#but something tells me deep in my bones that anyone who answers it will just be cursing me or something

[kitmoas]

in which prey becomes muse

Kate Bishop x Reader

Warnings: **18+** **Minors DNI** **SMUT** dark and demonic themes, death, possession, knife, stomach bulge, stalker stuff, slight "magic" things

If I missed anything let me know

Author's Note: I once am again sorry this is late, life man. BUT it is here and part of a nice little trick r treat vibe. so here's part 1 of the double feature for good ole Friday the 13th. Once again I apologize if it's rough. I am still MONTHS out of practice when it comes to writing, so I'm trying my hardest to get back into the swing of things and remember how to put my thoughts into good words. So bare with me.

Kitmoas | Necrosis Kitmoas | Navigation

Even now, up against the wall with her knife pressed against the thin stretch of skin above your rapidly beating heart, you can’t help but admire the way that the sunlight bounces off the golden handle or how the intensity in her dark blue eyes swirls in storms. The way she stands, the soft smirk pulling at her lips and the slight slouch of her shoulders, almost makes you feel relaxed. The warmth of her body is intoxicating as it shields you from the wind soaring through the air. 

You had seen her so many times in your travels around the small town, across the road or in the diner. She was pretty much the talk of the town since she got here, everyone gossiping about the city girl who escaped to an old town. Something about her was so enticing, so enthralling; and though you knew you wouldn’t survive the encounter, you just had to take the chance as it was given to you. She was the definition of a heartbreaker, even from the way she carried herself on a day to day basis. 

Falling into the trap that she set was easy. It was almost foolproof even before you realized what was happening. You wanted to be seen by her so badly that you didn’t realize that you were the reason that she even ended up in the dead-end broken down area. The young girl already had a bit of a history, and though you didn’t know what this meant you could tell she had traveled to many places and seen the world more than anyone you grew up with. 

Despite your predicament, you wanted to know more—the mystery of the girl who not only knew who you were but was risking arrest to be near you. This should have scared you, and maybe deep down it did, but on the surface it just excited you. Your mouth had opened many times, jaw dropping and lips moving silently, as you tried to say something or ask any of your gnawing questions but you were stopped each and every single time. 

There’s something in her eyes as you stare up at her, an almost unnatural glimmer. “Can your little mind not make up any words?” she husked, her voice raspy and deep as if she hadn’t spoken in months. 

It's a simple first sentence, and you can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or taunting you, but you can’t help the blush that rises up your neck. Scrambling to find an answer in your mind, you just shake your head pathetically. Heart dropping as you see her smirk fall from her face, her lips falling into an annoyed straight line. The disappointment radiates in the cold air, chilling you to the bone and making you crave the heat that once emitted from the brunette. 

“I suppose this isn’t much of a setback. I didn’t track you for this long just to hear you speak. I heard you’re quite the annoying one.” She watches you blink slowly, a squeak tumbling from your lips when she pushes your body back against the wall with the tip of her blade. “Isn’t that what Ms. Adovyn said? It was quite difficult to tell through all the screaming, but she had a lot to say about you and that was years ago.” The smug look twitches back across her face, stretching it entirely too far as she watches realization settle into your eyes. 

Ms. Adovyn was your high school teacher, some arts class you took freshman year, who passed away just a year ago. It had shook the entire town after they found her body mutilated in her own secure home and not a single suspect to be named. Slowly you try to pull yourself from this haze of infatuation that you have found yourself in to try to put things together. There was no way that all the random unsolved murders and disappearances in the town were all linked to this girl. She was barely older than you and some of them went as far back as your childhood. The neighbor who used to babysit you was found skinned when you were just seven years old, but it was left an unsolved crime with zero traces of fingerprints or struggle. 

A soft giggle from the girl looming over you snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gasp as you look into her eyes. Pure black with a pulsing cobalt light within, almost hypnotizing you as you struggle to pull your focus from her. “What? Don’t tell me my secret is already out?” Her hand moves, dragging the knife down your chest towards the neckline of your shirt. It leaves a thin, stinging red line, a few small crimson bubbles forming. 

You shake your head slowly, confusion flooding your system as you try to fight whatever you can feel brewing in your stomach. Unsure of what she means by secret, you start to become hyper aware of where every single part of the girl is. Her hand is firm against your hip, thumb softly rubbing at the bone she finds there—too softly for how hard her nails dig into you. Her thigh rubs harshly against you so that she keeps you almost glued to the dingy brick wall. The fingers that have a claw grip on the glimmering handle dangle carelessly down your shirt. 

Her face slowly turns up from where she was watching your body squirm to pout up at you. “Aww c’mon. I thought you would fight me more than this. Or are you so stupid to even realize what is happening?” The soft hair on the top of her head falls down in front of her eyes, making her look like an innocent puppy as she tilts it in questioning. “I thought after I waited for you for so long you would at least make this fun.” Growling under her breath as she leans in to nip at your collar, she bares her teeth at you as she pulls away. “Maybe you would come with a bit of a bite?” 

When her thigh forces its way in between your own, her muscle pressing upwards, it starts to make sense. The warmth bubbling in your stomach is starting to almost feel painful, and the longer you feel her calloused hand on you, the more it confuses you. Trying to understand your own bodily reactions, you allow that heat to start manifesting in a thing you can control—anger. You weren’t sure where the sudden confidence in your vocal cords came from, nor the grit in your normally soft respectful voice. “What? Can’t get laid? You have to commit crimes for someone to fuck you?” 

The girl’s eyes almost become a beacon of light, the cobalt flashing brilliantly as she lets her head fall back shrieking in laughter—a loud, rambunctious sound that blends in with the howling wind. “Well there’s your personality. You just needed to get touched a bit? Is your poor pussy being neglected?” Sneering at you, she lets her head roll back to look at you again. Licking at her lips, she sharply grinds her thigh up into you as she raises her eyebrow in questioning. “Do you need someone to make you feel all warm and wet? Someone to make you understand just how your cunt should be handled?” 

Your mouth opens and closes as you stumble over your words, feeling someone’s hand touch between your legs for the first time with purpose. It wasn’t a surprise as to what she wanted, but you weren’t sure she would actually go through with it. She had kept you in the same spot for so long that your legs were tingling with exhaustion and your back was starting to ache. 

Craning your neck, you try to look down at where the shiny blade pressed into your lower torso. The need to deny her was strong, and the urge to grapple for the control you were so used to ran deep in your veins, but something stopped you. A warmth that was building slowly, the center of it was rooted in your stomach. You wanted to ignore it, but it was there from the beginning and it only burned faster the more she touched you. 

“Tell me, everytime I waited for you to see me, did you think of me that night? Every single time I made sure that you noticed me trailing you, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” Her hand moved softly along your thighs, nails scratching at the tender skin she finds as she speaks through gritted teeth. It’s almost like she’s forcing herself to take it slow. 

Shaking your head, you’re honest but you wanted to lie. How do you tell a beautiful girl that you just wanted the chance to speak to her, that you never once thought of her in a sexual way? There was no way that she would want someone so innocent that you had barely even touched yourself, right? Will she think you’re too much of a prude? Will she mock you for never allowing someone else to touch you? 

The girl snorts, pulling away slightly to stare you down. Her eyes watch you carefully, hand placement a bit lighter than before as if she is almost testing to see if you’ll move. “Oh, oh! I get it. The pretty girl is a virgin, aren’t you?” Nose wrinkling as the devious smirk stretches her mouth unnaturally. Her gaze turns predatory, darkening as her nails dig aggressively into your thigh. “You don’t even know how to say no, do you? The perfect little thing for me to completely corrupt and ruin.” Her voice echoes the longer she speaks, raising as she gets more and more excited. Almost like a little puppy, hearing all their favorite words, she even begins to bounce on her toes slightly. “They told me you were the ideal person, absolutely exquisite, and they were utterly correct. You had to have been sent to me from some higher power, and all I had to do was listen to them.” 

Blinking slowly, you weren’t even aware that you were being moved from the wall. The way she spoke was confusing, what did she mean by that? You were so lost in thought that you didn’t see the other girl’s change in demeanor. Twitching slightly, even letting the blade clatter to the dirty wet pavement below you, her body starts to contort. Muscles and bones stretching and cracking as she twists around. 

It’s her hand gripping your throat, clawing as she lets her nails dangerously dig into the veins she finds there. Cutting off your oxygen immediately when she somehow body slams you to the ground, pressing her entire weight on your neck. Her knee digs into your thigh and forces her way in between your legs. **Popping her head directly in front of your face, and though you already couldn’t breath the way her appearance changed, causes an unsettling chill to overwhelm your body.** Eyes sunken in, completely glowing cobalt, and every ounce of color drained from her skin leaving her gray and her veins almost filled with ink. 

Her hips grind down into yours, and her free hand gropes viciously at your breast. Stings of pain pulse through your body, and settle in your stomach as a low burn. Shame fills your brain as you realize what’s happening and how your body was reacting. “It’s okay, little girl, you were made for them and it’ll be me who gets to take you for them.” 

Slipping her hand down your body, her nails somehow scratch into your side harsh enough to cut the skin it finds. Fumbling around for a minute, her hand finally catches on the hem of your pants. Ripping the fabric almost completely her smile turns feral at the sight of your lacy underwear. Her thumb clumsily rubs against the thinnest of the fabric that covers your cunt before her head pops back up, eyes almost glowing. “Oh, how silly of me. Why would I not tell you my name? My name came from the person who gave me my blessing, Keket, but you can just call me Kate.” 

Your vision is blurry, twitching as you stare up at her. Back pulsing slightly from where the pebbles and dirt dig into, but it’s the way her fingers slip your panties to the side and swipe through your folds that makes focus difficult. The tip of her pointer pokes at your clit and it ignites something that you weren’t expecting. Arousal wasn’t something you felt often, and you didn’t even think that the warmth brewing in your body was that, but there was no denying the gush of wetness from her direct touch. 

Cackling the young girl’s face almost morphs as she notices the change, allowing her finger to rub small tight circles on your rapidly hardening clit. “Such an innocent little virgin, who’s cum and blood is worth so much to the الألوهية.” Her voice deepens as she speaks, leaning more heavily against your throat. “Your body is theirs to own but for now this pure tight pussy is mine to stretch.” 

Even though you wanted to ask what she was talking about, wanted to figure out who this girl was, you didn’t have the opportunity as she shoved two fingers into you in one go. The scream that tears through your teeth is muffled, barely there from the weight of her body against your neck. You can feel the pain throbbing from between your thighs and you’re pretty sure she tore something, but the moment her thumb comes up to caress your clit it’s almost like none of the pain matters. The warm arousal floods your system and begins to push out the pain. 

Her hand thrusts, vigorously, and it causes your body to move along the ground. You can feel the pavement and all the random things beneath you scratching at you, leaving bright searing burns. “God, you were born to take this and you’ll take more. Won’t you?” She’s leaning up over you now, a brief relief as she allows you to take gasping breaths. 

It takes a minute for the oxygen to spread throughout your body, and it does nothing but fan the flames within your tummy. Rough and tender, you take your time to inhale as you try to calm down. You wanted to gain control over the situation, but you knew that you were even rapidly losing authority over your own bodily functions. When her calloused fingers rub against a spot inside you, you can’t help your hips rutting up into her thrusts. It indirectly motivates her and she leans down some so that she spit on your clit. Playing for a moment, and stuffing the spit inside you, she practically growls as her body flops onto you. 

“You feel so tight around me, so fucking wet. I bet you’ll feel even better around my cock. Tight little slutty cunt letting just anyone take her virginity.” Her fingers move faster inside of you as she bites into your neck. The sharp nips dig into where your sensitive skin is already bruising from her hand, as her hips push her fingers even deeper into you. You can’t help the moan that slips through your lips, and the way you start grinding down into her. 

Letting your eyes slip closed, you finally allow yourself to try and enjoy what was happening. This was your first time and while it wasn’t how you envisioned it, Kate is a gorgeous woman and you were surprised she even wanted you. You’re still a bit confused by how she was talking but you knew that many people were into roleplay so maybe that’s what was happening. Her strength came as a shock and even her appearance seemed weird, but everyone wanted her and you got her. 

“If I was you, I would focus whore.” A harsh slap lands on your cheek, slamming the side of your face into the ground as she demands your attention. Her fingers had abandoned their post in between your legs and instead she was grinding her own hips there, a bulge prominent. It felt nice but you were confused as you tried to blink the stars from your vision. “Ready or not princess, I’m about to own you.” 

She barely finishes her sentence when she snaps her hips, and something is forced into you. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it filled you overwhelmingly. It rubbed against that spot inside of you that forces a whine from your throat, and for the first time you cling to her. Arms swing instantly so that your nails dig into her biceps. It was too much and not enough all at once, and you weren’t sure how to feel. You wanted her to do whatever she wanted, but you knew that was exactly what she wanted. 

Hips rutting into you, she lets her hands fall to your stomach to allow her thumbs to press into the bulge she finds there. “Do you see that little girl? You see my cock so deep inside your stupid little cunt? It’s leaking all over the place, even if most of it is blood.” She shrugs as she moves her hips, staring down at the way you stretch around her almost obsidian fog appendage. The bright red blood coats it and makes it seem as though it isn’t practically nothing, just a temporary blessing from the higher power to give an advantage to it’s chosen vessel. 

Her voice shoves you closer to the edge, rough and rumbly as she humps you like a dog. You wanted her to touch you more, something triggering in your brain to miss her touch. She leaves her hands where they are though, a knowing smirk spreading on your face when she sees you desperately starting to plead up at her. She knows the signs even if you don’t. 

You have already started to tighten around her cock, easy to push towards an orgasm as she manipulates your body however she wants. She knew that you would be simple, even wet while she was roughing you up with a knife against your throat. It never took much for someone so pure, and she knew that she had to act fast as well. Letting her hips rut into you at a speed that shouldn’t be able, but the spirits helped her along. 

“Do you want me to touch you? You want your stalker to touch you?” She hums, tilting her head as if she wasn’t even physically exerted. Her hair messy and moving all over the place as she forces herself into you more. “Does your little cunt need my touch to cum?” 

Nodding you let yourself succumb to her actions, the want to fall over the edge becoming too great now. The coil inside your stomach is almost searing hot and cracking. You didn’t want to give in, but you knew that she would never let you cum if you didn’t and for some reason you didn’t care. The more she shoved her cock into you the more delirious you got, your brain fuzzy and unfocused. 

“Beg. Babble like the little slut you are and beg your stalker to take your body. They want to hear you beg like the bitch you are.” Her words are punctuated with a sharp snap of her hips, forcing you unwillingly over the edge. 

