#and its Cheap and Easy and Fast to go through them

[irradiatepositivity]

("european who can hop on a cheap train and pass thru 3 different countries without a passport on a day trip to get some coffee and who gets several weeks of legally mandated paid vacation a year" voice) god i cant believe most americans have never left the country. it must be because they are stupid and lazy and uninterested in visiting other countries :/

[authortelevision]

george, the hockey player: chapter one ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,747 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ george clarke slow burn, university au, hockey george

you start university in bristol as a film student and meet a hockey player who will change your life completely

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The train ride to Bristol had been a mix of nervous excitement and mild existential dread. The city, with its hilly streets and graffiti-covered underpasses, felt like a place where something big could happen. But right now, all that mattered was getting through move-in day without looking like a complete disaster.

You haul your suitcase up the stairs of your new flat, already regretting bringing so many decorations. The shared kitchen is a mess of half-opened suitcases, stacked IKEA crockery, and the awkward small talk of strangers who will, apparently, be your new best friends.

A girl with pink-streaked hair and round glasses glances up from where she’s struggling to assemble a drying rack. “Oh, thank God. Someone else who looks just as lost as I feel.”

You laugh, setting your bags down. “Completely lost. Do you need help with that?”

“Please. It’s like IKEA’s playing a cruel joke on me.” She grins. “I’m Lily, by the way. I do history, unfortunately.”

You introduce yourself just as the front door swings open and two more people walk in, dragging boxes. One of them, a guy with messy brown hair, lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is it. Our prison for the next year.”

“I hope not.” says a voice from behind him.

The four of you quickly exchange introductions, and you learn that the negative voice is Matt who is studying Economics, and the other is Sam, taking Biology. Within ten minutes, you’re all gathered in the kitchen, swapping stories about where you’re from and who packed the weirdest thing (Matt wins with his five-kilo bag of protein powder). It’s surprisingly easy, the awkwardness fading fast.

Then, Lily claps her hands together. “Okay, so Freshers’ Fair is happening today. We need to go.”

Sam frowns. “That’s the one where all the societies try to recruit you, right?”

“Exactly. It’s essential. Free stuff, maybe a few weird clubs, and we can all pretend we’re super well-rounded people.”

You weren’t sure if you had the energy after lugging all your stuff around, but the idea of seeing what Bristol Uni had to offer was tempting. Plus, it beat sitting in your empty room.

“Alright,” you say, standing up. “Let’s go get bombarded by enthusiastic second-years.”

————

The Student Union building is packed, a sea of students weaving between booths with banners ranging from “Join the Debate Society” to “Quidditch Team Tryouts This Weekend!” Every few steps, someone shoves a flyer into your hands, promising everything from cheap cocktails to life-changing friendships.

Lily gets dragged away almost immediately by a group advertising a Feminist Reading Club. Sam disappears in the direction of the Rugby stall, while Matt, despite his initial complaints, is deep in conversation with a Chess Society rep.

That leaves you wandering alone for a bit, taking it all in. The Hockey Society booth catches your eye, but only cause there’s a crowd gathered around it, and a bunch of sporty-looking guys are chatting with possible members. You consider stopping, but hockey isn’t really your thing.

Instead, you find yourself drawn to a quieter stall tucked between the Art Society and the Drama Club. A banner reads “Photography Society – Capture the Moment”, and a student with a camera slung around their neck waves at you.

“Hey! You interested in photography?”

“I mean… kinda?” You glance at the sign-up sheet. “I do film, so I guess I already mess around with cameras.”

The student grins. “That’s basically half of it. We do sports photography, exhibitions, and the occasional trip. No pressure, though.”

It sounds like exactly the kind of thing to make friends you need. Before you can overthink it, you pick up a pen and sign your name.

By the time you regroup with your flatmates, your bag is full of leaflets and your group decides to escape the chaos and grab something to eat. The campus cafés are packed, so you settle for the Student Union bar, where the tables are sticky, the nachos are cheap, and the music is just a little too loud for a casual conversation.

Matt dumps his bag of free society merch onto the table with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

He pulls out a ridiculous amount of random freebies like stress balls, lanyards, a frisbee, and even a reusable coffee cup with Bristol Uni Quidditch Team printed on the side. Sam snorts. “Did you even sign up for Quidditch?”

“No, but they were giving out free stuff, and I’m not an idiot.”

Lily rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She turns to you, seeing your tote bag. “So, what made you go for Photography Society?”

You take a sip of your drink, considering. “I think I just wanted something creative that wasn’t coursework, you know? Something fun, no pressure.”

She nods. “Good call. I was considering the Creative Writing Society, but then I overheard a guy saying they only discuss ‘serious literary work,’ and I feel like I’d get kicked out for writing fanfiction.”

“That sounds insufferable,” you say with a laugh.

“What about you, Sam?” Matt asks. “You looked way too invested in that rugby stall for someone who claimed they definitely weren’t joining a sports team.

Sam shrugs, looking vaguely guilty. “Okay, maybe I’ll go to tryouts. I haven’t played since school, but it might be fun.”

“You just want an excuse to go to the sports socials,” Lily teases.

He smirks. “And what if I do?”

The conversation drifts into plans for the rest of Freshers’ Week—pub crawls, club nights, and the dreaded 9am introductory lectures no one is ready for. It’s strange how quickly everything is falling into place, like the awkwardness of earlier has already faded into something more natural.

Eventually, you all decide to head back to the flat, the evening air crisp as you make your way across campus. Bristol feels alive at night, students spilling out of bars, the hum of conversation echoing down cobbled streets. The streetlights cast long shadows, and for a brief moment, you pause to take it all in.

Lily nudges you. “You alright?”

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I think I am.”

————

The next morning, you wake to the sound of footsteps in the hallway and the faint clatter of someone making something in the kitchen. For a few seconds, you forget where you are, then the unfamiliar ceiling and the plain white walls bring you back to reality. Your new life at university has officially begun.

After forcing yourself out of bed, you shuffle into the kitchen, where Lily is perched on the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie, her pink-streaked hair all over the place. “Morning,” she says between bites.

“Morning,” you mumble, grabbing a mug and searching for the kettle.

Matt wanders in next, still in his pajamas. He blinks at you both. “We should’ve made a pact never to speak before noon.”

Lily laughs. “Good luck with that. We’ve all got a welcome meeting at ten, I’m not sure where yours is but mine is in the Oliver building.”

Right. The dreaded introductory stuff. You groan internally but force yourself to stay optimistic. First years always say it’s useless, but there could always be something important about the university you wouldn’t know about.

After breakfast, you grab your bag and head out with Lily, who insists on walking with you even though the history department is in a completely different building. “Moral support,” she says dramatically as you weave through the crowds of students trying to find their way around.

The film department is tucked inside a modern glass building that looks sleek and intimidating. Inside, the lecture hall is already filling up, the hum of conversation blending with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor. You slide into a seat near the middle and pull out your laptop, trying not to look as awkward as you feel.

A few minutes later, a girl with short curly hair and a nose ring drops into the seat next to you. “Hey, do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m Ava,” she says, setting her laptop down. “Film Studies?”

You nod. “Yeah, first year.”

“Same! What kind of films are you into?”

That kicks off an easy conversation, by the time the lecturer finally arrives and starts their speech about “the power of storytelling in visual media,” you and Ava have already bonded over your mutual love of indie films and your shared distaste for pretentious film bros who only talk about Pulp Fiction.

The lecture itself is mostly introductions—professors explaining what to expect, a few awkward icebreakers with the people sitting nearby, and a long-winded speech about academic integrity. By the time it’s over, your brain is buzzing, and you’re more than ready to escape.

“Wanna grab coffee?” Ava asks as you head out of the building.

“Definitely.”

The two of you make your way to the campus café, where you spot Sam and Matt sitting by the window, deep in conversation. When they see you, Sam waves you over.

“How was your lecture?” Matt asks as you slide into the seat across from him.

“Long.” You take a sip of your coffee. “What about you?”

“Boring. I already regret choosing Economics.”

Ava laughs. “Wow, you’re all so motivated.”

“Oh! This is Ava, by the way, we both do film studies.”

As the conversation continues, it starts to hit you, this is your new life. New friends, new routines, new experiences waiting just around the corner.

————

By the time the sun sets, the nerves of the first day have been replaced with something else entirely: anticipation, excitement, and the lingering feeling from the vodka shots you definitely shouldn’t have taken so quickly.

Your flat has changed into pre-drinks. The tiny kitchen table is covered in half-empty bottles, discarded mixers, and the remnants of an intense game of Ring of Fire. Someone’s put on a ridiculous throwback playlist, and now everyone is shouting the words to Mr. Brightside like it’s a national anthem.

You’re sat on the counter, legs swinging, cradling a drink you don’t need but don’t want to put down. “Okay,” you announce to no one in particular, “I think I might be a tiny bit drunk.”

Lily cackles from where she’s trying to apply eyeliner on a very uncooperative Matt. “No shit. You’ve been swaying for, like, ten minutes.”

You blink, realizing that the floor does seem to be moving slightly. “That’s just because I’m—” You wave your hand in the air, trying to find a reason. “—graceful.”

Sam laughs, throwing an arm around you dramatically. “You’re gone.”

But the night is young, and there’s only one destination in mind—Lola Lo’s. Everyone has been hyping it up since you arrived, promising neon lights, questionable cocktails, and the kind of night you’ll only half remember.

After one final shot (a terrible idea in hindsight), you all spill onto the street, voices loud and laughter echoing down the road. The walk to the club is only fifteen minutes, but your brain seems to have abandoned all sense of coordination.

Somewhere along the way, you trip over nothing and stumble into Lily. “Okay,” she says, catching you, “I think we need a pause.”

You find yourself plopping down onto the curb, the cold pavement grounding you slightly. Sam sits next to you, amused. “You know they’re not gonna let you in like this, right?”

You groan, resting your head on his shoulder dramatically. “I know.”

Matt crouches in front of you, squinting like a concerned doctor. “Alright, what’s the game plan? We can’t have you getting turned away at the door.”

Lily laughs. “We could walk in first and pretend we don’t know them.”

You gasp, offended. “Betrayal.”

Ava, who has been quiet up until now, holds up a bottle of water she somehow smuggled out of the flat. “Here, drink this. Try to look less… like this.” She gestures vaguely at you, which is fair.

You take a sip then make a face. “This isn’t gonna work in time.”

Matt nudges your shoulder. “Alright, let’s problem-solve. How do we make you look sober?”

“Serious face,” you declare, straightening up and attempting your most responsible expression. It lasts about three seconds before Sam bursts out laughing.

Lily wipes away fake tears. “Oh yeah, that’s gonna fool the bouncers.”

You groan, dramatically falling back onto the pavement. “Okay, new plan. I’ll just live here now. The curb is my home.”

Ava rolls her eyes but helps you up anyway. “Nope. We’re getting in that club. You’re gonna drink water, act normal, and stop being a liability.”

You let them half-drag, half-walk you down the street, still giggling. Maybe you won’t get into the club. Maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow with no recollection of this conversation.

Somehow—somehow—you make it past the bouncers.

Lily had given you a very serious pep talk before you reached the front of the queue: “No swaying. No giggling. And for God’s sake, don’t say anything stupid.” You had nodded along, doing your absolute best to channel the energy of someone who had only had one sensible drink and definitely wasn’t clinging to Sam for balance.

Miraculously, the bouncers barely look at you before waving you inside, and suddenly, you’re in.

Lola Lo’s is everything people hyped it up to be, neon lights glow under bamboo decor, the music vibrates in your chest, and the air smells like a mix of fruity cocktails, sweat, and regret. Your flatmates disappear into the crowd, leaving you standing in the middle of the dance floor, still slightly overwhelmed.

But there’s one thing you do know, you need another drink.

Stumbling your way to the bar, you lean against the counter, blinking up at the bartender like focusing really hard will make you seem more sober. “Can I get a—” You pause. What did you want? A cocktail? A vodka and coke? You squint at the menu, as if the words will rearrange themselves into the perfect choice.

Eventually, you just blurt out, “A rum and coke, please,” and slap some cash onto the bar, feeling very responsible.

The bartender hands you your drink, and you turn around. Too fast.

Because the next thing you know, your arm collides with someone, and suddenly, your entire very full drink sloshes forward, spilling straight onto them.

“Oh shit—”

The guy flinches, looking down at his now-soaked shirt. “Oh, for fu—” He cuts himself off, exhaling sharply before looking up at you.

And that’s when you see him properly.

Tall, messy brown hair, sharp features softened by the kind of face that probably gets away with way too much just by smiling. But right now, he’s not smiling, he’s staring at you, stunned, as cold rum and coke drips down his front.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hands flying to your mouth. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine—”

“No, no, it’s not fine!” You grab a handful of napkins from the bar and start patting at his chest, which is definitely not helping, because now you’re basically rubbing the mess into his already ruined shirt. “I didn’t mean to—oh my God, I’m such an idiot—”

He lets out a breathy laugh, finally grabbing your wrist gently to stop your attempts at fixing the situation. “Hey—hey, it’s fine. Seriously.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed, and suddenly, your brain catches up with what’s happening. You just spilled an entire drink on a very attractive guy and are now borderline manhandling him in a drunken panic.

This is not how the night was supposed to go.

“I’ll buy you a new drink,” you blurt out.

He smirks. “What, for me or for you?”

You open your mouth, then shut it. That was a fair question.

Before you can respond, Lily appears out of nowhere, looking between the two of you with sharp amusement. “What the hell did I miss?”

The guy chuckles, shaking his head. “Your friend just redecorated my shirt.”

Lily glances at you, then at the napkins still clutched in your hand. Then she grins. “Oh, this is fantastic.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Kill me now.”

But when you peek up, the guy is still looking at you, not annoyed, not pissed off, but amused. Like this is the most entertaining thing that’s happened to him all night.

“I’m George” he says, still smiling.

George. You’ll keep that in mind.

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author notes:

hello everyone !! sorry i’ve been gone for so long !! i’ve been very busy with uni life and have kind of abandoned this account !! but i’m back and i’ve decided to bring my uni life into this new slow burn i have !!

I KNOW THAT GEORGE DIDNT GO TO BRISTOL BUT I DIDNT KNOW ENOUGH ABOUT HIS UNI TO WRITE ABOUT THAT ONE !!

much love x

[yourlocalcorviddad]

Ok Ok so.

In dpxdc stories. Danny always gets assumed to be sick or uses it as an excuse or whatever to hide his powers right?

What if he wasn't lying?

It wasn't something easily noticed, not when half a dozen other things could explain it after all.

The shakes lingering? Well he'd used his ice powers a lot the night before fighting Skulker.

The faint feeling and lightheadedness? Well his mom had a good shot when people didn't interfere, and while he healed fast, it wasn't from nothing; he felt better after he ate anyway.

Heart racing suddenly? Probably just attempting to regulate the low beat on reflex again to seem normal but over shot it.

But the getting out of breath or spotty vision hadn't really been easily explained.

It was Mr. Lancer who asked about it after he'd gotten up from his seat in detention-happening less and less for actual reasons and more an opportunity to safely do his work and rest, after the truce with the ghosts to leave him and the town be during certain hours-only for the next thing he knew he was on the floor, head pillowed on Mr. Lancer's sweater, and a cool wet paper towel on his forehead and neck.

POTS. Post orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Not uncommon for those who had had injuries too their hearts to get.

It made sense when the teacher asked if he could have it. Apparently a friend of his's daughter had it.

From there, it made things easier to an extent. Salt was pretty easy to add, he figured out a wrist brace that he could extend into a cane if needed to.

In ghost form he didn't need it at all, but human form had its limits.

Despite all that he'd gone through, he graduates and even gets accepted to a college near jazz, hers was in Metropolis but Gotham had the ambient ectoplasm that he needed, and it was a day trip away.

And so Gotham U became his home, especially after his parents couldn't take that he wasn't "their son" anymore when he told them-after moving everything and getting his cheap apartment set up just in case. He considered it lucky that they loved their son enough they couldn't hunt "his ghost".

Last he'd heard they were working closer with the GIW but hadn't had much luck since the portal strangely closed soon after he left and the other ghosts didn't feel much reason to visit Amity anymore without him there.

