#his name was chestnut and he was an angel in disguise

[aftout]

I still miss that cat from my dream.

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 12. corruption kink

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “not so angelic”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ the little angel that came down from heaven to spread the joyous spirit… surely omega won’t try anything

pairing: omega ghoul x gn!angel!reader

a/n: this one has been in the back of my mind for a while now. this one is a little more dark than the previous ones. viewer discretion is advised.

cw: nsfw content. corruption kink. dub-con. kinda primal play-idk (?). stalker omega. virginity loss. rough sex. outdoor sex. penetration. marks and hickeys. bites. slight masochism from reader.

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“look at those soft, pearly wings… i bet they’d look even prettier after i fuck you up.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

every winter season, omega finds himself trudging out of the ghoul den, unglamoured and keeping himself hidden in the shadows as he observed the joyous season of christmas.

it was a rather simple holiday to the quintessence ghoul. a time where friends and family come together to enjoy the fleeting wonders this winter holiday had to offer. chestnuts roasted over a crackling fire, accompanied by the fresh aroma of peppermint and mistletoe. omega found solace in christmas. to be able to have so much fun and create a beautiful warmth in the most dangerous season of the year. he found beauty in that.

but, all of those festivities weren’t what caught omega’s eyes about christmas.

just like how demons and ghouls roamed the blackened skies during halloween and the events of november, their counterparts descended from the heavens to help spread christmas spirit, veiled in their disguises to be sure to not give away their holy features.

you were an angel that omega just so happened to stumble upon. he watched you from the branch of a pine tree, being sure to keep himself cloaked in the darkness as he observed you jumping around happily in the snow. he’s been watching you for a while now. you didn’t know him, but you spotted him once during last year’s christmas and gave him a friendly smile— not knowing of his true demonic nature. since then, omega has been hooked. he didn’t have a definite reason on why he was so drawn to you, but the ghoul has found himself trying to find your presence, catching you doing your heavenly duties for the ones above.

omega just found you strikingly beautiful.

while he was observing you from the snowy trees, he noticed how you were frolicking around the snowflakes and singing a sweet christmas tune. how cute, you were having some time to yourself, singing childish carols, but your sweet angelic voice was beautiful enough to serenade the woodland creatures nearby. hell, it was enough to serenade omega himself. your voice was delicate, but it was laced with a certain sweetness that honeyed each word you sung.

it was such a beautiful sound.

omega couldn’t help but wonder how your voice would sound if you moaned his name.

the quintessence ghoul has taken a liking to your… innocence. you were so pure, as white as snow, just like the pearly color of your feathery angel wings, they were like a dove’s. something about that youthful purity drove his mind… crazy. the very thought of numbing your oh so innocent mind, into a broken, sex-crazed bastard was enough to get his dick hard. that just sounded so hot to him. he didn’t care if that made him a creep, he was just yearning to feel your angelic body on his corrupt, demonic one.

omega needed you. he needed to have a piece of that.

he growled lowly and licked his lips as he observed you dancing and singing. omega found himself growing more excited as he slowly got closer to you, creeping down from the branch and slowly approaching you, as you were still oblivious to the piercing slits of omega’s violet eyes staring into your form.

as you neared the end of your song, your eyes slowly opened to look up at the sky. you were about to take a deep breath in to appreciate the chilly air, but an instinctive yelp escaped your throat as you felt yourself get tackled into the snowy grass.

omega hovered over you and snarled as he stared down at you, his face filled with a tainted, greedy desire that only you could satisfy. he let out a low, husky growl and smirked.

“got you.” he teased darkly, and your eyes widened as you stared up at him.

it was a ghoul. you shouldn’t be seen with a ghoul like this— let alone any kind of demon. it was a sin. you struggled and writhed around to try and get free.

“l-let go, demon!” you shrieked, feathers ruffling as you tried to get away. “i can’t be seen with you!”

omega pouted at this. awww, were you trying to escape? too bad, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. “awh baby… don’t be like that. i promise i’m a nice demon.”

he chuckled lustfully and lowly, his pupils turning into hearts as he stared down at you, keeping you pinned to the ground. you just winced as you looked up at him, still not exactly picking up what he wants.

“w-what do you want from me..?” you squeaked out, trying not to cry from how scared you were. omega noticed the glossiness in your beautiful eyes.

fuck. that was so hot.

