#adding this to the google doc immediately

[technically-human]

Fell in love with this fucked up version of Charles and the gang so i drew them !! <3

Here they are spliced up for better quality :3

(Can you tell montys my favorite character ? LOL)

LOOK AT MY FUCKED UP BABIES!! SO PRETTY!!!

I love it so much thank you thank you thank you

[somethingchanged244]

for an absolute laugh I just redownloaded wattpad after many many years (will be deleting again asap) and just had the most interesting trip down memory lane

[mississpissi]

i <3 writing fanfic in apa format

[mikkeneko]

PSA for Google Docs writers

[Edit] Also for Firefox, as per @essayofthoughts in the notes: https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/delete-g-docs-type-to-insert/

If you (like me) use Google Doc to write fanfic, you may (like me) have been annoyed by the new "feature" they added in the past few weeks, "Smart Chips," where by default every time you open a new line it auto-inserts a "@" symbol and then prompts to add additional people into the doc for review or whatever other useless thing I immediately closed out of.

There doesn't appear to be a way to turn off this "feature" in GDocs however someone has put out an extension that nixes it:

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.0 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. a.n — sorry in advance lol DOUBLE UPDATE THOUGH masterlist

ten

friday february 7th

“i think we covered that part in the google doc, right?” you murmured, scrolling through the endless document on your laptop. the screen’s faint glow reflected on your glasses as you squinted at the tiny text.

“is it the budget allocation?” gisele, the student treasurer, asked, glancing up from her own laptop, her fingers still clicking through tabs. “like, everything surrounding the budget? because i did work on that a bit, so i might’ve done it. my laptop’s just being kind of weird right now.” her tone was distracted as she fiddled with a stubborn cursor.

“y/n?” danny, your vice president, called, breaking your focus. you looked up, brow furrowing as you noticed him, gisele, and annie, the secretary, all turning their attention to the glass wall on the left.

you followed their gaze and spotted your friends outside in the hallway. ivy was tapping her watch with exaggerated urgency while devon held her phone up, the screen flashing a clear reminder: you were ten minutes late for lunch.

“uh, okay. let’s wrap up,” you said quickly, your words stumbling over themselves as you closed the document. “if we didn’t cover the allocation, i’ll handle it… whenever. anyway, see you guys next week?” you forced a smile, trying not to let the stress seep through.

danny nodded, already packing his things. “yep, see you.”

“bye!” gisele called cheerfully.

“next week!” annie added with a wave.

you slid your laptop into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you hurried out. “hello!” you sang, pushing the door open with a grin. “sorry, i’m late.”

hazel immediately hooked her arm around yours, her touch warm and grounding. “totally fine, but we’re dealing with an absolute tragedy,” she said dramatically. ivy jogged ahead, spinning around to walk backward, her expression exaggerated.

“devon got a seven on that philosophy paper about perfection,” ivy announced, her tone as dire as if she were reporting a global catastrophe.

your brows shot up in surprise, and you turned to devon, who was covering her face with both hands. “what happened?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. “philosophy’s your favorite class.”

devon groaned, dragging her hands down her face in frustration. “i didn’t have time to do it properly. i literally worked on it like, minutes before the deadline.” her grimace was both sheepish and annoyed.

hazel chuckled softly, shaking her head. “guys, a seven isn’t that bad.” her voice was light, trying to soothe devon’s obvious distress.

she wasn’t wrong—it wasn’t bad at all. but for your group, used to skating the upper edge of every grading curve, it felt like a glaring anomaly.

"true," ivy added quickly, as though trying to lessen the blow. "hazel and i got an 8.5." she gave a little shrug.

as the group burst into the common area, you all found an empty spot to settle in. ivy dropped into a chair with exaggerated flair while hazel and devon slid into seats across from you.

"how much did you get?" devon asked suddenly, her voice curious but a little wary.

you shrugged, fishing your phone out of your bag. "i didn’t even know we got the results already," you admitted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you tapped into your school app. navigating to the grades section, you waited for the page to load, the spinning wheel on your screen adding a small sense of anticipation to the moment.

the room filled with the low hum of chatter around you, but your friends stayed quiet, leaning in slightly as they waited for your result to appear.

it all happens so fast that your brain can’t keep up. you glance up absently, just catching a glimpse of rafe as he passes by. his shoulders are stiff, tension radiating from every inch of him, his phone gripped tightly in his hand. a fresh black eye, dark and swollen, blooms angrily on his face, stark against his skin.

you barely process it. your gaze drops back to your phone, where your grade stares back at you: a perfect 10.

"i got a—" the words die in your throat as you look up again, frowning. your friends glance at you, confused as they pull out their lunches, but you don’t have the words to explain.

you toss your phone onto the table and push to your feet, already rushing out of the common area. "rafe!" you call after him as he disappears into the hallway. your friends’ voices follow you, but you ignore them, your focus fixed entirely on him. you’d explain later.

he doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn, just grunts over his shoulder, "not now." his voice is harsh, clipped—nothing like the easy, teasing tone he’d used over dinner with his parents a few nights ago.

"yes, now," you insist, quickening your pace until you’re jogging to catch up. you reach for his arm, grabbing it firmly, and he stops, though his whole body hums with resistance. "what’s wrong? what happened to your face?" your eyes scan the bruise, the deep purples and blues spreading in a jagged line across his cheekbone. it looks fresh, the kind of pain you can almost feel just by looking at it.

"nothing happened," he snaps, jerking his arm free and moving again. his tone is so dismissive, so cold, it cuts deeper than you expect.

but you don’t give up. stepping in front of him, you hold out your hands, planting yourself in his path. "rafe, that looks bad. did you ice it?" your voice softens, concern lacing every word as your eyes flick back to the bruise. you know it wasn’t there yesterday. you would’ve noticed.

his jaw tightens, and he lets out a sharp, frustrated sigh. "god, you never listen, do you?" his voice is raised, though not quite a yell, and the edge in it makes you flinch. the sting of his words sits heavy in your chest, but you bite down hard on your bottom lip, refusing to let the tears brimming in your eyes fall.

for a moment, his expression shifts—his eyes soften, guilt flickering there—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. his face hardens, and he tries to move past you again, brushing you aside like you’re not standing right in front of him.

"no," you say firmly, shoving at his chest—not hard enough to move him, but enough to make him stop.

before he can argue, you grab his wrist and yank him toward the nearest classroom. he protests, his voice low and angry, but you don’t let go. the door creaks open as you push it, dragging him inside and letting it close with a soft thud behind you.

the air feels heavier now, quiet but thick with unspoken tension. rafe exhales sharply, his frustration palpable, but he doesn’t pull away. not yet. you steel yourself, determined not to let him shut you out again.

"tell me what happened," you demand, arms crossed tightly as you plant yourself in front of the door, your posture daring him to try and push past you. the determination in your stance feels flimsy against the weight of his indifference, but you hold your ground anyway.

"i walked into a door," he says flatly, perched on the edge of the desk with his feet casually propped on the chair. the sight of him, so nonchalant with that faint bruise blooming on his face, makes irritation prickle at your skin.

"rafe, who did that to you? why are you so angry? just tell me what happened," you plead, the words tumbling out in a rush as you try to chip away at the fortress he’s built around himself.

"no." his voice is clipped, cold, like a door slamming shut.

"rafe—"

"i said no." he’s standing now, his movements sharp as he strides toward the door. but you’re still there, still unmoving, still stubbornly waiting for the truth.

"move. right now," he orders, his voice low and firm.

"not until you tell me who did that," you insist, anger curling around your words.

"a door," he repeats, jaw tightening.

"rafe," you snap, your patience fraying.

"i don’t want to fucking talk about it!" he explodes, the sudden intensity of his voice reverberating through the room like a storm breaking.

"don’t yell at me!" you yell back, startled by his outburst, the sharpness in his tone cutting deeper than you expected.

he exhales roughly, dragging his fingers through his hair as he turns away, muttering under his breath. "oh my… fucking—"

"and stop cursing at me," you cut in sharply, arms crossing again as you glare at him.

he lets out a bitter scoff, a smile curling on his lips—one that’s anything but kind. "any more requests?"

"yes," you say, your voice steady as you meet his heated gaze. "tell me what happened."

"no," he growls, stepping closer. "now move, or i’ll move you." the warning in his tone is clear, but so is your refusal to back down.

"stop being like this," you blurt out, your chest tightening as the tension between you grows unbearable.

his eyes narrow, his voice sharp and cutting. "how am i being? huh? how the fuck am i being? exactly like you’ve been all week?"

the accusation leaves you reeling, and you frown, searching his face for the version of him you recognize—the one who wasn’t like this, who didn’t look at you like he was trying to break through you. "what are you talking about? i’ve been nothing but nice to you, and if it’s about the bonfire, i told you i was on my period—"

"yeah, and that’s fucking bullshit!" he shouts, his voice thunderous as he stares you down. "your flo app sent you a notification tuesday. you got your period wednesday."

the words hit like a slap, your eyes widening as your stomach drops. "you checked my phone?"

he shakes his head, scoffing bitterly. "i didn’t check your phone. i saw the notification pop up. and judging by the look on your face, i’m right."

he is right, and you hate that he knows it. you nod slowly, caught, but there’s a defiance in you that refuses to let him win this argument. "fine. i lied. whatever. i just—"

"no, no, not whatever," he snaps, his voice laced with frustration. "what happened that night? you don’t think i notice how weird you’ve been acting around me?"

his eyes burn into yours, hurt flashing behind the anger, and you’re standing so close you can feel the tension radiating off him. you’re paralyzed, unsure how to explain yourself, how to navigate the landmine you’ve stepped on.

"i’m not. i’m not being weird," you try weakly, your voice faltering. "nothing happened that night or any night."

"i heard you," he says, softer this time, but the edge in his tone is unmistakable. "i heard you on the phone sunday."

your mind races, scrambling to piece together what he might’ve overheard. the memory clicks into place—your conversation with hazel.

"and i don’t even need to ask if it was about me, do i?" he continues quietly, the bitterness in his voice replaced by something more vulnerable. "you promised someone you wouldn’t get close to me?"

you exhale, your shoulders slumping under the weight of his words. "rafe—"

"don’t fucking lie to me," he interrupts, his voice sharp, loud and unrelenting.

the heat of the argument builds again, the anger and frustration spilling over in waves. "stop cursing at me!" you scream, your voice cracking under the strain.

"stop pushing me away!" he roars back, his words echoing in the charged air. "why won’t you tell me what the fuck happened, huh? why are you acting so weird? why are you being so distant? and why won’t you just let me all the way in anymore?"

the silence that follows is deafening, the weight of his words settling over both of you like a suffocating blanket. he’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with the effort, and you’re frozen, your mind spinning.

his gaze locks with yours, raw and unguarded, and for the first time, the fight drains out of you. you don’t have an answer—not one that will satisfy him, not one that will make any of this better. you just stare back, feeling the enormity of everything unsaid pressing between you like a wall you can’t climb.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa  let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

I feel like as much as the bats tell each other to focus on their health and make sure to recover, they're all very quick to dismiss their injury if they feel something else is more important. Usually, an injury is dismissed for something completely unimportant.

Dick: Got mugged on the street in civvies and is limping down the street. He passes by a shop window and sees a very elegant looking tea set. He immediately thinks of Alfred and decides to go buy it, completely ignoring the fact that he's very beaten up at the moment. Alfred thanks him, but tells him to worry about his injuries first.

Bruce: Hops out of the batmobile to head over to Alfred and get his multiple bullet wounds stitched up. Damian comes up to him and before he can say anything, he shoves a drawing his way. Bruce looks at a picture of him and his youngest son and immediately goes to hang it up on the fridge. Cass walks in to find him staring at it with a smile, so she redirects him back to the cave.

Duke: Heading back from patrol with a major concussion and a broken nose. He overhears some kids outside an arcade talking about how Dance Dance Revolution is lame, and he immediately goes inside to prove them wrong. The kids are in awe, not only because the Signal is there right in front of them, but because he's freakishly good at DDR. Oracle is very worried because he was supposed to sign off a while ago, and sends in Spoiler to go get him. She joins him in DDR for a round, but makes him leave after.

Jason: Stumbling into the cave with a twisted ankle, concussion, and a knife stuck in his side. He isn't expecting anyone to be there, and is surprised (not really) to find Tim sitting at the bat computer. He hobbles over and Tim tells him about a case he's working on, and he thinks it's interesting so he pulls up a chair to sit and figure it out. Eventually, Tim looks in his direction and freaks out at the amount of blood pooling on the floor, but Jason seems to have forgotten why it would be there.

Damian: After a run in with Joker's henchmen, he and Batman are walking back to the batmobile to get back to the cave. He has a dislocated shoulder and a couple deep cuts. He hears a meow and quickly turns around to go pet this flee infested street cat, and Batman has to agree to let him keep it before he gets in the car.

Tim: Walking back from a fight that left him with a couple broken fingers and a rapidly swelling eye. He sees Jason's next door neighbor and remembers what he had told him about the annoying things she does and that she's referred to as 'the karen' of the building. He follows and watches her, trying to get dirt that could be used later. Jason goes home to find Tim sitting on top of his building, and joins him to start shit talking the neighbor.

Babs: Got threatened out on the street and ends up with a broken hand, preventing her from rolling her wheelchair with ease. She gets out her phone to call someone, but gets a twitter notification. She clicks on it and finds that Bruce has posted something completely stupid and now she needs to share this to every platform she can. She's adding it to her Google Doc of dumb things the bats do on the internet when Dick finds her on the sidewalk.

Steph: Heading back to the cave from a patrol with a fractured arm, extreme whiplash, and a swollen knee. She's passing by a group of girls who are shit talking their ex husbands, and is intrigued. Batman manages to pull her away from the gossip circle eventually, but only after she exchanges numbers with the girls to be updated.

Cass: Has a sprained ankle and a bullet wound in her shoulder, and is going to get it patched up, but she sees Alfred set out a warm plate of cookies and figures it can wait. Damian complains that she's getting blood all over the cookies, and Duke saves her some while she goes to get medical attention.