It was Gotham U where he met Dick by literally fainting into his arms after a long day where he'd forgotten to eat and the early dinner the night before plus the going down the stairs at a quick pace and leaning forward with gravity.

"sorry, couldn't help falling for you~" the cheesy pick up line was the only thing his foggy brain could comprehend before he fainted.

[mayakern]

In light of finding out that there's actually people out there being jerks to you in your inbox, I wanted to tell you how much joy you've brought into my life without even knowing about it! My girlfriend introduced me to your art and your clothing and I've been a huge fan ever since! Your art makes me feel more comfortable in my own skin and see beauty where I hadn't thought to look before, and watching you succeed puts a smile on my face. I wish you and your wife a long and happy life full of joyful memories and interesting stories!

aw thank you, this is so incredibly sweet 🥺🥺🥺

we did have a couple ppl being weirdly combative at the combo of me asking why ppl hadn't purchased from the canada store (this was a genuine question to see if there were issues we didn't know about, which there were) and then me talking about what a rough position the business is in currently, but largely people have been nothing other than extremely kind and supportive and wonderful.

i think it often comes down to the sad reality that when a small brand like us, which is more expensive than fast fashion in large part because we use certified ethical labor, talks about our financial/sales issues in a time when most people are struggling, people sometimes get defensive.

even if i am not being aggressive or mean or blaming our customers--i am also a non-wealthy person who lived through 2024, i have not at any point been unaware of just how difficult things have gotten and i don't blame anyone for their financial situation--because of the type of business i run, seeing me or the business fail can make people feel guilty. because even tho a lot of people try not to think about it, when you buy a fast fashion shirt for $5--or when you buy several, knowing that they'll fall apart after just a few wears--there are so many "invisible" costs. knowing that you can afford a shein clothing haul because someone was, at best, paid pennies to make the garments wears a person down. knowing, too, that that piece of clothing that was made by exploiting other humans is going to end up in the trash relatively quickly also takes its toll.

for a lot of people, fast fashion is all they can afford. and also for a lot of people, they have convinced themselves that buying a higher quantity of cheap garments that will fall apart quickly is more affordable or a better deal than saving up for one more expensive piece that will last them multiple years. after all, buying a single garment that you'll wear for years doesn't give you nearly as much of a dopamine hit as getting an entire clothing haul that costs the same amount up front.

and i think because of this--because a lot of people make this choice and do not feel proud of it--when they see me or my business struggle, they project their own feelings of guilt and assume that i must be blaming them personally. that i am figuratively breathing down their neck and haunting their closets.

the truth is, i know the path i have chosen is not the easy one. i could probably make a lot more money and live a lot more comfortably if i operated on a business model that more closely resembled fast fashion. but for as long as i can afford them, i would like to stick to my ideals. and i don't blame other people for not being able to do the same.

[whoreforhorror]

Savior complex Pt. 1 (Billy Loomis X Reader X Stu Macher)

You weren’t close friends. Not really, anyway.

You’d sat next to them in class once, back when you’d been forced into a group project. Billy and Stu were the only ones without a group, and you quickly learned why—you ended up doing basically the entire thing on your own while they goofed off. To Billy’s credit, he did just enough that you didn’t report him to the teacher. Stu made you laugh once, but you weren’t even sure if he meant to. The moment the project ended, it was back to strangers. You were vaguely aware of them, as you were of every other person you’d been forced to work with.

They, on the other hand, were very aware of you. Whether you noticed or not, they lingered. Just in the periphery. It became a habit of Billy’s to trail you through the hallways like a shadow. Stu, being much louder than his counterpart, would shout to you from time to time across the quad. It earned little more than a passive, mostly subconscious nod from you. He was like that with everyone, after all.

Like last night, and the night before that, you were home alone once again. You weren’t entirely sure your parents even lived at your house anymore, given how infrequently you saw them. Decked out in a massively oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, you found yourself standing in front of the microwave, heating up whatever was quick and cheap from the gas station.

Halfway through, the microwave died with a sad chime. Everything else in the house—the appliances, the TV, the digital clocks, and then the lights—followed in rapid procession. You froze in an instant, long enough to feel your stomach twist into uncertain knots. The power wasn’t prone to cutting out randomly. In fact, in all your time living here, it had only failed under the pressure of two particularly nasty storms. But tonight? It was clear, dark, and silent outside.

The air was still, like the house itself was holding its breath alongside you. The dead silence made your ears ring—so loud you nearly missed the creak of a floorboard not even twenty feet behind you. You spun around just fast enough to see him sprinting at you.

Ghostface.

Just like on the news. Draped in black, bone-white mask, and a gleaming hunting knife that caught the moonlight like it wanted to be seen.

You ran on instinct, trying and failing to pry the front door open. You didn’t have even a second to question why. You were already halfway to the stairs, hammering one foot after the other upward. Your fuzzy socks betrayed you—your foot slipped, flew out from under you.

In a blink, your head was on the ground. A distinctly copper taste coated your tongue. Ghostface was on top of you just as fast, knife raised.

And then, just as suddenly, he flew off of you.

A loud thud cracked through the suffocating silence as Ghostface slammed to the ground, another body wrestling on top of him. The fight was loud. Violent. There was yelling, and a scuffle—the knife skittered across the floor, far out of reach.

You shut your eyes tight, trying to quiet the screaming in your ears, the spinning in your vision, the stabbing pain in your skull. In the moment your eyes were closed, the struggle ended.

Ghostface was gone.

And crouched in front of you was none other than Billy Loomis.

“Are you okay?? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Billy placed a hand under your jaw, tilting your head to inspect where it had smacked against the stair. His fingers brushed the side of your scalp, and you flinched. Not bleeding—but definitely bruised.

“Billy? What—where—?” You had to take a breath, gather your thoughts before anything coherent came out. “Why are you here? Where did he go? How did you know that—?”

“Easy, easy,” Billy said softly, backing up just a little. “I was walking down the street when I saw your house go dark. I was just about to knock when I heard you at the front door, then saw you take off up the stairs. I saw him behind you, knew I had to get in. There was an open window—the same one I’m guessing he came and went through.”

Everything after that was a blur. Cops. Questions. Your parents swearing they’d never leave you alone again. The officers grilled you on why Billy was there. You knew what he said, but you didn’t think they’d believe it. Everyone at Woodsboro High knew the cops already had eyes on him. So you lied.

“We were studying,” you said. “We have the same chemistry class, and—” The cops cut you off with more questions. Less interested in class and more in the killer.

The important part is—they bought it.

Billy drove you home after the cops cleared you and the paramedics ruled out a concussion. Shock was their final diagnosis. You were inclined to agree. Billy walked you inside, helped you onto the couch. He offered to stay. You didn’t say yes, but you didn’t say no either.

The house was quiet again. You stared at the wall, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes unfocused. Billy watched you like you were something fragile. He offered you water. You didn’t take it.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured. “He’s gone. I won’t let him come near you.”

“Yeah,” was all you could manage. And even then, it was barely a whisper. You didn’t see it—but you could feel him roll his eyes.

The silence returned, heavy and oppressive. You shifted slightly, uncomfortable on the couch. It was too stiff. Your skin too cold. Your hoodie did nothing to help. The humming alertness in your nerves hadn’t dulled, not even slightly. Your hands still trembled in your lap.

Then—a knock.

Three of them. Quick succession. Not loud. Not frantic. Measured. Too soft to be a cop following up. Too calm to be a reporter sniffing for a quote. Billy was already on his feet before your brain had caught up.

“I’ll get it,” he said easily, hopping over the back of the couch.

“You’re not even supposed to be here, Billy, you can’t just—” But he had the door open before you could even finish. Stu stood on the porch like he belonged there. Slouched against the frame, grinning ear to ear.

“Hey, cutie,” he said, voice syrupy. “Heard you had a hell of a night.”

“What are you doing here?” Even in your rattled state, you managed to sound as exasperated as you felt. Stu just shrugged, waltzing in like he’d been here a hundred times before.

“What, I can’t check up on a friend? Billy said—” Click. The front door’s lock. “—you got roughed up, and I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Your mouth opened to argue, but no words came out. Billy said? When would Billy have had time to talk to Stu? You’d been with him nonstop since the incident. Your eyes snapped to Billy, who had returned from the front door. He leaned on the couch behind you, draping one arm casually across your shoulder. Stu flopped down beside you, tossing his crossed legs into your lap like this was any other Tuesday.

“We’re just worried about you, is all,” Billy murmured into your ear, tone silk-soft. Almost a purr. “After everything… you really shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“You… should both go. I… I can’t. Not after everything.” Your voice was barely above a murmur. Neither of them moved. Stu didn’t even bother to fake concern. He just laughed—low and soft.

“Oh, come on now. You don’t want us to leave. What if he comes back, huh? I doubt he’d let you live a second time.” He said it with just a little too much certainty. Your eyes flicked to him, but before you could speak, Billy gently took your chin and guided your face back toward him.

“Don’t pretend like you want us gone, sweetheart. You don’t want to be alone again. Vulnerable. Afraid.” Stu doesn’t take his eyes off you while Billy speaks. His legs are still sprawled lazily across your lap, like this is his couch, like you’re his armrest. His smile is too wide, but his eyes are sharp now—cutting through you. Watching. Billy hasn’t moved his hand from your jaw.

You can feel his thumb brush over the edge of your cheekbone in a slow, almost absentminded arc. It should be comforting. It isn’t. Not really. But your skin prickles under the contact anyway. The air between the three of you starts to shift—less like static, more like something coiled and ready to snap. You swallow hard.

“Why are you really here?” you ask, your voice quieter now. Not accusing. Not exactly. Billy leans in just enough for his breath to skim your ear.

“Maybe we were worried about you,” he says. “Maybe we didn’t like the idea of you being scared and alone.”

Stu hums low in his throat. “Or maybe we just didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting to you first.” That draws your eyes back to him.

“To me?”

His grin deepens. “Yeah. You.” Billy shifts behind you. His arm brushes yours as he sits down beside you this time, close enough for your knees to touch. His hand rests on your thigh—not quite possessive, but grounding. You don’t move it.

“You’ve always been kind of interesting,” Billy says, tone casual, like he’s talking about the weather. “Even when you pretended not to notice us.”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

Stu snorts. “Sure you weren’t.” There’s a pause—just long enough for you to notice how warm the room feels, how close they’ve drawn in. You feel like prey, but you don’t run.

“Why now?” you ask. Billy’s eyes meet yours. Cold, unreadable.

“Because now you’re listening.” Your pulse jumps.

Stu leans in next, grinning like he knows something you don’t. “And we figured you might be ready for the truth.” You don’t ask what that truth is. You don’t think you want the answer—not yet. Billy brushes a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering just a little too long.

“You’re not afraid of us,” he says. “Not really.”

You hesitate. “Should I be?”

“Probably,” Stu answers.

“But we’d never hurt you,” Billy murmurs, and it sounds almost honest. Almost. His hand curls against your jaw again, tilting your face toward him. “We like you too much.” Stu shifts, swinging his legs off of you, by your side in a swift motion. He leans into you with a grin. “Besides,” he drawls, “how could we ever hurt our alibi? We need you.”

“Alibi?” You shoot Billy a look, your voice sharp with confusion. “What are you talking about?” Billy’s smile turns patient. Almost patronizing.

“You know the cops have been hounding me for weeks now. And you, my darling…” He turns your face more firmly to meet his gaze—dead-on, unblinking. “You just cleared me of all suspicion. I wasn’t expecting you to lie for me.” His smile deepens. “Truly, that was the cherry on top. You’re a natural.”

You feel your breath catch. “What are you saying?”

“How could I be Ghostface if you and I were in the same room when it happened, hmm?” Your mouth opens—for a moment, no sound comes out.

“Why would you…” You swallow hard. “Billy. You’re not—”

“Oh, but I am,” he says, voice dipping into something low and wicked. “Meet Ghostface One and Two, sweetheart.” 

Your head snaps toward Stu—he’s already holding up the mask, mockingly poised in front of his face. One gloved finger taps the chin of the skull-white visage. You jolt back, panic flaring, but Billy’s hand doesn’t let you move. It stays firm, grounding, like an anchor—or a shackle. Stu laughs. Full-bodied, wild. He tosses the mask aside, like it’s a party trick.  “We owe you a little appreciation, darling. You did us a big favor.” Stu comments, still cackling. Your breath catches.

“No,” you whisper. “No, you’re lying.” Billy’s expression doesn’t change.

“If I were lying,” he says calmly, “would you still be sitting here?”

You shake your head. “You saved me. You—he had the knife—”

“You think it’s that hard to stage a fight?” Stu cuts in, grinning. “God, you’re cute.” You pull away from Billy’s hand. This time, he lets you.

“You used me,” you say, voice breaking on the words. “You planned this. The break-in. The timing. All of it.”

“Not all of it,” Billy says. “The lying part? That was a surprise. But a welcome one.”

Your hands start to tremble again. You push up from the couch on instinct, needing distance, needing air, but your knees buckle from the lingering adrenaline. You catch yourself on the edge of the coffee table.

Stu’s beside you before you can move. “Careful, princess. That head’s still ringing, huh? You hit it pretty hard.” Another laugh.

“Don’t touch me,” you snap, shoving him back—he stumbles, but it’s theatrical. He’s laughing before he even regains balance.

“I knew she had claws,” Stu grins. Billy rises slower. Methodical. Controlled.

“You can scream if you want to,” he says, voice almost soft. “Your neighbors won’t hear you. But I don’t think you will.”

Your heart pounds like a drum against your ribs. “What do you want from me?”

Billy doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps closer, eyes locked on yours—not a threat, not a taunt. Just steady. Focused.

“We want you to stop pretending you don’t already know.”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he cuts in. “You noticed the glances. The way we lingered. You liked it. You just didn’t know what to do with it.” You don’t deny it. Not fast enough.

Stu moves again, behind you this time. Not touching—but close enough that you feel the pull. “You ever wonder why we picked your house?” he says, breath ghosting over your shoulder. “Why we wanted you to be the one we saved?”

“You could’ve killed me.”

“But we didn’t,” Billy says.

“We wouldn’t,” Stu adds.

Your throat tightens. “You can’t expect me to be okay with this.”

Billy reaches out slowly, brushes a thumb under your eye. “We don’t want you to be okay. We want you to understand.”

“Understand what?” you breathe.

“That you’re ours now.” There’s a long silence.

Something inside you coils, ready to snap. Your mind screams to run, to fight, to do something—but your body stays frozen. And worse? Part of you wants to believe him. Wants to believe them. Because the truth is, ever since the encounter—ever since the lights went out and the door refused to open—nothing has felt as real as this moment. Not the police, not your parents’ concerned stares, not the fluorescent interrogation lights.

Just this. Them. The space between you and the question you’re terrified to answer.

You should resist. You should scream.

Instead, you whisper, “Then show me. Show me that you won’t hurt me.”

Billy’s smile curves slow and sharp, like a match catching fire.

Stu exhales a low, delighted laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” That’s all the confirmation they need. They’re on you in an instant.

Stu grabs you by the neck, your breath hitching sharply as his lips crash against yours—soft, but greedy in their movements, like he’s been starving for this. His grip is firm, bordering on possessive.

Billy is just as fast. His hands start at your hips, grounding you, then slip beneath your hoodie—fingers tracing up your sides with practiced ease, dragging goosebumps in their wake.

END OF PART ONE~ Comment/repost if you want more! :)

@aghostlywhisper @stanseventeen

[what-have-i-unleashed]

manual on maintaining your plants

i love doomed dustard can you tell....... especially canon doomed dustard of someone else's 'verse teehee :3

loveverse belongs to @peach-flavored-cyanide thank you for letting me write doomed cymur into existence <3

While cypress vine technically only lasts one season, its self-seeding ability allows it to regrow year after year without much intervention.

*

The jacket hangs on you, limp, threadbare, a patchwork of days and months teetering into years – years of repeating the same thing again and again expecting something else to change. But you never get used to it.

The seasons change in this place. Thick humidity in the summer, brittle frost in the winter. Yet, despite the stark differences, they all feel the same to you. You always feel cold.