“you, angel.” he stated bluntly and huskily, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “i want you.”

he giggled sadistically at your shocked, almost intrigued expression as you reached to his words. you? what could he possibly want from you?

his calloused, dark claws moved to grab a chunk of soft feathers that were on your wings. your entire body jolted from the touch. ah, sensitive wings. that’s okay, it only made things more exciting for omega. he practically moaned when he caressed the softness of your wings, appreciating the delicacy that tangled between his fingers.

“look at those soft, pearly wings… i bet they’d look even prettier after i fuck you up.” he said between rugged breaths, just getting so incredibly riled up from the feeling of getting to touch you.

“you have no idea how badly i wanna fuck you right now..” omega whispered seductively into your ear, hot breath tickling your ear as you squealed. “ruin that angel body of yours… making you mine. i bet the heavens wouldn’t wanna see their precious little angel getting all fucked up by a filthy, lowly infernal now, would they?”

you squirmed again and let a few tears trickle down your cheeks as you got completely dominated by this lowly demon. you couldn’t believe it, to think that one of lucifer’s creations would be here, getting it on with you.

but fuck, the way he touched your wings… that was only the first step into numbing your mind from all of that innocence.

“p-please..” you spoke between muffled cries. “i-i just…”

what were you even trying to say? did you want this or not?

omega just narrowed his eyes down at you, before smirking, and trailing his fingers over to your pristine silky white robe.

he smirked darkly, before completely tearing off the robe in one go, creating a loud rip sound that almost felt humiliating. you gasped loudly and tried to cover yourself, the chilly winds hitting your exposed skin. omega just scoffed and grabbed your wrists, pulling them away and pinning them to the snow floor as he got an eyeful of your sexy, naked body.

“shit. you were hiding all of that this whole time?” omega chuckled, marveling at every curve and dip he saw. “this is a body that’s practically screaming to be fucked.”

his words were so dirty, you weren’t used to it. but there was this strange feeling that drew you to it, his presence, despite how much you were fighting it.

omega makes quick work of his own clothes. he uses his tail to restrain your wrists as he stripped himself of his clothes, being quick and haste, desperate to feel himself inside of you already. after a bit of fumbling, omega is now sitting naked on top of you, his hard cock leaking precum onto your stomach. he stroked himself a few times to smear the precum onto the chub and shaft of his dick, lubing himself up. without even giving you a warning, omega completely thrusted his cock into your virgin hole, making you scream from the searing feeling.

“a-aahhh!!” you shrieked, trying to hold onto the ground as omega thrusted into you wildly. “i-it hurts!! p-please it hurts!”

“you can take it.” omega grunted between thrusts, groaning loudly as he fucked you raw. he was having the time of his life right now, watching your fucked out expression as he pounded into you.

there it was, you were no longer chaste. the very heavenly principle that you valued the most. gone. and yet, you found yourself so fucking turned on by the situation. you didn’t know what it was, why the fear, the thrill, the shame of it all got you so horny. you didn’t even know what it was like to be horny until you met this demon. that feeling of pain soon melted into an intense pleasure that pooled in the core of your stomach, and your legs hooked around omega’s waist while he went to town on you.

“g-god yess! more!” you cried out, tongue lolling out of your mouth while omega hovered over you, fucking you into oblivion. he moaned loudly, and dipped his head down to mark your neck with hickeys while he pounded into you.

“there it is… there’s the slutty little angel i’ve been looking for.” omega grinned into your neck, loving the fact that you were begging for more. you’d claws dug into your thighs, creating bloody scratch marks that only made you moan louder.

you knew that you’d be instantly banished from the heavens if they ever found out about this. mingling with a demon and losing your purity, but you didn’t care, not right now at least. you felt too good, and you were breaking every rule written in the heavens book that shaped who you were. shaped you into the obedient, innocent little angel.

but this? this was not so angelic.

“f-fuck! i need to cum! i need to cum!!” you begged over and over to omega, needing a release. he just growled and bit into your skin as his thrusts got faster.

“oh yeah? you need to cum?” he grunted out, his cock hitting all of the right spots inside of you as he fucked you into the snow. it was like the sheer cold didn’t even matter, because he was fucking you so good that it was warning you up.

“cum for me, angel. show the gods what i can do to their precious angels.”

that line just does it for you. you whined loudly and came hard with a whimper, body spasming wildly as your cum creamed omega’s cock. the quintessence ghoul also groaned loudly and came deep within you, his hot cum filling your insides up completely.

omega sighed heavily and stayed inside of you, watching your form pant heavily and trying to register what happened.

you… you just had sex with a demon.

you didn’t even have the time to properly register what happened, because omega started thrusting again, making you cry out loudly. this was just the start.

omega gritted his teeth and spoke to you in a sultry, lusty voice that you will never forget.