[urgardenandmine]

crushes and beats ☊ - m. lee

summary: you have a small adventure in SM's building and meet a cutie genre: fluff pairing: m!reader x mark lee word count: 2.1K

the weather was NOT in your favor on this summer day. well, not just the weather but the whole week itself.

this week was your first week within the SM building after winning what seemed to be a total scam considering you saw the ad to attend a once a year producer group session with a bunch of others from other countries. 

you received the news in your college dorm, while you were aimlessly scrolling on your x feed, just reposting a bunch of mindless posts on what a hippo would look like crossed with a watermelon. as you were scrolling on your phone, you saw the ad plastered in the usual pastel pink they would always use to market their stuff.

"CALLING ALL PRODUCERS!

Want to be a part of SM’s producing session and possibly be chosen to compose a song for our artists? Here’s your chance!

Go to our website and click the form!"

it looked inviting but what if it wasn’t real? (even though you still did it so it was real considering you were now here in their branch in korea.)

while in your dorm, you were procrastinating on your homework. though you had asked for an extension, you were already approaching the extension deadline but i mean everyone deserves a fun small break now and then.

hopping out of bed, you slid into your soft and cozy koala slippers as you took five steps onto your classic off-white rolly chair. opening up your silvery blue laptop, you typed in the link below in the post you had seen earlier. clicking enter, you were taken to a google doc form that was headlined with the official SM logo. the title read “PRODUCER SUBMISSION.” it looked promising but you didn’t have high hopes of getting in. nonetheless, you clicked out the tab and opened up your drive of beats you had made. 

the requirement was the sample be at least a minute long, which was easy considering you had full song lengths of beats. looking at each one you had in your drives, you closed your eyes and clicked on one. opening one eye, you had saw that you clicked it yet the name wasn’t shown (which was somewhat concerning since most of your files were named with the most absurd names like “cocomelon’s rival.”). you shrugged it off, somewhat confident in your skills yet not so cocky you would just automatically book a flight to korea. 

fast forward to a day later, you had received an international call and was told by their marketing team that you won! except you were like literally in the middle of school and like you had to tell your friends, family, pets, the school itself and like whoever else was involved in your life that somewhat needed you nearby. you had received the call during a small passing period between your classes, choking on your apple while surrounded by your friends as you all ate under a tree. you immediately ran to your dorm, your friends close behind as you started to pack for the weekend to get onto the paid flight to another country. 

another fast forward, you were kinda not expecting this rocky ass start in korea where you had to keep up appearances. korea was apparently dealing with a small heatwave this summer, and by small, it was literally 38C (or 101F). you were dressed in long sleeves, not really thinking much on what you packed considering you were packing every ten minutes after every ten minutes of studying last weekend. it wasn’t a good system but you did ace your sociology quiz with a 45/50. 

you were racing through the concrete halls, seeing a bunch of staff walking in the other direction as you had your laptop nestled in one arm, also filled with a binder, papers and your lanyard dangling off your hooked index finger and a single iced sweetened americano in the other hand. in retrospect, you shoulda brought your bag but didn’t want to look like a newbie in front of people who were great composers. 

scanning the glass doors, you read the labels on them except one issue, you struggled to read korean. you squinted your [e/c] eyes, looking at each door as you slowly began to walk passed the doors. one door had said “recording room/(1)녹음실,” which looked familiar since you saw that in the syllabus you were given with your other companions. standing in front of the textured glass door, you took a sharp breath in and let out a relaxed breath out. this should be a piece of cake. you already braved a flight to another country, braved talking to the security guard since you were an hour late and spoke no korean, braved asking for a sweetened americano even though you forgot the word for sugar and ALSO braved wearing a big baggy long sleeve in this weather. 

looking down at your hands, you gently squatted down and placed your cup down at your feet. inching forward with your now one free hand, you turned the handle and turned a small 90 degrees, using your behind to keep the door open. you bent down, grabbing your cup as you then turned back around and pushed your way through the door. it was heavier than you expected but you came for a music workshop, not an actual wood workshop. 

the recording studio was huge, almost the same size as your dorm. to your right, there was an L-shaped black leather sofa. the walls were a soft beige, which differed from the color of the booth as the booth itself was an eggshell white. in front of you was the equipment you had researched beforehand. 

you stepped closer, amazed at all the technical buttons and other mechanics the sound technicians had to work with while the famed idols you have heard of. realizing you were too lost in thought, you shook your head and checked the time on your watch. 1:27 PM. the session should start soon, but it was weird considering you were the only one here but maybe even producers were sometimes a little late.

making your way to the couch, you sat down and placed your equipment in your lap. setting your drink on the carpeted floor, you smiled as you took the whole room as well as the experience. this was real and happening. you were here to show off your talents. 

the door soon slowly opened, causing you to shoot up and look at the one in charge of the session. as you slowly centered your focus, the person you expected wasn’t the one you were met with.

in front of you stood a somewhat lanky and built man, adorned in a grayish tame impala hoodie. he had baggy navy blue sweatpants as well, paired with zebra adidas. as well as that, he had black messy bed hair by the looks of it and rounded frame glasses. 

“(2)아, 안녕하세요.” the man spoke, extending his right arm as he bowed. you looked at him, bowing back and trying to reply with the same greeting he had said to you. standing up straight, the man eyed you as he raised his right eyebrow, smirking.

“you speak english?” he asked, his small laugh making you feel a bit more at ease.

“yes, thank god. i mean-!” you groaned, smacking your head gently as you placed your hand into your palms trying to hide your embarrassment as you spoke before you could even think. hearing a small hearty laugh, you looked up as you saw the man chuckle and hold his stomach.

“nah, no worries! that was me before coming here too.” he said, staring at you, shifting into a more comfortable stance.

“i’m mark, nice to meet ya.” he introduced himself, extending his hand as you reached for a firm shake. the name sounded familiar but it wasn’t so close to ringing a bell. 

“sounds kinda familiar.” you spoke, making him place a hand over his heart, feigning a hurt act.

“wow~, welp, hate to break it to you but i’m kinda known here. i’m in a group called NCT.” he explained, making you nod as you finally realized where he was from. NCT. they sounded familiar but your music taste was all over the place. you solely remembered NCT as the group who basically claimed the color green. you smiled at him, showing him your pearly whites as you chuckled.

“nice to meet you, mark. i’m [y/n].” you introduced yourself, giggling softly as you did a small wave at him. looking at him, a small blush creeped onto his ears as he cleared his threat and looked away. you tilted your head, seeing him blush. you blinked, feeling your own neck get warm as your cheeks were slowly getting more color. turning your head away, you coughed softly. 

mark looked back at you, then seeing beside you your equipment as he pointed. 

“what’s all that?” he asked, walking a bit closer as he stood a foot from you. you turned your head to your laptop and papers, smiling gently as you got closer to them.

“oh! i’m here from winning the SM producer/composer competition.” you explained, looking at him as he scratched the back of his neck. his smile had faded, causing you to look at him and be a bit confused.

“i kinda hate to break it to you but the producing session was at 11:30 AM.” he revealed, causing you to feel your heart break a smidge. looking down at your feet, you could feel your energy shift the mood in the room. you couldn’t believe that you misread the rubric time. how could you have misread “11:30” as “1:30?” granted, you were also trying to do an essay overseas from your college. letting out a somewhat exasperated sigh, you looked up at mark and smiled.

“well, thanks for letting me know! i’ll be on my way.” you forced a small smile onto your face, bending down to slowly grab your things. as you reached down, you felt his hand placed onto yours. looking to your right, your eyes met as he began to smile at you.

“well, i mean you’re already here so why not just show me what you got?” he suggested, causing you to blush harder than ever. mark smiled widely, grabbing you stuff as he placed it onto the table and opened your laptop for you. he sat down on the chair on the left, reaching down to grab a cord and plugged it into your laptop. as he turned his head, he had still saw you standing there, lost in thought. he had patted the chair across from him, signaling you to sit down. 

snapping yourself out of your trance, you shook your head and made you way to the chair. mark had scooted closer to you, causing you to relax from the nerves you felt as you stared into his eyes. you opened your files, searching for one to show him. as his brown eyes read every file, he chuckled and leaned into your personal bubble, pointing a finger at one file.

“can you play this for me?” he asked. your eyes trailed his finger, seeing the file he wanted to be played. you froze, the file being named the absolute most dumbest thing ever. 

“you want me to play this?” you reiterated. you didn’t even remember what this beat/sample sounded like. you were somewhat tipsy when making this (if drinking about almost ten moscow mule during a frat party was “tipsy”). 

“yes. i would like for you to play “daddy won’t lemme see the ice king.”’ he read, laughing between each word. you groaned, smiling as you shrugged it off and clicked on it. shutting your eyes tight, you prayed to god that this file was an actual work of art. to your surprise, it kind of was. the cord mark plugged into your laptop had played the file on the surround sound speakers above you. the sample was one that was more of an r&b vibe. the sample was similar to that of jazmine sullivan or lucky daye. 

looking to your left, mark was beaming. you chuckled, looking at him as he looked towards you. you immediately paused it, now remembering you weren’t sure if you were allowed to be in here. he slowly touched your hand, reassuring you. your eyes met, making you both feel comfortable enough with one another that you could drop each other’s guards. 

“i’ll make you a deal. you and i make a sick song out of this and i won’t tell if you won’t.” he proposed. furrowing your eyebrows, you looked at him a bit confused. he laughed sheepishly.

“i’m not really supposed to be here either.” he said, looking around as if he was a school boy that got caught pranking the teacher. you smirked, leaning forward. taken aback, mark looked at you as you bit your bottom lip.

“i won’t tell if you won’t.”

⋆｡°✩

(1) = 녹음실 = recording room/studio

(2) = 아, 안녕하세요 = ah, hello

i hope this story is good for y'all nctzens! i was a part of the group but not gonna lie, jeno's my favorite but no one heard that from me...

[it-happened-one-fic]

Gentle Care - Jade

Author Notes: So, this is another fanfic that has been sitting, collecting dust in my Google Docs for quite some time now. It is finally getting to see the light of day because I wanted to post a Jade fic (totally not because of any cards that recently came out on the Japanese server). I didn't really listen to anything specific while writing this, so I really can't say there is any specific inspiration for this fic either. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ sfw/ flirtation/ romance implied/ fluff

Word Count: 1393

When Azul had called to ask for your assistance in patching someone up, you hadn’t been surprised. 

First, you’d gotten very good at handling bandages and whatnot simply due to your numerous Overblot experiences. You always ended up with a myriad of bumps and scrapes after those.

Secondly, Floyd getting into a fight was hardly uncommon, so the idea of him being a little scraped up was hardly startling. 

Finally, Floyd was perpetually mercurial, and if he’d even implied that he’d sit still and let you bandage him without squirming around, then Azul would do what it took to get you to Octavinelle just to ensure Floyd didn’t cause him any more of a headache.

An added bonus was that Octavinelle had all the supplies you could ever dream of, so there wasn’t even any need for you to bring anything with you. In fact, Grim even stayed at Ramshackle, opting not to join you on your little jaunt to Octavinelle. Though he did make sure to put in a request that you bring home some food for him that had you rolling your eyes slightly as you slipped out the door.

Your only real concerns on the trip to the mirror chamber were whether or not the other person had survived the altercation and how exactly you were going to scold the injured eel, even though you knew perfectly well that your words would do little good to keep him from getting into yet another fight. 

Those thoughts vanished though when you stepped into the Mostro Lounge and found yourself greeted with an unexpected sight.

Jade, sitting there as calmly as ever despite the bruises and red scratch marks that were sprinkled across his person as he talked to his brother, who was currently crouched in front of him, “Yes, it seems they mistook me for you, Floyd. Handling them was an easy matter, but-”

Jade halted mid-sentence as he spotted you, his eyes widening briefly before his usual, carefully crafted smile appeared, “I wasn’t expecting you quite yet, Y/n. I do hope you didn't rush.”

It was those oh-so polite words that immediately sparked your ire, sending you striding forward and snatching the bandages off a nearby table as you did so. After all, that long red scratch on his arm looked particularly nasty.

“Do I want to know?” Your irritation was obvious to everyone present, but no one seemed terribly concerned. But, to be fair, you were already kneeling and inspecting the young man’s injuries.

Azul let out a sigh, stepping into the room and holding a stack of papers, “It seems that a group of juniors looking for a fight mistook Jade for Floyd.”

“It’s alright though, Shrimpy. Jade handled ‘em all perfectly well.” Despite Floyd’s reassurance, you were hardly pleased. Eying the tell-tale burn that affirmed that magic had indeed been used in the fight despite school rules.

You glanced up, immediately making eye contact with the injured young man who’d been sitting silently, with a slight smile on his face as he’d watched you this entire time. Almost as if he were gauging the situation before he said anything.

“So you got in a fight you could’ve avoided?” Your flat tone said everything, and Azul took it as a cue to leave. With a single motion, he signaled Floyd, and the two exited the space. Floyd linger long enough to cast a single glance that flickered between you and his brother over his shoulder before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Jade met your accusation with an easy calmness and no small degree of amusement, “I wouldn’t be so sure. That group seemed to have quite a bit of aggression towards my dorm and probably didn’t really care if it was me or Floyd.”

You remained silent as he continued, going about bandaging some of the worse scratches while he calmly spread burn cream on his arm, “And even if I had made them aware of my identity and they’d left, it would’ve simply meant my dear brother would be in my current position, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

You pressed a band-aid down with a bit more pressure than strictly necessary as your eyes found his, “Don’t play coy with me, Jade. You wanted to get in that fight.”

You had to curb your urge to roll your eyes at the innocent expression he gave you before you continued, “You’re far too smug to have not gotten your way.”

With those words, you stood, grabbing another band-aid and turning your attention to the scratch marks that were scattered across his face, “So who were they?”

He smiled, his sharp teeth flashing as he did so, “Three of them were beastmen. I personally thought the Diasomna fellow was stronger, though. But don’t worry, all of them are in far worse shape than me.”

You snorted in response to his all too smug response, your amused tone not matching your chiding words, “Don’t gloat.”

Despite yourself, you were smiling even as Jade spoke again, his tone getting gradually more amused, “It works for Floyd.”