Your vision completely fills with stars, blinding you as you scream. Kate hurriedly slams down into you, her body leaning fully on her arm that lays across her throat, to cover your mouth with her hand. She may be protected by the divine power, but she knew that suspicion could arise if people heard your screams and they were not one for attention. Pinching your nose closed she allows you to ride out your orgasm, body convulsing underneath her. 

Entirely surrounded by not only her warmth, but the boiling heat within your own stomach, you try to push as much oxygen out through the small cracks in her hold on you. It was painful but she’s still rutting into you and pushing the cum to start leaking out of you. A small puddle forming below you the longer that she thrusts into you, and your eyes roll back completely until they slip shut. 

Slowly Kate starts to pull out, leaning against your throat as she stares down at your red puffy cunt. It leaks cum and her own black almost molten cum. She hadn’t even realized that she was able to cum in you, solely focused on pushing you over the edge and keeping the blanket of security over the two of you. Blinking slowly she feels her body start to lighten, a sure sign that she did well and the authority was pleased. It all seemed to be going fine, her hand reaching down between your thighs to shove the wetness back into you, until a small crack echoed through the alley and her arm shifted downwards. 

Cautiously the young girl looks up at you, your lips blue and parted. “Fuck, I’m so sorry محبوب الجماهير! It wasn’t supposed to go like this! I promise, I thought I did good.” Despite her panic, her body’s color drained and her eyes sunk into her head, the fog leaking out briskly as her jaw dropped open. 

The next day not a single piece of evidence was found, just chunks of your skin stuck to a completely clean knife in a small cloud of dense fog. 

The translates are roughly

--محبوب الجماهير! -- idol

--الألوهية--divine/divinity

(Shoutout to my girlfriend @themidnightcrimson--she edited the beginning part of this so if it got terrible at the end you now know why.)

[colectingstrz]

THIS ONE IS FOR U

➤ (🏀) oneshot | Jake x fem reader | fluff | ex’s to lovers | word count: 1.8k | high school au | not proof read soz 🥲

Soo's smol notey:📝: I saw this pic on Pinterest and I was immediately inspired to write a Jake related fic with some correlation to basketball ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ + plussss Jake is soo so the type to yell this is for you and miss 😭 hence the title 💀

“Unknowingly, when you call my name Heartbreakingly, my heart is pounding”

After a messy breakup things have been awkward especially as your the teams manger and have to interact with Jake on a daily basis or in which Jake is determined to win you over and get you back even embarrassing himself in the process

TO SAY THINGS ARE AWKWARD IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT. You and Jake’s breakup was as messy as it could be. Jake had cheated on you the whole thing drove you mad not only did you drag the girl by her hair you also dragged Jake and attempted to drown him in the pool in front of everyone. If it weren’t for your friends and his getting involved you would have gone to jail for murder that day.

Though time has gone past and you are no longer upset and have accepted reality, you are still slightly embarrassed about how you acted at the time as well as the status of your and Jake's relationship, especially as you are his basketball team’s manager. You pretend it's nothing, but you're bothered and find it difficult to be comfortable around him.

"So... do you have a prom date yet?" Jake inquires, gazing your way as he dribbles the ball. "Why should that worry you? It's none of your business who I'm with," he groans, "it's my business you're my ex," you smile " key word here is ex..my life should not concern you now, stop asking stupid questions and start shooting some hoops," you say one final time before leaving and heading to the back to collect additional basketballs, which Heeseung had requested earlier.

While looking for which set to pick you feel a presence behind you. So you turn around to be face to face with the last man you wanted to see. Go away Jake seriously “ dont make me report you for stalking ”Jake laughed holding his chest “ ahh im so hurt y/n” you roll your eyes turning back but Jake held your shoulder forcing you to turn to him “ who are you going with tho?” Why does he want to know so bad.. it’s weird “ since your begging for an answer I’ll let you know..honesty I have no idea yet I haven’t decided “ he hummed as a response but you could tell he was thinking

He had that I’m thinking of something stupid jake face on right now “ go on.. just say it I know you want to..” his face lit up before he took a deep breath “ well I have no one to go with and you seem to not have anyone to go with..soooo you and me prom! what do you think ?” Is he on drugs ? Or has he just genuinely lost the plot you blink your eyes aggressively perplexed as to what you were hearing.

“ what do I think? Why would I got to prom with my ex who cheated on me ? Do you seriously want to know what I think-because I have a bone to pick with you Jake don’t even get me started" you felt yourself getting worked up as you resurfaced locked memories you never wanted to remember “ i already told you I even showed you how sorry i was.. I even tried explained to you what actually happened but you would not listen! You know I would never hurt you” here he goes again with the lies

“ I don’t want to hear it.. I do not want to have this conversation with you.. I’m not going to be your prom date go ask some other girl” you shove past him and storm out of the hall forgetting the little side quest heeseung had set you on. A deep sigh was let out as you rested on a the wall of the hallway why can’t you just leave me alone Jake

JAKE’S 2ND ATTEMPT. The next day was simply no better jake was really pushing your buttons “ the answer is 45 btw” he whispered to you. At this point he had basically given you the answers to half of the paper he might as well have just sat the test for you instead. I don’t need your help leave me aloneeee “ jake piss off I don’t need you I can do this myself” you whispered back basically spitting out your words at him so he would get the point and leave you alone. He sighed, turning away from you , relieved to have some peace and quiet you attempt the to tackle the other half of the paper and realise you had no idea what any of the questions were or how to answer them.

You sighed, knowing you needed Jake's assistance. Kill me now pls You look to your side to already see Jake staring at you with his head resting on his Palm “ it seems you need me love ” you roll your eyes “ call me love again and I’ll drown you in the pool for real this time just give me the answers ” your response causes Jake to laugh slightly as he turns his paper in your direction so you can copy the rest.

" you owe me for basically giving you a free A " you sigh " you never asked anything back when we were together tho.." Jake flicked your forehead causing you to flinch in agony. What the hell jake " we’ll likeeee you said earlier, you're my ex, so this kind gesture comes at a cost, my love," he should stop calling me that. "So, what exactly do you want?" Jake grins “Be my prom date." You step back "Oh my Jake, you've turned into a comedian haven't you? “ You were laughing so hard you had to hold your stomach because it was starting to hurt. "I'm not going to be your prom date" get somebody else to do it You pat him on the back with a fake smile before walking away, or rather sprinting away, because you could see him following you again in the corner of your eye.

JAKE’S 3RD ATTEMPT. if it was not bad enough he tormented you at school he had the audacity to show up at your house and disturb you in the comfort of your own home. Your sitting down chilling while doing some sketches, when you hear a bang on your window, what the hell? You are on your knees, peering out, to get a peek only to find Jake waving down at you, holding a flower he had snatched from your mother's treasured garden. The more Jake kept going the more it gave you any tiny hint of hope..you were even willing to look past what he had done to you almost wanting to give in. Why can’t you just stay out of my life Jake stop making me feel things

Jake, as usual, got his way, and you ended up letting him in through your window and now sit on opposing sides of the bed. "you know... you could have just knocked and my sister would have opened the door for you... she's like the only one who likes you in this household," you said slyly, to which Jake sighed and looked down. " Can we not do this right now?" You raised your brow. "Do what argue? Are you afraid of being called out?" Standing up, Jake sighed once more.

“ stop this it’s so-so irritating ! I keep trying to explain myself to you and you never want to listen to me ! It’s like In your head you’ve already painted me as some Cheater when that’s not what happed ” I don’t have time for this “ well I don’t know how you expect me to believe you when I saw what I saw ! Even my friends told me that they saw you guys together before I even came down to see it for myself !” Jake sighed in irritation, approaching you and placed his hands on your shoulders “y/n.. can you just trust me for once and take my word.. you know how much you mean to me, I would never go out of my way to hurt or disrespect you." “She kissed me, and I didn't know what to do. I pulled her away, but you had already left."

You didn't want to believe it, yet you gave in so easily, especially when Jake sounded so serious and genuine that you couldn't detect a lie anywhere... Reality had hit you. You realise for some reason that you never really talked to Jake after that, and ghosted him because you had fixed your mind on your opinion of what had happened, never really wanting to hear his side of the story

You hated yourself for doing this and ignoring him all this time, you both had been hurting for no cause. If it went for yourself and your overthinking and actually had bothered to talk it out with Jake now you could have still been together. Gosh why am I so quick to always jump to conclusions this is my fault " Jake.. I'm so sorry..I-“ shhh it's ok it’s alright " Jake cut you off by pulling you into his chest, one hand resting on your head and the other on your waist as he pulled you into a hug. "All that matters is that you believe me now in this moment.. that's all I ever needed and wanted from you my love," similar to before before hearing him call you that made your heart flutter but in this circumstance you felt your heart just melt.

“Here is my heart out for you ”

JAKE’S FINAL AND LAST ATTEMPT WAS THE GRAND FINAL. Now that you and him were on talking terms the awkwardness eventually faded away and it was like freshman year all over again with the two of you locking gazes across the room and quickly looking away. Blushing at any compliment he would make. Cute exchange of love letters in class it was nostalgic. Jake was the happiest he had been in a long time, and his teammates noticed. Jake's performance had improved shooting many goals more than he had in the previous semester, and it was clear from the lovey dovey glances you two exchanged across the sports hall at every practise session that you and jake had patched it up. Though Jake, on the other hand still wanted to ask you to prom.

But now that you two are back on track, he wanted to make a huge proposal that would show you and Convey how how he truly felt and as well as a cool way to ask you out. Jake wanted to impress you with want he knew best aka basketball.

During practice you had arrived a bit late due to your teacher but you still rushed to the hall not wanting to keep the team waiting. As soon as you arrived you sat down on the front bench as you went on your phone to quickly reply to your friends message ." hey y/n" You look up to see Jake joyously waving at you, and you reciprocate one. He holds the ball up pointing in your direction " This one's for you! " He yells before shooting into the hoop. Jake had a vision of how this would play out, which included him taking a beautiful shot, you being amazed, and him asking you out to prom. But, unfortunately for you Jake and everyone else in the room, he absolutely missed it; he wasn't even close to getting it in.

The entire situation was humiliating. Afterwards to top it off Jake clumsily stood on one knee almost tripping while he whipped out a Harry Bow ring form his pocket , reaching out to you, "w-will you be my prom date?" No..way he can’t be serious You were resisting the urge to laugh, but you managed to let out a small "yes" as you ran into his arms for a big bear hug. The whole thing was amusing. Jake was clumsy, but it was adorable because you could see he tried his hardest for you even if it didn't work out.

Despite all that and happed between you two… you was happy to see he was still the awkward and cute boyfriend you had learned to adore.

@COPYRIGHTS SOOTREEPEAR 2023

𖤐 steal my work and I’ll come to your house and suck your blood 🧛‍♀️

𖤐authors notes and dat pt2.📝: broke off the sad ending streeak 😻 wrote tbis at 4am so if sometimg is spelt wrong erase it from your memory and act like u didn’t see it (ง'̀-'́)ง aniii ways i hope you liked it !! + if you already saw this it is a repost 😭 I privated it and made some changes

- peace and love ♡︎

𖤐 link to my other works !!

[zykamiliah]

Hey, sorry to bother you, but I've been seeing something in the fandom that kind of confuses me, so I'm leaving this ask to my favorite svsss blogs.

I've been trying to get more into Shen Jiu's character, as he is pretty interesting and arguably a fan favorite, and I've noticed that, so far of the fanfics I've read, he is more often than not depicted as a good teacher. A harsh one, but still good? Or not terrible?

One that likes teaching, is involved with his students, taking the little of what we've seen of Shen Yuan's teaching methods and just, giving them a twist, "improving" them even sometimes.

Often it ends up being a show of how Shen Yuan was clumsy, not that good of a teacher (or of a Shen Qingqiu) and I'm... Kind of confused by this trend? Like, is it rooted in canon? Obviously this is still more interesting to read than the "SJ is just a tsundere that never did anything wrong ever" thing, but it feels kind of similar.

I cannot imagine a character as genuinely bitter and angry as Shen Jiu enjoying being a teacher, having a nurturing bone in his body or even being hands on in the teaching of his disciples, several of which he literally bullied out of his peak. But maybe it's just me and I'm wrong?

Was Shen Jiu a good teacher?

I guess I'm just curious of where it comes from. I like Shen Yuan's character, and it often feels like people take Shen Jiu's to show how bad at everything SY is, even if it isn't consistent with SJ's character and often lack nuances, in my opinion.

(Or even if the story claims loving SY while also stripping him away of everything that makes him interesting other than his obliviousness, but that's a whole other thing.)

Sorry again, and I also apologize for the long ask, I'd just figured you or someone that follows you might have an answer.

(Also, I get that fandoms gotta fandom, and I'm not saying people shouldn't write it or anything, I may be a strickler for canon but I'm not the police. Write what you want. I just wonder where it comes from, as I figure that knowing its origins might help me in the future, but I promise I'm not trying to start discourse or anything, so I hope I've made my point clear enough without offending anyone.)

hello!! :DD

well sj being ooc in fics is a common thing by now. people tend to portray him softer than he's in canon, to the point it sometimes turns his whole character upside down. in extreme cases, you'll be dealing with a bitter, more tsundere version of sy with sj's backstory, which is secretly what many people want IMO lol often this people also perceive sy as an incompetent dumb nerd that only knows about monster lore and has no other skills or abilities aside from that-- essentially, they fall for the unreliable narrator's trap of believing every lie he tells about himself.

it's never outright stated, but sj didn't like children, so is fair to assume he didn't like teaching or caring for them either. taking into account qing jing peak's toxic atmosphere pre sy's transmigration, AND the fact that sj was paranoid about being overthrown since he hadn't developed a golden core even after becoming a peak lord and taking lbh in, I don't think he'd be interested in teaching anyone anything. in a lot of cultivation novels, disciples are just given manuals and left to self-study them (like he let lbh use the fake manual, expecting lbh would die from using it. haha. such a good teacher!). this could be the case. aside from that, I don't personally think sj would want to provide any kid guidance. and that's not mentioning how he allowed and enabled bullying, targeted talented disciples, and overall was more worried about his own cultivation and survival and reputation than other things or people.

so where this fanon sj comes from? I'm not sure, really, but I think some people just want a version of him that's palatable AND defensible, like my friend furby says, a declawed sj that's just a poor misunderstood meowmeow who deep inside is secretly good and nice. it's a thing that people who struggle with liking "villainous" or "morally bad" characters do: twisting the narrative around to justify this character's actions. It doesn't help that he's SO complicated, and people who have very black-and-white thinking struggle to place him in either side of the spectrum-- it's the problem mxtx outlined through sqh and sqq's voices

ch.14 house arrest

ch.19 shen jiu

really, the fandom has just proved mxtx's point xD

anyway, there's a lot of misconceptions about sj. there are some pretty wild theories around. some fans also treat his abuse as The Worst Abuse in comparison to the Child Abuse he did, because of the (unconfirmed) hints that sj was sexually assaulted by qiu jianluo, as if SA is the worst kind of abuse and child abuse falls back on the tier-list ¯_(ツ)_/¯ because obviously anything that involves sex in inherently worse, apparently

in other cases, people are simply more familiar with the fanon version of the characters, and that's who they portray in their writing. after all, many people read the novel once and then go on to read dozen of fics; it's normal the fanon sticks more on the brain than canon (not judging! it happens to me as well lol) and those fanon versions are more popular because, as i said, this version of sj is more morally palatable (and bland and less fun ┐(︶▽︶)┌)

thank you for the ask!! :DDDD ❤️❤️❤️ i love receiving asks~

[kevin-the-bruyne]

TW: explicit discussion of suicide

(ID: Screenshot of Ray in ep4 saying to Sand "A burden to society" after he tells Sand to scold him and insult him) I cannot for the love of everything that is holy get this moment out of my head. Because the way he says it - with this deep fondness and affection - makes me want to want to chew my own fingers down to the bone. Because after that absolutely earth shattering intro where this happens:

(ID: Screenshot of Ray from ep4 where he calls Mew from the bathroom saying "If I'm gone, I won't be anyone's burden anymore, right?) one would assume that Ray wouldn't take being called a burden very well, certainly wouldn't grow an emotional attachment to someone who has called him that multiple times, has expressed his irritation over Ray's clinginess upfront.