You sit on the back porch, flicking a cigarette between your stiff fingers. The ember flares, dancing close to the worn fabric of your sleeves. The taste burns, and it’s not the same brand Cypress used to smoke. Close, but never close enough. Warm, but never sustaining.

You exhale. The smoke curls-

*

-mixing with your frigid breath in the chilly air. The snow had stopped falling, covering the ground in vast white. You sat, half-submerged in the layer of snow, back pressed against a tree, head heavy. It was cold, relentlessly so. You were used to it.

Cypress found you easily enough. “Dumbass,” he muttered, his breath warm with tobacco. “You’re just gonna sit there and freeze to death?”

You didn’t pull away when he draped his jacket over you, slightly oversized and way bulkier than your own. It smelled of cigarette, of grease, of coal – something real, something worn-in, something his.

(Smelled of death.)

His arm was a solid weight around your shoulders as he lifted you up. You felt the steady rise and fall of his ribcage against you as he grumbled about the cold, about your terrible luck, about how you needed to find a better way to live than this. Despite your cold, he didn’t pull away. And you savored the warmth so rarely given.

It always felt less cold with him around.

*

Cypress vine needs full sun to bloom. It can withstand extreme heats but will quickly wither in cold temperatures.

*

Cypress had always liked booze and cigarettes. Simple vices. Simple indulgences. You both shared the same inclinations for recreation, and it was easy to bond over them.

So many memories. Hazy. Broken. Mismatched.

A laugh here. A voice there.

You remember tilting a bottle of something between you. It was a dare, you think. The burn in your throat was hot, and Cypress�� resounding chuckles rang in your skull accompanied with drags of smoke.

“Fucking lightweight,” he laughed, watching you cough through another shot. “Maybe if you ate more, this shit wouldn’t be so bad on your nonexistent stomach.”

Cypress had always been strange like that, caring about a nobody like you. It made something in you itch – a hunger you hadn’t felt in so long. You never acted upon it, just observing, recording, memorizing everything you could have.

The nights were long, filled with half-thought plans and dreams neither of you fully believed in – or at least you hoped so. Cypress was there, and you let yourself get drunk off more than just the cheap liquor. The warmth, the company – it had all been so intoxicating.

And you realized, he had somehow become another vice of yours.

*

You barely touch alcohol anymore. You miss it, like an itch you cannot scratch, a hunger you cannot sate. Yet, you fear. That if you let the burn flow down your throat, it won’t stay. The warmth will die out too fast, swallowed by the coldness that refuse to go away.

You keep smoking, already pulling out another cigarette to savor right after you finish this one. You keep your eyes forward, looking at the garden that has become the latest passion project of your boss. So many species, and yet there is no cypress vine in this lustrous garden. A shift behind you. A presence. Unspoken but heavy. You don’t turn around. You ignore the burning gaze at the back of your neck. If you speak, if you look back, they’ll drag you back inside. Tell you you’ve had enough.

But it’s never enough.

It will never be.

*

Cypress vine poses a moderate threat of toxicity to humans and some other animals. It is also considered an invasive weed in some regions. If they latch on other plants accidentally, they could overtake them.

Deheading the flowers will prevent seed production and spread.

*

You should have known how this thing would end.

*

“Ya know?” Cypress mused as he looked at your ragged frame one fateful day. It had been a while since you last met. You had been busy with your new situation, and he- You didn’t know what he had been up to. You never knew, but the uncertainty never ate at you like you thought it would. “We should go somewhere warm. A tropical resort. Bet you’d like that.”

You snorted, an ugly sound. “Ia wouldn’t like that.”

“Well, respectfully, fuck them.” He gave you a look that you couldn’t really decipher. His head hang low, the soft candlelit lights in the bar catching the shadows on his face. “What do you want – that’s the only thing that matters here.”

“I don’t care.”

“Uh yeah, you do. You just don’t know yet.”

(You don’t remember how the conversation continued, only memories of affect, slowly melting away through the cracks of your hands. You remember arguing with him. You remember telling him the false reassurances and promises. You remember holding onto his jacket, never relenting your death grip. You remember saying as long as he was here, it didn’t matter where you would go.

You remember your fabulations, your degraded recollection, your shameful wishful thoughts. You don’t remember how this last meal with him went. You’re glad. You’re so glad.)

*

You remember his dust spreading over you, a cold land where the flowers of his namesake will never grow again.

*

Summer without you is as cold as winter. Winter without you is even colder.

- Lemony Snicket

p.s: cypress vine info and care instructions taken from the spruce

[jazzy-art-time]

THEY HAVE ARRIVED AND I AM SOOOO HAPPY YIPPEE A YAHOOO!!!

my phone is NOT doing the colors justice at all. I promise they are much better in person. I sadly do not have Proper Influencer Lighting or Display space, so the wall by a ceiling fan will have to do!

I'm sooo happy with these and how they came out!! I will 100% getting more in the future, including keychains and stuff heehoo SOME RAMBLES ABOUT THEM BELOW/MY EXPERIENCE ORDERING THEM:

I am not a sponsored influencer but I'll speak my best!!

Where did I get these done?: Wooacry! I saw some other artists recommending this website due to affordable prices and the fact that you do not have to order in bulk! This website does a LOT of different things from stickers to photocards to a million different standees to metal coins etc etc! The website is also Anti-AI image and Text so that is a bonus

I will say the process of getting these done was surprisingly easy. The website has a very clear and easy to understand upload system. I am very bad at understanding formatting to these things but it was shockingly easy. They also have many tutorials on how to upload/how to format so there was plenty of steps shown It was really nice! They also use RGB coloring instead of CMYK, in case anyone was wondering! I hate fighting with cmyk coloring filters so that was nice for me lmao I paid $24.93 USD for these (including shipping) They were around 8 dollars each on their own. They had 3 shipping options: standard fast (<- this is the one I chose, which was around 8 dollars) fastest

The standee's ARE see through, not entirely but it is a thing To be fair... its.. clear plastic. I would anticipate that no matter what I was advised by a friend to use a basic background/single color instead of doing anything major on the back. So I did! Honestly I don't personally mind it that much? I do not care about the back of a standee they are facing towards me anyways. but also the website does put a disclaimer about them being see through in certain light. So there is that! In some light it is more noticeable than in others, depends on how bright and direct the light is! But again.. this isn't a issue for me as they are going to be facing me on my desk by a wall

The base for the standee I did NOT make myself, they had a LOT of cool premade ones for you to choose from! And also the option to make your own... I chose the premade one just to be easy.

They came packaged very well and safe. Proper bubble wrap was in place and each piece of the standee had front and back plastic protectors (the ones that you peel off) So they arrived very safe and in perfect condition for me!

As for how long they took to get to me?: 21 Days* I can't honestly complain about the shipping/how long they took. I had unfortunately ordered during a special Chinese New Year week, where they did state things would be delayed due to the holiday. As well as there was a snow storm in my area so they took longer due to that as well So I can't actually complain about shipping or anything? I would have to place another order to see "Normal" shipping/production time.

OVERALL... They were surprisingly cheap The plastic is nice n thick The website was easy to use They came neatly and safely packaged With this order I had zero problems! Which is great 4 me! I will 100% be ordering more when I get the chance! I am so over the moon to have like... physical "merch" of my own OCs. Almost cried because I am a big baby.

If I ever order more stuff I will... I WILL be posting them lmao

[notsogoodphotographer]

Hi i want to talk about my all time favorite camera 📸

pls ignore all my grammar mistakes, i’m not professional reviewer 😂 i just wanna talk about this camera.

This is the Sony RX1Rii, this is the third and “most recent” version of this camera. i put “most recent” in quotes because this camera is almost 10 years old. don’t like the old age fool you because this camera can keep up with the newest cameras in its niche.

This little point and shoot sports a 42mp full frame sensor. YES, F U L L F R A M E!! This tiny camera is actually smaller than all the x100 series (minus the lens on it). The camera has an incredibly sharp Zeiss Sonnar 35mm f2 glued to. This camera has 399 af points, with eye AF. The camera is incredibly fast and accurate!! the camera is pretty much a tiny packaged Sony A7Rii!

One of my favorite features of this camera is the pop-up EVF! This is a feature that was added to only this version of the camera and it’s a feature that i wish sony continued to incorporate into some of their other smaller cameras like the A7c or a6k series!

The camera does shoot video up to 1080 120fps, but does not have picture profiles such has S-log or HLG. This was a camera made strictly for photos, which is probably for the best because the battery life on this camera is terrible, any kind of prolong video shooting would absolutely burn through these batteries in minutes.

That brings me to my next point, my cons. There’s not many but i figured i’d point them out anyways for those who are interested in this camera. these aren’t make it or break it cons, these are just issues that hinder it from being the greatest camera ever released (IMO)

1) battery life, i believe it’s rated for like 220 shots. Ive definitely gotten it to last twice than that. That tiny body processing all that data on some of the tiniest batteries makes sense why it’s so bad. Luckily batteries are cheap and like i said they’re tiny, so they’re pretty easy to carry around!

2) no picture profiles in video. i know i touched on it briefly up above and this camera is mainly a photo camera AAAAAND hybrid cameras were just beginning to grow in popularity around the time this camera came out but it would’ve been amazing to have s-log in this camera for little snippets here and there. i know at the time IG and other photo sharing apps were mainly photo sharing apps, and a camera that was built strictly for photo has no business having usable picture profiles in video.

3) no crop mode in RAW. this one is weird to me because i know the A7Rii has an APS-C mode where you can shoot RAW photos with an inbody crop and there’s times that i’d love to shoot something at 50mm (35mm + sony’s 1.5x aps-c crop). there is a digital zoom option but that’s for jpg only.

4) PRICE!!!! why the fuck is this camera still being sold for $3200??!! this is a 10 year old camera with outdated tech. i bought mine used for $1900 (which is about the price of the fuji x100V at the time of purchase) and i still think that’s a little too much.

that’s really about it aside from minor complaints of not having tele/ wide converters. i’m also sure all of those cons stem from the small battery. I’d love to see all of these corrected in a Mk3 one day, but as of a couple weeks ago sony just discontinued the Rx1rii’s production. I’m being a little hopeful but maybe that means we’re getting a successor, i doubt it but a boy can dream.

I don’t really do reviews or anything but this camera has had my heart for the past 9 months so i had to show it off/ talk about it. this to me in the perfect everyday camera. it never leaves my side and comes with me to any and every trip! Im always blown away by the photos i create with this little camera and i know whenever a mk3 comes out im going to hop on the chance to buy on immediately!

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

So for those of you who don't follow Magic news and want to hear about something funny, I have a story to tell for you. The biggest format in Magic (for better or for worse) is Commander, a predominantly casual 100 card Highlander format that is played in pods of 4. There is also a Commander Rules Committee, who governs what the rules of Commander are as well as the Commander banlist. Importantly, the Commander banlist is designed for a casual focus in mind, and also in general is pretty bad and no one really likes it. There's a whole different post about cards like Stasis and Armageddon which are considered _soft_ banned through community consensus but not hard banned through the banlist.

Recently, they announced the bannings of four cards from the format: Jeweled Lotus, Dockside Extortionist, Mana Crypt, and Nadu, Winged Wisdom. Nadu is not the discussion point of today, but rather the first three cards, cards which are often under the group of cards called "Fast Mana". Fast Mana generally refers to cards that are extremely cheap to play and give you more mana than you put into them to play. It includes the above cards but also includes cards like Sol Ring, Lotus Petal, and Mox Opal/Diamond. Fast mana is one of the hallmarks of high-powered casual Commander pods, as well as cEDH, the competitively focused niche unofficial format of Commander. Dockside Extortionist also had the additional factor of causing a number of easy to do infinite loops involving a ton of different cards to make infinite mana.

These cards were always questionable, but have become more and more powerful recently as more and more powerful Commanders have come out in the 4-6 mana slot. The ability to drop a Commander such as Winota or Go-Shintai of Life's Origin on early turns can very easily result in snowball wins where it becomes impossible for the other players at the table to react in time. This reasoning for banning them is reasonable but not exactly bulletproof either, since Jeweled Lotus is generally better for Commanders who are only one or two colors.

Much more importantly to our story though, these cards were pricy. They were seen by many as staples of the format, especially if you wanted your Commander deck to be as strong as possible. Jeweled Lotus and Dockside Extortionist frequently were in the $80-$100 range as cards, while Mana Crypt was at its cheapest somewhere around $150-180. A chase version of these cards could go for $300-500. Pricy! While these cards were seen by many as staples, they also created this weird pay to win atmosphere, where these cards were super expensive but extremely powerful. Proxying, where you use an obviously fake card as a representation of a game piece, isn't universally accepted among Magic players either, often by the same very cranky people as we're going to be talking about. It is much more common in the cEDH community where deck prices tend to be in the tens of thousands of dollars.

So, what happened about the bannings that made people so upset? Well, the prices of these cards crashed. It is worth noting why. Mana Crypt is only legal in two formats: Vintage, where it is restricted to one copy, and Commander. Commander ends up being the primary home for the card, because Vintage is SO overwhelmingly expensive and proxy hostile that tons of people are priced out of the format in paper (it is significantly cheaper on Magic Online). Dockside Extortionist is playable in Legacy, Vintage, and Commander, but was only good in Commander, since in 60 cards 1v1 formats its hard for Dockside to generate enough mana to go infinite or make big swings in mana. Jeweled Lotus was basically only playable in Commander, since it doesn't serve a particularly useful function when you don't have a commander. It could see very fringe play in Legacy but it is probably not worth it.

So the removal of these cards from their primary spheres of play have caused the prices of these cards to utterly crash, their value now only kept up by their general scarcity. Dockside Extortionist is currently going for about $25, Jeweled Lotus for about $45, and Mana Crypt for about $90. They're still valuable cards, but their value no longer has promise of going to the moon anymore. They will simply be reasonable expensive and probably never reasonably appreciate in value again. This has made a bunch of people who had no intentions of ever selling their speculative card pieces very angry. Several of these very angry people have decided to hurl accusations that the Commander RC was insider trading, making the frankly hilarious assumption that Magic the Gathering cards are in some way equivalent to stocks. Many people have made the claim they will quit the game over this, but in the kind of way where it's pretty obvious they won't actually do that and will just take the cards out of their decks and keep showing up at their LGS.

It is very funny to make fun of these people, and to be quite frank, we should. This example is a pretty good one in how collectors and financial speculators are pretty much poison to card games as a whole. Most of the people complaining did not have actual money that they lost. They never intended to cash out their gains at any point. It's all theoretical money, practically monopoly bucks. They had, in reality where we all live, spent $80 on a game piece. They made a purchase, they did not make an investment. I spent $60 a piece on a playset of Infinite Impermanence to prepare for a tournament that was cancelled due to the LGS being incompetent. We all make these Ls in our time as card game players.

I will never make profit on my Flames of Destruction Secret Rare Infinite Impermanences. Ever. Konami has reprinted Infinite Impermanence several times in the interests of making the game more accessible to players. This is the key thing. Bannings and reprints are market forces if you're being a particular kind of twit like anything else. You should not just expect that your pricy pieces of cardboard are untouchable. Bannings and reprintings are often done for the interests in making a format more accessible to other players. I do think that the bannings in Commander do that on some level, because Commander is not just played in pre-negotiated pods. Having a non-game because someone opened a fast mana piece and sped ahead of the entire table sucks, strictly speaking. Your cards will lose secondary value, because the primary goal of the Commander RC, and to be quite frank, Wizards of the Coast as a whole, is to make sure the game is accessible to the most players possible. Reprints and bannings are tools for that function, and frankly, I think Wizards has been using them wrong for over two decades at this point. They've ceded a lot of ground to collectors and financial investors, and it has resulted in entire formats that are basically unplayable to the average person. Modern is now very frequently a $900-$1200 format. Legacy decks run at price tags of several thousand dollars, and Vintage decks can run from $20,000-60,000 dollars. All because the price of Black Lotus must keep going up, and there are many, many cards in Magic where this is the case. These people are, to be blunt, parasites who can and will suck a game dry. If this offends you, please do some soul searching. The thing that keeps a game alive is its players, not your tens of thousands of dollars of cardboard game pieces sitting in a cabinet never to be sold or played with again.