Your gaze flickered over to his, your hands carefully placing the band-aid on his cheek as you frowned at him, “No, it doesn’t, and it won’t for you either. I treat you two the same way.”

You gently smoothed the too-tan fabric across his pale cheek, and he chuckled, “Surely you know better than to lie to me, my dear.”

Your movements stilled as his hand reached up and wrapped around one of yours, his gaze holding yours captive as he smiled like he’d won some sort of game, “You and I both know you treat me far differently than how you treat my brother.”

You tugged at your hand gently, and Jade let it go with ease even as his fingers carefully brushed the skin on his cheek where your hand had just been with a distinctly pleased expression, “Your gentle care for me proves it.”

You crossed your arms, shaking your head slightly as you frowned down at him, “Don’t tease. I might be helping you right now, but I will leave.”

He tilted his head, his expression shifting to a feigned mask of betrayed hurt, “And abandon me to the care of Azul and Floyd? You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

You rolled your eyes slightly at his dramatics but reached over and grabbed another band-aid, “I might. You never know when I’ll surprise you.”

A smile curved across his face as his gaze stayed locked on you even as you focused on one of the other scratches on his otherwise pristine skin, “Indeed, I never do….”

You hummed slightly as he trailed off, “Right, so you’d best watch it and not get hurt like this again. I might not take care of you next time.”

“Wouldn’t that mean playing favorites since you’ve kept on helping every time Floyd gets himself hurt?” He didn’t miss a beat, and you frowned at him, causing him to chuckle, “I won’t make any promises. I rather enjoy getting taken care of, you know.” 

You tapped him lightly on the shoulder in a faux slap, “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” You paused, turning to look over your shoulder as you called out to Azul and Floyd that you were done.

Jade tilted his head as you looked back his way, his smile still present as he looked up at you where you stood between his spraddled out legs from his seated position, “Leaving so soon? Floyd made dinner.”

You snorted lightly, shaking your head at his coaxing tone even as Floyd stepped out of the kitchen, “You staying for dinner, Shrimpy?”

You held Jade’s gaze as you felt a smile spread across your face, and, despite yourself, there was very little hesitation as you called back, “Sure! Sounds good!”

And once again, Jade’s smile was all too smug, but at this point that was nothing new. Especially since you knew perfectly well that if he, or Azul, or Floyd, got hurt again, you’d be back to take care of them once again, even though all of you knew it was hardly necessary.

And that was even taking into account that you did play favorites. But you weren’t about to admit that to Jade, and, judging from the smile on his face, he already knew anyway.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Introducing: Vizzie Castello

(Please click images for higher quality, commission by @spliceyblues ^^)

Hello tumblr!!! I just hit 400 followers, so I figured now was as good as time as any to formally introduce my self-insert, Viz Castello.

(Art by @boopshoops)

Image Desc and more info Under the Cut ^^

Image desc for the first image: Age: 16/17? Best Subject: Biology and History Birthday: September 11th Class: 1A, Seat 27 Club: Floater Height: 5'3/164cm Hobby: Axe Throwing/Homesteading Homeland: ??? [REDACTED] Likes: Stability Dislikes: Unaccountability Under Unique Magic: While she has no ‘UM’ , she wears vambraces with blot-absorbing properties. She keeps these hidden under her school uniform. She doesn’t fully understand how they work or why she has them; just that they have been seared onto her since she was nine. It wasn’t until she got to twst she discovered their capabilities... ---------------------------

Brief overview of her personality: Viz is a very self-assured individual with a hell of a lot of attitude. She has a lot of practice being subservient, but there is nobody she fears enough in twst to act that way with; and respect is earned, not given. While she refuses to take any flavour of bullshit from anybody, you'll know she sees you as a friend when she can make fun of you about it.

I have a lot of her lore here, but nothing is super concrete except for the google doc fic included in this link. This is mostly because I really need to update it lol.

I made her coffin.

While her UM is not immediately available, she does unlock one in her storyline! I just think that's something I should save for another post ^^ I have more art of her here and art of her ("main") ship here (Orange Crush / Cater x Vizzie) (Her main ship is actually a polycule with Cater and Jack ^^)

Please note: Viz is polyam, I love making aus, and other ships will come up. If you are a non-sharing or selective sharing individual I highly suggest you block her ship tags, or DNI.

I'm super excited to introduce her formally on here and to maybe open up the potential for more fun interactions!

Tags: (lmk if you want to be added/removed)

@theleechyskrunkly @nemisisnemi @starry-night-rose @lumdays @distant-velleity @tixdixl @thehollowwriter @galacticstationsblog @elenauaurs @my-cursed-brain @fluffle-writes

[laika290]

ever wonder why spotify/discord/teams desktop apps kind of suck?

i don't do a lot of long form posts but. I realized that so many people aren't aware that a lot of the enshittification of using computers in the past decade or so has a lot to do with embedded webapps becoming so frequently used instead of creating native programs. and boy do i have some thoughts about this.

for those who are not blessed/cursed with computers knowledge Basically most (graphical) programs used to be native programs (ever since we started widely using a graphical interface instead of just a text-based terminal). these are apps that feel like when you open up the settings on your computer, and one of the factors that make windows and mac programs look different (bc they use a different design language!) this was the standard for a long long time - your emails were served to you in a special email application like thunderbird or outlook, your documents were processed in something like microsoft word (again. On your own computer!). same goes for calendars, calculators, spreadsheets, and a whole bunch more - crucially, your computer didn't depend on the internet to do basic things, but being connected to the web was very much an appreciated luxury!

that leads us to the eventual rise of webapps that we are all so painfully familiar with today - gmail dot com/outlook, google docs, google/microsoft calendar, and so on. as html/css/js technology grew beyond just displaying text images and such, it became clear that it could be a lot more convenient to just run programs on some server somewhere, and serve the front end on a web interface for anyone to use. this is really very convenient!!!! it Also means a huge concentration of power (notice how suddenly google is one company providing you the SERVICE) - you're renting instead of owning. which means google is your landlord - the services you use every day are first and foremost means of hitting the year over year profit quota. its a pretty sweet deal to have a free email account in exchange for ads! email accounts used to be paid (simply because the provider had to store your emails somewhere. which takes up storage space which is physical hard drives), but now the standard as of hotmail/yahoo/gmail is to just provide a free service and shove ads in as much as you need to.

webapps can do a lot of things, but they didn't immediately replace software like skype or code editors or music players - software that requires more heavy system interaction or snappy audio/visual responses. in 2013, the electron framework came out - a way of packaging up a bundle of html/css/js into a neat little crossplatform application that could be downloaded and run like any other native application. there were significant upsides to this - web developers could suddenly use their webapp skills to build desktop applications that ran on any computer as long as it could support chrome*! the first applications to be built on electron were the late code editor atom (rest in peace), but soon a whole lot of companies took note! some notable contemporary applications that use electron, or a similar webapp-embedded-in-a-little-chrome as a base are:

microsoft teams

notion

vscode

discord

spotify

anyone! who has paid even a little bit of attention to their computer - especially when using older/budget computers - know just how much having chrome open can slow down your computer (firefox as well to a lesser extent. because its just built better <3)

whenever you have one of these programs open on your computer, it's running in a one-tab chrome browser. there is a whole extra chrome open just to run your discord. if you have discord, spotify, and notion open all at once, along with chrome itself, that's four chromes. needless to say, this uses a LOT of resources to deliver applications that are often much less polished and less integrated with the rest of the operating system. it also means that if you have no internet connection, sometimes the apps straight up do not work, since much of them rely heavily on being connected to their servers, where the heavy lifting is done.

taking this idea to the very furthest is the concept of chromebooks - dinky little laptops that were created to only run a web browser and webapps - simply a vessel to access the google dot com mothership. they have gotten better at running offline android/linux applications, but often the $200 chromebooks that are bought in bulk have almost no processing power of their own - why would you even need it? you have everything you could possibly need in the warm embrace of google!

all in all the average person in the modern age, using computers in the mainstream way, owns very little of their means of computing.

i started this post as a rant about the electron/webapp framework because i think that it sucks and it displaces proper programs. and now ive swiveled into getting pissed off at software services which is in honestly the core issue. and i think things can be better!!!!!!!!!!! but to think about better computing culture one has to imagine living outside of capitalism.

i'm not the one to try to explain permacomputing specifically because there's already wonderful literature ^ but if anything here interested you, read this!!!!!!!!!! there is a beautiful world where computers live for decades and do less but do it well. and you just own it. come frolic with me Okay ? :]

*when i say chrome i technically mean chromium. but functionally it's same thing

[slytherinshua]

⟡　MY JEWEL 　( 휴닝카이 )

genre royalty au , forbidden romance , fluff , servant!fem!reader x prince!kai   cw not proofread   wc 787   request @jihyokat for kai + gleaming gemstones for the 3k event   note this fic being the first event one kinda broke my writers block id say??? it's been a while since i've even touched my google docs and written a sentence, but this was super fun to write and these tropes are always some of my favs to work with hehe. i hope you enjoy lexi!!   net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet

You were no princess. Growing up in poverty, you were always detached from high society and royalty. Riches, luxury, exquisite food and elegant clothing— all were foreign to you. But it changed when you were hired by the royal palace as a maid and ran into Kai almost immediately by accident. 

Being so unused to the winding hallways of the castle that seemed to never end, you quite easily got lost on your first day at the job. What was supposed to be a simple task of delivering a basket of fresh fruit to the kitchens turned into a 30 minute tour of random halls on probably the opposite side of the palace. How else would you have ended up in the prince’s quarters?

Despite your rocky start, you seemed to have extraordinary luck that day, running into the prince himself who found the whole ordeal quite amusing (and you, quite adorable). Prince Kai kindly offered to show you the way to the kitchens, and anywhere else in the palace until you memorized the routes yourself. And you, eager to not endure the same embarrassment again, took him up on it. 

Not a single thought crossed your mind on how inappropriate such a thing might be, talking and walking casually with royalty so soon. Kai didn’t seem to mind, and you didn’t begin to question it until much, much later. Six months to be exact. After that first meeting, you had gotten quite close with the young prince. It was only when you started to feel strange fluttery feelings whenever you were around him that you realized just how bad the situation was.

You were staff. Kai was legions ahead of you in status. Not even taking into consideration the opinion of the public, just by maintaining a relationship with him, you were certainly breaking basic code of conduct. There was no future with him to be seen, whether as a friend or lover. So, you decided it would be best to cut it off before it became more painful.

Unfortunately, you were already in too deep. So was Kai.

“It’s a gift,” Kai explained quietly. “For you,” he added as clarification, as if it wasn’t already obvious. It shouldn’t have been, given the circumstances. 

It was late in the night and Kai had summoned you to his chambers. Privately, of course. He knew the repercussions you might face if people found out, and he was mindful of that. You were grateful for his precautions, although in the back of your mind you were on edge by all of it. How beautiful Kai looked, moonlight shining across his face. The delicate silver necklace with a shining precious sapphire set in the middle of it resting in the palm of his hand. The way your heart was thumping in your chest, the urge to fall into his arms getting stronger by the second.

How much you loved him was dangerously growing each day. Your mind reminded you of how little hope there was to be with him, but your heart did not care. You were sane away from him, but as soon as he was in front of you, no thought or reason reached you. Your heart behaved autonomously, and Kai directed every decision it made.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, truly mesmerised at the sight of the gem. It almost glowed with its clarity, and you could see the light of the moon reflected off of its polished edges. Kai moved closer, wrapping the chain loosely around your neck. He carefully fastened it, securing the precious stone to its rightful place: decorating your neck. 

“There. Just as I thought. You look stunning, Y/n,” he said earnestly, taking a hold of your hands. The warmth of his palms made your heart jump, and his words gave you feeble hope.

“I love you.”

You had said it before, and you decided you would say it again. A million times over if you could. No matter how wrong. No matter how forbidden, or unheard of. You were uttering those words to the prince of the nation. You. No one else. And that gave you a sense of belonging that only Kai could bring out of you.

As long as he trusted your place by his side, why should you let the arbitrary rules of the world tell you otherwise? He was the only thing that mattered, and you would only take his thoughts into consideration.

For once, you fully accepted the flurry of feelings; the connection between you and Kai that was so unexpected but felt so right. Your hearts beating in sync, fully devoted to one another. 

He was your jewel, and he shined his brightest only for you. 

txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,,

@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,,

@cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,,

@nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Chapter 20

Story masterlist

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with THIS LINKED POST to be added to the tag list.

NOTE: Reader is not having a good time. Or Grizelda. Or Dion. Or Fontaine. No-one is. Whatever this chapter is, I do not know. It came to me in a dream/j (it's been sitting in my google docs and I decided to go with it in the end).

Warnings: toxic marriage/relationship, implied suicidal thoughts/ideation, attempted murder, choking (Dion to Fontaine), mental breakdown (Reader), Reader pulls her hair harshly, toxic and abusive family (the Agriches), talks of punishment, small themes of imprisonment, themes of abuse, implied past/recent attempted sexual assault, the Reader and Grizelda do get stalked a bit for plot reasons, the Reader can’t decide on what she wants, Dion gets called a dog a few times, mention of pregnancy once at the end, the Reader is an emotional mess and genuinely does not know what she wants in this moment, possible yandere themes (I’m not even sure, just adding just in case). Lant only cares about the hypothetical child since it would be Dion's and thus a rising star. Please tell me if I missed any.

Warning #2: some suggestive lines.

Everyone is out of character but that’s f i n e -

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS (BLOGS THAT DO NOT HAVE ANY CONTENT), BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICS, ART, ETC, OR EVEN ANIMAL PICS), DNI.

= = =

Grizelda had made a turn to show you some of the safe flowers. The direction also leads to the indoor training room, but she’s sure that Fontaine is outside the gates of the mansion - after all, it’s bigger. More room to act recklessly. 

She didn’t know that others were outside it right now, which led to her older half-brother staying inside an isolated area, awaying from prying eyes.

You didn’t either.

“Oh, they’re… lovely,” your eyes soak in the sight of the colorful flora. The grass was also a healthy green - if there was one thing you could say about Lant Agriche, it’s that he makes damn sure everything is pleasing to the eyes.