And yet that is exactly what happened. So the question is - why? I've seen multiple ppl talk about this so I feel like I don't need to explain here how Ray's friend group aren't particularly good friends to him. Even Mew, who Ray supposedly loves isn't all that affectionate or understanding towards him. Please read this meta for a breakdown of why and how Mew's response to Ray when he calls him from the brink of suicide and for which Ray is so incredibly grateful for - fell laughably short. Ray who's mother never loved him (and it's likely quite nuanced since she quite obviously committed suicide and I can't even begin to comprehend the heights of fucked up abandonment issues that would wreak on one's child), Ray who is yet to mention his father even once, Ray who tells his friends how much he loves them all the time and literally never hears it back - you know, that guy isn't really looking for a grand love, he isn't waiting for someone to see inside his soul and find something wonderful - he's looking for scraps. Literally anything.

He wants someone to look at him, see inside to his festering, broken, ugly core and still find it worth loving, find it worth saving. And Sand? He does exactly that from like Day 0

(ID: Screenshot of Sand and Ray from ep1 in Sand's bathroom where Sand says "How did you manage to live this long" to a passed out Ray) I had lost my entire mind over this interaction in ep1 because Sand has that exact irritation and affection here that one would feel for a troublesome sibling. Like he doesn't really like Ray here in this moment and he's not very secretly very annoyed at him. But no matter what,he will protect him. Ray isn't awake in the above clip to experience it but it just drives me crazy how Sand is exactly the person that Ray has been waiting for, a person capable of very intense albeit pragmatic love. Someone who can call out Ray's burdens and still love him through it (unlike you know...his so called friends). Yes, there are quite overt parallels between the arc of Ray's feelings for Sand and Mew:

(ID: Screenshot of the RayMew kiss from ep4 and SandRay kiss from Ep2 side by side) look at the arch of his body!!!! my man is always freaking reaching out isn't he!!!!!!

(ID: Screenshot of Ray offering to save Mew from ep4 and Sand from ep3 side by side) But that's where those parallels end because Sand and Mew could not be more different as people and Ray has absolutely no way of comprehending the person that is Sand. Doesn't Ray act a little differently around Sand?

(ID: Screenshot of SandRay from ep3 where Sand says "You just don't take no for an answer, do you, Ray?) Like it's funny when Sand had said this but also...doesn't he? Doesn't Ray take no for an answer quite often? Didn't he take Mew's 'no' two years ago and never pestered him about it again? Didn't even bother to do anything about it when Boston was trying to get in his head about Mew at the party and instead went straight back to making fuck me eyes at Sand. When Mew told him not to fight with Top, didn't he immediately back down? Didn't he let Mew walk away with Top without a fight? Ray hadn't felt the need to confess his feelings again or kiss Mew for two years, not until he sees Mew in Sand's POOR BOY shirt. Ray can't stay away from Sand, doesn't have a single clue as to what it is he's feeling for him (please have your life ruined by this gifset) - how could he? How could he possibly know what it feels like to be loved by someone? How could he possibly know what it feels like to love someone?

[coolmayordamien]

A little Darkstache songfic for @willywarfy

Song is The Midnight Crew, Eddie Morton

"Dar-dar-Darkiplier," a monotonous, glitchy voice stammered tonelessly, breaking right through the entity's concentration. Dark scowled down at the paperwork that he had finally had a second to take a stab at, took a deep breath, and then trained the scowl on the android that was loitering in the doorway to his office.

"Wilford is ha-hav-having a malfunction," Google informed him, seeming completely unconcerned. "He is in the stud-d-dy, screaming and waving a gun-"

"Is anyone else in there with him?" Dark interrupted, hurriedly organizing the papers before him as he spoke. While screaming and waving guns around were honestly pretty typical behaviors for the man with the pink mustache, if Google said that the man was having a "malfunction", that could really only mean one thing.

"No one else was with him at the time," the android answered promptly, and Dark was relieved to know that Wil probably hadn't had much of an opportunity to hurt anyone in the midst of his crisis.

"I'm going up there. Don't let anyone else near that room until I say otherwise, do you understand?"

"I un-understand," Google nodded, his suspicious gaze following the grayscale man all the while. He wondered what Dark did to stop these attacks. It was probably something so horrifically violent that the android shuddered just thinking about it.

--

Dark heard Wilford before he saw the man, heard the bangs and crashes as it sounded like the madman was going out of his way to destroy the room that contained him. Heard the agonized cries, heard him scream in fear and anger and confusion as he tried to remember things that he wasn't supposed to remember, as he called out for friends that he would never see again, and for help that would never come.

Dark was going to have to do, instead.

He cautiously opened the door, observing the damage that had already been dealt. Discarded papers drifted through the air, gently fluttering down to land on a floor that was littered with shredded books and broken glass. It seemed that Wilford had shot out at least one window in his panic, and gotten almost all of the lamps.

Wilford, who had backed himself into the corner furthest from the door at Dark's arrival (the most secure position in the room, of course) and who was watching the entity with a sharp, unhinged gaze. His hands were shaking as he pointed a gun at his friend, his breathing rapid, his voice high as he rambled.

"Wh-who…Damien?" the hopeful note in his voice would have pierced right through Dark's heart, if he'd had one. It confirmed his suspicions about what kind of breakdown they were having here, though, and while it was one of Wilford's more emotional kinds, it was also the easiest to deal with.

"No, no, no, you're not Damien," the Colonel corrected himself, his grip on the gun tightening. "He doesn't look like…he's not…what are you?! What sort of awful place is this? First the robot, now a prime example of homo necrosis! I assure you, sir, that I am well up for the privilege of putting down a walking bag of bones such as yourself!"

The wild glint in his eyes became even sharper and more disturbing as his voice lowered with the intensity of his emotions.

Dark sighed lightly, hating what he was about to have to do. Wilford had better really appreciate him for this later.

He turned his back on the gun-toting lunatic as if he were completely unphased by him, humming under his breath as he began to unbutton his suit coat, hanging it primly over the back of the most intact chair.

"What the hell are you doing?" William cried, enraged. "Keep your damn clothes on, you fool! Tell me where my friends are! Tell me what you've done to them!"

Ignoring the questions completely, Dark said loudly, "I hate a moral coward."

The silence that followed his declaration was tense with shock and confusion, and that was enough to encourage the entity to continue, spinning on his heel as he offered his old friend a big, vaudeville smile.

"One who lacks a manly spark," the entity continued, pantomiming a challenge to fisticuffs as he loudly tapped a heel against the wooden floor.

"Are you out of your mind?" Wil demanded, lowering his gun. Dark ignored the irony of that question, an act that he decided was so damn altruistic that he probably deserved a medal.

"I just detest a man afraid to go home in the dark," he said cheerfully, trying to work up a bit of a song as he slowly made his way closer to his unstable companion.

"Well…I mean, don't we all?" the gunman agreed, unaware of the fact that he was holstering his weapon as he spoke.

"I always spend my evenings where there's women, wine, and song!" Dark sang happily, inching ever closer amidst his wide, friendly gestures. He was beyond pleased to see a flash of recognition in Wilford's suspicious eyes at the familiar old tune.

"But like a man…" Wil trailed off, confusion overtaking the fear and anger that had fueled him only moments before.

Delighted, Dark threw caution to the wind, gently tossing a friendly arm around his old pal's shoulders. "But like a man, I always bring my little wife along!"

The Colonel laughed; a lovely, hearty sound as he swooped Dark into a hug, the force of which threatened to crack the entity's spine like a twig. It was a nice feeling, that hug, but it wasn't a Wilford hug.

"Damy, you silly blighter, why didn't you just tell me that it was you in the first place?" William chortled, waving a condescending finger as he lectured, "I could have shot you!"

Before Dark could respond, Wil had him in his arms again, orchestrating the pair of them both in a silly, friendly, affectionate dance that didn't fit the tune or theme of that song at all, and it never had, and it didn't matter how many times Damien had complained about the awkwardness of trying to slow dance to a vaudeville tune, it had never mattered one whit to his fun-loving friend. This sort of thing was madness, after all.

"I'm a member of the midnight crew!" William laughed, spinning Dark quickly as the entity struggled to follow along.

"I'm a night owl-"

"And a wise bird too!"

Together they sang, breathless with laughter and dancing, "Home with the milk in the morning, singing the same old song!"

Chuckling, they collapsed into each other, holding on tightly as William tripped over the mess that he had caused, dragging the pair of them down into a giggling, teary-eyed pile. The hysteria bubbled up inside of them both, dragging the moment out so long that it exhausted Wil. Dark knew the exact moment that the emotions reached a crescendo in his friend, felt the difference in the grip the mustached man had on the entity's middle, heard the difference in the way that the two sides of his friend breathed, and knew that he had done his job.

"Dark?" Wilford asked softly, breathless with laughter from a joke that he didn't even remember being a part of. "What are we doing here? Isn't it…isn't it late? I thought that you were doing paperwork. And I was supposed to…to go to bed, right?"

That was exactly the case, and Dark finally let himself wonder what exactly had occurred during that process to set Wilford off. It didn't really matter right now, though. After he finally got his old friend to bed, he'd go over every inch of this room to see if anything in there could have possibly triggered Wil's memory.

"Nah," he said casually, forcing himself to his feet. "Early to bed and you'll miss all the fun!"

Eyebrows furrowed as he allowed the entity to help him to his feet, Wilford asked, "Is that from a song or something? It sounds a little familiar, but I'm not sure…"

Dark forced himself to laugh a little, reaching for his suit coat once again. "Just something that an old friend and I used to say. Come on. Let's get you something sweet, and then it's off to bed, I think."

Dark loved Wilford, he really did. Wouldn't trade him for the world. But it had been nice to spend a little time with his old friend.

[chaoticallyfragmentary]

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

This is a bit of childhood friends to lovers, lots of pining and just Kuroo being a dork and Kenma, a sneaky little shit. Includes some fluff and initial hurt to comfort. 

You freeze, teetering between steps when Tetsu—Kuroo accosts you at your door. You are tired, a bone deep exhaustion clinging to your bones, a little aching and caught off guard by his presence. He sniffles, nose pink from the biting cold or from his tears, the quiet ones that he’s crying.

You withhold a sigh, a scream for help because it is Kuroo, the boy who put band aids on your knees and held your hand through the first day of school, because snow clings to his hair, a snowstorm incoming and he is here, at your doorstep with tear tracks on his cheeks and fury in his eyes, earbuds dangling uselessly from the ipod, where you are sure, he was listening to the playlist you made for him, holding up a letter in your writing, long since opened. 

Shit, you thought you’d be gone by then.

You poured so much of yourself onto those pages, long muffled secrets and wistful sighs, long harbored feelings, a final concession before trying to forget, leaving for good.

“Hi love,” he says and you are ten again, a bit broken and battered, moving halfway across the world with your grandparents, an outstretched hand of a boy your age, both of you crying as he chased your bullies away, lips wobbling as he tries so hard to be brave.

“Kuroo?” you clear your throat, suppressing an urge to flee, mouth twisting to a sad shape.

 “Does this mean what I think it means?” he asks, pleads really.

You are seventeen again, listening to Kuroo laugh, a wonky little thing, a bit like a dying goat but you would bottle it up if you could, but then your eyes land on the girl on Kuroo’s arm and something in your chest aches.

“What do you think it means?” you ask instead, a watery laugh bubbling from your throat. 

He smiles, a tiny little thing, reminded of nights like these, when neither of you could sleep, questions were answered with more questions, sneaking into each other’s bedrooms, the pebbles thrown at windows, the chemistry study sessions, the lazy cuddle nights with Kenma, the midnight train rides and the warmth of terrible decisions.

He is fifteen again, realizing that his best friend had gotten pretty. Sixteen, realizing that he wanted to kiss the said best friend, wanting to throw himself off the tallest building he could find. It was as if he’d never had a crush before, Kenma snickering under his breath about how he was so very fucked.

“It’s not my job to say it chibi,” he says and he is twenty two again, eyes looking for you at the party.

“Kuroo!” your yell pierces the air, hands perched on your hips in the most accusatory kind of way as you stare Kuroo down.

“I’ve just been busy chibi, organizer of the party and all that”

“You haven’t looked at me, Kuroo”

Oh, but he has, and you look so beautiful, black gown that hugged all your curves and revealed unknown stretches of skin and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into it. You looked like his, but on Iwaizumi’s arm and fuck it all if he didn’t feel like his heart was a desiccated, dying thing performing the actions of something living.

(Met abroad, studied at the same university, blah blah, bleh. Anyone who tells you he’s been giving Iwaizumi the stink eye throughout the party is nothing but a filthy liar) 

“Do you want to dance chibi?” he asks, one tiny want seeping out from the aching places inside his chest.

Your head tilts a fraction, eyes teetering between cautious hope and blinding joy. You let yourself take his hand and learn, for the span of a single evening, what holding Kuroo Tetsurou in your arms felt like.

You wilt, what option did you have but honesty?

 “I-I-I,” new tears spring from your eyes at your inability to articulate even the barest of words but you plough through. “I love you— I-I d-don’t know since when, o-or for h-how l-l-long. I’ve done a piss poor job of n-not falling for my best friend b-but it’s always been you, me and you, you and me. W-We have always been an ‘us.’ S-Sorry” the confession slips out of your mouth before you can yank it back and shove it down your throat.