The only people who have a reasonable claim to being upset are cEDH players, as these pieces were a part of the meta and their loss will be felt. Frankly, I don't think cEDH should be governed by a Rules Committee that on its face does not make decisions in the interests of cEDH. cEDH is still fringe compared to the casual Commander pool, and they should not be governing policy for players who do not play the same format as them. Likewise, the RC should not be governing them either. This would be a good incentive as any to finally make the split imo.

oh and trust me im tagging this bitch lmao

(Also, the allusions to NFT language in this post are intentional! These are basically one step removed from NFTs.)

[adoptayansavealife]

(Broke) Yandere Profile: Introduction　

Jebediah

TW: stalking, violence

Yandere Type

Mental Clarity: Lucid

Jebediah is completely aware of your flaws. He sees them clearly and loves them all the same. He doesn't think of you as some kind of god or higher being. He very much sees you as an equal. Although this does have its limitations, especially when it comes to matters of intelligence or what he thinks is good for you.

As he isn't completely delusional, Jebediah is aware that his actions are possibly maybe a tad bit morally wrong and also illegal. However, legality does little to deter him. He just knows that if he doesn't get caught, he'll be fine.

He also knows that the police rarely take stalking allegations seriously without proof and he will absolutely use that to his advantage.

Method: Stalking

Jebediah full on quit his internship so that he could... check on you more. He's not delusional - he knows you're not really in danger or need his protection. No, he does it because he just likes, well, watching you. At work. At the grocery store. At the gym. And making sure other men don't get close to you.

He literally follows you everywhere in his beater car. Much to his chagrin, his car is not only very old and clunky, but also very loud. It is the opposite of sneaky and also super lame in his opinion. He will try to hide his car from you out of shame.

He hid a tracking device under the seat of your car and in the seams of your favorite backpack/purse/fanny pack. Also, in your phone, just because it was fairly easy to do.

Jebediah actually did this very soon after meeting you for the first time.

It took him a little longer to take the step to install cameras in your house when you weren't home and tap into the security camera systems at your work. A few weeks maybe. He's definitely the fall hard and fast type.

Trait: Broke

Now, let's be honest here, hidden cameras and tracking devices are NOT cheap.

He actually had a nice-ish car originally. However, he was following you home one day and you slammed on your brakes to avoid hitting a deer and he would rather die than hit and potentially kill you, so he swerved off the road and totaled his car.

Jebediah thought it was really sweet when you ran off the road to where his car had crashed to make sure he was okay. However, Jebediah refused to have you two 'officially' meet like that. After all, that would make him look 1) desperate and 2) like a horrible driver. So, after crashing into the ditch and miraculously not suffering any injuries, he knew he just had to book it before his benevolent darling began frantically searching for him. He waited for the cops to tell you to leave before coming out and telling the officers that he thought the car was going to blow up and ran to safety.

However, he quickly realized that the cost to repair his car was wayyy out of his budget. He didn't have an income coming in anymore and he was burning through savings. Those cameras and trackers were expensive after all, and his bank account was paying the price (literally). Moreso, because he followed you so much, he pretty much had to decide between takeout and starving.

Also, it didn't help that he was paying your rent. He just told the landlord that he was an uncle of yours who was taking care of his favorite niece, which worked somehow.

So, he found a lemon car on Craigslist for like 1200 dollars. The seat belt doesn't work, there are no airbags, the passenger window only rolls up 3/4 of the way, and the speedometer's stuck at 40 mph.

He barely keeps it running with pure willpower.

Jebediah's house isn't much better. It's really just a single room he's renting in a communal house that he shares with like five other dudes. A total bachelor pad is absolutely not the kind of place he wants you to know he lives in.

His room consists of a mini fridge, a single dining chair, an air mattress, two blankets, and a deflated pillow. Oh yeah, and a lot of pictures of you that he's stuck on the walls. He's that kind of yandere.

Trait: Voyeur

At first, Jebediah was content with discreetly watching you through cameras and windows. But, as time passed, he began getting...restless.

He's very careful - he knows you're smart. So, he sticks to only sneaking in your house when you're asleep or away.

It's almost depressingly easy to slip in through an open window that you forgot to lock.

At first, Jebediah was ashamed. It was one thing to watch you through cameras, but in person was another thing entirely. But you, you were just too intoxicating to resist. The smell of your clothes and your room, and the way your chest rises and falls so softly. The way you twitch as you dream; it was addicting to watch you sleep. He couldn't look away.

You were just so delicate, so... Vulnerable. You were stupid to leave the window open. Don't you understand how easily someone could slip in and take advantage of you??? You're lucky he's here every night to make sure that doesn't happen. You should honestly be grateful.

Jebediah likes to... check on the house while you're at work. He's got to make sure the cameras are working. And steal your underwear clothes.

It was an impulse the first time, but now it's a routine. After all, he only takes clothes that are already dirty. You never notice them missing from the laundry hamper. And he washes them for you he can barely afford the laundromat btw, because he's a considerate man.

Recently, while you were at work and he was roaming around your apartment, he actually found out that you have an attic. You never use it because it creeps you out and so, it's gone untouched.

Sure, they're spiders and cobwebs but it's pretty much an upgrade from his room. And if he moved in, he wouldn't have to worry about sneaking in anymore or paying rent. I mean he's already paying your rent, so it's practically his place too!

But Jebediah isn't desperate enough to take that step yet. Living in your attic would be pretty much one of the creepiest things he could do, and he is very aware of that. So, he refrains. For now.

Trait: Image-Conscious

As you've probably grasped, Jebediah is very aware and concerned with what his darling thinks of him.

He doesn't show it. He's a very confident person besides matters relating to you and doesn't really care what people think of him. He's satisfied with his intelligence and looks.

However, with you, it's different. He's obsessed with officially meeting you in the most perfect way possible. He wants to make the best impression, so you immediately like him. As such, he's compiling all your likes and dislikes. He's not the kind to change himself for a darling, but he will try to emphasize the likable aspects of himself as much as possible and minimize any flaws he has.

His car, living conditions, and general economic status are all a source of shame for him. In a way, he's very delusional about this. It doesn't matter to him if you are also broke, he's obsessed with the idea of being the ideal man and in his mind, that means he has to have money.

Jebediah knows he could make a lot of money with a job as an electrical engineer, but the thought of leaving you alone, the thought of you meeting someone else makes such a career impossible.

Jealousy Level (6/10)

Jebediah has never been the jealous type. He's had a few partners in the past, but they were never anything more serious than a few dates and a kiss or two. It wasn't that he didn't have people interested in him, he just lacked much of an interest in romance. Until you.

Most yanderes are jealous to a point, and Jebediah is no different.

However, as a lucid yandere, Jebediah isn't fully blinded by jealousy. He is able to recognize who is a threat to your relationship and who isn't. As such, the times he'll act on jealousy are when he actually thinks the man stands a shot. Or when he's feeling insecure. Then his emotions get the best of him, and he'll act irrationally.

Jebediah doesn't mind when you hang out with your friends. He's' glad you have friends that care about you and he enjoys seeing you have fun. Naturally, he'd prefer if you hung out with him, but you haven't met him yet, so he understands that. If they're bad friends however, that's another story.

If a man talks to you, he won't lose his mind and throw him off a cliff. But if a man were to start showing interest in you, much less consider asking you out - then he'd definitely get involved.

Violence Level (6/10)

Take George for instance. He was interested in you, but never had the courage to ask you on a date. George was an average guy with average looks and average intelligence and an average amount of money. Jebediah knew that you'd never date George and that George would never ask you out. So, Jebediah just taught him a lesson and went on his way.

However, Jessie, the egotistical 'playboy' of the friend group who asked you out for coffee - yeah, he needed to die. So, he dragged him behind his car for a mile. He's a careful man of course, so he picked a forest service road where no one would hear him scream.

Everyone say thank you to @22yroldicon for Jebediah's name!

This ended up being really long but oh well what can you do

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Midnight Masquerade - Fives

Summary: The bottle lands on Fives.

Chapter Warnings: minors DNI; incubus!Fives x f!reader. kinks: edging + double penetration. slight instance of anxiety, seduction (though lbr, it doesn't take much from Fives), alcohol, oral (f receiving), Fives loves to eat pussy, orgasm denial, unprotected PiV sex (cloak before you stroke), creampie, if I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 2.9k

Read the intro here! | Suggested listening

...Fives.

The other troopers at the table cheer. Eyelashes fluttering, you glance up at Fives. Heat blooms under your skin at the grin that tugs at the corners of his lips. Rising from your seat, you chuckle as he trips over himself getting away from the table, but the brief moment of levity does little to quell the sudden rising tide of nerves in your stomach. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you haven’t thought about Fives before. Of all the troopers at your table tonight, he is probably the one you’re most comfortable around, aside from Rex—but that level of familiarity is exactly what’s causing you to second-guess yourself now.

Fives’s easy grin smooths into a smirk as he slips his arm around you, hand ghosting over your lower back. You allow yourself to be led deeper into the party. As you brush past myriad other clones, in various states of costume and transformation, something brushes up into your hand. 

You jerk your hand up, eyes wide. A deep blue, nearly black, pointed tail wraps around you from behind, a leathery texture to it. Spinning as you walk, you trace the writhing appendage to its owner. 

Fives quirks an eyebrow down at you. “Hope you don’t mind if I flex my new body, mesh’la.”

“Course not,” you say, maybe a little too fast. Kark, yeah, you’re in over your head. Taking a steadying breath, you glance around at where Fives is leading you, but the fog machines have done their jobs a little too well. Anything ten or so feet past your nose is obscured.

Kriff, what are you doing? In the strobing lights, small, pointed horns gleam where they protrude from Fives’s forehead. He doesn’t touch you with his tail again, but you can nearly feel its presence undulating behind you. Through it all, his palm remains on your back, a gentle pressure, but one that your flailing brain latches onto. 

“I need a drink,” you gasp.

Tearing yourself away from him, you shove through the crowd in the direction you remember seeing the bar before. Breath coming in shorter bursts, you have to hold the rising tide of panic at bay in your chest. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before the crowd breaks and you stumble into open space. The bar stretches before you. Bottles of every kind of alcohol imaginable line the shelves of the wall behind it. 

Several clones already sit on the barstools. As you approach, a few of them receive their drinks and disappear back into the crowd. You sink gratefully onto one of the padded stools. 

The bartender, a nat-born man with short brown hair and a sympathetic smile, approaches. “What’ll it be?” 

“Something strong and cheap,” you say. 

He chuckles. “It’s on the house. Doesn’t have to be cheap.” 

“Fine,” you sigh. “Something strong and not cheap.” 

With a wink, he departs, grabbing a bottle of amber liquid off of one of the middle shelves. You focus on the bartender’s movements as he plucks a clean glass, unstoppers the bottle, and pours your drink. Even when you feel a familiar presence settle onto the stool next to you, you keep your gaze on the bartender until he deposits the requested strong, not cheap drink in front of you. 

Next to you, Fives waves away the barkeep. He remains silent as you down the drink, grimacing at the burn as it slides down your throat and settles in your stomach.

“I’m sorry—” you both say at the same time. 

Smiling despite yourself, you glance at him. His expression is downcast, abashed, and even with the horns, he’s just Fives. You know him. 

“You first,” he says, dark eyes meeting yours. 

“No, please, go ahead.” You turn to face him. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “I’m sorry if I came across too forward.” 

“To be fair, I did ask to know what a monster fucks like,” you say. 

“And those poor olives.” 

You laugh, nerves settling into a manageable simmer. “That, too.” 

He hums, his eyes searching your expression. For what, you’re not sure. He says, “Be that as it may, mesh’la. We’ll do whatever you want. Wanna sit here and get plastered? I’m here for it.”

Eyes fluttering, you smile at him shyly. “Thanks, Fives. I guess I just—I dunno. We’re friends, right? So I just got a little freaked out by the idea of...”

“Sleeping with your most attractive best friend?” he finishes, a self-satisfied, smug smirk twisting his face. But there’s a hint of something else in his expression, something more vulnerable. 

You must be imagining it. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Something like that.” 

You take another swig of the drink. There’s more that you want to say, more to what you’re feeling. You want to tell him that it freaked you out because you’ve imagined him in certain scenarios before. What he’d look like drunk on your kisses rather than alcohol. Whether he’d be gentle or rough, and what sounds he’d make when—

Clamping down on that thought, you cast your gaze to the wooden grain of the bar.

Fives gently places a finger under your chin and tips your face up to meet his gaze once more. Your lips part in surprise. He’s close—not so close as to completely undermine his previous affirmation of your boundaries, but closer than you’ve been to him before. Has he always had that freckle by his right eye? 

“Wanna know a secret?” he asks, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the thumping music. 

Nodding, you find you can’t speak.

“I’m a little freaked out, too,” he says. 

“Oh?” Smooth. Real smooth. 

He hums, letting his hand fall back to his lap. “They weren’t kidding about this potion. I can feel...so many new things. Everyone’s energy. Do you know what I dressed up as, mesh’la?” 

You shake your head, surveying his horns and gently curving tail once again. 

“An incubus,” he admits, voice dropping lower. You shiver as it washes over you. “A sex demon. What are the odds?”

“Must be pretty good,” you say. “You should play the lottery.” 

He laughs, white teeth flashing in the lights. Kriff, has he always been this pretty? “If only clones were allowed.”

“Then I’ll get it for you,” you say. “And you just tell me the numbers to play.”

Tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, he looks up at you through his eyelashes. In your chest, your heart does this weird tap dance where it both skips several beats and charges through several extra ones simultaneously. The knowledge of his costume should make you feel even more wigged out, but instead, you find a warmth sparking in your core. You feel a little light-headed, but the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing worth looking at, makes you preen. 

You suppose he’s always looked at you like that, because you know for damn sure that’s how you look at him. And in that moment, you make up your mind.

“Fives?” you say, scooting closer to him on your stool. 

He smiles at you. “Yes, darling?”

“Kiss me.” 

Shock flits over his face, followed closely by a smirk. “Are you sure?” 

You nod, resting one hand on his thigh, the other dipping down to lightly ghost over the spike of his tail. He shudders. 

“Kriff, yeah, okay, mesh’la.” He spins his seat to face you. One hand sliding up your leg, his other cups your face and gently tugs you forward. Your lips meet in a chaste, close-mouthed kiss, his beard rubbing lightly against your face. Heart pounding, you pull back. You can’t stop the broad smile that breaks over your face.

He looks at you like you hung the stars. “Can we—?”

“Yes.” You surge forward and claim his lips in a much more heated kiss, mouths moving against one another fervently. You feel rather than hear the groan that escapes him; tingles cascade down your spine at the sensation. His hand on your leg squeezes the meat of your thigh, sending a delicious jolt of pleasure to your heated core. 

A voice forces you to break apart, panting. The bartender fixes you both with a quietly amused look. “There are rooms in the back.”

With a curt, grateful nod, you and Fives both hop off your stools and nearly race each other to the promised doorway. Through it, you find a hallway, which itself leads to numerous other doors. Fives picks one at random. Inside, you gasp; a large, fluffy bed sits under a gauzy canopy lit with twinkle lights. The faint scent of vanilla fills the room, chasing away the faux-sweetness of the fog machines.

Fives’s mouth is back on yours as soon as the door is shut. The two of you help one another undress, clumsy hands getting in each other’s way or tangled in pieces of clothing, making you giggle. But eventually, naked and panting, you press your body against his. Toned muscles flex under his tanned skin, all hard planes to your soft edges. You groan. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, cradling your head to move you exactly where he wants you.

You smooth your hands down his back, relishing in the way the muscles there ripple under your touch. His ass is both firm and squishy; you can’t resist squeezing, earning you a deep groan. Palming his butt in one hand, you reach with tentative fingers towards the base of his tail. He jolts when you brush against it. 

“K-Kriff,” he gasps against your lips. A line of saliva connects your mouths together. For a moment, you remain there, breathing in each other’s breath. Your gentle touch explores the leathery, twisting appendage of his tail. Goosebumps raise all over his skin as you do. 

“Sensitive?” you murmur. 