If you ignore his face and the monsters raised here for dubious reasons. Fontaine being one of them.

You bite your lip - it’s still fresh in your mind. His voice. His touch. 

No - just ignore it. He’s not here. Grizelda is.

Even so, you’re jittery, scanning your surroundings every few seconds. In spite of her good company, you can’t help but to feel naked, watched from the shadows. Paranoia works wonders, especially when you see a shadow move from the corner of your eye.

“They are, aren’t they?” She watches as you approach a rose bush, fingers lightly tracing the petals. The pink flowers she had given - burdened - you with are in your left hand, held against your chest. “I don’t come here often, but it’s a nice change of pace.”

She joins you in looking at them. However, she doesn’t admire them like you are. They’re beautiful, sure, but they wilt rather quickly once plucked. They’re also used to make drugs.

Of course, she keeps that fact to herself. 

Approaching footsteps catches your attention, looking over your shoulder to see two guards. Your heart fills with guilt the moment you recognize them -

They’re the ones you smiled at while ignoring your husband. They look tired, a bandage on one’s neck while the other looks half-dead. You immediately knew that Dion was behind it - frankly speaking, you thought they would be dead.

 You’re also amazed at how fast he works - it was only yesterday they committed the crime that is looking at you. You freeze as they get closer, making your sister-in-law curious.

When they see you they become stiffer than a statue. The air becomes awkward as Grizelda looks on with curiosity. Their eyes trail over to her, seeing that you’re not alone.

That’s when they bow.

There’s a bitterness in your mouth. You quickly remind yourself why they’re like this. However, this interaction is only making you resent Dion more. Your grip tightens on the flower stems.

“Greetings, Lady Grizelda and Lady (Name),” they say with a croaky voice. They don’t lift their heads for several seconds until your sister-in-law commands them to. When they do, they avoid looking at you, their eyes glued to something behind you.

You hold back an apology - what good would that do? If anything, you copy their behavior, humming awkwardly as you stare at the flowers in your hands. 

The remnants of their ripped thorns dig into the fabric of the glove.

The three of you don’t want a repeat of that day - them getting punished for daring to look at Dion’s lovely wife, and you being ‘teased,’ hearing Dion call himself your husband - while it’s true, you hate hearing the word come out of his mouth.

You want him to leave you alone.

‘If it were me, I wouldn’t have left you alone in this maze of a mansion.’ A wave of nausea washes over you  when his voice swims to the surface. Chills crawl down your spine at the thought of being married to Fontaine. It almost feels like a blessing that you got stuck with the second eldest.

But is it really…? 

“... ah, we should get going - we’ve been ordered to help with the children’s lessons,” the brunette guard states. “They’re practicing with their weapons,” he finishes before attempting to walk past you. 

“Oh? That’s today?” Grizelda asks the retreating guard. He stops, turning to face her as he confirms it. He tries his best not to look at you.

“Yes; it’s taking place in the outside training grounds, My Lady,” the grey-haired man answers. Now that his attention is on the seventeen-year-old, his body becomes less stiff, a bit more comfortable. 

It makes you want to smack Dion. 

… no, I shouldn’t… it’s tempting, but -, and the resentment only blooms more.

“Hm… I suppose that means we can’t go anywhere near there - father is rather strict about that. Not only that, but there’s a chance you might accidentally get hit.”

“O-oh.. right.” You nod your head. 

The guards bid their farewells before leaving. You watch their retreating figures with a hint of guilt - they wouldn’t be like that had you just ignored them. But that guilt is slowly replaced with a thin layer of anger, baffled that Dion would go that far - you’re not sure what he did, but from how they acted, it wasn’t anything good - just because you smiled at them.

…does that horrible man expect you to eventually cave in? With his actions, it only makes you see him in a worse light, signaling he might not even let you have friends. The flower stems in your hand threaten to break under your grip. A moment later and you finally relax your hand.

For now, you bury the thought away, returning your attention to Grizelda. You try to smile. It feels tight.

“Since we can’t go there, how about another area? Anywhere is fine.” The sun beams down on you, your (h/c) shining in it as your (e/c) eyes reflect her figure, but there’s a hint of something she can’t put her finger on in them.

She hums, tapping her chin with her pointer finger, mulling over the options. “Well… we have to pass by the indoor training grounds - it’s a building smaller than the mansion, but still rather big. It’s usually used for whenever it’s raining and it’s too slippery.”

The description reminds you of a gym.

“Since the children are outside, it should be empty - no-one to run into. I doubt Dion is there, and Fontaine is probably taking his anger out on some monsters right outside the estate gates.” 

As you would later find out, her guess was wrong. Extremely wrong.

She continues, “We have to pass it to get to this one area I would like to show you. It’s peaceful there; barely anyone visits. Same for the library if you ever want to check it out.”

You hesitate to nod your head, your gut twisting uncomfortably. The nice smell slowly fades away, unable to kick the feeling away. You must be tired.

“What type of place is it?” You ask instead, shifting your weight onto your right foot. The left one still has a faint sting. It’s barely there, but it’s still a reminder of what happened.

Despite your outward behavior, you can’t shake everything off. So, you just smile. 

Either she doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as she answers. It sounds like a nice place - a small gazebo tucked away in a corner covered by trimmed bushes. 

Apparently it wasn’t as flashy as the rest of the mansion, simple but durable. 

So ordinary that no-one bats an eye at it, and it is something that your father-in-law has forgotten about completely - a nice place to hide away from the horrors of the world. 

“That actually sounds… nice,” you say with a smile - doing your best to forget everything that happened earlier. 

Right.

The sun is bright and the air is fresh. 

“It is. A nice little hiding place - I doubt that anyone is there right now.” And with that, the younger girl takes lead, and like a baby chick you follow, still holding the pink flowers as the red ones are in her own hands. 

It still feels like eyes are on you. Your legs are starting to feel strained, walking becoming an effort. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing, a small sheen of sweat on your nape.

Your eyes travel downwards to the flowers in your hands - still vivid and pink, not a hint of wilt on them. You look back up at Grizelda’s back, her brown hair gently bouncing with each step. It’s peaceful.

… how long will this last…?

Your gaze drops to your feet, slowly inhaling before shaking your head at the silly and useless question. But the feeling of being watched only increases. The lie you told yourself moments ago is already starting to shatter as you’re imprisoned by your own mind.

“Once we get there, we can stay for a bit, admire the view of the garden.” The brunette suggests with a quick glance behind her shoulder. She looks back ahead once you nod your head. The rest of the walk is quiet, something heavy edging at the back of your mind. 

When you get near the indoor training room, two guards are carrying dummies while heading towards it. You both halt, surprised to see anyone there - you shouldn’t be, but the sorceress was so sure of herself it almost felt like the scene was going against the laws of nature.

Confusion fills you - Fontaine was the oldest, Dion the second, Grizelda the third and Roxana the fourth. Twenty-three, twenty, seventeen and fifteen. The rest are considered children, therefore wouldn’t they be attending their lesson…?

Neither of them notice you, too caught up in their conversation. Both you and your sister-in-law don’t see a point in calling out to them, simply continuing your walk.

That is, until they drop the dummies, their expressions turning grave. They scream out two certain names before rushing in. 

“M-Master Dion! Stop, please!”

“Master Fontaine!” 

“...huh?” 

“What?” 

You both look at each other, Grizelda looking over her shoulder. There’s a pause before you silently agree to check out what’s the commotion about. You don’t rush, you don’t run, your steps hesitant while hers are confident. She drops the flowers once she peeks inside, still as a statue, eyes wide and mouth ajar - an expression you have never seen on her once, both in this life and your last in illustrations.

You hurry, heart dreadfully drumming against your chest, a hollow pain swelling your chest cavity. Both Dion and Fontaine are in there - just what’s going on? 

The flowers drop to the ground as your grasp loosens. 

Holding the first born against the wall, your husband was choking his own brother. You can’t see his face, but his entire body is tense, putting his all into trying his best not to snap Fontaine’s neck. You can see the veins on his neck and hands.

… it’s a nice sight, until you remember -

He’s not supposed to die yet. Fuck, he’s not supposed to die yet! 

Reflexes taking over, you run over to the two men. 

This isn’t supposed to happen. He’s not supposed to kill him. He’s not supposed to die yet - the story has changed so much already! What happens if he dies right here and right now!?

Someone calls out to you, their voice distant. Hands grab your shoulders, firm but not enough to stop you from shaking them off. You grab him without thinking.

Dion freezes. 

You pull harshly. Part of you wants to watch the scene in full - does he even deserve to live? He’s trash, worse than your husband and yet -

The fear you’re feeling isn’t for your own safety nor is it for his outburst. No, in spite of yourself, it’s for Fontaine’s worthless life -

What happens if he dies right now?

It’s a question you don’t want answered. 

Distantly you feel your head shaking side to side. You don’t stop pulling, but your body is screaming that you should. You ignore it, ignore the nagging voice at the back of your head to let it happen. A lot has changed already.

So, what if this happens? No, you tell yourself, no.

Your gut is twisting painfully, screaming he can’t die now.

Dion looks at you like you’ve gone mad and honestly, you think you have. You shouldn’t be saving his brother’s worthless  life. You don’t want to.

But -

Not yet.

Two words you silently mouth. You dig your feet into the wood as you use all of your strength to attempt to pull your husband away. Of course, it doesn’t work, he’s too big and strong to be physically stopped by you.

His red eyes become blank as his grasp on his brother’s neck slowly loosens. Good. 

He called himself my dog… Dion Agriche, you better keep that promise. You feel gross for calling him one, reducing him to something that has no choice but to listen to you.

You don’t notice how his gaze travels to your chest, the way his eyes narrow once they see the blood stain on your bodice. But you do notice how he tightens his hold on Fontaine’s neck again.

You’re not listening well for someone who said he’s my dog!

These thoughts will haunt you for weeks on end once all of this ends. 

You try another method. It feels shaky as you talk, the words feel heavy. You force them out regardless, scared of what would happen if Fontaine Agriche were to die right here and right now. You can’t let that happen.

Even as a small part of you wishes to praise Dion.

“Dion… please.”

THUD 

Like the obedient dog he promised to be, he lets go. He takes a few steps back and you follow suit. You don’t let go of his arm. You repeat your words from earlier silently. 

Not yet.

The man looks confused before returning his attention to Fontaine. Your eyes also fall onto the older Agriche, small amounts of regret joining the fear in your chest. How are you supposed to take care of this…?

This isn’t like you. 

You blink before you look up at your husband, seeing your reflection in his scarlet eyes. Your lips painfully force a smile and you hope it looks sweet and loving. Your fingers dig into his sleeved arm and you don’t even notice it. 

It takes effort to rub your thumbs across his knuckles after a moment passes. Pretend to be a caring wife, pretend that you don’t want him to stain his hands further.

You can feel your hands tremble. It’s hard to keep smiling. The man before you said he was your dog and he listened like one, which brings forth a new worry -

What if he wants a reward?

You swallow the thought down. “Let’s go back. Please?” You don’t want to return to his room, you don’t want to be alone with him. But if you just leave him here…

Everything after that is a blur. The only thing you remember before reaching his bedroom is his tight grip on your hand. If only you noticed the figure in the background.

- - -

Grizelda stares at her older brother on the floor. He doesn’t make any attempts to get up, and he’s still breathing heavily. His men fret over him, but know better than to touch him. She wonders if he’ll kill them for not forcing Dion off of him. 

The sight was amusing. 

But it was also slightly… concerning.

‘... he listened. Fontaine knows he has a soft spot for her now… not to mention, Dion might even listen to all of her demands… ah, this will either be amusing or horrible.’

She leaves before Fontaine even notices her. 

It’s concerning but also interesting. She slightly smiles in amusement - things will change around here. 

But that amusement is washed away once someone calls her. When she looks at the person, she forces a scowl away. The tattle-tell will rat this out to Lant.

- - -

You’re still scared of your husband. You still hate him.

Your heart won’t stop hammering against your chest. Your hands feel clammy and his larger one holding yours only adds more heat. His pace is enough for you to keep up, but it still feels like he’s dragging you. 

You feel like you’re becoming his little doll. 

You want to cry. You want to scoff. To scream, to encourage his behavior towards Fontaine. But the uncertainty of the future prevents you from doing so, unsure if hell will be let loose if he dies so early, if doesn’t die at the hands of Cassis. 

You bite your lip. None of this should be happening. You shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be married. 

But someone has twisted their and your faith for entertainment. 

Wait, you think. Maybe Roxana will pity you some more after learning what happened with Fontaine… hopefully that’ll give her a good enough reason to help you out of this hellhole. 

Then, you realize it -

He knows. 

Your heart drops at the realization. Why else would he try to kill him? So early at that, before the timeskip. Should… should you be happy he knows? That he tried to murder him for you?

But you didn’t ask him to. You might have, you probably would have once you found your voice. Regardless, your skin starts to feel filthy - are you, an unwilling wife, really about to rely on your sadistic and possessive husband? The same man who indirectly told you he would lock you up if you even try to leave?

You can hear your heart beating against your chest. The sound is loud, echoing in your head dully. It hurts, bringing your free hand to clutch at your chest. It does little to soothe the pain.

Breathing becomes difficult. Thinking about anything else is hard. If you’re not thinking about the man in front of you, then your mind reaches for the recent memories of being chased and touched. Threatened with violence.

Your waist starts to tingle where Fontaine gripped it. Your skin feels prickly, dirty. The taste of iron makes itself at home on your tastebuds again. A sharp sting on your bottom lip, the pressure only increases the longer you walk. 

You made a mistake.

You shouldn’t have gone to him. You should have let Grizelda take care of it. You shouldn’t have fucking left the room. 

 He might lock you up after this. He might hover around you more now, might -

A hand gently cups your cheek, handling you with utmost care. Like you were made of glass. However, the touch burns your skin, bringing forth an unpleasant sensation that travels down your spine and drowns in your stomach. 

SLAP!