“I am so fucking furious, chibi”

He’s breathing heavily, emotion pouring out from him and your throat feels like it might swell shut.

“I’m so sorry but please don’t cry.” You hear the strain in your voice, self control rapidly dwindling as you barely resist the incessant throb behind your ribs, to just reach out and hold him close, wrap him in a blanket burrito, get him some hot chocolate and beat up anyone who dared to make him cry.

“I’d stop if I could,” he snaps, wiping another stray tear, furious at himself for crying.

“You mean to tell me,” he takes in a measured breath, like a man on the verge of starvation, fighting every impulse to reach for a feast in front of him.

“You mean to tell me that all this time the two of us wasted on pining away after each another, we could’ve been making out?” he shouts.

You bluescreen, a blink and a breath.

Once your brain processes the words, you release the deluge, laughter spilling over as your resistance buckles, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth after so many years of fantasizing the same.

When Kenma takes all the money from the bet your friends seem to have made, Kuroo calling him scheming filthy liar, you laugh coasting over Kuroo’s outraged noises about how could Kenma bet against him, how he’d known you would confess first… Kenma winking at you, mouthing fucking finally, as happiness tints your vision golden.

[propertyofmilfs]

Home away from heaven

( My first fanfic is a fact, I hope you enjoy this fanfic as much as loved writing it. I will be posting as much and often as I can, chapter 2 is already in the works.

An important note: Lucifer uses they/them pronounce in this fanfic

Enjoy reading

Much love,

~a)

chapter 1: Memories, little rats and vengeance

I remember when I was still an angel. The most beautiful out of all the angels. Gods favorite. I remember not sharing gods ideas about the rules for his mortal followers. I remember telling him, everyone should be forgiven if they wanted redemption. For everyone who just wanted to live peacefully, is a place here. I remember rioting against him. Against his rules for denying the gates of heaven if you merely wanted to be yourself. To love who you want to love. I remember the fight. I remember loosing. I remember the fall. How every bone in my body ached. How my face got covered in the mud. How foul it smelled. How wet it was. How cold it was. I remember how betrayed I felt. I remember my heart growing darker with every beat. I remember revenge. If he wanted a war it was a war he would get. I remember the heat of the fires of hell. I remember not remembering how happy I felt. I remember the emptiness. That hole in my heart that could never be filled. I remember the curse. I remember gaining followers. I remember taking Mazikeen in my humble home, she too disgraced from home. I remember finding friendship in her presence. I remember dream. I remember his helmet. I remember the demon who stole it. I remember him wanting it back. I remember being a champion. I remember loosing the battle. I remember the embarrassment. The hatred for him and stupid bags of sand. That disgusting bird. And his even more disgustingly siblings. Except for one. Desire… My entire life flashed before my eyes. At least the things I could remember. Looking over hell I felt like an embarrassment to the realm. Nothing could irritate me more than the feeling of loosing to him.

“My lord, lord Azazel would like a word”

The words of Mazikeen pulled me from my thoughts. Nothing would irritate me, except that… I thought

And right as I was about to say something the fire roared, and there he was. I turned around.

“I will keep it brief your majesty.” He spoke.

“Lord Azazel, how like you to arrive without an invitation”

“I come for the bidding of the assembled lords of hell”

“You stopped fighting each other long enough to assemble”

“We have. Against your enemy. OUR enemy… dream of the endless. The armies of hell are yours to command, should you wish to strike. “

“You wish to invade the dreaming?”

“If you command it.”

“And then perhaps the waking world… and then, eventually, the silver city”

“Precisely, since none of us can leave hell, we may as well expand its borders, until hell is all there is”

“You have given us much to think about Azazel.”

“I would ask you do more then think, the generals command action”

I raised my brow at his last comment, how dare they command anything. Was I not their superior? The ruler, if anyone should command its me.

“Do they?” I asked.

My tone with a hint of venom. I thought about if for a moment, I can’t snap at them that would weaken my position.

“Then I shall act, you may tell them.” My voice was much calmer this time.

“Excellent! Good day your majesty” he answered and with that he disappeared.

Isleens POV

I was sent here to spy on lucifer by dream. Well not exactly sent, I came on my own accord, after all what is a proper arranged marriage without a disgruntled run away bride. I thought maybe if I could prove my usefulness to him he'd hold off on the marriage, that I wouldn't be forced into loving him that maybe it could happen naturally but deep in my heart I know. I could never love him, I wasn't attracted to him. He was far to demanding and brooding, I wanted someone who made me me happy, not someone who could make me happy which is why I found myself on the run from my fiancé and in the ruler of hells private quarters. I was getting good Intel, but I was naive to think I could pull it off. I was creeping towards the exit when a guard spotted me, I sprinted down hallways and corridors. I knew if I was caught I'd be as good as dead, I darted down corridor after corridor and found myself hopelessly loss. I was surrounded by demon guards on all sides, they snickered darkly, noticing the necklace on my neck like a collar that I could neither remove or take off.

"Lucifer will be delighted to know that one of dreams precious little spies have been caught “

They put me in cuffs and dragged me towards Lucifers room, I fought kicked and scratched like a wild animal. Only when we entered the room I froze tensing completely, I did not expect them to look normal, I began to fight again when the guards spoke.

"LET GO OF ME DAMN IT"

The guards punched me and I went limp, a cut on my bottom lip, a bruise sure to form. The guards bowed graciously,

"we found this one leaving your private chambers my lord, it appears to be one of dreams precious companions”

I thrashed in their grip, my eyes bearing into the rulers head, trying to get away from the guards. They pushed harder on my wrist and their was a loud sickening crunch and I let out a blood curdling scream of agony.

“FUCKING STOP IT!”

“ Release her hands, stand by the door. She can’t run away that wouldn’t be smart… so… does dream know you are here?” They finally spoke up.

I held my wrist to my chest and hissed,

"No thank God, the last thing I want is to be in his presence at this current moment”

“And yet you risk your life for him… you’re not very smart are you?”

"who says I'm doing it for him?" I snapped

"do you think I wear this by choice?"

I gestured to the necklace that basically bound me to him

"perhaps I came here to make a deal with you?"

“Making a deal is not going to work if you are going to run away. Don’t lie to me to try to flatter me it won’t work. I know he didn’t send you so why are you here”

"Because I'm being forced to marry him, he wanted a love that even he couldn't dream up so he went to my parent Desire for help, and here I am a fugitive on the run from the king of dreams... So, yes maybe at first I thought if I gave him enough information about you he would think I'm useful and wouldn't just turn me into a fucking mindless house wife... but I've seen how he treats those who'd disobey him and I'd rather take my chances in hell...hell.... I hate him, and there's nothing my parent or I can do to get me out of the arrangement so I thought maybe I'd take my chances here"

I stammered out a flush of humiliation at my admission of truth causing me to blush and emotion to cloud my eyes

“And what do you think you will be here? A housewife would be better for many”

I snapped, "Maybe in your eyes?!?! You don't know what he wants, what is demanded of me. ... surely you have wings, you know what it's like to be caged up without choice with a billion rules your told you must obey"

I held my face in my hands and sobbed little long scars visible between my shoulder blades.

"you fell from the heavens and were banished from your home, because you didn't believe someone should ever be forced to give love to someone or worship them just because those are the rules”

“That was then, now I don’t believe in anything. I don’t care about anyone, you can cry all you want but won’t make me pitty you nor do I care where you came from. “ Their voice was full of venom, it truly gave me the chills.

“take her to the dungeons, I can’t listen to those cries any longer”

They turned their back and I watched them walk away to the balcony. A fight with the ruler of hell was not exactly on my bingo card for this year. I had to behave if I wanted to survive, so I did.

I went willingly with the guards I did not resist, I gave lucifer one last mournful look,

"You used to be my hero, and now your nothing more then a disappointment “

I went with the guards to the cells they tossed me roughly to the ground and I didn't get up merely stayed curled up on the pavement. I healed my injury the best I could, and lay against the hot stone thankful at least I wouldn't freeze

Lucifers POV

I scoffed at the last words of isleen whatever I thought.

Mazikeen approached me hesitantly,

"My lord what if the girl is the key to dreams undoing?”

I listened to mazikeens comment “I know she is… let her sweat for a bit. Let her drown in her tears. If dream wants her he would come get her. But I hardly think he knows where she is”

Mazikeens brow furrowed,

"Wouldn't it be better to send him evidence of her existence in hell, say the necklace or a lock of her hair? Or shouldn't you at least tell Desire where their daughter has found herself? Or let the girl in on the plan?"

Mazikeen folded her hands crossed her chest

“No… why would I. By not telling desire they’ll blame dream. Which causes a confrontation. It would look like he lost her like a child looses its toy”

Mazikeen nodded, "Still aren't you worried it will cause a rift in your friendship with Desire? Your oldest friend?”

“They’ll understand… if you think telling them would be best you can but I am not getting caught up in their family drama”

Mazikeen grunted in frustration, "You are so stubborn"

“That’s why you like me” I smirked and winked

Mazikeen blushed and walked away,

"at least torture her then, I'm bored”

“I will tomorrow, I need to destress first”

I walked towards my bathtub and let the water run adding some oils in the water.

"but of course your majesty, enjoy the bubble bath"

Mazikeen whispered teasingly before leaving.

I could hear Isleen scream from her cell. Some entertainment at last.

"FUCK YOU ALL I KNOW HOW TO KILL ALL OF YOU”

I chuckled at her desperate cries for help and enjoyed the rest of my bath, dreams demise on my mind…

[heartfullofleeches]

Anamnesis

Infected Yandere + Reader + Yandere Deity [G.N All]

Summary: “How are you feeling today?” They can't remember the last time they knew.

Warning: Mentions of Death, Dereality

Word Count: 1.2k

How are you feeling today?

The wellness board hangs centerpiece on the wall – a yellow card in each slot of the week; red, hairline fractures splintering the teeth of the smiling suns printed to image. Red Blue. Gray. Emotions tucked neatly into a holder on the wall. Vision distorted, the beginning colors bleed into one. 

A picturesque life crowds the remaining space; a few stragglers  cascaded to the floor, but enough left to tell a tale. Eyes shy from their reflection. The nurturement of a positive adolescence guides the object of each photo into a stable adulthood. Framed smiles, familiar embraces, and little bumps along the way display their prized memories. Memories now housed by stained floorboards long with shattered dreams and bone. 

Did you know they were studying to be a doctor?

“Two on sight…. Eleven in total.”

Feeling- When was the last time they felt something? The blood on their hands has run cold, yet it’s still the same temperature as when it was warm. Guilt pounds at the door of their mind, but there isn’t anyone to answer. Gazing down at what they've taken, it's best that way. The eyes that stare back tell them as much - and yet they still mock. 

Are you sure there shouldn't be a zero at the end of that number? 

“Shut up. I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” 

A laugh. Phantom’s touch chills their skin.

“Carrier, by now you should know that by acknowledging my presence, you’ve agreed to allow me to stay for a while. Let's talk. Get to know each other.” 

The voice comes from within their own mind. Its outline dances on the edge of their field of view; gone – not matter what angle they took. It was more  a blessing rather than curse when its silhouette eluded their sight. The less they saw, the less they knew which meant the more of themself they had to regain. 

Carrier- Is that who they are today? They’ve been worse. Family, friend - nobody. 

The trembling of their hand steels to an iron grip around their weapon. Torn flesh births its blade from a deep wound in the neck of the corpse below them. The body clings to its death bringer, but falls limp as its ripped away. Their eyes point up to the ceiling; two violet drops in a crimson sea. A shame their true color would be lost to time. Carrier reaches towards their eyelids. 

“wait.” 

They freeze. 

“Stick your finger in.” 

They obey. Against any reason they had left, Carrier pushes their fingers into the open eye. It's wet, covered with a slimy film. Pinching their fingertips together, they pull something free; purple enveloping the pad of their thumb. 

It's a contact. 

This time, there's a dull sting when the laughter returns. 

“Poor thing.. Just wanted to dress to impress and got killed for it. Then again, it's what they deserve for trying to impress the one you love, isn’t it?”

“Don’t mention them.” They want to scream. “Don't make me remember.” 

It's so hard to think, it's hard to remember when there’s a parasite toying with your brain. Latching on to, and rewriting your memories until it’s a ghost of your past and all that is your future. The only thing that eases the pain is having little to look back on to begin with. 

“You have to be the most selfish Carrier I've ever had. Others would have spread my name by now to know peace. Do they really mean that much to you?” 

Be quiet. Carrier flees the bloody room as breezily as taking a night stroke. Every alternating step, their footfalls echo by another. 

“Though your silence reads many tales, I already know how special they are. I've seen your memories afterall, most anyway. They’re probably the only thing keeping you alive given your history. What beautiful laughter….”

Carrier shoves the emerging memory to the back of their mind; beating it into submission every time it crawls back. Seriously, did this thing never shut up? They descend the approaching stars; tail rattling with the vibrations that stem all the way from their pocket. Without even thinking, they pulled their phone from their pocket and hastily swept at the familiar ringtone, prints foreign to censor. You'd probably scold them for not getting their screen repaired by now. They’d promise you they would get it done by last week. You probably remembered the promise better than they did. You'd… probably hate them for what they've done. Who they've become. Shit… 

“Hello?”

Their phone tumbles down the steps. When.. When had they answered the phone? The voice on the other end reaches them from the bottom floor. Your voice calls out to them; laced with worry, just like it had been when they were sprawled out on the ground after a run in with a flying sports ball. The nurse said they were differently concussed, but with an attentive partner like you they would be fine. You didn't even know each other's name. It was a good laugh.

Stop. 

The emotions hit them like a truck. A nausea worse than the one given to them after getting food poisoning at a fair. How could they ever hold your hand like that again when they’re covered in so much blood?

“Carrier.. You shouldn't keep them waiting~” 

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

That voice is so irritating. Just like every other voice they've ever heard, except one. The parasite has been with them their entire life, though it feels like mere months. Spreading, consuming every god damn memory they had until it was all they had left. A starving infection created from a being once worshipped by many; now forgotten and grasping for any hold on their reality by ridding its prey of all thoughts but itself. It had told them as such, considering they'd be together for a long time. The voice at the bottom of the steps would make sure of it.

“Hello?” 

There was one thing keeping them from the edge. A persisting presence that stopped them from losing their mind or rotting from the inside out like so many others before them. Soul cleansing. Irreplaceable warmth. And most important- unaware of the deity in their head. 

“Y/n?..  Is that you?… I'm here… Please.. say my name.”

“Erys?”

They sink to the floor, whole at last. Erys wipes their face. “Yeah.. it's me..”