“you’re mine, angel. always will be. i’ll show the heavens that you belong to me, and nothing will change that. if i have to keep fucking you to show that, then so be it. i don’t want you to be bound by their petty little rules.”

he thrusted harder, and you moaned loudly.

“so… how about it? you wanna keep fucking this demon? or go back to being a little servant for some feathery pricks.”

you could only whimper and nod in response, completely consumed by this feeling. this feeling of darkness and lust that you loved to taste.

“please.. more.”

the moment you spoke those words, you felt your crystal clear angel wings, wilt into a shadowy, charcoal color.

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[deviouz]

. . . late night devil (put your hands on me)

and never, never, never ever let go.

pairing: matthew murdock x fem!reader

summary: matthew murdock was an enigma. how could someone love you so dearly yet shatter your very soul?

warnings: mostly angst with smut sprinkled in, slight toxicity in the relationship(?), matt thinks sex will make up for everything ):

you weren’t sure why you had let him back in.

maybe it was the way he made you feel safe, like you were bulletproof whenever he was by your side. he was so attentive in that way, always knowing just what to say to satiate that hesitant, unsure voice ringing in the back of your head. he kept things quiet, made the bad thoughts go away just by smiling wife enough you could see it go up to his eyes, crinkling on either side of the chestnut brown irises that flecked with gold whenever the sun hit them just right.

it could be the way his words made you feel like you were absolutely, irrevocably made for him and him alone. he could sing sonnets so easily. he’d hold you close, voice just a whisper in your ear, and you swore he’d hear the metaphorical butterflies in your stomach eventually. he’d tease you on the way your heart fluttered with every praise and announcement of his love. you knew he loved you. that much was evident by the way he’d hold you so closely, like he thought you’d disappear if he let up even just a little. your reassurances did little to soothe the pain in his heart. he knew he wouldn’t have you forever. the murdock luck simply wouldn’t allow it.

it killed you to see him come back all bruised and battered, bruises painted across ivory skin. he was breakable, could be taken away from you just like that. you’d only ever breakdown after he was blocks away, all patched up and ready to go. the sobs you would let out echoed in his mind, reverberating throughout his very being. it haunted him at night knowing he was the one who caused you so much grief.

matt just couldn’t help himself.

his heart felt fuller each time you welcomed him back with open arms. he’d like to think he makes up for the sorrow every now and again. his penance, if you will.

he treated you like an alter. matt would repent, spending hours between your legs, strong arms wrapped around your thighs as he took you apart with his lips and tongue. he would devote himself to you entirely. there was nothing else — just you and him.

the way he had you calling his name so loudly, wantonly was so sinful. matt would beg for your forgiveness in his own way. he’d have you seeing stars, the feeling of his fingers buried deep in your heat so prominent you were sure you’d be absolutely ruined for anyone else.

matthew murdock was a devil disguised as an angel, and you were his saving grace.

he’d atone for his sins and consecrate everything he had to devote himself to you entirely. with every plea and desperate cry of his name, he’d fall harder.

you let him back in because you were no better than he was. you needed him just as badly as he needed you.

for the pain and turmoil the devil of hell’s kitchen caused you, matthew, your matthew, would make up for it. caged between his arms, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, foreheads touching as you both sanctified your love for each other.

and as you watched him stumble into your bedroom, pitifully dropping to his knees before you, all of the anger and pain and resentment washed away.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

you’d let him press his face into your stomach, kevlar-bladder arms holding you close. you weren’t going to disappear. how could you? you both needed each other more than anything in the world. nothing else could suffice — hell, nothing else could even come close.

“i know you are, matthew.”

the tears didn’t take long to crest down your cheeks, the corners of your lips turned upwards into a sad, saccharine smile.

“let me make it up to you. let-let me show you how much you mean to me.”

the mask came off, the red horns and devilish eyes thrown across the room. there he was. your matthew.

“okay.”

you could never let go.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-OT7 🎃

Halloween Series: Halloween Surprise OT7 

You always expected that you’d go to hell when you died. I mean, you weren’t terrible, but you weren’t an angel either. But what you hadn’t expected was to be shown through the seven circles of damnation by seven men-each more dangerous than the last-that plausibly could’ve passed for angels. Dark and beautiful angels, disguised as demons. And by the time you reach the last circle, it’s with a horrifying reminder from the darkest angel of all, that you realize you are not quite who you thought you were.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, Halloween, Spooky Season, BTS Drabble, OT7, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, kim namjoon, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook

Warning: Mentions of torture and damnation, obviously.