“Don’t-!” By reflex you slap the hand away, taking multiple steps back until your back hits something sturdy. Pressed against the double doors, your eyes travel to your side, landing on the door handle. Your hand grabs it as you look ahead, seeing the figure of the man who might trap you in this very room, if it means Fontaine won’t touch a single hair on your head.

Safety for freedom - he would be that type of person. The bird he wants to keep is mere inches away from him - it would be easy for him to grab you. But it wouldn’t be in the same manner as Fontaine. Regardless, it doesn’t ease your worries. 

You don’t want to be touched by that pervert but you also don’t want to be trapped by your own husband. 

You don’t want to rely on him, either. He’s scum too, he took you from your family - why else would you be married to him? He probably blackmailed your father, or, or something.

An emotion unfamiliar to you flashes through his eyes. He almost looks hurt, but doesn’t take another step towards you. It’s then do you look around, only to realize you’re in his room.

This stupid room!

Your heavy breathing fills the room. Your head hangs, chest twisting and turning as your heart beats to a tune that’s too loud and heavy. It’s painful, breathing is painful, thinking is painful, you feel dirty -

You look at Dion again. Like a dog, he stays in place, waiting for you to call him. He looks worried and it makes you sick, stomach churning at an expression he shouldn’t even know how to make. This isn’t right. 

This is going against the natural order of things.

This isn’t right. 

A small part of you feels guilty. That small part wants to thank him and even praise him. But the rest of you want to run and hide from him, from Fontaine, from everyone.

Your husband remains quiet as your chaotic state of mind refuses to calm down. Your back presses harder against the door as you slide down, unable to support yourself on your feet and legs anymore. 

Pathetic, I’m pathetic. This isn’t -

Should you blame yourself? Blame him? Fontaine?

Should you blame God?

… you don’t know anymore. You only know how to run and cry.

You should have stayed dead. Ah, but God wouldn’t give you that pleasure, would he?

“Wife -”

“Stop. Please. I’ve been through enough already,” you interrupt, on the verge of bawling your eyes out. You were able to touch him earlier. You smiled at him. You considered praising him on the way back.

What happened?

You were fine with him holding your hand. But now -

“You can’t keep ignoring this-! Whatever delusions you’re living in, they won’t!” 

You should thank him.

You should curse him.

Stay.

Run. 

Praise him.

Degrade him,

Accept him.

Escape him.

Harshly tugging at your hair, you fight with yourself mentally. It was fine, you were fine, you could touch him earlier, so why can’t you now? It feels like your scalp is being ripped apart. It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts -

Something grabs your hands. It’s warm but unwelcoming. Firm enough to stop you but gentle enough it doesn’t hurt.

You hate it.

“Hey.” The voice is deep and scratches the back of your mind. It’s pleasant but the person it belongs to isn’t. Wait. No.

It’s not pleasant. It’s horrible, nails on a chalkboard, making your ears bleed. It makes you want to go deaf. You shut your eyes tight.

This isn’t right.

“...let go. You touched me enough, haven’t you?” Your words come out broken, small. He almost has to strain his ears just to hear you. 

“If I do, you'll just hurt yourself again,” Dion states, refusing to let you go. This isn’t romantic. And both of you can’t even pretend that it is.

“... I… I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t ask for this either. I just… wanted some fresh air…,” you trail off, exhaustion catching up. Maybe you’re about to start your period - yeah, that’s it. That explains everything.

You’re just emotional because of the hormones. You’ll be fine in a week from now. This will be a distant memory.

The lie only takes you so far before Dion asks what you meant by that. The first part specifically, and it’s obvious that he’s trying his best not to grip your hands harder. 

Dion… he… he wouldn’t blame you, right?

Hah. one moment you’re fearing him and the next you’re hoping he’ll take your side. You don’t know what you want anymore. You want to sleep everything off. 

You can’t help but hate him. But as a husband, he should know, but you don’t want him as one -

“... he grabbed me. I - I stomped on his foot before he could go further - he ch-chased me but Grizelda he-helped me… I mean, that’s all he did, so I shouldn’t -”

“He would have done more if you didn’t stop him.” 

The fact only makes you curl into yourself. Dion still has a grip on you, not allowing you to escape him. There’s nothing but static in your head. Your body is slowly giving up on you, having to remind yourself to breathe. 

You have a family here, a lovely one. A father who cares. A mother who nurtured you, loved you. An older sister who guided you, a younger brother who teases you. You have a family who you love, who loves you.

Yet, resentment has been building up for a while now, hasn’t it? Small amounts of it that are starting to clump together. No, you shouldn’t, you love them.

But even at the thought of them, your breathing becomes slower. More gaps between each breath. You blink.

Secretly, you’re starting to wish that you would drop dead.

…is living worth it when I struggle to keep up?

It’s a dangerous thought. It darkens the corners of your mind the more it echoes in your head. You’re not supposed to be here. This is supposed to be a fictional world.

These people are supposed to be fictional characters. 

This setting is supposed to be a dark fantasy, survival first and romance second. The Agriche family are only supposed to be names on the screen, beautifully drawn digital pictures to tell the story. You’re not supposed to be here.

But God has decided to make this your punishment.

Are you willing to do it? After all this mental distress? After wanting to survive and escape this hell - are you willing to do it? 

Do you want to?

Living here is death. But your family, they’ll mourn, right? Don’t you want to see them again? Your siblings, your parents - don’t you want to hug and laugh with them?

So, why? Why are you considering -

Because you are weak.

“...” The air is suffocating, something is constricting your throat. Your mouth feels dry and your mind goes blank. You can’t think. The static gets louder and louder, filling your head, ringing in your ears. You were fine earlier.

But now something is tugging at your feet, daring you to stand. It would be easier to just drown at this point. If you’re breaking down just from this… then there really is no hope for you.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force yourself to lift your head and look at bright scarlet. His face looks fuzzy, but your reflection in his eyes is clear. That’s all you can see. 

Today, you decide that you hate bright and vivid red the most.

That Fontaine Agriche is enemy number one.

Your mouth moves but you don’t hear your own words. You don’t see your husband’s expression. You can’t even feel the beating of your heart. You feel nothing but the static filling your little head.

The urge to die has begun to resurface. 

- - -

“You what?” 

Lant’s deep voice becomes lower after hearing the report - unfortunately for everyone involved, a faithful servant to the Black Master overheard and even saw the aftermath of the incident. 

 It was also that same servant who happened to be in the locked room across from Grizelda’s study when Fontaine showed up to wreak havoc. They had debated opening the door until the sibling’s conversation went on.

They decided to wait it out. To trail behind you and the Master’s daughter. He had planned on appearing sooner once he saw the physical assault, but his gut screamed he would die had he did.

The oldest son stands in front of his father’s desk with his head hanging low. Sweat pools at his temples before slowly sliding down his face. His hands are clammy as a million excuses rush through his head.

 He knows that even if he were to tell Lant that you had stomped on his foot, it wouldn’t work for him but against him. Of course, there was a chance you would receive a small punishment for injuring an Agriche, but since it was he who went against Lant’s orders, Fontaine would get the worst of it.

You were off-limits. But the oldest son always had greedy hands.

Grizelda stands off to the side, watching the entire thing unfold. Lant’s faithful servant stands at his side, hands clasped as he awaits for further instruction. Silently she wishes for him to ram his pinky toe into the sharpest corner of a dresser while barefoot.

Fontaine’s men are on their knees, bowing with their head on the floor. The oldest person in the room pays no heed to them. Instead his heated gaze is on his own son.

“F-father… I was just -”

“Silence - I did not give you permission to talk, you fool!” Your father-in-law stands behind his desk as his fist slams down on it, unable to believe that his own flesh and blood would go against his orders. He doesn’t know what punishment to give him. 

He doesn’t even want to see his dull face.

“Where is Dion?” He growls out, holding out a cigar for his servant to light. The smell of smoke starts to fill the room after a few puffs. 

“He took the Lady with him, Master. I saw them on my way to the training room,” the man dressed in black answers. “He was holding her hand.”

A moment of silence before Lant lets out a laugh. “Is that so? Tell them both to stop by later today. I’m curious as to why he reacted so violently.” Dionn wasn’t exactly known to be emotional - he had little to no interests.

The change in his attitude is clear - anger at Fontaine, slight amusement with Dion. The grey-eyed man grits his teeth in silence. He was the one who got choked! 

No-one notices the slight flinch Grizelda gives. This was why she didn’t want to report it - it’ll only cause complications. If her older brother does care about you, then Lant finding out would only bring forth something awful. 

You’re a stranger but this wasn’t your fault. You just were a poor soul who got dragged into this hell.

Her stomach churns at thoughts of possibilities of what could happen. Dion was already unsteady deep down - this would only make it worse. What would happen if Lant does something to you?

“Going back to you,” their father looks at Fontaine again, taking a hit of his cigar. He puffs out smoke, doing his best not to physically lash out at him. Everyone waits with bated breath. 

“The punishment room isn’t enough for you. You dare touch something that isn’t yours? Go against my orders?” 

Lant goes on, watching as his son’s body starts to tremble. It’s a pathetic sight, and could have been avoided if he listened like the good boy he’s supposed to be. “But for now, until I say otherwise, you’re going to be held in a cell without any food or water - I’ll even lash your back personally.” 

Another puff as Fontaine’s head whips up, protests on his tongue. He bites the pink and slimy muscle when Lant glares at him. “As for the girl - she’ll be confined to her room for a few days. She should have had a maid with her - what was her name again…?”

“Hana, Master.” 

“Right. She needs to be punished too.” 

“And what of Young Master Dion, Master Lant?” 

The Black Master stops to think. While it’s true he was in the right - after all, you belong to him - he can’t exactly let him get away with attempted murder on a family member. It’s almost tempting, but then, thoughts might start to pop up in his head.

He doubts Dion will ever betray him. But, at one point, he was also a son to a father who trusted him. He was a son who killed his father. 

Besides… he’s curious. Why would he react so violently? A man who showed no interest in anything, simply carrying out orders. Something’s not adding up.

Or maybe he’s just stressed right now, with the paperwork due and Fontaine being a fool.

“I’ll send him to the hunting grounds. It’ll take at least a month for him to return,” he answers after taking another puff. “Now, who should I replace that maid with…”

“... I’m regretful to say this, but Hana was sent on an errand by the Young Master when this happened. She was preparing the contraceptives on his orders.” 

Lant blinks before sighing. “Right. I forgot about that.” He looks at the stack of papers on his desk - did this really have to happen when so much is due? His teeth grind against each other.

However, before Lant could think of what else to say, the servant spoke up once more. “While we are talking about the Lady… she hasn’t stepped foot in her room once.”

Grizelda’s nails dig into her palms once her father was finally alerted. Still, this could easily be brushed off as Dion simply sleeping with you, addicted to carnal lust. Until that damn man speaks more.

“Even when he’s off on missions, she stays in the Young Master’s room.” 

This is a matter that frankly, doesn’t concern Lant. But does that matter? No. 

“...interesting. I’ll question them about it later.”

Grizelda’s stomach twists. You’re nothing more than a stranger she pities. So, why? Why is this dread so deeply etched into her bones? You only spoke a handful of times before today - you are nothing to her aside from an in-law on paper.

This isn’t like her.

This doesn’t feel natural.

Oh. 

Maybe… something interfered with their faith. With yours.

She scoffs at herself quietly enough that no-one hears. What a stupid thought. Her attention returns to her father. It’s here when he finally speaks to her.

“Grizelda. Tell me, why didn’t you report the incident that made her run into your study?” His accusatory tone is ironically justified, but he doesn’t need to know that. Grizelda has always been a good girl, and she never interacted with you once you moved in.

“I thought it would be best to have her calm down first. I was going to bring it up when we ran into each other in the hallway - but she was still jittery. Please forgive me, father.”

She bows her head before adding, “I’ll accept any punishment you see fit.” 

It goes without saying that Lant considers this for a moment. After a beat, he replies with, “Until I say otherwise, stay in your room.” The same punishment as you. Twins! 

Grizelda mentally cringes at her uncharacteristic thought. What was she, a child?

“Go and bring them both to me. Now.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

The servant leaves with a bow. The room goes quiet, panic in everyone’s head. Lant doesn’t dismiss any of them. His footsteps echo in the room until he stops right in front of Fontaine. He puffs smoke directly into his face, causing his son to cough. 

“Prepare for the worst if she’s pregnant.” 