Your voice crackles over the speaker. “I would hope so, considering its your phone and all. Anyway, the person I met at the party last week bailed on me. I was hoping to introduce you to them since you have similar contacts. Wanna hang out?”

Hatred has never felt so flourishing. The disgust they felt for the person upstairs only brewed more love for you. Their unjust sins roll down their spine with twisted righteous What was done, was done.  Innocent blood may have been spilled, but who’s to say it wouldn’t become one day tainted. 

“You're a terrible human being.”

The voice is barely above a whisper. 

“You'll never have them. Someday, by slip of tongue you will mention me, and I will take them, and make them immortal.”

The warning nails deep, but the weight upon their shoulders finally dies. From the living room, a tiny whimper can be heard; weak pounds against the back door. Erys quietly steps into the room. Their pleading, violet eyes won't trick anyone. 

“I'll never let you take them from me…”

How are you feeling today?

A sunny week the whole way through. 

[hamatosami]

Fire and Ice (a TMNT fanfiction)

Chapter 4: Twisted Tales

Notes: I am so grateful for the love on this story! Please note that all of my stories are 18+

(ALL OF MY STORIES ARE 18+ MAY OR MAY NOT CONTAIN SEXUAL CONTENT, LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, GORE, DARK THEMES) PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY 🫶🏼

👈🏼 previous chapter here!

“My loneliness engulfed me and my fear held me in shackles”

I continued to hold her hand until Donnie came. If anyone could help her it would be him. I checked for her breathing far too many times, making sure she was still alive.

Her body was shaking uncontrollably. She was hot and breaking a sweat. My hand slipped from under her to feel her head and she firmly grabbed my wrist.

I thought she was unconscious. Her eyes were too swollen to tell.

”Wh— ishhur nmm” she mumbled. Her hand shook around my wrist. She was so terrified that she tried to keep herself conscious enough for me to stay and lucky for me, her eyes were too swollen to see me.

I held her arm back. My hand propped under her neck to assure her there was someone there.

Talk to her Raph! You have to keep her talking.

”What did ya say?” I asked. She huffed hard. Breathing hurt her and she had blood dripping out of her mouth.

“Name.” She said barely opening her mouth. 

I was taken back. I knew she definitely couldn’t see me now.

”Raphael.” I answered finding my self getting more and more anxious at how much time she had left. I could be the last person… well creature she talks to. “As long as I’m here you’re safe. I promise.” I tried to comfort her.

She took another deep breath and became limp once again. My heart beat so fucking fast. 

A loud thump from the roof shook behind me.

Thank fucking God.

”Raph I’m here!” Donnie exclaimed and April hopped off his back. When April saw who it was her face turned into complete panic.

”Nooo!!” She ran faster than the speed of light.

”You know her?!” I asked now feeling a thousand times more guilt than I ever felt.

”I was just with her an hour ago… I don’t understand, how did this happen?!” Her face dropped.

Donnie ran to her side instantly checking her vitals.

”Foot clan members. The ones Leo told me to follow. I seen the one douche chase her out of that apartment.” I pointed. Her face went from upset to furious.

”Levi…he’s her boyfriend. Him and his friends at the college we go to I’ve been watching for days, I had suspicions they were clan members, that’s why I became friends with her, to get a lead. It turns out she’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Her boyfriends an asshole.” She explained. My heart fell for this girl. I looked over at Donnie anxious to know her condition.

”Damn it!” Donnie rarely swears. My heart raced faster than ever.

“What is it Donnie?!” I said a little too rough.

”I think she’s bleeding internally. Her temperature is spiking fast. She needs a blood transfusion and fluids immediately. She needs a hospital I can’t do anything without an ultrasound and my equipment.” He stuttered frantically.

“Will she make it to a hospital?” April asked now crouching down to her friend.

“You’ll have to get her there now!” Donnie said as he was watching his watch. April aggressively called an ambulance.

“Hello?! I need an ambulance here stat!” April yelled into the phone.

——————————————————

Eve’s POV

Its been a few days since my attack. I was slowly but surly healing. No fractured bones. Just a lot of bruising and a mild concussion. April was by my side every moment. She went as far as contacting the school for me. As for my parents I made it apparent to her not to tell them. They would pressure me to go home if they knew.

I was getting close to being discharged from the hospital. Today my social worker and the police were here for me to give a full report on Levi. This was something I thought I’d never have to do. Part of me was relieved that I could finally continue living freely, but a shameful other part of me was feeling heartbroken that I would never see Levi again. I did love him. At one point… the connection to your abuser is something a lot of people don’t talk about.

He was the only person I had left.

Another part of me was nervous how things would be at school. Would his friends try to hurt me? How would my classmates treat me? I could hear it now. “Eve fakes assault to put Levi in jail.” I already knew those rumors would start.

My stomach twisted in so many knots. My loneliness engulfed me and my fear held me in shackles. 

“Whenever you’re ready, I’d like you to tell me what happened.” The social worker said. Her eyes painted on me ready to engorge my testimony.

I felt a lump in my throat trying to remember the very little I did know. April held my hand and nodded me to continue.

”Umm well I was coming home from the coffee shop around 8pm. I didn’t answer his text right away so he got angry and waited for me at the door. He wouldn’t let me in my apartment and got aggressive with me.” My voice started to shake remembering his hands around my throat. 

“What happened then?” She urged. My breathing became rapid now confessing of the things I would usually lie about. I knew the plain truth, but saying it was hard. I had become so accustomed to lying that the truth felt vile.

”He strangled me…” I whispered. My fingers trailed to my neck that was heavily bruised. I remembered the scent of his breath…

A tear poured over my cheek. I felt too numb to even wipe it away. I let my tear loosely hang at the bottom of my chin. My eyes zoned away as I dissociated.

”What happened after that?” She asked again. I zapped out of my darkened state and looked up at April again.

“I managed to get away. I spat in his eye and ran as fast as I could. I tried to call 911, but I fell. That’s when him and all of his friends hurt me. I don’t remember much after that.” I looked at April again knowing she was the one who rescued me.

”What happened again April?” I looked at her with honest eyes. She gulped and smiled to try and lighten up the atmosphere.

”I had forgotten that I asked her to hold onto my keys for me.” April continued for me. “As I walked back I saw her running from him. I tried to get there as fast as I could, but I was too late.”

”Wait.” The social worker took her glasses off and sat up a little more in her chair. “So you mean to tell me that you single handedly fought off 5 grown men by yourself?” She said disbelieving.

Aprils mouth slightly gaped. Her offense clearly spread through her face.

”Yes mam I did. I study mixed martial arts, and for the record I’m pretty damn good at it.” She sassed.

”Shes telling the truth.” I jumped in. The social worker averted her eyes back to her binder of all of my pictures and information. 

“Eve I need to to tell me every name you know that was there.” She said.

”Well there was Levi, his best friend Michael Stewart. I think I saw Malik Worthington and I don’t know what he looks like but I heard the name… Raphael I think and D-Don? Donnie?.” I said scratching my head.

April looked at me faster than ever. Eyes shocked as hell. I didn’t understand why…

”Well Eve I think I have everything I need. We’ll get that PFA filed and with my team I’ll make it sure that he never touches you again.” She said standing up.

”Wha- what about school?” I said nervously before she quickly tried existing. She turned around.

”I’ve already contacted the school officials. Him and everyone who was involved are about to be expelled.” My heart sung and sunk at the same time. I would never hear the end of this at school.

The next day I was discharged. April insisted on staying with me for a few days. This girl was probably the most giving person I’ve ever met. She barely knew me. No matter how much I tried convince her I was okay, I saw the guilt behind her eyes. 

We’ve become so close within the past couple days. It honestly felt so good to have someone genuine by my side. The school administrator said I didn’t have to go back until next week so after school April would come straight to my apartment. 

We found that we both REALLY loved watching the bachelor. The new episode aired tonight and we prepped all day for it. Plenty of assortments of wine and snacks along with some candles, fuzzy blankets and some cozy pajamas. It was the perfect way to spend the a rainy afternoon.

As the episode ended and we finally simmered down from all the drama we just watched. I was excited to show her what I’ve been working on for my current events project.

”Youre suppose to be relaxing.” She implied as I shuffled through my papers.

”Yeah, but I really think you’ll find this story cool!” I said. I handed her a folder of all of my research.

“Ancient Japanese operations featuring the Big Apple.” She said uneasy. I rolled my eyes.

”Yeah it needs a better title I know. But look at how interesting this is!” I flipped the page for her. “See? A lot of Japanese Americans in the city are reporting that a lot of crime in the city is coming from a secret clan of ninjas. I thought it was bogus at first until I looked at a lot of the evidence. See this? Remember that robbery that was all over the news a couple weeks ago? Look at the symbol they left behind.” I pointed.

Her eyes looked uneasy.

”And look here, I took these right outside of our campus.” I pointed again. April remained silent and I couldn’t help but notice the sudden shake in her hand.

I had a lot of time on my hands since I was lounging around all day. My research was impressive in my eyes, but the more that I showed her of this “Foot clan” the more silent and resentful Aprils energy was.

”So. What do you think?” I looked at her with hopeful eyes.

“Well.” April cleared her throat as she adjusted herself in the couch. She was oddly comfortable. “It sounds interesting, but isn’t this project suppose to be interactive?” She asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Well that’s where I was hoping to ask for your help.”

April raised an eyebrow.

”I was wondering if you were willing, to maybe let me interview your friends and ask them a few cultural questions.”

“My friends?” She but her lip nervously.

”Yeah… you said they were Japanese right?” I hesitated slightly. April scrunched her face and shook her head. Something was off with her and I had no idea why.

”Oh yes. Those friends.” She nodded. “I don’t know how to say this, but they’re not really… people-ly.” Her lips became tense.

”People-ly?” I repeated.

“Yeahhhhh.” She chuckled. “They don’t really do well with people.” She seemed like she was sugar coating everything. I started to gather that she didn’t really want me to meet her friends. I knew her intentions were pure, but I couldn’t help but feel a little left out. Maybe I wasn’t cool enough for her cool Japanese friends that teach her martial arts.

I decided to keep my follow up question to myself then. Since I was pretty much a coward and knew nothing about self defense, I was going to ask if her friends could teach me a few things.

I threw that idea out the window quick.

”It’s okay. I understand.” I said trying not to look hurt about it. “It just means I’ll have to interview some of the kids at school. Talking to new people is not something I’m good at, but I need the practice.” I said. 

April smiled and switched her focus to the TV. 

“Well it’s still raining, you know what movies go perfect with rain?” She said.

”What?” I asked pulling up my blanket.

”Twilight.”

THANK YOU FOR READING! IF YOU ENJOY, LIKE, COMMENT AND FOLLOW. IT LETS ME MNOW TO WRITE MORE!

“Please, please

Don't leave me be

It's not true

Take me to the roof

Told you not to worry

What do you want from me?

Don't ask questions

Wait a minute

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

Baby, I don't feel so good

And all the good girls go to hell

Bite my tongue, bide my time

What is it about them?

I’m the bad guy”

[carefulfears]

speak more about closure (the episode)!!

oh my god literally always. i could talk about sein und zeit & closure every day and never run out of things to say.

(i've talked about it a bit before, here and here.)

i was thinking about recently, this final shot of sein und zeit. how devastating it is. how empty and brutal and mortal it is. how representative it is of what this episode has to say.

mulder has spent his whole life believing that children who go missing from their homes do not die, wanting to believe. he spends this whole episode clinging to that belief.

in the end, he stands alone, separated slightly from the others, over 24 tiny graves. there's no easy out, there's no groundbreaking conspiracy or mythos. there's nothing but dirt and bones and a man in blue jeans.

this is the same conclusion that he had faced the day before, in regards to his mother's death. he walked in with the most hopeful answer, spun up an explanation that would make sense, and in the end, was wrong.

in the end, sometimes it's pills and fumes. sometimes it's purely corporeal, sometimes there's nothing to find solace in.

and so closure opens on the graves of 24 children. teams of men unearthing them, digging in the dirt. one of them with tears streaming down his face.

after seven seasons, we're nearing the end of the road, and there is none of mulder's perfectly reassuring celestial faith in sight.

in the midst of all of this, scully is ever-steady in her facts, and she takes a deep breath before calmly relaying information about the murders to mulder, who doesn't look up from studying the footage of the kids.

when conversation turns to samantha, he sits back to confess that he had badly wanted to find her in one of those graves. he admits, "i guess i just want it to be over."

a long way from "nothing else matters to me" in bellefleur, from shaky relief over fabric hearts, from letters written about goals of reunification, there's resignation before acceptance.

one of my favorite moments of the series is towards the end of sein und zeit when mulder says that they should just go home. that they are not going to find those people's daughter alive, despite the days he had spent insisting to anyone who would listen that they could.

when he says that he is too close to the case, and he wants to take some time away from work.

seven years after scully chased him into the street and yelled for him to stop running after his sister, the morning after she followed him into a hallway to tell him not to go looking for something that he does not want to find, the person whose "relentlessness" has kept him searching for nearly 30 years, just wants to go home.

after mulder says that he just wants it all to stop, and a brief wavering confrontation immediately after, scully heads back to DC and begins her search.

i think it's so important that it took nearly a decade of this "search" for scully to ever even see the file.

despite what they might tell you, this journey has never been the search for samantha. it's why so many leads were left unfollowed, so many questions remained unasked, so many misdirects were accepted without inquiry.

this has never been a search for samantha, it has been a quest to keep searching. a desire to believe, a grasp for hope.

scully has always understood this, so seven years after joining the pursuit, only after mulder said he's ready to stop, she starts looking.

i love this scene between her and agent schoniger, going over mulder's old therapy tapes and seeking expert opinion.

closure spells out in plain terms what has been explicit since the pilot, that aliens and x-files and spectral theory, are all a means to an end.

schoniger tells scully that the "garden-variety compensatory abduction fantasy," is just that, a fantasy that allows for hope, allows for pursuit.

when she asks what he thinks happened to samantha, he shows her the FBI's file. how the treasury department was involved. how much effort went into an investigation, due to bill mulder's status in the government. how nothing was ever found.

he offers the FBI theory. she was kidnapped in the house. body disposed of. never found. it was 1973, predatory crime wasn't as evolved at the bureau.

he asks why she would bring this back up now, and she tells him that it is what mulder is owed. that this wound has never healed, and mulder deserves closure.

back in sacramento, mulder is asleep while planet of the apes plays on the motel television ("there's got to be an answer." "don't look for it, taylor. you may not like what you find," the dialogue that plays through the room.)

as the film rolls, there's a knock at the door, and mulder wakes up to let his friendly neighborhood psychic harold in, and continue their journey.