He nods. Dipping his head, his lips leave a slick trail over your skin where he lowers to kiss the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You gasp at the sensation, core clenching around nothing.

An idea pops into your head. Keeping your hand on his tail, thumb caressing over the pointed tip, you snake your other hand between your bodies and wrap your fingers around his hard, leaking cock. He’s hot and heavy in both of your hands; his length is velvet smooth, where his tail is supple and rough. Fives keens against your throat as you stroke both lengths in tandem. 

“I’m supposed to be th-the sex fiend here,” he pants into your skin. 

You chuckle. “Better get to it then, Fives.”

Your words seem to flip a switch in him. In an instant, he snatches you up from your feet and carries you to the bed, where he deposits you unceremoniously. You flop with a giggle, the mattress plush and soft—but you don’t have long to relish in the pillowy comfort, as Fives’s hot and wet mouth closes around your neglected and aching cunt. Hands shooting to his hair, you grip at the tight curls, your thighs threatening to close around his head. 

His growl reverberates through you as his hands pin your legs open. When you crane your head to meet his eyes, they are dark, pupils blown, as he licks circles around your clit. The coarse hair of his beard burns deliciously against your slick skin. Tugging on his hair, you moan, pussy fluttering. 

“F-Fives,” you pant. “Please. Wanna cum on your tongue.”

You can feel his grin against your skin. He redoubles his efforts, mouth never leaving you for an instant. Kark, he looks so good between your thighs, and the slurping sounds he makes are absolutely sinful. The molten cord of pleasure in your lower belly pulls tighter, tighter, tighter. 

“Gonna—” You groan, tossing your head back, nails digging into his scalp. 

But then he pulls away with a wet pop! Your head shoots back up, a cry of anguish falling from your lips.

“You’ll cum when I’m ready for you to, mesh’la,” he says. There’s a growl to his voice, one that wasn’t there before, and you shudder.

He dives back into your pussy like a man parched. Waggling his tongues over your folds, he tastes you for what feels like hours, days, years—the pleasure never stops. In fact, it simply intensifies when he slips two fingers in to curl against your g-spot, finger-fucking you while he sucks on your clit.

You lose track of how many times you almost cum. You’re sobbing, body wracked with pleasurable quivers, as he fully withdraws and sits up on his haunches. His face and neck are absolutely soaked with your juices, and a dangerous, sinful gleam in his eyes tells you he’s not done with you yet. 

“Fives, please,” you gasp out. “Need to cum so bad.”

“I know, mesh’la,” he croons. He tugs you closer by your hips, lining his swollen cock up with your sopping entrance. “I promise you’ll cum for me soon, okay? Just let me take care of you.”

He punctuates the last word by thrusting into your cunt in one, fluid motion. You cry out, body convulsing with the sudden overwhelming sensation of being full. For his part, Fives immediately begins to fuck you, drawing his length out of you before slamming back in, over and over. He slings your legs up over his shoulders, then his hands find purchase on your chest, squeezing the soft flesh there. 

The room reverberates with the wet slap of skin against skin, the squelching of his cock driving deeper into your pussy, and the chorus of your soft moans and his growling groans. In your belly, your orgasm begins to build again, the tight cord fraying and ready to snap at any moment.

“So fucking tight, kriff,” Fives grits out. A single curl has fallen out of place and bounces against his forehead with every thrust. “Stars, can I fuck you with my tail, princess? Hm? Do you wanna have me in both holes?” 

You clench around him, his words very nearly shoving you over the edge of bliss. “Yes, please, Fives, please, give it to me!”

He slows his pace, resting his thumb over your clit. Though he doesn’t move it, the pressure of his thumb keeps you teetering at the edge of shattered bliss. He gathers excess slick from your cunt and spreads it over his tail. 

“Relax for me, darling,” he coos. Then the tip of his tail presses against your other entrance. You try to relax, try to do as he says, but as he gently works his second length through your tight hole, all you want to do is clench around him despite the burning stretch.

A guttural groan punches from him when you do just that. 

“Fuck, mesh’la, do that again and I won’t last.” 

For a moment, you both remain still, breathing heavily through your noses to catch your composure. Fives flashes you the cheeky grin that attracted you to him in the first place, then very slowly draws his tail back. At the same time, he traces tight circles over your clit; when he pushes his tail into you, he slides his hips back, withdrawing his cock from your cunt partway. You’re never empty. The rhythm he settles into is bone-melting, mind-shattering; your throat feels raw from crying your pleasure to the room. 

That molten thread of pleasure snaps taut in your core. Fives senses it, and, unlike before, he continues his ministrations, never letting up. You babble, not making any sense, as his cock drives directly into that spongy spot deep inside you, his tail stretching you in a way that makes your pussy gush. 

“Cum on me, gorgeous,” he mutters. “Cum for me, I know you can do it.”

Your entire body locks up with his words. In your tummy, that cord of tension snaps—and you scream, body spasming. Waves of molten, white-hot pleasure crash through you again, and again, and again, each one in perfect time with the way Fives fucks you through your orgasm. Tears stream down the side of your face, but you find you don’t have it in you to care. All you care about is the blinding, debilitating pleasure centered in your pussy.

A second orgasm rolls through you shortly after the first. “Fi-i-i-ives!”

“Where can I—?” 

“In me!” you plead. “Need your cum!” 

His hard length swells in your spent pussy, and then he’s groaning, body shuddering as he finishes, painting your insides with ropes of hot, white cum. You barely feel it when he slips both lengths from you, body floating on clouds, mind absolutely wrecked. Fives gently sponges away your combined releases with a wet cloth, then settles onto the bed next to you. Pulling you against his body, he rocks you gently back and forth, whispering against your temple. 

“Did so good for me,” he murmurs. “Did so well. Such a good girl, mesh’la. You’re safe, I’m here.” 

Eventually you find enough strength to talk, your voice hoarse. “Fives?” 

“I’m here,” he assures. 

“How do you feel?” you ask. 

He chuckles, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles across your body. “I’ve just fucked you within an inch of your life, and you’re asking how I feel?” 

You can only nod, too tired to feel embarrassed. 

“I feel...amazing,” he admits. “The incubus thing really made that, um, different. I hope I didn’t take too much energy from you, but kriff, I feel strong. Focused.” 

Humming, you let your eyes slide shut. So that explains why you still feel so out of it, beyond the fact that you just came the hardest you’ve ever done in your life. He took your energy; you’re glad to have given it. “Stay with me?” 

“Always,” he says. You think he presses a kiss to your temple, but your body slips into sleep, cradled and safe within Fives’s embrace.

Ragu list: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebell @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @dreamie411 @bobaprint @originalcollectionartistry @imarvelatthestars (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

[osamushka]

in my dreams, always - b.s.

1,6k words

link to prologue

---֍

Chapter one

Within the span of an hour, Xaden made sure Violet was under their direct command.

Command – and protection.

Elide chewed the skin around her fingertips in stress. This was Brennan’s little sister – and the implication of it made her crumble under pressure. If anything happened to Violet –

No. She must make sure that Violet makes it through Threshing safely. And as much as Xaden grumbled under his breath, Violet just became his responsibility, too. Elide wasn’t alone in this.

The thought loosened the pressure building in her chest like a constricting snake to a manageable degree.

“Well,” Elide began, looking over the fresh cadets that have been assigned to Fourth Wing. “At least they look … capable.”

She was, to her best abilities, ignoring Violet’s small frame, the knowledge of just how breakable her bones were from Brennan ringing in her ears and closing her throat. There was a good side to it – Violet was used to pain, was fast and quick-witted. Under right circumstances, she could become the best. It wasn’t all that long ago when Elide was in a similar position, except, she had years of training, even if not that intense, behind her and the intimate knowledge of Basgiath in her small finger.

She ought to thank Brennan for that. He’d taught her every dirty and cheap trick, every clue the college possessed and every possible strategy she could use in any given situation.

Without Brennan, Elide would be dead.

Well, at least before she got herself a dragon and mastered the use of her favorite weapon. Lightly and carefully, as she wasn’t trying to draw blood, she drew her finger over the edges of her two long blades covered in Tyrrish runes. They were longer and thinner than normal daggers, of which she had plenty, with hilts that elongated when applying pressure. Connecting the two hilts made a double-ended staff like weapon, which was much more manageable than a heavy sword.

It was a gift from Brennan and one of her most precious possessions. Elide still remembered the morning he’d gifted them to her – on her birthday. Her cheeks heated as the memory surfaced and she thought maybe the staff wasn’t the only memorable event of that day.

(Hands tightly holding onto hers, whispering her name like it was a prayer, like she was a goddess worth of worship was not so easy to forget.)

Now that she thought about it, Violet wasn’t all that much shorter than Elide – maybe a couple of inches – and could do well with a similar weapon. Sadly, Elide hadn’t seen any like hers at the college’s armoire, so normal daggers will have to do for the moment.

Still, as much as Elide didn’t want to cause any additional stress for her lover, Brennan should know about this. Looking around discreetly, Elide was sure the opening ceremony was about to end – and as soon as she could, she will slip away undetected and visit Brennan in the reverie.

Thank Zihnal for her hidden signet. Or, maybe, for this particular turn of events, Loial should be the one thanked.

“Hmm,” was Xaden’s only reply and Elide startled slightly, too lost in her thoughts. She needed to get a grip. Preferably soon. “We’ll see.”

“It would do the wingleader good to hold a more positive outlook on the situation,” Dea’s calming voice grumbled inside Elide’s mind.

She wholeheartedly agreed.

(Despite the anxiety churning deep in her belly, sinking its claws on her nervous system and not letting go. But … if Violet survives, they have another potentially strong ally on their side.

Of course, if she will take the betrayal of her brother for what it truly was – fighting for the right side and the sacrifices that came along.

Nevertheless, it was much too early to worry about this.)

Elide rolled her eyes towards her best friend. “You say that every year. You do realize we’ll have to …” she hesitated, “guide Violet, right? Not only for Brennan’s sake, and I guess Mira’s, too, but you also made a deal with the general, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Xaden’s jaw clenched with the force of his frustration. “I have it handled.”

Elide didn’t know whether Xaden’s contradictory behavior stemmed from stress, or the fact that the only person he truly trusted was himself, not counting Elide. Deciding to have a more deep conversation, or argument, depending on their thoughts, later, Elide turned her attention to the ceremony. She could sense the shift in the air as the riot drew closer, Dea among them, and feel the terrible shaking of the ground as they landed on the high stone walls of the rider’s quadrant.

And so it began.

---֍

Elide was positively brimming with excitement by the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon and evening rolled around.

Being a third year, not to mention an executive officer, meant Elide was able to retreat to complete privacy of her small, but decorated, room every night. Beside the lock, she had put wards on her room the second she moved it, similar to Xaden’s own.

Elide stepped over the threshold, the feel of old Tyrrish rune magic settling over her like a comforting blanket and an embrace, and lightly shut the door behind her. With a sigh and quick step of her feet, she hung her weapons on the armoire and shimmied out of the uncomfortable flight leathers and undid her unruly braid, opting to dress in comfortable clothes as she massaged her scalp that stung lightly from her hair being pulled all day. Being cozy always helped her relax and let her imagination flow.

All crucial for the proper use of her signet.

Elide’s signet allowed her to be an informant. Though Elide mostly used it for selfish reasons, only, she didn’t spare much grief over it – this was precisely why she developed it, anyway.

The Reverie.

Or daydream, as she lovingly called it. Elide didn’t know of its official name, as there wasn’t mention of it, or anything loosely resembling her gift in any old tome she’d read so far, which led her to believe it was strictly classified.

After all, it was a form of Inntinnsic. Had the higher-ups heard even a whisper of this, she’d been dead years ago. It’s the reason of why only Xaden and Brennan were aware of it, were told about it. The reverie was useful in so many ways that contributed to the rebellion – sneaking information past all security defenses, undetected and unseen. Elide only needed to be wary of possible intruders or onlookers while stepping foot inside the reverie. Otherwise, there was no risk to it.

For her signet to work, first, she had to set the scene. The daydream. First step was easy – there was always a place where she’d rather be than in the rider’s quadrant.

With a soft hum and heart full of anticipation, Elide summoned a quaint room to the front of her memory.

It was a room she shared with Brennan, in the Riorson house, where they both took residence in the aftermath of the rebellion. What started as a sterile, plain room, soon developed into a cozy space full of their trinkets and, most importantly, memories they shared, of whispered promises, heated kisses and lazy touches. Other than riding on Dea’s back, starry sky above her head, the room was Elide’s favorite place. The soft mattress and many blankets piled on top, bookshelves filled with Brennan’s books about potions, medicine, history and tactics intermingling with Elide’s own stories about love and adventure. A window that never fully closed, cracked open to allow fresh wind into their space, the curtain gently flowing along.

The desk on the edge of which Elide banged her hip in heavy haze while Brennan crowded her towards the bed, lust turning the amber of his eyes into molten lava.

Cheeks heating slightly as the memory came to her, Elide proceeded to step two of the ordeal. Summoning someone’s mind, someone’s soul, was usually harder to do – it depended on person’s shield, resistance to unusual signets and mental capacity. With Brennan, it was easy like breathing. He welcomed the brush of her magic into his mind with open arms and accepted it as his own.

Of course, the only other obstacle to her signet was the necessity of the mind she wanted to call upon being awake. Though, with Brennan’s many duties as the Tactician for the rebellion, he never really went to bed before sundown. It worked in Elide’s favor.

Elide felt the familiar presence of Brennan’s soul just at the edge of her fingertips. Yanking the connection like pulling the rope as strong as she could, her mind snapped and splintered until she was standing in their room.

Brennan’s back was facing her – still wearing the same wool shirt he’d had on this morning. It took a few moments for his mind to register the slight change of scenery, of not being grounded by reality. In those precious moments, Elide never tried to talk to him, or touch him. It’d be a jarring experience to force upon him the knowledge that he’d suddenly stepped foot in a place that was not exactly real. Even if Brennan’s mind never offered resistance upon coming here, the first few seconds still felt disorienting, unreal, as if falling asleep and waking up in a lucid dream.

Finally, after what felt like decades, Brennan put down the pen he was using to write a letter and turned around in his chair.

The smile he gifted her burned her like sunlight.

Laughing freely, Elide jumped into his outstretched arms and the kiss Brennan placed upon her lips felt entirely like complete and utter love.

[macabr3-barbi3]

New Love, New Skin (Chapter 7)

one more GoldenVision update before 2025! huge thanks as always to my beloved @fraugwinska for her never ending support and love for these two as I continue to put them through the wringer (and also for the lovely banner she made for me <3)

you can see the playlist I made for this fic and series here!

Vincent has a perfect plan, but every choice has a consequence.

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5 📺 Chapter 6 💛Chapter 7 📺 Chapter 8

March 1961

Vincent knows as soon as he sees it that it’s the one.

He had stopped into the jewelry store on a whim, having to take a different route home than usual because some idiot had wrecked their car down the street he usually took. He hadn’t thought something like a jewelry store could survive in Hell without being robbed on a near daily basis, but the series of guns that he heard cocking as soon as the bell above the door signaled his entrance explained that well enough for him. He had looked over the cases for only a few minutes before he spotted it.

He doesn’t even look at the price when he waves the attendant down, hardly even turning his head to acknowledge the woman in favor of watching the ring, glistening in the display case, and making sure it wasn’t going anywhere. Kora would love it- a delicate golden band adorned with a tiny cluster of soft green stones to either side of a modest diamond. It wasn’t overly loud or large, only having caught Vincent’s eye because it was so much more discreet than some of the others in the shop.

Kora didn’t wear a lot of jewelry, opting instead to express herself with her fun t-shirts and her words. But a ring like this- something subtle without seeming cheap, its purpose and meaning obvious without being tacky or drawing attention- he thought she would appreciate enough to wear it regularly, make sure that people knew that she was his as much as he was hers. He wasn’t totally sure how something like engagement worked in Hell, but this, at least, would serve as his promise to her. Something to show her that he was committed to her, that he wasn’t going anywhere. That he loved her back. 