= = =

Tag list: @umi-adxhira @queenofspades403 @pix-stuff @manitscold

@darkumbreon92 @s-ajia @disappointment-san @louissatturi @cjafjatkstke @rainofcrime @kokomi2 @elvinapandra @ishamyshaa @semi-wife @danae-misfortune @rosedellamorte @labryel @rentaldarling @tiny-mimi @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[starberry-cupcake]

I came back!!! I didn't leave you for 5 months!!! And now I have 3 chapter updates together!!! I'm kissing you all in the brow tenderly like palmolive did to harrow and offering this recap

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

CHAPTER 34

harrow wakes up in a different spot, with camilla next to her and a shuttle with a design she has never seen before

she confirms that palmolive is indeed in his bachelor apartment in the river

camilla is very glad she doesn't have to go back to sweep the floor of canaan house for more palmolive bits

harrowcita does as palm told her and turns the skull into a hand because cam doesn't want a full skeleton reproduction because "it would get her in trouble"

customs are nasty up there in space

harrow goes to check up the shuttle and finds more old pals!!!

there's judith, remember judith?

in harrow's memory, she was dead from the slasher waker sleeper, but in our memory she was close to dead but not quite

turns out she's alive

not great for anyone other than herself, but anyway

there's also regina george twin

harrow remembers her falling to her death in the hands of mayonnaise uncle, but we remember her from crying in a corner last we saw her

after yandere twin had slurped chad the third and all that

this is again confusing me a bit, because clearly harrow remembers the gideon-less narrative but not!dulcinea is included in her memory, so that's still undetermined for me

there's also a poster of a woman harrow takes quite some time looking at

she: 1) looks intimidating, 2) is dressed in black, 3) has red hair

harrow immediately starts bleeding

"that portrait frightened you more than anything you had seen since becoming a Lyctor; it scared the irresolute piss from your body. Yet you had never seen the face before in your life"

my immediate theory is that maybe she's the leader of BOE who went missing about 20 years ago and that I mentally connect to gideon or gideon's mom

without any evidence other than math and a hunch

we'll see how wrong I am in the following chapters

harrow starts taking out her letters for everyone present

past!harrow wanted present!harrow to silence judith (valid) and protect regina george twin, only silence her if necessary

yandere twin had added some annotations on this about not hurting her sister

these letters were google docs

regina george twin has a ninth house rapier

I WONDER WHAT THAT IS ABOUT

harrow does as told (by herself) but wants to know what is going on so she un-silences judith momentarily and judith is an asshole who wants to rat someone out to the emperor

idk how things are at BOE or what is going on but here we don't stan the emperor so anyone who wants to protect him isn't my friend

camilla gives the ninth pledge to convince her to let them leave and says "we're not on the same side anymore"

PROMISING

when asked who took them from canaan house and who they're with, camilla says "you call them Blood Of Eden"

POSTER THEORY NOT CONFIRMED BUT I WONDER

CHAPTER 35

back in gideon-less universe with ortus and his polycule the fifth

abby thinks the lost chambers of the emperor run sidelong to the facility, which is information I very much would have liked her to elaborate on

but harrowcita is spotted listening in on the private conversation

harrow also keeps wanting ortus to do gideon stuff and show gideon behavior

she doesn't know that's what she wants but we know because she keeps being like "ortus doesn't start immediately doing push ups after almost dying, isn't showing his arms to the young ones and hasn't said a single dirty joke, which isn't ninth behavior but she's somehow expecting it".

canaan house is also growing some body horror stuff

sure, why not

abby says "time was always against us", which is pretty intense, knowing what we know

and then in comes teacher acting like he's drunk out of his ass, but he says he's not

it's great for us because drunk exposition is useful

he calls "the devil" a "her" who "bent for god to put a leash around her neck" and how the "disciples were scared" of her

then the lyctors found out what they had to do and they asked doctor reverend emperor john to kill her

but he "put her in a box"

like this

"you worship a monster in a box" "now we have a monster in a box"

I hadn't thought of those parallels, actually, that's my bad

"once that rock's rolled away, once that tomb's levered open, the Emperor of the Nine Houses will never know peace ever again"

CHAPTER 36

there's a bug in this one, like in the illustration

is this the beast?

harrow prays that not!dulcinea's body is tossed out through the airlock

WHERE HAVE I HEARD THAT BEFORE??????

OH YEAH, I HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR THAT SAME THING

at first I thought harrow didn't remember her meeting the gang because it said "and why now was one of your letters missing and another two freshly opened?"

but she does remember, so narrator (still unknown) is confusing me

playing games with my mind

they have boring code-names that aren't puns or funny nicknames (which I have a predilection for) but their initials and the initial of their cav

dr reverend emperor john has a g, which I know what word it stands for, but I don't know what it means because it showed up in a dashboard spoiler but thankfully it had no context

so there's AA for Augustine Alfred, GP for Gideon (alleged, we're still not saying that one aloud, I'm still betting on it though) Pyrrha, IN for Ianthe Naberius

which is confusing to me because I call him Chad and everyone else calls him Babs but his name is Naberius but I always read it as Nebarius

he's like a puppy that you name one way but everyone calls differently

augustine hesitates on harrow's name and says "Harrow's H"

harrow says HO and everyone's awkward about it

you sure, harrow? you sure it's O?

turns out the beast is here to get doctor reverend emperor john's sorry ass for, according to mercygirl what "you did to its kin" and "it sees my cavalier's mortal soul burning in my chest"

harrow wants to kiss ice cube barbie but she's not having it and goes "i have to go away for a while"

that's rough, buddy

mercygirl proceeds to draw a cylinder with names of layers and explains the very convoluted and not at all certain sounding plan they've got

apparently ulysses threw sexy parties that mercygirl hated

harrowcita does remember seeing regina george twin and is worried that yandere twin is the traitor that judith was taking about

I think harrow is the traitor but she doesn't know it

I think her forgetting stuff is part of a plan to kill the emperor, but my evidence is circumstantial

as long as we kill this dude, it's all good

mercygirl gives a speech about how much she hates everyone and how she wants to torture the emperor

if we are to spare one lyctor from the guillotine, let it be her

everyone has positions to take in this plan (that sounds like it's kinda doomed) and that the emperor isn't paying attention to at all

everyone except for harrow, because they all think she's gonna die

and we get potential foreshadowing?????? about the stoma

which is "hell" and the emperor says it's "where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless"

AND THAT'S WHERE WE ARE NOW, FAM!!! see you next time!!!

[scoonsalicious]

Chapter 6, Unattached - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, angst (Bring on the Pain!), alcohol usage, dumbass Bucky, noncon kissing that becomes con kissing, so..., arguing, jealous!Pocket, posessive!Bucky.

Word Count: 5.4k

Previously On...: After Bucky left you alone in your room, not wanting people to get 'the wrong idea' about the two of you, you came to the horrible conclusion that you were in love with your best friend. What the hell are you going to do about that?

A/N: Wow, okay! So, first off, Chapter 6 is long, and it only has the one part, so don't worry if you go looking for more and the next thing you find is Chapter 7! Second, there's a lot of progress and updates on Unwanted I wanted to share! I am already well into writing Chapter 14, and have planned out the rest of the story. We'll have a total of 25 chapters, plus an epilogue (unless something strikes me creatively that throws the entire thing for a loop, then all bets are off). This beast, as it currently sits, is already 208 Google Docs pages long and just shy of 80k words, so final product is probably going to be novel-length, which just blows my mind. I want to give a special shout out to @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for being my beta and my sounding board; your help and support has been immeasurable!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief

You stood in front of the doors to the common room, the low thrum of conversation and music filtering out from inside. Taking a deep breath, you tried for the umpteenth time to calm your nerves following your unsettling realization.

You had no idea how to approach this, how to approach Bucky. Do you tell him how you felt, in the hope that he felt the same way? But what if he didn't? Could you risk losing him all together? Or do you just keep on like nothing's changed, happy with what you have together? Would that be enough for you? Could you even be happy in a real relationship?

Why couldn't your mother have just been a decent human being and let you go to school like a normal child so you could have worked through all your awkward issues at the appropriate time, instead of saddling you with years of trauma and isolation that left you an emotionally stunted adult? God, you needed a strong drink and to talk to Nat, preferably in that order. Pushing open the common room door, you stepped inside, surveying the room with one eye out for Bucky, the other out for your friend.

It should have been of no surprise, then, that instead of either, you first spotted Jade Carthage. She was situated on a couch in the center of the room, like a queen on her throne before her court, and nearly every Avenger and agent with a penis was surrounding her, jockeying for her attention, even Clint who, you knew for a fact, loved his wife Laura more than life itself.

Your stomach dropped when, after one of the agents in front of the couch shifted slightly, you saw Bucky sitting immediately to Jade's left. And while it seemed like everyone else was clamoring for Jade to pay attention to them, she only had eyes for him. Jealousy coursed through you as she leaned in close, whispering something into his ear that had him throwing his head back in laughter. It was an entirely unpleasant sensation that you would be happy to never feel again. Especially because you knew you had no real right to feel it in the first place. You may have just realized you were in love with him, but he had made no similar declaration to you.

"Careful, you glare any harder, you're liable to bore a hole straight through him," Natasha said, coming up alongside of you.

"What if I aim for her, instead?" you asked, reaching for the tumbler of alcohol she offered you and taking a sip to distract yourself. It was like she could read your mind.

Nat shrugged. "So long as I'm not the one cleaning up the mess, I say have fun. But what happened to no-strings-attached, friends who happen to fuck?" Nat asked with a smirk. "Don't tell me you've grown strings, Pocket."

You looked away from the scene in front of you. "There might be some growing of string, in theory," you mumbled to her. Nat was the only person you had confided in regarding your arrangement with Bucky. Of course, your friend had been thrilled that there had been something going on between the two of you, but she'd been more concerned about protecting your heart-- was this the safest thing for you to do? You assured her at the time you'd be fine, but now...?

Nat's eyes widened as a grin took over her face. "Honey, that's fantastic!" She leaned in to give you a hug. "I'm so happy for you!" Taking in your forlorn expression, she quickly lost her good humor. "Why do you look like you're about to throw up?"

You cast another glance over at the couch. Jade was tracing her fingers along the golden veins of Bucky's vibranium arm and you felt like snakes were crawling through your stomach. "Because I don't know what the fuck to do about it, Natty," you told her with a sigh. "I've never felt like this before in my entire life and it's fucking terrifying; what if he doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he does and I mess everything up because I'm so fucking damaged inside?"

Natasha looped her arm through yours, leaning into you. "Honey, first of all, you are not damaged. You've been through hell and it left its mark on you, that's true, but you've been so strong. We're House Martell, remember?"

You sniggered, remembering how, when the entire Tower was obsessed with watching Game of Thrones together and picking what houses you'd each belong to, you and Nat had been drawn to the words of the ruling house of Dorne. And also, Pedro Pascal, obviously.

"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken," you recited from memory, a reminder that despite the obstacles life had thrown at you, you remained standing, stronger for what you had endured.

"Atta girl," Nat nudged you with her elbow. "And second of all, you don't need to worry about Bucky's feelings. Boy's obviously mad for you. Everyone can see it."

You drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. "I don't know, Nat. He's been acting strange lately. I tried to give him head earlier and he flat out rejected it." Come to think of it, that was exceptionally weird since, in your text exchange, he'd explicitly told you he'd been waiting in your room specifically for the purpose of getting off.

"Huh. That's... not like him." Nat tilted her head and looked over at Bucky, expression curious. "Did he say why?"

"He was real eager to come up here and get in the middle of that, apparently." You waved a hand in the general direction of the couch where Jade's little reverse-harem was still going strong. "I was getting on my knees and everything."

Nat raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"And then he made a really big deal about us coming up here separately. Said he didn't want people getting 'the wrong idea' about us if we arrived together."

Letting go of your arm, Natasha spun to face you, her face a mask of anger. "He said what now?!" she practically shouted, temporarily drawing everyone's attention to you. You looked around sheepishly as you tried to dismiss their stares.

"Nat," you begged in a whisper, "keep it down."

"Okay, okay, sorry." Natasha lowered her voice to a level only you could hear. "I'm sorry, but that's just complete and utter bullshit. Look, I know you guys think you've been in super secret stealth mode about hiding it, but pretty much everyone on the team knows you've been sleeping together. Hell, most of us placed bets on it." You opened your mouth in order to protest but she cut you off.

"If anything, it's weirder if the two of you don't show up to something together, so I don't know what the hell he's thinking."

"I do," you said morosely. "He doesn't want her getting the wrong idea about us."

"Pocket, don't even let your mind go there," Nat said.

"Think about it, Nat; I've been standing here for what, fifteen minutes now? And he hasn't even looked at me. When's the last time that happened?"

Nat's brows creased, her expression clouding over into something immensely sad for you, and you knew she was realizing what you'd already seen. In the last year, you and Bucky had been attached at the hip, nearly physically joined to one another, and if you were apart, your eyes were always scanning the room in search of the other's presence, seeking them out. The fact that he hadn't even looked for you, let alone come to you since you walked in, was telling in its own heartbreaking way.

Nat let out a heavy sigh. "Oh Pocket. Honey, I'm so sorry."

You shook your head, trying to dispel the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes if you kept down this path. "Don't Natty, please. I can't fall apart, not here."

"Yeah, okay-- you're right. Now is not the time. Come on." Linking her arm through yours once again, she directed you toward the bar where Tony was standing, whiskey in hand. "If anyone can talk you to distraction," she murmured as you approached him, "it's Stark."

You let out a startled laugh and let her guide you toward the man who had already saved you more times than you could count.

"Hey, kiddo; Romanoff." Tony saluted you with his glass and you did your best to smile back at him as you stuffed your emotions down as far as they would go. "What do you think of our new recruit?" he asked Nat.

"I think 'Weasel' would be a better fitting code name for her than 'Vixen,'" Nat replied with a sly smile as she took a sip of wine.

"Ah, saw the security feed, did you?" Tony asked her. Nat nodded.

"Watched it live as it happened. Wasn't going to leave my bestie without eyes on her six." She gave your arm an affectionate squeeze.

Tony hummed and glanced over to the couch. "Wish Cap had been as discerning as you. He refused to watch the feed; said it made him uncomfortable to spy on someone when they didn't know they were being recorded." Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Always the fucking Boy Scout," she murmured.

"So, how did the interview itself go?" you asked Tony, not really sure you wanted to know the answer, but feeling the need to punish yourself with the details, anyway.

Tony leaned back against the bar, resting his elbows on the polished wooden surface. "If it were up to me, we wouldn't even be playing this charade right now," he said, motioning with his chin to indicate the meet and greet. "Girl's a first-class bullshitter."

"Talent recognizing talent?" you asked with a wry smile that almost felt genuine.

He pointed a finger and winked at you. "Exactly. She talked a good talk, but it doesn't take much to see she's suffering from Big Fish, Small Pond Syndrome. She's in for a rude awakening if she thinks she's ready to swim in the ocean with the whales and the sharks."

"So, you're not going to offer her the probationary position?" you asked, hope rising pathetically in your chest. As if you could un-ring the bell.

"Oh, I didn't say that," Tony said as you deflated. "It's not all up to me. Though, given the fact that I personally fund this entire operation, you'd think it really should be, right?" At the look on your face he moved on. "Apologies, I digress. Anyway, Cap thinks it's only fair we offer it to her, seeing as how we don't have a ton of other options knocking on our door, and Fury's not going to get off my ass until we find someone." He sighed. "I think this entire exercise is a waste of time, and we should be kicking her out on her ass for how she treated you earlier, Pocket, but I'm outvoted."

"Thanks, Boss," you said softly, grateful at least that Tony could see through Jade's facade and took how she treated you seriously. Too bad your best friend couldn't offer you the same courtesy.

The timer on Tony's watch went off. "And that's the dinner bell," he said, putting down his glass. Clapping his hands, he called out to the rest of the room. "Attention Avengers, SHIELD Agents, and... whoever else managed to sneak in off the street! Dinner is served, so if we could all head to the dining room before the food gets cold and Raul quits on me, I'd appreciate it very much."