"what are you afraid of?" mulder is asked outside a military base, continuing the theme of vulnerability in pursuit. of how precarious it is to really seek, when you don't know where you'll end up.

meanwhile, scully returns to tena's house, searching through the remains of what she burned at the end of her life, and finds a document in the garbage signed "C.G.B.S."

she identifies the report as the original copy of the form that effectively ended the FBI's investigation into samantha's disappearance, and the initials as belonging to c.g.b. spender, an alias of the cigarette smoking man.

when she calls mulder to tell him what she found, he's dismissive, and against questioning CSM, but a confrontation at her apartment leads to a warning to stop looking.

you may not like what you find.

as mulder and harold make their way to albatross street.

where they find handprints in cement marked "samantha," in the yard outside of military housing. next to a matching set marked with the name of CSM's son, jeffrey.

scully flies back to sacramento, remaining steadfast, just as she was in the beginning, as she tells mulder about her conversation with CSM. as she tells him that she was told samantha is dead.

mulder, however, is eternally going in "an endless line, two steps forward and three steps back," like she said years ago. miles from his own position at the start, just wanting it to be over is easier said than done, and he's reverting back to the previous theories and fantasies that he's always fallen back on.

though scully tries, this is ultimately not her burden, and she joins mulder and harold as they make their way back to albatross street, where a trip to the house uncovers a journal left behind by samantha.

"she tells him, after his mother dies and his sister writes to them from beyond her adolescent grave, that she’s not going to leave him. she means it as an argument." - tracklist by audries

it is so much easier to live in delusion of our choosing. it is so much easier to look away, to take three steps back, to mask the suffering of the world and of the people we love. it's so much easier to seek comfort in innocence.

but it means something to bear witness. it means something that this little girl was playing a game with her brother one moment, and the next was not, and she was not unharmed and abducted by aliens. it means something that someone knows that.

mulder and scully sit in an empty diner together, two untouched cups of coffee in front of them, and they bear witness.

they read, in her own words, about the tests that were being performed on her. about how she wasn't even treated like a person. about how much she hated it, and how they didn't care.

if you pause on samantha's diary, you can see phrases that mulder doesn't read aloud, like "more tests. more pain. will it ever end?"

"..dream of being with my family. sitting on the beach, playing volleyball...instead, i'm trapped in this cold dark room"

"why can't it all just go away? i'm too young. i didn't do anything wrong."

after so many years of a name in a file, a picture on a desk, a hopeful dream; they sit and they cry and they take in her own words and her own experience.

they read about how she planned on running away. how she just couldn't take it anymore, but she was sure they would kill her if she tried. how she didn't care, she just wanted it to stop. "no more."

they read about how her memories were altered, but she thought she had a brother, and she just wished she could see him. how she hoped he would read this someday and know that.

at the end of the road, there is no closure. there is no "beyond the sea."

there is only mulder and scully looking up at stars, a familiar sight to tie in the mythology of this two-parter.

referencing the theory that was posited in sein und zeit, and then again later by harold, mulder says that maybe they are souls. traveling through time in the starlight.

when scully tells him to "go get some sleep," he laughs; in the same way he did when she said those words years earlier, over scraps of fabric and nightmares of missing girls.

but unlike paper hearts, he complies, and the next scene opens on him asleep back at the motel. the television off and silent, for possibly the first time in the series.

scully wakes him up the next morning, with the police report of a 14-year-old hostage runaway from 1979 in her hand.

"i got it, mulder. i couldn't believe it when i found it. it's like it was looking for me."

following the lead to the hospital records, this is so reminiscent of their early adventure days. back when they were running around searching, back before they were afraid of what they'd find.

mulder uncovers the medical report, a 14-year-old girl who wouldn't give a name and exhibited signs of paranoia. the records note "evidence of probable self-inflicted abuse," small scars on her knees, wrists, and chest from the tests that were being done on her.

once again, sometimes answers are flesh and blood.

"i have this...powerful feeling and i can't explain it, that this is the end of the road."

at the home of the nurse who signed the intake form, mulder hangs back by the car, and scully asks if he's ready, if he wants her to go herself.

this is the moment that makes me emotional the most, i feel like. when scully in all of that steadfast logic and reason goes up alone, to speak to the last person who ever saw samantha alive.

and after seven years of countering every theory, of reigning in blind hope, of skepticism and science, you can tell that part of her stands on that porch and just prays for aliens. prays to have been wrong.

she listens as the nurse describes the young teenager that you remember for how frightened she was, "scared for her sweet life."

and the man who came for her, who would not put out his cigarette.

and that she just disappeared out of a locked room, after the nurse had seen a vision of her dead. an experience in line with that of the parents in sein und zeit, and the theory of children transported in starlight, spared from violent deaths.

this story is not without grace, and there is something to offer mulder in the end, as he's lead to a forest where many souls are waiting. including harold's son, amber lynn lapierre, and a young girl who starts running to him.

i love the tone of this scene. disparate from the original script, which called for them to be crying, they are overjoyed. this is something, after all these years and all this pain. this is holographic, inadequate, reunification. and it is too much and not enough at the same time.

returning from the woods, scully asks where he went, and he answers, "end of the road."

he turns to harold, and tells him that they're all dead. his son, amber lynn, samantha. and it's okay.

"we both have to let go, harold."

but it's not everyone's time to put down the search, and harold still wants to believe, insisting that he will keep looking.

where this episode opened in dirt and bones, it closes in starlight and freedom, the end of the road a balance between realism and hope.

between the mortal evil of "the truth" and the faith that allows you to survive what you find; it's not somewhere you can go alone, or before you're ready.

there is no closure. but there's acceptance, and there's the relief that comes with knowing that someone will always be remembered, even if you go home and get some sleep.

[hungover-and-broke-student]

A little something based on an old thread with @malpractitioner that I've had rotating in my brain for a while. Cut for length!

After one last look around and with some irritated grumbling, Riley finished the last of her night shift and headed home into the night. Winter had arrived in full force and in the earliest hours, well before the plows and salt trucks got out to clear it, the snow made the city almost unrecognizable. Street lights now offered a hazy glow instead of harsh shadows and the usual car honks and sirens were replaced by the soft hiss of snowfall and crunches underfoot.

Block by block, she made her way home, enjoying the scenery as snow filled in her footprints. But as she approached the outermost edges of campus, with the oldest and most neglected buildings and almost a dozen blocks still to go, a cruel wind began picking up. She was prepared for a few flurries, not a blizzard, and her layers were proving insufficient.

Cold. Burning, numbing cold crept deep into her bones, chasing all sensation from her hands and feet as she stumbled up the steps of the old, imposing medical building and tested the handle. Expecting it to be locked, Riley was almost startled at the ease in which it opened, the warmth inviting her as she slipped in.

"Hello?" Riley quietly asked the sprawling darkness. But only silence answered back. Perhaps the cleaning staff forgot to lock the door when they left? Were they still here? Was she not loud enough?

"Anyone here?"

No response. Just cold, quiet, darkness and the soft drip of snow melting onto the floor.

A bit odd, but nothing to worry about. She was just grateful for the chance to warm up enough to get the feeling back in her hands before braving the rest of the way home.

Wandering deeper through the halls, she had just turned to leave when she heard it. When walking through the woods, people will sometimes jump a bit before realizing that they've noticed a snake in their path, and this was eerily similar. Her eyes widened, hair stood on end and heart raced before she could even register the single scream ringing through the hall, clawing its way to escape, to anyone who might hear it. A single, desperate, and terrified, "HELP ME!" Came from down the hall behind her.

And then it was quiet again. Nothing to be heard over her own heart in her ears. Leave. Immediately. But who could be down there? Doesn't matter. What would have made them so scared? Do you want to find out? Maybe I can help them? Your phone died hours ago. Isn't it better to know what danger may be there?

Riley crept deeper into the dark, taking care to step lightly and listen for any sign of who or what screamed, but it was just her footsteps and the silence around her. Until she noticed a soft glow from a small window on a door to one of the labs and crept close enough to peer in.

It was hard to tell what was going on at first, some papers on a desk, some chemistry equipment, an empty coffee maker, some chairs tipped over... and a body on the floor. Horribly still, eyes rolled back and mouth agape in a post-mortem scream. Locked in horror, time slowed around her until movement caught her eye. Someone else was in the room, and he saw her.

At once, she turned heel and raced back to the entrance, stumbling blindly through the shadowy labyrinth. The halls seemed to have gotten longer since she first wandered through, she couldn't have really walked so far, right? Did she pass through these classrooms already? Did she take the right one? Before she could despair, she saw it, the soft red glow of an EXIT sign. With a loud 'CRACK' she ran into the handle, but the door didn't budge. It wasn't locked. It was frozen shut.

"Riley?"

So caught up with the door, she hadn't heard him approach, now blocking the main hall. Despite the darkness, she recognized the long limbs, large glasses and imposing stature of her psychology professor, Doctor Jonanthan Crane.

"What are you doing here?" He didn't sound angry, moreso confused and almost amused. Like they ran into each other at a gas station out of town, instead of getting caught for murder. He looked slightly disheveled compared to his lectures during class, eyes bloodshot and shirt untucked, but the way his gaze pierced through her was all the same.

"I swear to God, I didn't see anything." The words spilled out without control.

He paused for a moment, before simply stating with the authority of an educator getting a confession from a problem student, "That's not what I asked, is it?"

She stared for a moment, so wound up with her own fear she had to organize her thoughts enough to go through that night's events. Starting with her shift ending, the freezing walk and her stumbling back to their current conversation. Whether he believed her, or cared enough not to, she couldn't tell. He just stood there. "I swear, I won't tell anyone."

There was a flash of amusement as he took a few steps toward her. Riley had nowhere to back up. "I can't see why you would, it's your word against mine, isn't it?" Who would you believe? He didn't have to say it, she already knew the answer and it made her insides twist. A celebrated doctor and professor, head of the psychology department versus a mentally ill drug addict. Who would you believe? Who would you believe?

He closed the gap between them and terror wrapped itself around her neck like a noose, slowly growing tighter. "Please dont kill me." It was hardly louder than the soft buzz from the sign above, but it wouldn't have mattered. She was going to die, alone and terrified, just like the other student. But this time, without anyone snooping around to find out what happened. Would anyone even notice she was gone?

Terrified and with no way out, a memory flashed through her mind, a final hail Mary. It couldn't make things worse, could it?

"I'll help you! Y-you need help with your experiments, right? If you don't kill me, I swear I'll help you." There was a flash of surprise as he studied her face, leaving her in the agonizing limbo between life and death. Time dragged as he clearly relished her uncertainty, before turning and gesturing for her to follow.

"Alright then, let's get started. "

[wolfnesta]

My first ever Neris 🔥🖤 for the last day of @nestaarcheronweek

I needed to add some Nessian to make this work out. Warning it’s a tad nsfw. Special thanks to my friends who took the time to read and give me great feedback ❤️ thanks for all the effort and nice words @sunlightsage

Nesta

“Nes,” his sleepy voice rasps in my ear as I feel the gentle stroke of his fingers across my abdomen.

I click the lock button on my phone, my dilating pupils sending my vision for a spin. His hand moves away as a I shift to lay my head on his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling his warmth.

Letting my eyes close I hum in response. His arm encircles me, holding me tightly against him already back asleep. The warmth suddenly becomes too much, too hot, his arm heavy. I shift around, the discomfort grating. Suddenly I need to feel cool air on my skin.

Grabbing Cassian’s shirt and throwing it over my naked body, the cold bites my skin from being overly hot a moment ago.

Silently making my way to the kitchen, I check the time—great. Only 4 hours of sleep at the most for me. I grab a water bottle from the refrigerator and lean my hip against the counter. After few sips of the cold water soothing my throat I hadn’t realized I really had been thirsty. I run my fingers through my hair with the calming effect of the cool water I’m forced to realize the restlessness I had been feeling before truly had just been a despondence that refused to let me out of its grip.

As I continue sipping I click the lock screen on my phone again, the brightness assaulting me in the dark kitchen illuminated only by the glow of the connecting hallway light. I don’t know what I was expecting as I stare at the list of names on my contacts. An answer written there by some divine intervention, maybe.

Please— I don’t know what I’m begging for but its all I can feel. I close my eyes trying to block out his image but there he is. Closing my eyes doesn’t make a difference. Finishing my water I go back to bed.

—

Eris

I breath in the smell of coffee and that sweet, woodsy smell of new books I love as I slowly stalk the row of books, scanning each spine wondering which one will make me more curious than the next. I stare at a book with dark unassuming leather binding yet the title is set in deep elegant etching, The Choir of Fire.

Triumphantly I pluck the book and head out. Reading, amongst a few other frowned upon activities, had become a regular way of escaping for me though I would never admit it. As a child it had been anything I could get my hands on although now with my father dead I had the liberty to be picky.

Beron had been a tough love kind of man, always the toughest on me as the eldest. It wasn’t until years after his death and cutting ties with my family that I realized what the correct term was—abuse. I hated to think of it because there had been love for him and such a deeply ingrained respect. Sometimes on drunk nights when my mind was loose I realized it had always just been fear. I chose to block that out too.

Suddenly I see her. It would be hard not to. Her lips, eyes, everything is beautiful but it’s the soft skin of her neck I notice the most, an endearing little mole right above her collar bone, elegant and fragile. Her collar is slightly open so even if I don’t look directly I can see the soft cleft of her breast peaking at me in my peripheral.

The effect on me is not visible on the outside although my mind is racing—why hadn’t I come to this book store before? It’s my turn next in line and she hardly glances at me as she grabs my book, “Did you find everything okay today?” Robotic.

I let my lip curl, just a slight tilt of the corner of my lip, “Of course.” She wraps up the book and hands it to me unfazed. I grab it just barely skimming her finger. Just the edge.

Anyone watching wouldn’t have thought anything about this normal transaction yet something tells me this girl is watchful. Gorgeous. A challenge. It’s at the last second I see the sly look in her eyes, the tiny lift of her eye brow, so brief Im not sure if I imagined it, that tells me she’s good. But I know that I’m better.

—

Nesta

I gasp. I can’t help it and I know he loves it.

After a few lingering looks across bookshelves, a shared dance during our first date where I came to learn the feel of his beautiful hands on me as we let the music consume us, we had started a relationship of sorts that consisted of this back and forth power play. Despite the thrill of it there were soft moments in between where we had gotten to know each other more than either of us cared to admit. He had managed to ensnare me like the amber in his eyes, keeping me frozen in this state of constant anticipation that was all the more thrilling for its uncertainty.

As he lays me down and stakes his claim I try to remind myself that it’s me in control. 

He had ignored my second text today and I had refused to care except that I never ever double texted any man. I knew everything he did was as deliberate and calculated as everything I did. But I’m better than him.