Vincent still hadn’t said it. But he felt it in the kick of his heart every time he looked at her; cuddled up during one of their rare times together these days, watching television on the couch; fast asleep when he came home late from work and she hadn’t been able to wait up for him, his pillow clutched to her chest like a lifeline; when she whispered it to him as she got ready for the day, said with the press of her lips to his screen while he was groggy and half awake. It consumed him, the need for her to know what she meant to him despite how busy he had been lately, that it was all for her.

The chances of it being stolen from her while working at the diner in the short time between giving it to her and when she would no longer have to work seemed slim, because the latter was closer than ever before.

The attendant returns with the ring, nestled delicately on a velvet pad for him to pick up and inspect, and the path before him is suddenly laid out so clearly in his mind it felt as solid as the ring between his fingers.

He could almost taste that top spot. Vincent felt the eyes of the executives on him whenever he filled in for someone, when he showed up on his days off, coming in before everyone else and not going home until he was the last one left from the overnight crew. He filled in for the morning team sometimes as well, anyone that wasn’t as reliable or dedicated as he was; he had done weather, cooking segments, sports coverage, anything and everything they would let him do. The praise that flowed for him was near constant, Rich always there to offer him a spot of advice or sing of his merit to the higher ups. Joy was a thorn in his side- she had never gotten over his siding with Kora after an incident at the Christmas party a couple of years back- but it was easy to tune her out when he thought about how he would soon be calling the shots for the late news.

Calling the shots for all of the news, by the time he had finished climbing the ladder the way he wanted.

And once he was on top, it would all be worth it. He wouldn’t have to work so hard to prove himself worthy of respect and could take regular time off, spoil her the way she deserved. They would finally have what he had been working so hard to provide for them; no more late mornings hunched over scripts, when Kora was off to work by the time he got home, or missing the Sunday grocery shopping like he had been. No more worries on her end about rent or being able to afford her little pleasures. A regular schedule where they could fall asleep together again, curled in one another’s arms, wake to the warmth of each other’s bodies before spending the days doing whatever they wanted, instead of what was needed to get by.

“Sir?” The attendant’s voice pulls him from the thoughts of their future and back to the present, and he feels a spark of static between the antennae on his head. “Will you be purchasing today?”

“Yes,” he says with no hesitation, pulling his wallet from his pocket. The price is nothing to him, not when everything he had ever wanted was so close, his efforts finally on the cusp of paying off.

When the transaction is over, the velvet box sits comfortably in his jacket pocket as he makes his way home. The sky is bright and red, and a glance at his watch tells him that Kora will already be out and about for her deliveries this morning. All the better, as it will give him a chance to hide the ring before she got home; he wanted everything to be perfect when he gave it to her, his promotion to be as good as guaranteed and their future well secured. He would take a day off, treat her like a princess, spend some good quality time together before he sprang it on her and watched her face light up with happiness when he finally told her he loved her, that everything would be better soon.

He keeps the box clutched tightly in his hand the whole way home, something dangerously like hope beating a rapid rhythm in his chest.

It comes even quicker than he expects- and at the worst time possible.

He told Kora to take off the next Friday after he bought the ring, that he had something important to discuss with her and he wanted to spend some quality time together, and his Golden Girl had come alive, peppering his face with kisses and sweet talk before she went to work to talk to Viv, confirming her day off with him with a sticky note to the fridge. He confirmed with Rich that he would be taking the day as well, resulting in a clap on his back and a wink when he mentioned Kora.

The box burned a hole in his pocket the whole time; his ‘hiding place’ that he settled on was his work blazer, hung by the door with Kora none the wiser of its presence. He rubbed his thumb across the soft velvet so many times he worried there would be a groove in it, but every time he checked it was just as pristine and perfect as when he bought it. The gems in the ring still caught the light in the most perfect way, and once when Kora was sleeping he had oh-so-carefully slid it onto her finger to ensure a perfect fit. The sight of it made his chest ache, and he had pressed a kiss with trembling lips to her forehead after slipping it back into its box.

His plan was perfect- not Dante’s for this special occasion, like they had spent the two-year anniversary of her rescue of him, but the skating rink. That was where she had introduced him to her friends, showed everyone that he was hers, cemented her feelings for him before even saying she loved him, and Kora had been so in her element the last time they had gone; he regretted not being able to take her more frequently. But fuck, once he got everything he was working towards, he could buy her a skating rink- build one in their house if they wanted. She would never want for anything if he could provide it for her.

This afternoon, she was in the bathroom applying some kind of makeup, her hair pulled into a soft bun that let some curls loose around her face. She wore the twirly skirt that he loved from last time, one that he knew would flair when she spun and show off her strong legs. He already couldn’t wait until they got home- he would peel it off her slowly, take his time in a way they hadn’t been able to for a while, watch the lights reflect off the stones of the ring-

The phone rings, pulling his concentration from his thoughts of when they returned. He answers with a smile still present in his tone, but when he hears Rich’s voice on the other line his stomach drops.

“Vinny, my boy! Look, I’m sorry to reach out like this- I know you had a day planned with Kora- but you gotta get down to the station.��

Anxiety flashes through his system. “I’m- I really can’t today, Rich,” he tries, voice lowered so Kora won’t hear him. “This is really important, I’ve had it requested for almost two weeks.”

Rich sighs in his ear. “I know, I know, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it. Listen-” He lowers his voice, and Vincent can hear the rustle of his clothing as he looks around. “You didn’t hear this from me, but the execs have had their eyes on you and have just been waiting for a chance to put you in the spotlight. The real spotlight, not just filling in.”

“I-”

“This is that chance, Vin. They’re wanting to move me to the early morning crew- fucking Brandon got himself caught during the extermination in January and no one else can work with that Shelby bitch for more than a few weeks at a time- and they’ve been looking for someone to fill my spot on the late show, for good. They want to run a test of the new proposed line up today- apparently no one looks at the schedule to see when people are off. They were expecting you early like you always are so they can adapt the lighting to account for your screen brightness. They want to see that you can handle it.”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Kora was going to kill him.

But he couldn’t turn this down- not when this was what he had been working for after. Not when this was the final stepping stone to being where he needed to be so he could do right by Kora. He had been wanting to give her the ring early,  a sign of what was to come for them, but now it could be a symbol of what already was- the future already in motion. She would be upset with him today, but she would understand when it was all said and done.

Rich’s voice is muffled on the other end of the line when Vincent takes the phone from his ear and lays it on his shoulder, resting his screen against the fridge. Over the humming of it he can hear Kora humming to herself in the bathroom with the door open, probably putting the finishing touches on looking perfect for him.

“-still there?” He hears when he brings the phone back to his head. “I’ll make sure I’m available to cover another night for you- work a double if I need to but I don’t want you to miss this opportunity-”

“I’ll be there,” he says, and of course it’s at this moment that Kora exits, and even not fully turned towards her he can see the shadow of her tail droop. “Give me- I don’t know, ten minutes and I’ll head out.”

“Attaboy!” Rich exclaims in his ear, “and tell your Golden Girl I’m sorry to steal you away. But this is gonna be huge for you, Vinny, HUGE!” He shouts the last word and hangs up with a click, leaving Vincent to face the choice he had made.

Her face is sad, arms crossed defensively across her chest. “Are you leaving?” She asks quietly, and it kills him to break her heart like this.

“I have to,” he says, and her eyebrows crease with some unreadable expression. “It’s… it’s what I’ve been working so hard for. They want me to take over for Rich-”

“They can’t postpone that for one more night?”

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.” He crosses the living room to stand beside her, hand reaching out to caress her cheek; she leans into it, huffing a soft sigh into his palm. “It’s a huge opportunity though, and if I can’t be there, who knows who they would offer it to next?” 

Vincent can see it in her expression- the want to dispute what he was saying, convince him to stick to their original plan. And he wants to- he really, really does- but this was what his whole plan for the future was riding on.

“I might not be able to get another night off anytime soon,” she tells him. “Besides Sunday- and what’s the point then if you don’t take it off, too?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I know, Goldie, and I’m sorry,” he says again. “I wouldn’t cancel for just anything- it’s really important.” He steps back and she grabs hold of his hand, grip firm when he tries to tug away.

“Vin, come on- I never see you anymore, you can’t just keep the one day off you requested specifically to spend time with me?” Her eyes well with tears, and he diverts his gaze so he doesn’t see them- he’s always been weak to it, to her, but the ring that sat like a rock in his pocket was for nothing if he didn’t land this position. “You said this was important- that was why we took the day off.”

He sighs, squeezing her hand and releasing- this time, she doesn’t try to hold on. “I’ll ask another day off soon, I promise.”

She pulls back a step, expression hurt. “You haven’t had more than a day off at a time in ages, Vincent. I miss you-”

“When I get this promotion we’ll see each other more,” he says, a hint of irritation spiking at her continued wheedling. Didn’t she realize he was doing this for her? The long hours, the pushing for more at work, saving money; it was all so she could get what she deserved, so he could give her the life he wanted her to have. “I really have to go.” He starts towards the door, groaning in irritation when she blocks his path. “Kora, come on- move.”

“No.” She stands her ground, arms crossed across her chest in a way that shouldn’t have been cute, but even in her anger she was beautiful. “What is going on with you? You’re never home anymore, when you are home you just sleep, you don’t go out to do the grocery shopping with me anymore or spend any time with me beyond a quick fuck when you can spare a couple minutes before leaving again.”

A pang of guilt flickers in his chest, but it was drowned out by his own frustration. How could she not see? He wasn’t doing this for some selfish reason—he was trying to build a life, a future where she didn’t have to worry about a damn thing. He fingered the small velvet box in his pocket, the one he’d planned to give her today, that had been on the peripheral of his mind since he bought it. But then the call came- this could be the end of it, the confirmation about his position, his security for their future. The ring, that promise, it had to wait for that. “Move,” he demands again, and when she doesn’t immediately comply his hand shoots out to grab her bicep, forcibly moving her to the side.

The sound she makes is likely more from shock than pain, but tears well in her eyes regardless. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been making it seem like none of this matters, like I don’t matter. Why are you acting like this?”

The tension inside of him unravels quick as a whip. “I’m not acting,” he snaps, and she takes a step back in shock at the harsh coolness of his tone. “This is what I am, Kora, you didn’t change me when you picked me up off the street- you just delayed the inevitable. Fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

The silence that follows is suffocating; when he looks over, Kora’s eyes are glassy and wet, her lip quivering. His heart pounds as the regret creeps in, winding like vines around his heart- but his pride keeps him from taking it back, taking her into his arms with an apology and an explanation. He wanted to tell her about the ring, the life he’d been trying to secure for them; why he had been pushing so hard, why he was choosing to leave her today. His vocals stutter when he speaks. “I-”

Love you. He almost says it, the words on the tip of his tongue like his stupid brain thinks that will rectify the situation, the ring box in his pocket weighted like its made of something heavier than a bit of gold and diamond and velvet. If he says it now, it would be tainted by the moment, by the fight they found themselves in. She had waited for too long for it to be some cheap thing he said to keep her from being upset with him. “I’ll be home late,” he mutters instead. “We can talk when I come home, okay?” 

He would fix everything tomorrow, he tells himself as he tries to catch a cab for a faster trip, refusing to look back to the door of the apartment. Rich would make sure he got a day off, especially if he told him what today had been for- then he could show Kora the ring and explain. Once he got the promotion everything would get resolved, and she would see that everything had had a purpose, it was all for something. For her.

“... and that’s all we have for you tonight, folks- keep those doors locked and those windows closed, you never know who might come creeping through.” Vincent flashes a wide grin at the cameras, the lights of the studio dialed down to adapt to the brightness of his head. Rich had come back in to see the rest of his test run, shooting him a smile and a thumbs up from the sidelines. He could feel Joy’s eyes on him as well, but he had been ignoring her as best he could- banter was expected between co-anchors though, so he engaged her when he needed to. 

To the left of him, he sees the image he casts on televisions all over the rings of Pride, and he looks good. His blazer is pressed and wrinkle-free, screen buffed to a shine that forced the crew to adjust some spotlights to avoid blinding anyone, and his sharp-toothed smile is flawless and fierce. The timer was ticking down to the end of the broadcast, and Vincent leans forward onto his elbow on the desk. “This is Vincent-”

“-and Joy-”

“-signing off from Nine Rings News.” They speak the last line in unison, and Vincent can see on the televisions set up that the channel has cut to commercial, the first of many that will play for the next few hours until it’s time for Rich’s new slot. The room erupts into cheers, Joy leaning back in her chair to eye him appreciatively. The production crew surrounds him, taking his notes off his hands, disconnecting his equipment as they offer his praise and words of encouragement. 

Rich approaches with a slap to the back that knocks the wind out of him. “I fucking knew you would be a hit,” he says over the chorus of final congratulations, grabbing his arm and shaking it vigorously. “Let’s head out to celebrate! I have a couple hours still before I have to be back for my segment- that’s plenty of time for a couple rounds at Spite! You can ring Kora, see if she wants to come out with us if she’s not working to make up for missing your plans today.”

At the mention of Kora, Vincent’s excitement gets a little muddled,  feeling the way a glitch crackles across his screen as he remembers their fight, the way she had cried when he snapped at her and made her move. She would be asleep by now, even if she had decided to pick up a shift once their plans were canceled- he wouldn’t wake her for this, not with the way that he had left. He throws an arm around Rich’s shoulder and steers him away from the crowd. “I appreciate it, Rich, but really- I gotta get home and talk to her. We had a pretty bad fight when I left, she was really looking forward to spending the day together.” He fingers the box in his pocket again, the velvet smooth and soft under his thumb. “I was too,” he adds, and he pulls the ring out to show to his mentor.

If Rich’s eye had been capable of widening, it would have done so- his shock is evident in the way his jaw drops though, taking the box with careful fingers and opening it to inspect. “Satan’s left ball, Vinnie, you could have mentioned you were planning to ask the girl to marry you today! Fuck, I would have found a way to put the execs off if I had known you had plans this important.”

Vincent shrugs, can almost feel the pink tint take over his screen. “This was important too,” he tells him, “this was what I’ve been working so hard for. And now that I’ve done the test run, they’ve seen what I can do, it feels as good as mine, right?”

“Now that they know you’re committed and you look and sound fucking fantastic in that main anchor spot, you should get an official offer in the next couple of days,” Rich assures him, closing the velvet box with a snap and handing it back to Vincent. “You don’t see a lot of ‘marriages’ in Hell, you know. It’s exciting though, and I’m happy for you.”

“Never thought about asking that old PA to settle down, huh?”

Rich cocks his head to the side. “Do you know what the process of ‘getting married’ looks like down here, Vin? It’s a little different from topside- you actually give a piece of your soul to your partner. It’s basically a deal set between the two of you with whatever stipulations you have for the partnership, which is like the Hell equivalent of a prenup. It’s a pretty serious commitment- if have any sort of Overlord aspirations, that’s really something you should take into consideration-”

“I don’t,” he interrupts. “My job and Kora are what’s most important to me, I don’t need all that power and hassle that comes with being an Overlord.” He pockets the ring again, keeping his hands there to hide the tremor in them. “I have to get through her being mad at me now before any talk of the future happens though.”

“Put the whole thing on me,” Rich advises as he leads him to the door, “just tell her it was all my fault, and she can come down here and give me a scolding whenever she would like.” He guides Vincent to the door and gives him another parting slap on the back. “Apologize to your Golden Girl for me, will ya? And good luck!”

“Thanks, Rich,” he says, and the back door closes with a crack that echoes in the alley. The smile he’s been wearing for almost ten hours finally fades, and if he had had a jaw it would have ached. He pulls the ring box out again and opens it, looking at the reflections off the gems in the streetlight before he puts it away again.

He lights a cigarette as he walks home, the streets of Hell mostly empty but for shadows that lurk in the alleys and the hum of huge neon signs plastered all over the city. The adrenaline of the night still buzzed in his veins along with the nicotine, a spring to his step that even Kora’s inevitable anger with him couldn’t dull. He still felt guilty, but it was tempered with a sense of justification in his actions. The pieces would all fall into place now that he had proven himself with the network, their future as good as guaranteed. Kora would understand when he explained.

It was nearing four in the morning when Vincent made it home, but the lights were still on in the living room- either she had woken up early for her walk, or she had never gone to sleep. He runs a hand over his screen and takes a deep breath as he approaches the door, surprised to find it unlocked but still opening it slowly so he doesn’t startle her. “Kora?”