You held back as the crowd of people noisily moved to the dining room, hoping to catch Bucky's eye, but he remained steadfastly absorbed in his conversation with Jade.

"Come on, honey," Nat said as she took your elbow. "You can talk to him during dinner. You nodded and allowed her to lead you into the dining room. You and Bucky had sat next to one another, without fail, for every meal for the last year, the only exception being when one of you was away on a mission. You'd have plenty of opportunities to talk to him while you ate.

Normally, you all ate at one large table, but since this was a special occasion that required the attendance of a lot more than just the regular 13 members of your family (14, if Parker was around), Tony had the dining room arranged more like a restaurant, with a series of smaller tables spread out throughout the space.

You and Nat followed Bucky and Jade to a six-top where Steve and Sam were already getting ready to sit down, but you froze in your tracks when Bucky pulled back a chair for Jade, pushing it in behind her as she sat down before taking the seat next to her.

The air seemed to grow heavy, as though it weighed too much for you to draw it into your lungs and your chest began to hurt. How could such a simple action be causing you so much physical pain?

Steve, who had already been sitting at Bucky's other side at the head of the table, caught your eye and moved to get up to offer you his chair, instead, as though that could make up for Bucky's dismissal of you.

You subtly shook your head, not wanting to draw attention to the awkward situation you found yourself in. Instead, you made your way over to the only two remaining seats at the table: the one next to Sam that was directly across from Jade and Bucky or the one next to Jade at the opposite end of the table from Steve. Deciding it was better to be sitting across from Steve than either of the other two, you opted for the chair at the end, and Nat slid in next to Sam.

You cast a quick glance in Jade's direction and had to stifle a sick laugh-- she was physically coming between you and Bucky, quite literally.

Jade reached a hand out to Nat across the table. "Wow! Black Widow! It is so great to meet you! My name's Vixen; I'm a huge fan! I'm so excited for us to be working together!"

Bless Nat, she just stared at the girl with arms crossed across her chest, impassive and judging, until Jade slowly and awkwardly pulled her hand back.

"I take it, then, that you've deemed the Avengers good enough to be your backup team?" Nat asked without expression.

You did your best to cover the laughter that escaped from you with a fake cough, but you didn't try very hard to be convincing.

"What's this about, now?" Steve asked, leaning forward.

"Little Vixen over here," Nat began, leaning back in her chair until she was perched on the two rear legs, "was live-streaming this morning to her social media followers. Told them it wasn't so much that the Avengers were interviewing her to see if she'd be good for the team, but she was interviewing us to see if we'd be good back up for her."

Jade had the decency to look embarrassed for a moment before she turned to face you for the first time, anger taking over her features. "So, what? Didn't much take you for a tattler. You that intimidated by me?"

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but were interrupted by the sound of the legs of Nat's chair slamming back against the floor. "Pocket didn't tell me shit. I heard it straight from your mouth on the security feed. That and a lot of other interesting things."

"You're spying on her, Nat? Really?" Bucky spoke up. "She's our guest and she deserves a modicum of privacy, don't you think?" You stared at him, open mouthed, but he didn't spare you a glance.

"It was a part of her interview, Barnes," Nat spat. "Maybe if you---"

"Okay, Nat, Bucky," Steve said, using his official Captain America voice, "let's table this conversation for later and just enjoy our meal. Raul worked really hard on tonight's menu, so let's not spoil it for him, alright?"

Both Nat and Bucky grumbled their agreement as the catering staff brought out the first course and placed them on each of your plates. Normally, you loved when Raul, Tony's personal chef, cooked meals for the team; he always made sure to throw in something with lemon in it, knowing how much you loved the flavor; but tonight, your appetite was failing you and you ended up pushing more food around on your plate than you put in your mouth.

You couldn't help but steal glances over at Bucky, who continued to be wrapped in conversation with Jade. You tried to keep up with what the others were saying, occasionally nodding your head in agreement to something, but you weren't able to pay any real attention; your mind was elsewhere until you noticed Jade looking at you.

"You know, I have to say I'm surprised to see so many non-Avengers here. I got the impression that this group was... I dunno, elite? But it seems like you just let anyone in."

Steve laughed from the other end of the table. "Being an Avenger is a team effort, Vixen. Everyone plays their part. And besides, Pocket here's just as much an Avenger as I am." The comment took you by surprise, and you gave Steve a warm, appreciative smile.

"Thanks, Cap," you said, truly touched by his words.

"Well, she's more like Avenger-adjacent," Bucky amended, and all the warmth you'd felt at Steve's compliment vanished in an instant, leaving you feeling cold and hollow. The words shouldn't have stung-- it was how you had referred to yourself hundreds of times, but you tended to reserve it for your low moments, when you were feeling unequal to Earth's mightiest heroes. Hearing the words come out of Bucky's mouth, as if he, too, shared in your belief that you were inferior to the rest of them... well, that fucking hurt.

Steve let out a surprised laugh and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Pocket may not have enhanced physical abilities or powers or what have you, but she's got a brilliant mind. She's got a PhD in Mechanical Engineering and Computation from MIT, three Master's degrees, she speaks seven languages, she's got a black belt in Krav Maga, and she was the youngest Chief Technology Officer in Stark Industries history; all without ever having formally graduating high school. It's no exaggeration for me to say that I'd be dead a couple of dozen times over if I hadn't had her at my six. If anything, I think it makes her even more important than the rest of us. We're here because of the physical things we can do– primarily because of things that happened to us by accident; Pocket's essential to the team because of how she thinks, and the strength and quality of the work she’s willing to put in. We're replaceable, Pocket's one-of-a-kind."

You looked at Steve as if seeing him for the very first time. You had no idea he thought so highly of you, and his praise warmed you. You offered him a soft smile, your throat tightening with emotion and leaving you unable to express your gratitude. You mouthed a silent thank you instead, hoping that conveyed how much his words meant to you. He winked back at you in acknowledgement.

Bucky glanced back and forth between the two of you, as if analyzing your silent exchange. He coughed awkwardly. "I just meant that we try to keep Pocket away from the really dangerous stuff," he backpedaled, poorly, in your opinion. "Can't risk her getting hurt." He smiled at you, but you just stared back, expression blank, until he looked away in embarrassment. Good. Let him feel an ounce of the discomfort you’d been feeling this entire time.

Small talk resumed around the table, with Sam telling Steve about some new modification he was making to Redwing, and Bucky and Jade back to being locked in their own bubble. You did your best to ignore the little glances and gestures that Jade directed to Bucky, but it felt like your eyes were drawn to them like a magnet every time she touched him. Which seemed to be happening more and more frequently. You couldn't help but notice the way he leaned toward her when she spoke. Did he ever do that when he was talking with you?

"So, Bucky," Jade said eventually, her voice low and flirty as the caterers took away the main course, "handsome super hero like you, you seeing anyone?" Your eyes snapped up to Bucky's face, watching him. Surely he was going to look to you, make eye contact, something to acknowledge what was between you, to make you feel like you were in the same room, hell, on the same fucking planet as him. But he didn't.

"Nope," he said, running his hand over the back of his neck like he always did when he was feeling self conscious or nervous. "Not seeing anyone, though I'm not opposed to the idea." You had been stabbed in the abdomen on a mission once, and that had hurt less than hearing the words that had just come out of Bucky's mouth. It took everything in you to resist getting up from the table and leaving the room at that moment.

"Really, man?" Sam asked from where he sat on the other side of Natasha, his voice hard in disbelief. The atmosphere at your table had shifted. Natasha, Steve, and Sam all stared at Bucky with looks ranging from incredulity to flat out disgust. Bucky either was oblivious to the stares or was doing a great job patently ignoring them.

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him anymore. It felt like a betrayal, the way his eyes had met Jade's and not yours. How could he sit there and just completely deny you like that? Had you been deluding yourself? Had you just been some kind of fuck toy this entire time?

The caterers brought the next course, a cold raspberry soup. You sat there, staring into space as you mechanically spooned the soup into your mouth, trying your hardest to appreciate the taste, but everything seemed bitter in light of Bucky's attitude, actions, and words.

"Could you hand me the water carafe?" Bucky asked. You looked up to watch Jade hand him the bottle of water. "Thanks, doll," he said, smiling at her.

You dropped your spoon, letting it fall into your nearly empty bowl with a reverberating clang. Your companions at the table stared, eyes wide as their gazes traveled between you and Bucky. In his entire time at the tower, he had never once called another woman 'doll.' It was a moniker he'd specifically reserved for you.

Or, it used to be.

You could tell the exact moment when Bucky realized he'd fucked up. His eyes locked on yours, the color draining from his face. He opened his mouth as if he was going to speak to you, but you'd had enough. Without a word, you pushed back your chair with enough force that it practically tipped over and exited the dining room.

You made it all the way to the elevator before you heard him calling for you.

"Doll! Doll, where are you?" You stabbed repeatedly at the call button, as if it would bring the car to you faster. You could hear his footsteps drawing closer, and you really didn't want to talk to him right now.

Finally, the elevator doors opened and you slid inside, turning to press the 'Close Door' button just as you saw Bucky turn the corner to the elevator bay. You were ready to breathe a sigh of relief at evading him until Bucky's metal hand shot in the diminishing space between the closing doors. You were trapped.

"Doll, didn't you hear me callin' to you?" he asked as he slid into the car with you.

You looked around, as if searching for another person in the car. "I'm sorry, were you talking to me? Should probably be more specific with your pet names, then. A girl’s liable to get confused." You were impressed that the words came out as hard and bitter as you felt inside.

Bucky flinched. "I deserved that."

You leaned forward to press the button for your floor before crossing your arms and glaring at him. "You fucking think?"

"Look, it just slipped out, okay? I didn't mean anything by it. It's not a big thing you needed to storm out over." You rolled your eyes at him, disgusted that that was the only thing he seemed to realize he'd done to offend you all evening. "Pocket, can we just talk about this?"

"Oh, now you want to talk to me?" you asked, jutting out your hip in annoyance. "Seemed like earlier today, you couldn't wait to not be seen with me, or do you no longer care if people get the wrong idea?"

"Alright," Bucky said, slamming his fist against the elevator's emergency stop button. You stumbled as the car came to a grinding halt. Bucky tried to put his hands on you to steady you, but you pushed him away. "What is going on with you today, Pocket?"

"What's going on with me?" you asked him, incredulous. "What's going on with you? You've been an ass to me all night, that is when you weren't acting like I didn't exist."

"How am I being an ass?" he asked, voice rising. "You're the one who couldn't even hold a civil conversation with our guest! It was embarrassing!" You recoiled as if he'd slapped you, backing away from him until your back hit the elevator wall.

"Wow. Okay then." You blinked heavily, telling yourself not to cry. You'd be damned if you showed weakness in front of him now. Bury the emotions, encase them in ice. "Sorry I'm such a fucking embarrassment to you, Sergeant Barnes. Now that I know how you feel, I'll make sure to stay out of your way so you don't have to put up with me." You moved to press the button to restart the elevator, but Bucky grabbed your wrist.

"Don't do this," he growled at you. "Don't hide behind snappy quips so you can shut down and avoid having a real conversation with me." You stared between his eyes and where he held your wrist in his metal grip. It wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was tight enough to keep you from breaking free.

His gaze softened as he watched you. "I never said I was embarrassed of you, Pocket. I just don't know why you had to be so rude to Jade at dinner tonight."

"Name one thing I did that was rude to her," you challenged.

"Okay," Bucky stuck out a finger as though he were about to count off all your grievous errors. "Let's see... You said... No, that was Nat... You were... okay, Steve said that... You said... No, that was Nat again." He looked up at you sheepishly. "So, maybe you actually didn't say anything during dinner, but not talking to her was still rude."

You scoffed. "You want to talk rude and embarrassing, Bucky? Do you know how embarrassing it was to have everyone staring at me when you pulled out my chair for Jade, or when my own best friend didn't defend me when she had the audacity to call me a fucking tattler? Like I’m some kind of fucking child?" Your voice was rising and you could feel yourself getting swept up in your anger. "How about the pity looks I got when everyone heard you lie about not seeing anyone, or when you called her 'doll'? Or when you told her I was 'Avengers-adjacent'? You think I'm the embarrassing one? You made me feel like an insignificant piece of shit tonight, Barnes. God, if it hadn't been for Steve saying what he said, you would have driven me to tears."

Bucky had been staring down at his boots as you'd been speaking, as though your accusations were too much for him to face head-on, but at the mention of Steve's name, his head snapped up, blue eyes like ice on your face. "Well, if Steve's such a hero, why aren't you fucking him, then?" he asked, voice clipped and bitter.

You yanked your wrist free from his grasp. "Maybe I should start!" you shouted. "At least he's not embarrassed of me and doesn't forget I exist when another pair of tits shows up!"

Bucky's gaze darkened and in an instant, he was on you, caging your body against the elevator wall, a hand on either side of your head. "Don't you even fucking joke about that," he snarled.

You jutted out your chin, refusing to show any sign of weakness, though his actions were beginning to frighten you. "Who says I'm joking? Sounds like a good idea to me; thanks for suggesting it." You moved to duck under his arm, but he grabbed you by the shoulders, pinning you in place.

His breaths were coming hard and fast now, as though he'd just run a marathon. His gaze darted between your eyes and your lips, as though trying to make up his mind about something. In the next instant, his mouth was crashing down on yours, his tongue demanding entry.

You gasped at the sudden intrusion and Bucky took that as his invitation, deepening the kiss with a primal fervor. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him. For a moment, you were stunned, unsure of what was happening. But then instincts took over – he was kissing you, really kissing you. Your stomach fluttered and your heart hammered in your chest.

One of your hands ran through his hair, while the other gripped his shoulder for support. His hands had somehow migrated beneath your shirt, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin at your sides. You returned his kiss with as much intensity as he gave. But then suddenly, as if waking from a dream, you remembered why you were angry with him. You pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss.

