

My subconscious trapped me into a total shutdown disguised as sleep. 15 hours of it, in which I wasn't there. Hours in which it shut me out of the world completely. Hours in which I fought with it, wanting to wake up, and it refusing.

And I know it's a coping mechanism. But I hadn't noticed the triggers were that much that it required a total shutdown for my brain to keep me sane and alive.

It makes no sense.

It's childish, and absurd.

I don't know how to stop this.

I don't even understand the root of it all so I could stop it.

‘Traumatic coupling’ was what my therapist called such incidents.

But this is the most fucked up coupling my subconscious created.

___

‘“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He wrapped himself around me. “I don’t know what to do,” he said again. “I don’t know what to do.”’

—Sylvia Day, Crossfire: #5 One With You.

________

I'm writing this part now, the time I'm posting this.

You might be wondering why I'm using my tumblr post format, with dates and timestamps. I'm even mixing it with my hamlettings format, with quotes and lyrics. It's just because I've been writing bits and pieces the last few days. Pieces that aren't even connected. And connecting them will be hard.

Because these pieces make no sense.

But they do, in my head.

They should do, in yours as well.

But they won't.

Much like the last time I wrote you should've but didn't.

Why writing again the last few days?

Because the rain thing became too stupid it's making me angry at you, myself, and the universe. After all, I haven't written about anything more of importance except the rain thing. Because nothing has changed since the last time I wrote you.

Perhaps I'll add that one too, and stop this madness rollercoaster right there, what do you think?

_______

[Thursday, Sept 27st, 2019]

sweety,

I'm only writing this time because I'm hurting. I'm knocked down with pain. In every sense of the word. And I hate you, just as much as I currently hate everyone. and i love !

I was scared that what's been happening would trigger my cynicism again. And I tried, heart. I tried. But to fucking hell with it. Humans are fucked up. We are fucked up. Yet at least we have the decency to admit it. To not take it out on others and pretend like we're not. To put them in hell, then blame them for burning.

___

Do I need to tell you I'm shutdown again? Or has it become a given, once I'm reaching you this way? Have you noticed I'm shutdown? Have you noticed the difference this time? No. You'll have to see me out of this virtual world to see it. Because over here, I'm functioning, nothing is wrong. But the truth is, everything is wrong. And I stopped functioning fully yesterday.

You're wondering if this has anything to do with you, right? And you expect me to tell you it's not, even if it is, because I am that kind. Right? Well, I'm never kind once I'm in this state. I'm only true. And the truth is, you caused this. Whether deliberately or just by your mere haste.

See, sweety,

I think I've avoided this for enough time, now. Or at least that's what my brain decided. Most probably because there were no more distractions to use. And the latest novel series I picked to distract me, in fact, triggered me. I didn't know it would. There were no trigger warnings anywhere. And I'm still trying to understand how the fuck there were none if everything was going to be that detailed. But I'm not angry because of the novel. I'm angry because it made me realize why I was distracting to begin with, why I was avoiding reacting to what you did, why I treated it all so coolly as if it was nothing.

You triggered me.

Heart, you triggered in me a feeling I prayed to never feel again as long as I lived. The only feeling I knew I'd never manage to fight because it's the only one that's true. The only feeling I never doubt. Yet the only feeling I pray was just wrong.

________

Back to meantime.

It makes sense why I stopped writing, after this. Nothing has changed since then. It's the same cycle. No matter what I do, no matter what choices I make, it remains the same. I hadn't noticed I never finished writing this one, though. But then again I remember why I stopped. At that time, I didn't want to share it with the world, and I later sent you everything I didn't write in it, directly. An attempt I tried to help you understand what was happening, so we could find our way around and through it. But you failed to see it that way. And as the days went by after that, I started noticing the effect of it all. There was something worse than the triggers. But it won't make sense to anyone but those who've dealt with it directly; my instinct. Heart, it never failed me. My gut feeling had always been on point. My instinct is the only thing I never doubted. Never. Yet, somehow, it failed me big time with you. And I'm still not sure if it's just been a human error of misinterpreting the signs, of if it really backstabbed me.

___

‘Ziva: I almost died.

Gibbs: But you didn't. You've got to trust your judgement, Ziva. Moment you don't, it won't be “almost”.’

—NCIS, Season 5, Episode 16 ‘Recoil’.

___

But none of that matters,

I just find it worrying that a big part of me taking a step and publicizing my My photos and my drawings was a mere distraction I needed. And my worry grew after that day I overworked myself beyond my limits and didn't know when or how to stop.

I always worry that I'll be the end of me, sweethear.

And I'm finding that to be the ultimate truth, with every passing day.

You know what's another, more important, ultimate truth?

None of what I just wrote matters.

None,.

None.