I knew were to find him tonight, although seeing him flirting when I arrived wasn’t surprising considering we both refused to claim ourselves as exclusive, it had still irked me. But the more satisfying my victory would be. All it took was for me to sit back, angle myself just right, appear passive and bored, before some guy was offering a dance.

Most men didn’t have the dancing chemistry I craved, I usually looked to girls for that. But that was before I had set foot on the dance floor with Eris. This man though, fortunately, had shown a bit of skill aside from a few fumbles her and there. It made me pay him a sliver of extra attention than my vengeful tirade required.

He was tall and rugged. His nose slightly wide in a way that only a male of his proportions could balance. His eyes were slightly deep set sitting below perfect eyebrows. Such a contrast to Eris whose high cheek bones and tilted eyes gave him precise elegance.

After I knew was more than enough time, finding that I was actually enjoying myself, I finally separated from him. The look on his face had elicited a slight prickle of guilt that made me offer a genuine smile. Maybe he noticed the sadness behind it, maybe he didn’t.

I purposefully looked directly at the sleek red head watching us as I turn my back on the man. Cassian he had said his name was. He might’ve been good company if I had paid him more attention.

Eris’s face was expressionless something we’re both expertly good at when we play this little game. A reason that makes me crave it more.

I had decided to make my exit then despite knowing departing so soon would be a blatant sign to Eris this whole outing had been because of him and his failure to respond to my message. But feeling satisfied at the reminder that two could play at that game I suddenly yearned to be curled in my blanket, book in hand.

Not quite outside yet I felt Cassian’s hand on my arm “Would you let me walk you to your car? The men eyeing you here… I feel like its not safe.” I refused to look away from Cassian as he spoke even as I felt a slight ruffle of air breezing by. Eris’s cologne drifted to me—a warm rich smell, something like pepper and mahogany.

“Sure” I had replied. Although cute I had refrained myself from mentioning that having gone to bars alone before his offer was just as much to be careful of as any other man’s seeing how he was also a stranger.

I hadn’t bothered to cut through the awkward silence during the walk to my car. Let it scare him off I thought. But he surprised me a second time when he blurted “I’m not sure what you were up to tonight. But I’m sure it worked. I’m glad I got to dance with you.” To hell with it everything, I thought, as I winked admitting to him, “It was fun.”

Feeling generous we exchanged numbers and I drove off in my fairly new car although nothing overly fancy. A last insult from my dead grandmother who had been beyond wealthy but had requested having her assests sold, everything pooled together and donated to select charities.

It had been her way of ensuring that even in death by giving to those in need everyone would love her despite being a monster, leaving the most meager of her things for her one granddaughter she had been stuck with raising. As a reminder how disappointing I had turned out to be.

Then there had been the intense satisfaction I had felt upon seeing Eris already parked outside my house. A luxurious car courtesy of his father. I thought of the way Eris would clam up at the mention of him and I knew. Beron and my grandmother were cut from the same tree. They either would have loved each other or hated each other. Good thing they were both dead.

Him being there meant sometime between my small exchange with Cassian and my leisure drive home he must have floored it to my place. His way of allowing me to see that I had in fact gotten under his skin tonight as well.

It’s this thought that culminates the days events, no matter how petty, and I can’t help the smile that comes to my face. That knowing smile I know grates on him yet turns him on all at once. I had won this round and he knew it.

 And so even as I fight for control my gasp has our kisses turning sloppier. As we reach for each other in desperation. Our clothes are shed and I cant wait to have him inside me and demand him to put me in my place. Who is winning this round again? I cant remember as I let him overtake my senses.

—

Eris

Her soft hand splays against my bare thigh. I still as my brain tells me to whisper a thousand words into her ear just like they do every time from the first of our joining’s. I pull myself upright and stare at her face, at her body laid out for me against her bed we had barely managed to make it to. If I look directly at where we are joined I might become undone.

 “Let me make you mine, Nesta. Just tonight.” The wild look in her eyes soften, “I need this. I think about this all the time, don’t you understand?” I lay back down covering her with my body and place a kiss on that little tiny mole, trace her jaw and collar bone with my fingers. “There is no one like you for me. Why the fuck did you look so comfortable with that brute tonight.”

She whimpers as this last thought has me setting a rough pace and shes quickly coming undone, the tips of her long nails digging into my skin.

Through the rush, all my senses alert and engaged, I still can’t help it. From giving her that same sly little grin she had given me too as she had entered the house. That had me grabbing her to me, bypassing any silly words when we both knew better. And I slow down right before she comes. I have her wrapped around my finger.

—

Nesta

Cassian adores constant touches much to my chagrin since I hate PDA. He has been staying at my house more and more. Since I haven’t spoken or seen Eris in months. Despite my distaste for domesticated life with a partner. I enjoy my personal space but I have come to care for Cassian in a sort of grateful way. The care he has persisted in showing me despite being so cold with him initially. It is the thought of a compromise that makes me reach over and twirl a strand of his soft brown hair around my finger.

He grins immediately. I have to turn away, wondering how something so simple—a pull of a few facial muscles her and there— can be so easy for some yet so hard for others.

“Let’s do movie night,” he says. We had just arrived from work and we were both an exhausted heap on the couch. Undoing my braid with my fingers and massaging my scalp I say, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

We order food and head to pick it up making a quick stop at the convenience store for some drinks. Cassian’s easy smiles and playful teasing make me ease into the night. Rough around the edges and amazing in bed, I was grateful for him even if in the most dark recesses of my mind I admit I needed someone that was the complete opposite of Eris. To help me let go.

It had been almost a year since I had blocked Eris from everything short from my email. Sometimes I catch myself wondering what went wrong, yearning. He had caught me off guard after asking me to join him in a visit to his fathers grave. I had wanted to repay the sentiment, to acknowledge how important this step was, but I couldn't help resenting the things his relationship with his dead father reminded me of mine with my grandmother. I had hated the feelings I felt arise, ones I hadn’t even known I had. There had been fights between us before but not one like we had that night.

Afterward my mind couldn’t wrap around the problem let alone find a way to fix it. There were times since then I unreasonably wished he would come by the book store or run into me somehow. Just to see him, to remember.

But everything we both did was deliberate… wasn’t it?

The uneventfulness of the day suddenly comes to a jarring stop and I feel my breath stop as I notice him. At my disinterest all I see is a figure down a different isle but it would be hard not to pay him closer attention. The first thing I had noticed when I first laid eyes on him was his hair much like I do right now. Perfectly tousled, the deepest red. I remembered how he had given me an offended look during one of our initial toying with each other, after I had asked him if he dyed it regularly. How I had savored his annoyance until he responded in question if my boobs were real. I still remember that little signature smile he gave me that first time we met thinking himself so slick.

I kept walking as if nothing had changed even if my world felt like it had just been tipped upside down by his presence. I stay silent as Cassian grabs me a pack of tea and he grabs himself a pack of electrolyte drinks

I reach to help but he stops me with a wink, “Come on Nes, if I can lift you up when you ask me to then I can carry these.”  I huff in response. I’ve never been comfortable with information of my sex life so nonchalantly mentioned like that but I know my voraciousness in bed makes it hard for him not to tease.

We turn and he’s right there, the hint of his cologne enveloping me. My heart involuntarily starts beating frantically. Eris never shows his hand unless he wills it. I never let anyone see mine either. The way he stands so close looking at me so intently—I know that he wants something, to see something. As bad I have been wanting it.

—

Eris

I think back on that awful night so many times. My number one rule, to never let anyone in, I had broken it wanting to let her see a part of me I had yet to fully understand myself. But she hadn’t wanted to. She had resisted me and everything else had become a blur for hating myself for exposing to her a weakness I had.

Truth be told I had tried to ignore her after that. But then I called, I had called her every night. I called her knowing she wouldn’t pick up to torture myself. Yet still I refused to let her have the satisfaction of forcing me to search for her. Of finding out that she had ensnared me like the storm in her blue gray eyes, keeping me locked in this constant state of confusion and desire. I had tried to throw myself into the endless names in the dating pool but I couldn’t remember any of them.

As if cruel fate wanted to give me a reminder of what I had or what I possibly thought I had I see her content with that man tonight. So alone as I drive I scream. I let out the frustration and pent up desires. For how long I don’t know but finally I breathe through my nose and out through my mouth. I want to hate her and yet I don’t. I adjust myself, my shirt, turn my music down to a steady volume.

I know what I saw today.

—

Nesta

Back in my room I sit on the edge of my bed. I unlock my phone once more. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I slowly type his name. His full name—even if it’s the first thing to come up with just one letter.

I touch it. My fingers hover. I close my eyes and unblock.

[smbilodeau]

9/11

This was originally written five years ago. Things haven't changed, so perhaps it's time to post this again. -----

“Never forget.”

I’m seeing that a lot today.

“Never forget.” It’s about the 9/11 attacks, of course.

I haven’t. I won’t. We’re not allowed to.

Let me tell you what I haven’t forgotten.

I haven’t forgotten odd comments from other visitors at Neuschwanstein Castle, where Criss and I (and her sister Toni and Toni’s husband Bob) were on September 11th, 2001. We were on vacation in Europe, celebrating Toni and Bob’s 50th wedding anniversary. We’d spent the previous week in Paris. We’d overheard a few remarks about the “accident in New York” but didn’t know what that referred to.

I haven’t forgotten returning to our hotel, and having the desk clerk express her sorrow about the “planes in New York” when we stopped to collect our keys to our rooms. We expressed our confusion. She said that she was sorry about the planes flying into the World Trade Center towers in New York City, as she knew we were from New York.

I haven’t forgotten our shock, our rush to our room, our frantic cycling through channels on the hotel television trying to find something that would tell us what had happened that wasn’t in German. Our worry about Lara, in NYC, who we knew had recently moved to a new apartment in Chelsea, our lack of knowledge about just where Chelsea was in relation to the towers.

I haven’t forgotten being unable to reach Lara by phone, our growing desperation to reach someone, anyone, who’d heard from her since the crashes.

I haven’t forgotten seeing the second crash on endless repeat on CNN International while Criss was trying to get through to Lara on the phone.

I haven’t forgotten the next hour as we trekked to a nearby computer cafe, and began trying to reach friends and family by instant messaging, the difficulties of using a German keyboard, the lack of news from the few people I was able to reach.

I haven’t forgotten the relief, the bone-deep release of fear that was on Criss’ face when, later, she finally got through to Lara’s answering machine and heard a message from Lara letting everyone that she was all right, that the crashes hadn’t affected her.

I haven’t forgotten the Europe-wide moment of silence the following Friday, ninety seconds of utter silence even in the heart of a major modern metropolis, as all voices were stilled, as all traffic stopped, as all broadcasts were stilled.

I haven’t forgotten the way that we, as Americans, were treated by complete strangers on our way home, the kindness, the sympathy, the utter compassion with which our fellow human beings responded to the tragedy in New York City

“Never forget.”

I haven’t forgotten the way the country came together after that, in our misery, in our loss for a few brief weeks. But only a few brief weeks.

I haven’t forgotten the way the then-administration of this country pissed away every bit of good will that the world had given us because of our loss, in the name of petty revenge and party politics.

I haven’t forgotten the endless, pointless wars in which they entangled us. How could I forget what we’re still embroiled in, eighteen years later?

I haven’t forgotten that the leader of the current administration’s only public response on that day was to go on TV within hours of the towers fall to brag about now owning the tallest building in New York because of their fall.

I haven’t forgotten the rights that we’ve been stripped of because of bad legislation rammed through in fear and jingoism, nor the security theater in airports we’re forced to endure every time we fly because of that same cowardice.

“Never forget.”

I haven’t. I won’t. We’re not allowed to.

I hope you’ll forgive me if I choose not to wallow in this annual misery and faux-patriotic stoking of all the worse aspects of our country’s self-image. Instead, I’m going to wish my niece a very happy birthday, and try to do something happy with the day.

What I want you to never forget is that the best response to terrorism is not fear, or cowering, or sadness, but joy in what we still have, in what we still can be. Be joyful today. May your day be happier than you expect, and brighter than you hoped for.

Joy, my friends. Never forget joy.

[ponds-of-ink]

Quick Scraptrap And Y/N Fic: “A Question Answered”

AKA “How to drive Scraptrap’s soul up the wall in five seconds with a simple hand hold”

So this concept crossed my mind today, and I thought it’d be funny to write a short scene about it. Have fun trying to put yourself in this Y/N’s shoes.

—

It was the standard routine for you: Man the office while Mike was out for coffee, ward off who—or whatever— was in the vents, then run out the door as soon as Mike walked back in. Ten minutes at worst, three minutes at best. Nothing to worry about there.

So then why was your mind racing when it should’ve been preparing some quips?

You shut your eyes and breathed deep. Memories of your fellow handy-folks’ conversations drowned out your growing anxiety— If only for a moment.

“So, you’d get anywhere with Ol’ Spring-Bones?” you can practically hear Joe ask one of the janitors.

“Not really,” you recall the janitor telling him. “He’s still insisting I have Tori dump a bucket of water on him. Something about his suit being a death trap if anyone touched it.”

“His whole body’s a death trap,” was one of the last things you heard Joe scoff before you moved to another room. Of course, this was only one of many conversations you heard about the oh-so-elusive Scraptrap. The numerous health requirements from both staff and the robot itself. The countless jokes from the janitors about the obvious degradation of the animatronic. Even your own reports on the off-chance he was the one attacking you that day. All of these, over time, built a strange reputation for him. A looming sense of dread whenever you heard him in the vents, a hint of pity whenever the cleaning requests put him in further isolation, and—weirdest of all—a strong curiosity about one particular subject.

What would happen if you held his hand?

You open your eyes, but keep your head low. One of your gloved hands picks up Mike’s pen and flicks it from side to side. Its clicking only makes your mood worse. “He’ll probably just hide in the vents like always,” you think as you stare listlessly. “He only climbs out of there to attack Mike— And that’s if he’s the only one in there.”

The pen leans to one side. You straighten up, getting ready to lean back in that chair.

A rhythmic thumping hits your left ear. You glance in that direction.

Either that’s him or his pigtailed protégée.

You roll the chair a bit closer to the vent.

The thumping keeps going. And, as far as you can tell, there’s no whirring of plastic wheels after each thunk. Not even after it stops completely.

Before your brain makes the full connection, unfortunately, you hear the source confirm your suspicions. “Did you miss me, Broomstick?” a raspy voice asks, its mocking tone drawing out each ‘s’. “It has been a while, but I was not expecting you to be anticipating me.”

The “nickname” jolts you back into reality. Then the rambling after it gives you an idea. “Scraptrap, the only thing I’ve missed is how quiet it gets when it’s just you around,” you huff, leaning back as you do your strongest eye-roll. “You’re so shy for a killer robot, it’s hysterical.”