The living room is empty as he enters, the smell of burnt popcorn coming into his processors- she never followed the instructions correctly, which was why the rare times they had to snack together he was in charge of it. Her stack of books that she cycled through on the coffee table had been toppled, the bowl of burned popcorn having followed suit, her blanket thrown haphazardly onto the cushions in a way that made it slide towards the floor. He picks it up and catches the familiar almond and honey scent of her before he tosses it back onto the couch properly and comes further into the apartment.

“Goldie?” He keeps his voice low as he peeks into the bathroom and moves to the bedroom, in case he was wrong and she was sleeping and had simply forgotten to turn the lights off. But the bedroom is empty as well, the sheets still rumpled the same way they had been when the pair of them had gotten ready this morning. Her nightstand drawer is open, the framed photo of her and Gideon resting on the floor with a spider web fracture in the glass panel that distorted their faces. The window sat open, a breeze drifting through the open pane. “Kora,” he calls again a little louder, because she has to be somewhere in the building- she wouldn’t take off for no reason, even with the fight that they had had.

He winces at the memory of their again, words that he had said in anger that he didn’t mean. He had just been so frustrated that she didn’t understand what he was working towards that he had snapped at her-

“Fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

Panic settles into his chest behind the thumping of his heart, but he forces himself to remain calm. She wouldn’t have just left like that- not without a conversation, even as angry and hurt as she had been, even with the words he had spit at her. If she was going to leave she would have waited for him to come home so they could talk about it first.

And regardless of that- she wouldn’t leave. She loved him- more than she should. Certainly more than he deserved. 

Her clothes were all still hung on the rack in their room, her socks and underwear and shirts still folded in the drawers of their dresser. When he navigates back out to the living area, her punny coffee mugs are still happily displayed on the rack he had gotten her for Christmas. Kora wouldn’t leave those behind, not with the effort she put into finding them and incorporating them into her home. She had to just be on her walk; maybe she had woken up early and left before Vincent came home, and she would return soon. That’s what he convinces himself of as he cleans up, tidying her stack of books on the coffee table, closing the window and putting her photo of Gideon in the drawer of her nightstand. He resolves to wait for her to come back so they can talk, but as he settles onto the couch and pulls the blanket over his lap, sleep claims him too quickly to resist.

He awakens hours later from dreamless sleep, disoriented, finding himself still on the couch. Kora usually woke him when he fell asleep there instead of the bedroom- and then he remembers that Kora hadn’t been home when he returned from work yesterday, and from the looks of it had still not come back. A glance at the clock reveals that it’s well past noon, and when Vincent stumbles up from the couch to check the bedroom, the bathroom, Kora isn’t there.

“Fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

Despair claws its way into his throat, his lungs feeling constricted while he tries to breathe through the anxiety that makes itself known. He’s still trying to be logical as he grabs the phone and dials Viv’s to see if she had maybe gone into work early, went to stay with a coworker, anything.

Eris answers, to Vincent’s disappointment. “You’ve reached Viv’s Diner, what can I do for you?”

He does his best to keep his voice level. “Eris, hey- have you heard from Kora today?”

He can hear the rustle of her clothing as she shrugs. “What do I look like, her keeper? She’s not scheduled to come in ‘til later, we haven’t seen her yet.”

His voice shudders against his will when he asks, “you wouldn’t happen to know of anywhere she might go if she was upset, would you?” The Rings of Pride were huge- he had no chance of locating her without any direction, without any help. He just needed her to come home so he could explain everything, sort out the miscommunication.

“What’s the matter, Vinnie? Did Kora finally have enough and leave ya?” He can hear the smirk in her voice, the amusement that tints her tone. “I warned ya about steppin’ up for her, didn’ I?” He doesn’t stay on the line long enough to hear more than a few seconds of her cruel laughter before he slams the phone back onto the receiver, and then slams it again for good measure when he still hears her in his head. 

He still has hours to go before he has to go back to work, but Vincent can’t bring himself to sleep properly without knowing where Kora was. He tried the package hub for her courier job; he tried Viv’s again and asked to speak to Viv herself, who also hadn’t heard from Kora; the skating rink was a bust; he even called down to the station to see if maybe she had shown up while he was still working, but to no avail. No one had seen or heard from her since he had fought with her earlier the day before, and the guilt weighs him down as he leaves the house and checks the neighborhood around them for any sign of her.

He burns through an entire pack of cigarettes as he scours Imp City, fingers trembling as he lights the last one a mere thirty minutes before he’s due back at the station; not early, for once, so consumed in his frantic search for his girl that he hadn’t thought to see if anyone needed him before his actual shift. He’s sure he looks like a disaster now—a far cry from the poised, presentable anchor the city had seen just last night. He hadn’t showered, his clothes were wrinkled, and he hadn't even had a proper meal. His screen was in dire need of a wet wipe, coated with grime from the city’s pollution that made it difficult to see.

Kora has to be out there somewhere. She wouldn’t just leave him, not with how much she loved him, not with how close they were to the future he wanted for them. If something was wrong he would find her, bring her home; whatever it took.

Movement catches his eye; a bird Sinner that slinks along the shadows of the buildings like a wraith, seeming to almost blend in and evade sight as they moved. They hold a scrap of fabric clenched in their fist that they bring to their beak, the twitch of their mouth visible even from where Vincent stood. Their eyes gleam red in the darkness, a predator that’s caught the scent of their prey, and as the Sinner turns to peek an even darker alley Vincent’s first instinct is to follow them.

He wasn’t familiar enough with the darker parts of Imp City, the Pride Rings as a whole, to know all the places a person could disappear to. If they could track by scent, maybe he could give them something of Kora’s- her sheets, her clothes, anything in the apartment that her scent clung to like skin- to help find her, make sure that she wasn’t in trouble. 

The alternative was unthinkable.

“Fucking leave if you don’t like it.”

The words from their last fight ring like a death knell in his ears. He can’t push them away, can’t pretend they weren’t said- they echo in his mind like when she had told him she loved him. He had been angry. He had been frustrated, but now, in the quiet of the night with Kora’s absence weighing on him like a stone in his chest, he’s not so sure anymore.

Would she leave him? Would she give up on their future because he’d failed to be there when she needed him most? Was he consistently failing her like he had always feared he would, and the day before had been the last straw?

Vincent squeezes his eyes shut, forcing the thoughts back. No. She wouldn’t leave him. Not when everything they’d fought for, everything he had worked towards for her, was so close.

The bird vanishes into the shadows, disappearing down the alley with a speed and certainty that makes Vincent’s breath catch in his throat. He’s hardly taken a step after the Sinner when his watch beeps at him angrily, the alarm he had set earlier in his search to let him know the latest he could leave for the station if he wanted to be on time. Indecision immobilizes him.

In his place, Kora would choose him every time; it would never even be a choice for her. But she had never been in his position before, so close to the top his fingers scrabbled at the edge to pull himself up. He had proven himself the night before, sure- but that could change at a moment’s notice, and he would be right back where he started if they felt for even a moment that he wasn’t committed and willing to do whatever it took. 

Guilt sits heavy in his chest, the ring that still sits in his pocket feeling like it’s burning him as he stands there knowing that either choice was the wrong one, and turns to head towards the station.

SORRY LOL

There are 3 more chapters before we move on to part two! I promise they'll be happy- not in this fic, but eventually! ❤️

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5 📺 Chapter 6 💛Chapter 7 📺 Chapter 8

[novelistash]

I don't have potions for humans. None exist. Spiral was quick to throw herself onto the Houndoom to stop its rampage. I think back on all the signs I didn't take seriously and know that this isn't a conversation that we can have. Spiral is already quick walking away from where we fought, our path leads us into the woods of route 2.

After the uphill climb tapers off, I get her to stop. Her eyes are on the Ultra Ball holding a pokemon we can't heal at a center. She gets out a Full Restore.

"Wait." I toss her some gauze.

Spiral looks at the thing with this abstraction and then sees the burn marks on her own jacket.

"Do you-"

"My grimer can help." Her words come out terse, then slowly she thanks me.

The little poison pokemon eats through her jacket with its natural acid enzymes. We both let out a sigh of relief when we see that her skin is fine. Pokemon faint. People end up in hospitals and sometimes never recover.

"I was wrong about that kid not being a threat," Spiral admits. "I don't know if there's anything we could've done differently, but he was dangerous."

"I was an angry teenager once. I have a pretty good idea about what he's likely to do next. If he heard about our plans to go to Cerulean City, then we're out of options."

"He'll want to fight me one-on-one, to prove that he's better than me."

"His face was burned, Spiral. I know it wasn't you, but he's likely to blame you for that. He might even accuse you of stealing pokemon. Assuming he goes to a Jenny, that could be added to your crimes."

She groans, smacking her head back onto a tree trunk. "Fan-fucking-tastic. I'm assuming you have a better idea?"

I sigh. Her Pokemon need experience, but any fights are going to cost us resources. We have three paths to Cerulean City and none of them are all that safe, especially if there's a flying teenager out looking for revenge.

"I still have contacts in Sinnoh. People I can trust. We go there and try to find this Mallory Ware."

"Without any leads? People aren't going to be able to call us. You know that, right?" She's grumpy.

So am I.

"I'm sorry."

"No." I shake my head. "You're right. We do what's best, not what's easiest. Let's take a break and then we'll travel to Cerulean through the nature preserve."

*

Spiral has an easy time making friends with the Houndoom. Vengeance is an amiable pup once she's fully healed and eating from Spiral's hand. Of course, I know the real reason is that Spiral is a champion. She's trained hundreds of Pokemon just like I have. Though seeing her work with a new friend is something else, her empathy seems to go beyond body language. It makes me feel like a fake.

Within an hour, she's hugging the lustrous female. We walk side by side, her keeping Vengeance out of her ultraball. As the sun starts to set, I take Connie up above the canopies and I can't believe my eyes. There's a building nearby, and not just a ranger stop or a cabin, but a sprawling modern compound. The facility is big enough to house a hundred people or more. Whatever the facility is, there's a radar dish on the roof.

I'm so spooked that I dive down fast to avoid detection.

"What?" Spiral asks.

I shoot her a worried look.

Out past a clearing and through a dangerously dense bush, we get to an overlook that has eyes on the backside of the facility. Seeing it from there, it's easy to see that the place is abandoned. Garbage bins are empty, not even swarming with wild pokemon. Service doors are open. Exit lights are turned off. The parking lot is completely empty.

"What is this place?" I ask Spiral.

"No clue. Let's go poke around."

I balk.

She throws her hands up. "What? Are we going to get into MORE trouble?"

I shrug. She has a point, but I still don't like the look of this place.

With the power off we can walk inside the facility. The architecture and interiors are utilitarian. This place was made with haste and the walls were cheap. I can see stucco and holes where the cracks were never sealed. The back entrance leads into some kind of supply closet. Vengeance takes a sniff but doesn't linger around spilled chemicals. At a glance they left tens of thousands of pen worth of merchandise in this backroom.

Spiral goes for the door, which is ajar, but it might be stuck.

"Hold on." I throw out my Gengar. "Shadowfell, look around for malicious spirits."

She responds with a chuckle and slips into the shadows.

"Good idea." Spiral checks on Vengeance, scratching her behind the ear.

Shadowfell comes back and tells me that the place has hoppy hand things, floaty head mons, and wiggly arm menaces. I really wish Pokemon could talk.

"Looks like we're walking into a ghost house."

"In the middle of a nature preserve? This is so weird."

"On the plus side, Vengeance is gonna get some battle experience."

She doesn't respond to my mirthless optimism. "You watch our flanks."

With ghost pokemon flanks can be complicated. The floor and ceiling are easy places for them to pop up. Spiral kicks open the entrance and walks out into the ruins of a lab. Containment tubes and cages suggest pokemon experiments, but there aren't any pokemon still inside. Thankfully there aren't any remains either. I do however see blue and white feathers.

Before I can look down to examine them, our ghastly hosts make an appearance. Haunters, duskull, and phantumps are there too, each of them doing a mischievous job of adding spook to the abandoned setting. It doesn't take much to scare them off. Spiral takes down a few haunters, I send some warning shadowballs towards the fake forest walls and we're alone to investigate.

One lab leads to another with each of the rooms still more or less intact. That is, until we reach the main floorplan. Four stories up it has a skyline -- where something tore up the ceiling. The entire open floorplan is covered in years of festering water made fouler by spearows and other pokemon leaving kills to gather cultures.

Bug, grass, and poison pokemon have laid claim to various holes and clumps of debris. I glance at Spiral to see if she wants to clear it and we step back into the hallway, making sure to latch the door solid tight.

"What do you think that was?"

"It's hard to say. I only have one idea and it's not a realistic one."

Remembering her comment about me being geeky, I try on my casual face. "Okay, let's hear the silly one."

"Well, we're by Viridian City and all, so maybe this was a secret base used by Team Rocket."

I scoff. We laugh a little and then slowly it dawns on us how that might not be pure nonsense.

"Oh, fuck," I say. "What if it is? This place is kind of on the way to Celadon. Wasn't that one of the places Red found a lair?"

She shrugs, but there's more to her shrug than pure confusion. It's this almost bashful expression that makes me smile.

"We both grew up when Red was dominating tournaments. I'm not gonna give you crap for being a fan."

"Were you a fan?"

"I was fifteen when he was a champ. I resented the crap out of him, tried to push him out of my mind while doing everything I could to follow his path to victory. You?"

"I started in Pallet Town, remember. My journey followed his almost step for step. Of course, Team Rocket was a shadow of what it was." She shrugs inscrutably. "Anyway, maybe we can find some storage files or something."

"Hey, hold on." I hurry into her periphery to get her to stop. "I wanted to talk to you about that fight with Winston?"

Hard eyes. "Oh?"

"Not about the tactics or anything." Coughing through the nerves. "You jumped on the Houndoom."

She looks away.

"That was a really dangerous thing to do."

"I had to save him. I didn't have time for anything else."

"You had a pokemon that could've played the role of shield." I groan because this isn't happening how I thought it would; how I want it to. "I'm not saying this right."

"You're always quick to jump to the offensive, don't stop now because of me."

"I know, but I'm just…" I sigh, because I always sigh. "I am trying to be better and that means telling you that your life is important. Winston didn't deserve to be hurt, but it's not worth your health to save him."

She walks into the shadows where I can't see her face.

"I just mean that-"

"Got it." Her words come out clipped and so I keep following her deeper into the rear of the facility.

*

We find a storage area in the back, some place that might've one day been filled with paperwork, but that's been destroyed. A pokemon had blasted the door down and burned everything to ash. A family of ekans are living amongst the debris. The slithery group is huddled together for warmth and we make our exit.

Spiral and I split up. She doesn't communicate this idea, she just stops going into rooms with me and leaves when I try to join her. So our sweep goes faster. Shadowfell takes care of ghost pokemon quick and the others don't cause me any trouble. That is until I stumble across a rattata.

There's nothing special about rattata. They're common garbage pokemon. It was the first pokemon I caught, using my family's meowth to weaken it down. The hissing terror makes me hesitate and I do nothing as it jumps up into the vents.

Spiral runs over. "What was that?"

"Rattata." I walk inside, checking out the room that's been claimed by the wild mistake.

Old computers are covered in dirt against a wall, beside that is what looks to be a pokeball refresh system.

"Is that a Pokecenter healer?" Spiral asks.

"Yeah, I think so." With a stick I move some of the rattata's litter aside. Shining my flashlight around I see the tubes and frames of old world storage facilities. "Oh, shit. You know what this is?"

"Tube computers. The kind alakazams would run."

"Yeah. I've never seen one up close before. There's gotta be something here." I move some debris around and find the ruins of a pokemon recall storage unit as well as a fully intact computer. "This computer's okay." I try the power but nothing happens. 

"Power's out."

I laugh and smack my head. "Duh." I get up but Spiral leans down to investigate.

"Hmm."

"That sounds promising." She gets out her rotom-phone and looks up. "You think this place has a signal?"

"I mean, it's legally a dead-zone, so no. It's probably why Team Rocket was using this place."