You were both panting, and despite your attempt to put distance between your bodies, Bucky leaned down, resting his forehead against yours as he fought to catch his breath. "Don't," he whispered hoarsely, his voice heavy with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "Don't sleep with Steve."

"You realize how incredibly infuriating you're being right now, don't you?" you asked. "You can't just treat me like that, ignore me all night in favor of someone else, then kiss me and try to tell me who I can or can't sleep with."

"I know, Sweetheart," he said, nuzzling your nose with his, "I know and I'm sorry, but please, promise me: no matter how angry you are with me, don't sleep with Steve. You wanna fuck someone else to piss me off? Go fuck Sam, Thor, Rhodes, hell, even Parker. I'll hate it, but if it's Steve, it'll fucking kill me."

"Your signals are all over the place tonight, Buck," you sighed, letting out an involuntary moan as his lips found the sweet spot on your neck and sucked at your skin. You had to pull away before he turned you into a babbling mess. "If you think you can just kiss me into oblivion and I'll forgive you for everything you've said and done tonight, you better think again, because that's not happening."

Bucky ran both his hands through his hair, sending it pointing every which way. Then he pressed the emergency stop button again, letting the elevator resume its journey. "I know I owe you an explanation, Pocket," he said. "So, can we go to your room and talk? No interruptions, no one else, just you and me, okay?"

You studied him, considering. A part of you was still so angry at him that you didn't want to hear him out, but the part of you that loved him hated the idea of leaving things in a bad place. In your line of work, you never knew when your next goodbye might be your last goodbye.

"Fine," you said, dropping your shoulders with a sigh. "We can talk, I'll hear you out, but I'm not promising forgiveness."

He smiled, his eyes bright once again. "That's all I ask, Sweets. That's all I ask."

<- Previous Chapter / Next Chapter ->

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

Do you do ABO fics?

I Just Want What’s Mine*

warnings: smut, dirty talk, thigh riding, degradation, exhibitionism, abo dynamics, unprotected sex, oral(m receiving)

masterist | harry styles masterlist

a/n: i do, yes. and i thought i added this to my masterlist but it’s been sitting in my google docs since i remade my acc LOL

~

YN lets out a pained cough as she breathes in the hot, sticky atmosphere of the crowded living room that her and her boyfriend have just entered. The smell of weed and alcohol hits the back of her throat with the first inhale the second her foot crosses the threshold. She can feel her boyfriend’s warm hand on her waist as he keeps her close to him, guiding the two of them through the disarray of bodies that fill the decently sized room. Looking around, YN can see all heads turn to eye them for a split second before flitting away, whispering to the people around them. Soon enough, the house is quiet save for the sound of “Young Folks” by Peter Bjorn and John.

A slight grimace decorates her face, and a dimpled smile adorns his as they get deeper into the house. Harry’s used to this atmosphere, and YN is the exact opposite. She never went to parties unless it was for family, and the only time she drank is when she was alone or with just her and Harry. The pair makes their way over to the couch that is overflowing with bodies, some people on the cushions and others resting on the back. With one look at Harry, they get the message loud and clear just from the look in his eyes. Instantly, group dissipates to give the couple room to sit comfortably. YN is both equally impressed and scared, wondering what Harry did to gain the kind of reputation he has with his pack members. With just a single look, Harry managed to assert his dominance, no words spoken.

Harry gives all of them one last intense stare before he turns to YN and gives her a bright, dimpled smile, motioning to the now empty couch for her to take a seat. She smiles in thanks and sits down, placing her handbag on her lap as he sits as well, throwing his arm onto the back of the couch, resting behind her head. The two sit there for a while as various people come by and say hello, introducing themselves to YN and greeting their pack leader, making sure they don’t get to close to his lover. Harry doesn’t take his eyes off of any of them, watching each individual like a hawk. A deep growl is bubbling in his chest when Jacob, one of the inferior alphas in the pack, gets a bit too close to her, a threatening glint in his eyes as he broadens his shoulders and prepares to attack. Luckily, the man steps away in fear, and YN takes the opportunity to rub at Harry’s hand, calming him down.

The defensive man finally relaxes into the couch at her touch, a soft sigh leaving his lips. They sit and relax there for a while, watching the party happen and having their own little conversations. About ten minutes in, one of Harry’s men ends up bringing them two red solo cups filled with clear alcohol, and Harry makes sure to check it for anything out of the ordinary despite his trust for the other man. When he smells nothing but alcohol in their cups, he passes one to YN for her to sip on as they continue to talk. Sometime when they were talking, Harry had placed his free, ringed hand on YN’s thigh without her noticing, and it was gradually going further and further under her skirt throughout the conversation. YN only notices his intent when he reaches her inner thigh, very close to her vagina. She relaxes into the couch as she realizes that Harry is falling right into her trap. When his hand finally grazes the place where her thighs meet, he realizes that there is no barrier between his hand and her skin.

“Where the fuck are your panties?” he grits out, leaning over to speak directly into her ear, eyes darting up to her face. He immediately takes in the smug smile on her face, realizing this was her plan all along. “Oh, I see,” he hums. “You wanted to get punished tonight, hm?” he whispers against the shell of her ear before biting down gently, continuing. “I don’t think you’d like my punishments tonight, though,” he muses, satisfied with the way her body tenses up at the plural term. The party is awfully quiet, each wolf straining their ears to hear what the couple is speaking about. Some faces are red, eyes on their shoes, while others are listening shamelessly, stopping their actions to hear.

“Do you know who you’re fucking with? Or should I remind you? Think m’gonna. Right here in front of everyone,” he spits, trailing his right hand up her thigh once more. A smirk forms on his face as he sees her right hand that is holding her beverage start to shake slightly, nerves entering her body at his words. “Spread y’legs a bit” he murmurs, and she does so immediately, giving him access to her wet center.

His fingers instantly take purchase on her throbbing clit, a small mewl leaving her parted lips as he rubs directly over the head. Warm Wetness is dripping from her vagina and into her skirt, her hips bucking up into his hand. The second he picks up speed, she moans under her breath, the feeling making her entire body tingle. He keeps his fingers on her clit, not stopping his ministrations as her orgasm builds rather quickly. Just as she gets close to the edge, her legs shaking slightly around his hand, he pulls his fingers away and laughs darkly as he hears her cry out in frustration before turning and burying her face into his shoulder.

The two of them know that every single person in the room can smell her arousal, can hear her sounds of pleasure, but are trying their hardest to ignore it. They all know that if they even look at YN the wrong way, Harry won’t hesitate to end their lives. The rest of the partygoers continue dancing to the music awkwardly, talking and drinking as they try their hardest to ignore the situation happening in the dead center of the party. Tears of frustration are welling in her eyes, her orgasm quickly fading away. Harry, not being able to let her be, decides to tease her a bit.

“Need me to fuck you, hm? Just say the word and I’ll end this party right now so I can fuck you real good. How does that sound, Puppy?” he asks, stroking up and down her thigh with his wet hand. Despite the fact that it isn’t his home, he obviously has the power to end it just for her, and that has her cunt clenching around nothing as she nods furiously into his shoulder.

“Yeah?” he coos, a condescending undertone to his words. YN nods again, this time with a whimper, making him smile in victory. “That’s cute and all, but I need your words, baby,” he warns, a thick whine bubbling in her throat when he doesn’t immediately give in.

She pulls away for just a moment to speak into his ear, her voice desperate and breathy. “Please, Alpha. Need it so bad,” she whines, burying her face into his shoulder once more. He chuckles at her desperation, his cock leaking even more at the compelling smell of her thick arousal in the air. It makes the small room feel even more compact, and he’s instantly growling out his command for everyone to leave, every single alpha, beta, and omega leaving the house in a hurry, wanting their lives to be spared.

Once the room is empty save for the two of them, Harry lifts her skirt and pulls her over to straddle his thigh, pressing her bare cunt against the thick muscle. She gasps as she feels the rough material of his pants against her clit. He barely gives her time to adjust before he’s placing both hands on her hips, helping to move her sopping cunt along his thigh. She nearly falls over at the feeling in her sensitive clit, a broken moan leaving her lips.

“Feel good, baby?” he coos, YN nodding quickly as he works her along the thick muscle. “Look at that. Y’just soaking my pants, sweet girl. ” he teases, and she doesn’t even have the energy to make a rebuttal, letting him help her cum. Moans are leaving her lips as another orgasm builds, and she can only let it happen, hoping he’ll let her cum this time.

“Gonna cum,” she whispers, her breath catching in her throat as he cunt literally quivers against his thigh, and he’s immediately holding her onto him firmly, stopping her movements. She’s instantly tearing up again, falling into his chest and babbling wordlessly as her orgasm fades away once more. Harry removes a hand from her hip and places it onto her back, rubbing up and down gently as he knows he’s being really mean.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks her, hearing her whine. “Use y’words, Puppy. Can’t understand what you need when you’re all dumb for me. Haven’t even given you m’cock yet and you can’t even use your words. Do I really have that effect on you?” he teases, watching her get all shy and embarrassed. “No need to be ashamed, Lovie. Just tell me what y’need, pup,” he tuts, grabbing her chin gently to coax her into making eye contact with him.

“Need you deep inside me, please. Need to feel you, for you to make me cum. I’ll be such a good girl for you I swear,” she whines, nuzzling into his grip. He hums in satisfaction, looking into her glossy eyes, sensing how bad she needs it. He needs it too, so he decides to put the both of them out of their misery.

“Alright, baby. Ass up” he says, landing one last smack on her sore ass cheek to get her going. She’s instantaneously scrambling to prop up onto the back of the couch, Harry kneels in order to slide behind her. “Ready for me?” he asks, gripping the base of his thick cock, preparing her for him.

She nods and lets out a whimper as she feels his weepy tip swipe through her swollen folds, mewling for him to get into her. He decides to end her suffering, sliding in her tight opening inch by inch, her walls stretching to accommodate him. The both of them groan out into the thick air of the room, and a slight squelching can be heard as he slides into her, bottoming out. Her eyes flutter closed as she feels every vein on his cock against her velvety walls, the slight sting of him stretching her out making her whimper.

Harry stays that way for a while, his hips flush to hers as he relishes in the feeling of her warm, wet walls around his shaft. She feels so fucking good he doesn’t know how long he’ll last before he’s exploding into her. The second he feels like he won’t explode with one thrust, he pulls out until his tip is resting at her entrance before pushing all the way back into her, sliding against her g-spot. She’s moaning into the arm of the couch, tears building in her eyes as she takes in every ounce of pleasure he’s giving her.

“How’s it feeling, Puppy?” he asks over her whines, a smile on his face when she physically can’t answer. “Is that deep enough for you? Feel me deep in y’tummy?” he coos, his cock twitching when she nods and presses her ass against his hips. “So fucking good around me, baby” he moans, still fucking her slow and deep.

He pulls out once more before slamming into her harder, a surprised yelp leaving her lips at the change. “Fuck!” she exclaims against the fabric, her hands fisting the cushions. She’s nearly ripping the cushions with her nails, gripping onto them tightly as he drills into her perfectly. Harry is literally so deep inside her, filling her to the brim as he stuffs every inch of his cock inside with each thrust. She’s so full of him she can barely breathe, gasping for air with each and every plunge. He can feel her starting to clench already, her past orgasms coming back at full speed.

“Y’gonna cum, m’love? Hm? Gonna soak m’cock before I let you rest?” he pants, rubbing up and down her back as her entire body locks up, her orgasm moments away. She nods into the cushions once more, biting down on the fabric as she holds back until she has permission. “Okay, Puppy. Cum for me, cum for your alpha like a good little pup” he coos, and no more than five seconds later, she’s cumming all over his cock with a shout, a thick layer of cream covering the base of him.

He doesn’t stop fucking her, riding out her orgasm. With each thrust, he feels more and more of her cream coat him, leaving his lower belly sticky with her orgasm. He fucks her until her body goes limp against the couch before pulling out slowly and making his way around to where her head is, her body twitching with the aftershocks. He rubs a hand over her head, watching her relax into it.

“Can you go again or should I just clean y’up?” he rasps, despite his throbbing cock still needing stimulation. She says nothing, propping herself up and leaning forward to take his cock into her mouth, suckling on the red, weepy head of it. A groan is bubbling from deep in his chest and he’s trying to refrain from bucking into her mouth. He’s instantly sent over the edge when YN takes all of him into her mouth and down into her throat, his head thrown back and his mouth dropped open in a silent scream. She sucks him dry, cleaning every last drop of cum from his cock as his legs shake in overstimulation.

Whining, he pulls away from her and makes eye contact. “You didn’t have to do that, baby” he pants. “Was just gonna clean you up” he says, rubbing over her head gently. She just shakes her head, a yawn leaving her lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I know. Just get over here and cuddle me. M’tired,” she whispers, reaching up to pull him toward her. He chuckles at his perfect girlfriend, lying down on the couch before flattening her onto him, wrapping his arms around her. The two fall asleep within a few minutes, right there in the center of the room.

[hitthatapex]

The way I'm literally in the mood to update all my wips EXCEPT Radio Check when that baby is soooooo close to being done. Every time I open that particular google doc I lose the ability to write it seems. 😭😭

On that note, I've plotted three extra chapters for Hunting Love !!!!

So here's a little sneak peak.

“Maaaaxxxx.” Charles whined for the umpteenth time. “We can’t stay in bed forever you know, we have to show our faces to the outside world eventually.”

Max grumbled something unintelligible, nuzzling further into Charles’ neck while his eyes remained firmly shut.

“Come on you big alpha.” Charles poked him in the stomach. “Don’t you have important pack duties to fulfil?”

Max lifted his head slowly, a dangerous spark glinting in his eyes, and Charles immediately knew he was about to say something utterly ridiculous.

“How dare you? I’m currently fulfilling my duties." He paused mid-sentence, then a smirk graced his lips as he added. "I’m working very hard to create the next Verstappen pack heir.”

Max emphasised his words with a slow, deliberate movement of his hips, and Charles’ breath caught at the way the alpha’s knot, buried deep inside him, shifted, brushing against that sweet spot.

He couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped his lips at the spark of pleasure running up his spine, swatting his hand on the cackling alpha’s chest.

“You are insufferable!”