You can practically hear the servos in Scraptrap’s head whirring. “Being ‘shy’ is not my intention when dealing with employees like you,” he snips, inching closer to the tiniest bit of light. “I am simply being practical. Tactical, even.”

“So what’s tactical about only letting Tori dump a bucket of water on you when it’s cleaning time?” you cut in, tugging your gloves down. “Or rejecting the main janitor’s idea of giving you a brush ‘bath’? Mike’s paid top-dollar for us, and we definitely know how to mess with horrors like you.”

All you catch is a nervous shiver, then a grumble.

“What was that?” you question flatly, even though your brain is starting to think of exit strategies.

Another shiver, though now it’s punctuated by an irritated sigh. “In that area. I am simply acting with practicality in mind,” he insists. “No need to drive M— your employer’s business into the ground with all the hospital bills he would accumulate. No matter how much you lot prepare, there is nothing to protect you from the rot of the undead.”

You stare at the shadowy figure. Though your expression stays the same, you feel a smile coming on. A smile that you can bet this dumb bunny’s pulled once or twice before. “Is that so?” you ask, using that as your cue to slowly rise to your feet.

In a matter of seconds, the nearly-visible rabbit starts retreating back into the shadows. You calmly walk to the side of the vent, but something seems to prompt Scraptrap to… fumble out of the vent seconds later. You peer down the shaft, but nothing else shows up.

You look back at Scraptrap. He’s using the office chair as a crutch, but the lack of a second arm really isn’t helping him get back to his feet. “Well, better this than risking getting stabbed,” you think as you start to approach.

Scraptrap, on the other hand, gives a furious glare. “I advise you to leave me be,” he says with a gnash of his robotic teeth. “It will take a moment, but you will be regretting all of your countless questions.”

You stop in front of him, then rest your arm on the chair. A full minute passes… And he’s still struggling. “I’m sure I’ll regret it once I’m in the hospital,” you respond, using your free arm to hoist him back up to his feet. “At least I’ll have a funny story to tell when I get back.”

The only response Scraptrap gives is a wide-eyed look towards your hand. And, yes, the both of you are holding hands currently. Given the circumstances, that didn’t really mean anything on your end. Just a happenstance of trying to help someone out, that’s all.

But for Scraptrap?

He must’ve not had basic human contact in years, because the rest of his body is trembling. You can hear the metallic parts of his bones rattling on top of the clearly-pounding heartbeat, that’s how extreme it is. It would be almost endearing if it wasn’t for how unnerving he looked when only his eyes freely move.

So you decide to help him out one more time. “You can let go now,” you tell him, clearing your throat to punctuate your sentence.

Thankfully, this seems to work. “Right,” Scraptrap mumbles before carefully unraveling his bony fingers from yours. “My apologies.”

“It’s all good,” you say with a nonchalant shrug. “Just try to make sure your arm’s wrapped around mine nexf time, all right?”

He’s back to the indistinct mumbling, but his body language tells you that he agrees. With a quickness you weren’t expecting, he hobbles past you and beelines for the other vent. You watch as he cautiously climbs back in, then looks back at you. “You may as well promise that we never speak of this until it is necessary,” he sneers.

With an extra amount of caution, you sit back down in the chair. “All right, but what do I tell Mike?” you inquire as you remove your gloves. “I’m sure you don’t want rumors spreading around the workplace.” You wink at the end of that last sentence just to rub it in.

“You simply tell the truth,” Scraptrap replies in a deadpan tone. “We got into a scuffle, I fell onto the floor, and you helped me back up. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“So I can’t mention you hand-holding with Broomstick?” you pout.

Scraptrap just disappears into the darkness.

And, to be honest, that was probably the best response he could’ve given. It made you chuckle to yourself as you kept office-watching, it told you everything he wanted to without staying and fumbling his words like a shy schoolgirl, and it kept the other robots at bay in the long run. The smartest move all-round, if not the smartest he’s ever made.

..Now if only you could figure out why the office lights were threatening to shut off all of a sudden.

[luck-and-larceny]

Off the Hook

7 years ago…

"You can't be serious. I'm not going to do that."

The twenty year old Miqo'te hiding in the cramped closet of her mark's bedroom put her fingers to her linkpearl and gave the voice on the other end an incredulous frown they could not see.

"The deal was I steal for you, not that I maim anyone. First of all, that's fucked up. Second of all, not my skillset. Send someone else, Red Moon."

Meanwhile, her as of yet untortured mark continued playing the violin. That was, of course, what she was known for. Malika's understanding had been that she'd steal the priceless, one of a kind instrument as a form of professional sabotage for Red Moon's shitty client. At no point had there been discussion about breaking her fingers.

"The client has updated their expectations," the deep, no nonsense voice of Malika's crime lord boss stated. "As well as the pay."

"I don't care about the pay–" Malika began to protest.

"I do." There was a warning in his voice that the young Keeper knew not to challenge. She was silent for a moment and for that moment the only thing that could be heard was the beautiful, haunting sound of the violin. 

Malika knew not to challenge the man. She'd suffered the consequences for that in the past and was not keen to be on the receiving end of his anger ever again. A wise person might have kept quiet and let it go.

Wisdom was not her strong suit.

"I don't do this kind of work," she whispered, her distress evident in the way she clearly and urgently enunciated each word. "I will be caught. You're wasting a perfectly good thief!"

"My perfectly good thief," he answered quietly and with a gentleness she knew to be artificial, "the waste will be if you continue to defy me. Do as you're told."

She bristled.

4 years prior she'd run away from The Nameless Caravan and swore she'd never be beholden to anyone ever again.

Now, here she was trapped in service to a greedy, violent, dangerous crime lord who got off on telling her to do what she was told. It was as though she'd never even left the Caravan in the first place– apart from the fact that Red Moon was generous enough to pay her for the abuse.

This is temporary, she told herself as she took a deep breath in preparation. The plan is already in place. You're getting out of this. You're going to be fine. And you'll never ever ever do a job you don't want to do ever again. Just… just do this thing…

Red Moon would stay on the line. He'd want to hear it happen rather than wait for her to call back. That was just the sort of sick fuck he was. So there'd be no chance to talk to this woman. No explaining anything. Just sudden violence and the cracking of bones.

Not my thing. Malika could feel the panic attack starting to form in her chest as she grappled with the weight of going against her 16 year old self's promise not to do anything she didn't want to ever again. There was no time for that.

"Fine," she said on the line.

Nymeia, I'm sorry. If you have one more miracle left for me, I could really use it…

Three…

Malika pressed her shoulder against the closet door.

Two…

She turned the handle and readied herself to slam the door open and rush her victim.

O–

The music stopped. Malika stopped, too.

"What's happening?" Red Moon demanded.

Malika didn't answer. She didn't know. And with the music stopped it was too risky to speak.

"Sera, I can't do this. I don't want to do this. Something feels off. Something feels wrong. No. No, not with the piece. With this– this whole thing. Everything. Give the solo to Tali. It'd mean the world to her. And I just don't want to do this anymore. I'm quitting. I'm done."

"What the–?" It was extremely unusual for Red Moon to express surprise. "Lia, did you do this? Explain yourself."

"I didn't do shit," she hissed back.

The linkpearl conversation became too faint to hear. She'd moved to another room. Malika cracked open the closet door to see the violin resting on the bed. Seconds later the front door opened and closed. A quick glance out the window showed the owner of the violin leaving the house.

"Shit. She just left, boss. Without her violin."

Silence. The kind of silence that indicated that Red Moon was not pleased, but that he couldn't think of a reason to take it out on her.

"Grab it," he finally said with a sigh. "Bring me the violin. You're off the hook for the rest."

He could probably feel the radiance of Malika's relieved grin from over the linkpearl.

"This time," he warned. "Don't expect to be so lucky in the future."

Unfortunately for him, she did expect to be that lucky in the future. If there had been any doubt that the goddess of luck was on her side prior to this moment, there wasn't any longer. 

Three weeks later a series of extremely fortunate events would free her from her contract with Red Moon without repercussion. Moving forward, she'd keep her promise to herself and never again work for anyone she didn't choose to work for and she'd never take jobs she didn't choose to take.

[away-ward]

Relief

Summary: After a nightmare, Emory finds relief in her safe haven. based on a prompt list a friend sent me: physical touch to feel safe.

Emory

Sunlight streams in through the round bay window in the living room, but it doesn’t warm my skin. I know, without reason to, that it is a summer and I am alone. Grand-mere is already gone, and the chill of the home, empty of her, sinks into my bones. 

I look around the house that I grew up in. Everything is exactly the same as it was before. All the furniture is arranged just how Martin likes it. Perfect, not a pillow out of place or a speck of dust on the mantle. 

I shouldn't be here.

Despite the heavy feeling settling in my stomach, I approach the stairs as I always do, placing my hand on the railing worn smooth through three generations of my family, listening for the familiar creaks in the floor boards.

At the top of the stairs is my brother's room. The door is cracked open, but it's too dark to see inside. I ignore it, rounding the banister toward my room, even though I know Martin turned into something else, a gym or an office. I never learned what exactly. 

Wait. Martin always keeps his door closed.

I inch back around, peering into the deep shadows beyond the door. My gut churns, my instincts trying to tell me something I can't understand. Inside, there's a thump – the sound of boots hitting the floor.

It's him. 

I rear back, stumbling and grabbing for something - anything - to keep upright. I need to go.

I shouldn’t be here.

I don’t want to be here.

Through the panic, I hear a woman's voice calls out. “Emory?" 

“Alex?” I answer, confused. Turning around and scanning the hall, I see a light at the end, in my grandma's room. Why is she here? She shouldn’t be here.

The floor above me creaks, footsteps moving around the attic, along with muffled voices. Who's up there? There shouldn't be anyone up there; all that's there is my family's old furniture and clothes.

Behind me, more thumps, heavy and familiar; a warning. Martin never did creep. He liked me to know when he was coming. Alex calls my name again from down the hall, followed by feminine laughter. Rika and Banks and Winter are with her.

My vision slows and the world tilts. 

He shot Alex. I remember it. The blood, her pale face, the rage of everyone.

How I couldn't stop it.

He has his gun now. The knowledge of this is inescapable.

So is the knowledge that he’s going to kill all of them and leave me alone again. It’ll be all my fault because I didn’t stop him when I should have.

I charge towards the door with the light, ready to physically drag each one out of the room to safety. I pass my room and stop. A much larger body stands by the window, lighting a candle. It's fire glows warm against the inky black night behind the glass.

When did it get dark?

Will. He sets the candle gently on the sill.

He shouldn’t be here, either. I rush in to grab him, my fingers hooking around the back of his white shirt like claws, bunching the stiff material.

“Will. We have to go. Go downstairs.”

Will turns around and smiles. And his smile is everything. It’s bright neon lights and ocean spray and that feeling of reaching the crest of a roller coaster right before it plummets to the bottom and it’s the feeling of free falling, stomach in your throat before the track swoops up again.

“Em,” he says, cupping face with both hands. His thumbs brush across my cheekbones, and he tilts his head, still smiling. "My little Emmy."

“Will,” I mumble. Inexplicably, I feel less anxious. Why was I so nervous before? Will is here. Everything is going to be okay.

But we’re being hunted. I hear the thumps of his boots coming down the hall.

I open my mouth to alert Will, to tell him about the girls and the voices upstairs, who I now know are the Horsemen. They're in danger too. Before I can say anything, the footsteps stop.

We’ve been caught. I turn out of Will's hold to face the hunter.

Martin stands in the doorway in his black police uniform, gun in hand. He looks exactly as he did when I was a kid, still young. I shake my head, silently asking him to go away, to save us this pain.

He raises the gun. I shuffle to cover as much of Will as I can, pulling him behind me as Martin pulls the trigger. There’s a boom, but not a crack, as the bullet leaves the barrel.

It hits me. I know it rips my stomach and back, but I’m not hurt. I feel nothing. I don't even bleed in spite of the gapping hole.

Will’s hurt.

Will’s white shirt turns red, expanding and darkening as his knees bend and give out and he falls forward into my arms and the floor creaks as Martin moves on and Will's eyes are so green as they widen and–

My eyes slam open, lungs sucking in a sharp breath as if I hadn't been breathing before. All I see are shadows. Slowly, the room starts to take shape. The nightstand on Will's side, the art on the wall, and the doors that leads to the master en suite. My rapid heartbeat carries on as I convince myself the danger isn’t real.

I hadn’t had a nightmare the entire time we stayed at the old Victorian before giving the keys to Micah and Rory, so why now? In fact, I hardly ever thought of Martin. When I did, it wasn’t with fear. I felt sorry for him and what we lost because of his sickness. Seeing Will with his family - both of them - brought to light the potential Martin and I could have had if things had been different. 

Will breathes deeply, still asleep. One of my hands rests on his chest, near his neck. I move across the cool sheets, tucking into his side, throwing an arm over his torso, and entangled my legs with his. He shifts, wrapping an arm tight around me. Every night, I fall asleep on my side, with him curled around me, but wake up every day wrapped around him just like this. I don’t think he minds, since kissing every inch of my body he can reach is his preferred method of waking up.

He jokes about breakfast being the most important meal of the day. Stupid. God, I love him.

I can’t get the image of his dark, bloody shirt out of my head. But he’s warm and solid under me, breathing evenly, happy in his dreams. I move my head to his chest and listen to his strong heartbeat.

I need more. 

Pressing my lips against his skin, centering on one of the tattoos on his pec, I let the warmth seep in. 

It’s not enough.

I open my mouth and rake my teeth down, nipping at the end and then licking the area.

He moans, shifting around me. Waking up. I hold my breath in anticipation. His throat move as he releases a low moan, and his hands, relaxed before, now grip my hips firmly and move me up over him, setting me down right where he likes me.

“Mmm,” he rumbles, his voice dry and raspy and deep from sleep, “this is usually my job.”

I lean down to labor over his abs, working my way up. I smile at the way his stomach quakes beneath me. “Take the morning off.”

He chuckles and gives me free rein of his body, letting me go wherever I please. Eventually, the images from my nightmare fade. The warmth of his skin, his touch, his sounds, they calm me. When I'm done, I curl up, still wrapped around him as he holds me close. I can close my eyes, feeling peaceful and content.

He’s safe. We’re safe.

--

I've been sitting on this for a few months. I really wanted to experiment with dreams and how they make sense when we're in them, even if they don't make sense at all? Not sure if I nailed it. I was also so focused on that aspect that I wasn't sure if I brought enough of Em's voice in. I'm sure I could have taken this in a different direction and captured her more. Anyway, because of these reasons, I hesitated on posting. But it's been in the drafts and it hasn't gotten any better, so I think it's time to post regardless of my doubts. Let me know what you all think. As always, I appreciate you're time. Thank you so much. Hope you're having a great week so far. With love!

Master List