Spiral snorts but gets out some tools. "It's not Team Rocket."

"It could've been Team Rocket."

She's prying at the rotom-phone's case.

"What are you doing?"

"You and Murray got me thinking. This thing isn't just a phone, it's a Rotom. If I can get this frame off, then maybe we can use the Rotom to power the computer."

"That's…" My skepticism doesn't last for a breath. "Badass."

"Hold here."

I do.

Another tool out and she's ready to bust the case open. "Okay, this'll either work or we're going to have an angry Rotom ready to fry us."

"And me without Jolteon." I glance at Shadowfell who is holding up a flashlight. "Alright, go for it."

She does, smacking the corner three times before the wedge and the impact break the case. All it takes is a little crack and out comes the Rotom. It makes a lovely hiss and crackle sound. We back the fuck up and then it smiles and tilts its head to the side.

Spiral plays nice, appealing to the mon's sense of fun, but she doesn't need a hard sell. This thing is tame. It's tame as Coba, ready to be friendly and obey. Once she tells it to power on the computer, it flies into the outlet and works its magic. We don't get overhead lights, but the monitor and tower power on, illuminating the room with the eerie red of a large solid R.

"No fucking way," I exclaim.

"It really was Team Rocket."

Everything looks good. The operating system is ancient, but it's what I grew up on. I try to log in only to come across a password login. Head down, I sigh.

Spiral takes out her premier ball. "You give up too fast."

"Huh?"

"It's a Porygon 2. These things were built to bypass security. Okay, Vast, come on out."

It does. A series of burrs and whistles sound the pokemon's greeting.

"Vast. Break us past the password. See if you can get us admin privileges too."

Its eyes go squint with pleasure before flying into the antiquated disk port. Within minutes text appears in the password section and we're in. I have access to one of Team Rocket's computers.

"Yes! Way to go, Spiral!" I offer a hand. We hi-five.

"Can you make sense of this?"

"Yeah, I think so. The interface is the same as what I grew up with. Looks like this computer doesn't have access to the main landline or remote access, but it still has a data log."

"So what's in the log?"

I get immersed in the windows and sub-folders, scouring for something that can give me answers.

"I'm gonna find you a chair."

"Sorry. Yeah, maybe find a place to sleep too. There's several megabytes of information just in the text logs." I open up a file that looks promising only to find complete gibberish.

Spiral walks off and I lose myself in the data.

*

The grimer-washed storage container makes for a surprisingly durable chair, but my back hates the long hours. It doesn't matter. I'm mostly hunched over the terminal, sliding the mouse around before sifting through pages of data. The night goes by fast. So fast that it feels like the second after I noticed that Shadowfell went to sleep, Spiral is walking back into the office.

"Any progress?"

"I lot," I confirm. Leaning back into a stretch, I try to get the kinks out. "You can get some sleep. Really."

"I did. It's morning."

"Shit." I check my poketech. A yawn doesn't come.

Spiral gets beside me. Her short hair is frazzled with sleep. "So?"

"Okay, so everything here was gibberish. I had trouble accessing these text files until I changed the extension type only to realize that the data was formatted into a spreadsheet viewer Team Rocket was using."

I pull up the first main file that gave me anything usable. "This line right here is the date, this one here is the user ID, and this one…"

"It's all gibberish. Except for that M."

"It's pages of it," I confirm as I click page down repeatedly. "Pages of pages of things that are identified as nothing but M until…" I point at the screen.

"Missingno," she gasps.

"Yep. Not just one either. If I had to take a guess there are at least one hundred missingno released and over a thousand of these M things."

"What do you mean released?"

"These are pokemon. I'm sure of it. Way down at the bottom of the list are normal pokemon: tangela, ghastly, all pokemon identifiable by Indigo during the Kanto acquisition. But it wasn't particularly helpful. I realized that this was a list of pokemon that were being released. I was looking through the input file when you came in."

"What do you think they were doing here?"

I stand up to stretch, taking the flashlight from Shadowfell before returning her to her ball. My eyes hurt. My face is oily, but my mind is electric. Closing my eyes to allow rem, I do my best to explain.

"The input files lists the pokemon by their actual names. I saw several dozen records of Swanna being fed into the pokeball system that Team Rocket was using. That accounts for the Missingno outbreak. As for all of these M's I'm not sure. They were definitely playing around with alolan forms. I kept seeing geodude dash a, rattata dash a, things like that. Maybe that's all they were."

Closing my eyes, I shake the tangent away. "Anyway, there were additional files covering the mechanisms of the pokeball, specifically the safety features. I found a master list that details all of the ways that the league was able to safeguard the apricorns and keep hackers from bypassing their security.

"A lot of the information is tied down to the trainer ID, it's why they needed the pokeballs to be sold through vendors. They put some kind of an override feature that makes the balls unusable without a trainer ID, they did a bunch of back door stuff through the pokedex. Honestly a lot of this was over my head.

"But I also found something creepy with a capital Fuck." I get back to the terminal and bring up the file. There are scans of pictures, little diagrams showing abras in containment tubes and mechanisms surrounding an apricorn.

"What am I looking at?"

"Teleporters."

"What?"

"The mechanism that sends a pokeball to the PC system is an abra put into a specialized apricorn; something called an AX1-T."

"You're telling me that there's an abra inside every pokeball?!"

"I don't know." I sigh. This one's hard getting out. I step back and shake my head. "There's references to files that aren't there. Some of the information was purged before this facility was abandoned. For all I know the abra weren't killed, merely contained, or the League found a way to siphon off their power. Like I said this stuff is over my head.

"What I do know is that the six pokeball check is what screwed over Team Rocket. They kept trying to modify the pokemon's code manually and the six pokeball check would get triggered. At the time it was their only method of tampering. I think the use of foreign pokemon surprised the league. They couldn't figure out the BAD EGG system until Hoenn and-"

"You look tired."

"I don't feel tired."

"Why don't you get some shut eye or something?"

I realize that I probably reek. "I'll eat something and clean up. Do you think you can back up the data?"

Spiral gets Porygon 2 out and gets to work.

All of Team Rocket's efforts are banging around in my brain like a Tauros at a rodeo. There's enough proof of foul play to put them in jail for a long time, but at the same time there isn't anything that could be used to design a new league in here. Nor is there anything to explain what escaped from the lab.

*

Not refreshed, but a little less manic, I return to the lab. Spiral's backed everything up.

"I remembered something else while I was looking through the files." I lean up against a filthy wall. "Silph Co was a partner with them every step of the way. Apparently they had helped the League develop the teleportation technology back when people were still trying to get Ultraballs to hold. I'm talking like forty years ago. The work Silph was doing with Team Rocket was something else. They had developed a human teleportation system but they couldn't get it to work at a distance further than one hundred yards. I saw mention of it potentially being implemented on a building, but I guess it never came to pass."

"I guess not," she confirms. Then, pensive, she looks from the monitor to me. "Has any of this changed how you think of Team Rocket?"

"I mean, not really. They still stole Pokemon and hurt a lot of people. At best the League was the lesser of two evils but that doesn't make me like Team Rocket. What about you?"

"I don't know." She looks wistful. "I knew some people who got taken in by their propaganda. Not all of them were bad people. Some were just desperate."

"You mean like us." I'm too direct.

She reflects on that with dread before standing up.

I go back to looking at the input log. My finger mashes on the page down, my eyes flicker from cell to cell so fast I start to feel queasy.

"We should stop," Spiral says. "If we take too long to get to Cerulean City, there's definitely going to be trouble."

"Yeah, you're right." My tired eyes stray from the list of unspectacular pokemon and then linger on the input dates. I freeze.

"What?"

I point. Then my tired brain realizes that she has no idea why that date is important. I scroll fast, slamming on the page up button harder and harder until I find it, the list of pokemon that's sorted perfectly, that fits my sensibilities exactly. I get so mad I slam my fist on the desk.

"Hey! Cool it, jerkwad!"

Head in my hands. No cool. Stand up. Still pissed. I scream. I ball up my fist and almost break something on these reinforced walls.

"What?! What are you freaking out about?!"

"It's mine!" I shout incoherently. "Those pokemon on that list are mine! Those are the pokemon that I lost. The ones that were supposedly destroyed in a fire that rampaged the League's storage boxes. It wasn't a fire on their servers, it was an attack! It was fucking Team Rocket stealing my pokemon directly from the box and they lied to me! They lost my pokemon and they fucking lied!"

@trainerspiral

[da-owo]

GOOD MORNIFN TUMBLR IT IS CURRENTLY 2 PM FOR ME AN I AM FEEELIN VERY GOOD VERY COMIC MOTIVATED to answer some questions tho - do i sleep? absolutely even if its only a couple hours i have horrible insomnia and i tend to have to exhuasted myself to an extreme deal if i want to sleep more then 3 hrs which is why sometimes ill be alive at 4 or 5 am , this is also why i stated updates will be random , tho i dont like posting at 3 am i will if i want to move onto my next project -you've noted my bio says full time nsfw artist , is there going to be nsfw in the comic? if there is it will not be plot related and it will kept to my nsfw accounts ( i will not be sharing a link here or in the comments of this post as i have already shared where you could find that content ) - i'm really fast how am i getting this much done this fast? i work from home an yes do art full time , i do live in stream commissions so i just have "trained" my self to move faster when it comes to my art that way i can do more then just one persons commission in stream so now out of habbit i go go go go i've been called the "amazon prime" "same day shipping" artist haha tho sometimes a really really big piece comes through an that is a all day project but nonetheless anyone can practice enough to do stuff fast i also have been a full time artist for 5 years now ( sometimes even just taking a day to do fast sloppy sketches really helps with getting speed but speed should not be you main focus your growing as a artist and should enjoy the process and the art you make <3 -anything cosplay related , since i have gotten a vast amount of questions there -my wigs are all to mostly from arda wigs ( my jack frost and danny wig is a jet wig from arda, jacks is a silver in jet and danny's is a pure white in jet but i cut it in half to dye the under cut black ) if my wig isnt from arda they are mostly from amazon map of beauty is a good start for someone who wants a cheap wig to start with - i have been cosplaying for almost 12 years now i do not use name brand make up tbh my foundation is super stay from walmart in the lightest shade since i dont get to see the sun very often haha , i will always recommmend TRANSULUCENT setting powder -Contacts! yes sometimes i wear them but my eyes are very sensitive and i am very blind so most the time i am just editing them to the color i need them lol please stay away from ttdeye contacts they can damage your eyes DO NOT SHARE CONTACTS if they hurt TAKE THEM OUT NOW , contacts can cut and damage your eyes very easy - my jack frost cosplay staff , my staff is over 6ft tall ( i am not very short so i had to make it sized to me ) its a pvc pipe i had laying around and on the top there is a piece of a different broken prop hot glued to hell and back and heat shaped to make the hook then i i cut up a bunch of random lengthed shapes of foam and glued it around from the base to the very top and then sat there with my hot glue gun and added wood texture with hot glue , painted it a off brown , then dry brushed white all over it my staff is not perfect but for having made it all in one day i love it

if i missed anything feel free to ask im sure have an answer haha also been debating a name for my comic so might be refering to it as the golden dream but im unsure if i want to commit to it haha

[echoesofreality]

The Illusion of Health

How Junk Food, Fast Food, and Processed Foods Lead to Silent Damage

In today's fast-paced world, convenience often reigns supreme. The allure of junk food, fast food, and processed snacks has woven itself into the fabric of daily life, offering a quick solution to hunger, stress, and even emotional cravings. Many of us believe we can indulge in these quick fixes without consequence, trusting the allure of their marketing and the assumption that they won’t harm us. But behind the veil of convenience, there’s a dangerous truth we’re often unwilling to face until it’s too late: our liver and kidneys, the silent warriors that detoxify and filter out harmful substances from our body, are quietly bearing the brunt of our dietary choices.

The Sweet Deception of "Healthier" Processed Foods

It’s easy to be misled by the clever packaging and "healthy" claims plastered across processed food labels. Words like "low-fat," "sugar-free," or "fortified with vitamins" trick us into thinking we're making healthier choices. We bite into a granola bar with claims of boosting our energy, or snack on a bag of "light" chips without considering the preservatives, trans fats, or hidden sugars inside.

Processed foods are often engineered to taste irresistible and have a long shelf life, but their true cost is much more than the dollar amount on the price tag. Over time, these foods flood the body with synthetic additives, excessive sodium, and unhealthy fats. While the immediate effects may seem minimal, these toxins accumulate, and the body, in its remarkable resilience, pushes through until it can no longer cope.

The Fast Food Fantasy: Convenience Over Health

Fast food chains make it easier than ever to feed ourselves in minutes, and the convenience is undeniably tempting. A burger, fries, and soda are quick, cheap, and satisfying — but how often do we stop to think about what we’re actually putting into our bodies? These foods are typically high in refined sugars, unhealthy fats, and sodium. The portion sizes are often excessive, and we’ve grown so accustomed to them that they no longer seem like indulgences, but a normal part of life.

What’s worse is that many fast foods are engineered to be addictive. High levels of sugar, salt, and fat trigger our brain's reward system, making us crave more and more. We become so accustomed to the temporary pleasure that it’s easy to ignore the long-term damage building up inside. The liver, responsible for breaking down toxins, bears the brunt of this overload. When it’s constantly working overtime to process excessive sugar, fats, and chemicals, it eventually begins to show signs of wear and tear.

The Unseen Damage: Liver and Kidney Suffering

The liver is the body's detox powerhouse. It filters out toxins, processes fats, and helps manage the breakdown of nutrients. But when bombarded by high levels of processed sugars, artificial ingredients, and unhealthy fats from junk and fast food, the liver struggles to keep up. Over time, this chronic stress leads to fatty liver disease, a condition where fat builds up inside liver cells, impairing its function and potentially leading to cirrhosis.

Similarly, our kidneys, responsible for filtering waste from the blood, aren’t immune to the toll of poor dietary habits. A diet rich in processed foods, excessive sodium, and low in hydration can lead to kidney stones, dehydration, and even kidney failure. But these conditions don’t develop overnight. The damage is gradual and silent, often going unnoticed until it’s too late.

The Cycle of Ignorance: Why We Don’t Listen

Despite the growing body of evidence about the dangers of processed foods, fast food, and junk food, many continue to ignore the warnings. Part of the problem lies in the immediate gratification these foods provide. The temporary pleasure of a delicious meal overrides the long-term risks, and it becomes easy to convince ourselves that we’re immune to the consequences.

There’s also the issue of misinformation. We are constantly bombarded with advertisements that make fast food appear tempting, trendy, and even healthy. We hear conflicting advice about what’s actually good for us, leading to confusion and, in some cases, complacency. It’s much easier to indulge in a burger and fries than to prepare a balanced meal from scratch. We push aside the concern of "maybe it’s not so healthy" with a shrug because we’ve yet to feel the full impact.

When the Body Speaks: The Wake-Up Call

It’s only when the damage becomes too severe for the body to hide that the wake-up call happens. When your liver or kidneys start to show signs of distress, whether through pain, fatigue, swelling, or more serious medical issues like jaundice or kidney stones, it’s too late for simple fixes. Years of eating foods that were once seen as harmless have caught up with you.

At this point, the liver may have reached a stage where detoxification is no longer possible without intervention, and kidney function may be impaired, requiring medical treatments like dialysis. The consequences of a diet centered around junk food and fast food don’t just affect the body — they affect your life, quality of health, and longevity.

The Path Forward: Choosing Prevention Over Regret

The good news is that it’s never too late to make a change. The body is resilient, and with the right care, the liver and kidneys can heal. But the first step is recognizing that junk food, fast food, and processed meals, despite their convenient and often seductive allure, are not harmless. Replacing them with whole, nutrient-dense foods — fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, and whole grains — can help reverse some of the damage done and prevent further harm.

The real health comes from making choices that nourish the body, not just temporarily satisfy cravings. Don’t wait for the wake-up call. Listen to the warnings now and start investing in your future health before the damage becomes irreversible. The power to change is in your hands.

In the end, health isn’t just about how we feel today, but how we’ll feel tomorrow, next year, and decades down the road. It’s time to take control and stop feeding our bodies with the illusion of health. The reality is far too important to ignore.