Genre: Angst

Title: Seven Circles

CIRCLE I-GLUTTONY

As soon as the icy sleet hits the back of your neck-sending prickling waves of cold across your skin-you know where you are. 

Opening your eyes, you see nothing but a white wasteland surrounding you-puddles of chilled slush pockmarking the ground and already soaking your shoes-and in the distance, though you cannot see them when you look straight on, only from the corner of your eye, is the blurry figures of dark shapes moving through the curtain of hail and rain. 

The damned. 

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your body to try and retain your heat-though you’re technically dead, so you don’t know how you think this will help-and start to feel lifeless tears drip from the corners of your eyes, obscuring the ghostly moving figures at the edge of your vision. 

“Chilly, isn’t it?” 

The voice startles you, and you whirl to face its origin-icy puddle at your feet splashing as you do so-and are startled to see a very real, and very solid, shape of a man standing before you, watching you with a slightly grim smirk stretched across his full lips, pulling them upward into the start of a heart shape-odd, in contrast to the rest of his steely expression. 

“Who are you?” You ask without thinking, still shivering-ever more violently now-as the man flashes you a grin full of white, blocky teeth and steps toward you. 

“I am the keeper of this circle.” The man gestures to the cold landscape surrounding the two of you. You note, briefly, that there is a pair of dark, black feathered wings sprouting from his shoulder blades, but again, you feel as if you cannot look at them straight on or they will disappear. 

You tilt your head down slightly, to try to keep him in the corner of your vision. “Right. The first circle. Gluttony.” 

“Hah.” The beautiful, dark features of the man contort with a humorless laugh, and his black hair sweeps into his eyes momentarily, as he leans toward you and places, long cold fingers beneath your chin. “Beautiful and well read.” 

“What do you want?” You ask, pulling from his grasp, as a scream-probably of someone being condemned-echoes down from the gray flat sky above. “And you still haven’t told me who you are.” 

“Ah.” The man, his fingers still frozen where your chin had been moments before in his grasp, retracts his hand, and nods curtly. “I am Hoseok. And as for what I want,” He eyes you openly, and his tongue darts out to trace across his lips, as you feel more chilled at his look than you had before. “That will have to wait. For I’ve been assigned to escort you through the first circle and to the next.” 

“What?” You burst out, completely confused, as the man-Hoseok-turns his back to you and begins to trudge through the slush, onyx wings shimmering and moving in and out of focus. You take hurried steps to catch up to him-sneakers now absolutely soaking-and huff out between breaths, “I thought I was staying here.” 

Hoseok laughs-the sound once again hollow-and ushers you in front of him as he walks. “Oh, hells no. You’re moving on, sunshine. To sweeter and greener pastures if you will.” He looks over his shoulder and winks at you, though the gesture makes the pit of your stomach roil with sudden unknown fear. 

As you walk-to keep yourself from hearing the shrieks and looking out of the corner of your eyes at the blurry, dark figures hidden behind the sleet-you suddenly blurt out, over the sound of your crunching footsteps, “What did you do to be here?” 

Hoseok stops suddenly in front of you, causing you to almost stumble into him, and you wonder, for a brief moment, if he has stopped due to your question, until you see the large, wooden, barred door looming up from the white landscape in front of you. 

He steps aside, watching you carefully and intently, as you take a hesitant step toward the door. “I wanted something I couldn’t possibly have.” He says simply, but the way his words echo in your head, and the way he looks at you-just for a moment-as if in melancholy, puts you on edge. 

“Anyway.” He forces another hollow smile to his lips-and once again, the heart shape catches you off guard-as he pushes the door inward to reveal nothing but blackness beyond. “Enjoy your stay, (Y/N).” 

And before you can ask how he knows your name, you are being pushed through the door into the dark. 

CIRCLE II-GREED

You notice-as you enter the second circle-that it is much hotter here than it had been just moments ago in Hoseok’s circle. 

And there is a distinct smell in the air-almost the smell of hot, burning metal-that instantly fills and overwhelms your nostrils. 

“You’re late you know.” 

The sound of the deep, smooth voice, draws your attention away from the horrid smell, and to the tall, lanky figure of an incredibly handsome man, lounging on a large, cold looking golden throne. 

He flicks his fingers at you in disappointment, as he sighs, and-uncrossing his legs-stands to face you, dark chestnut hair framing his beautiful features, as a look of disgust crosses his face. “I’ll have to remind Hoseok to send you people on time.” 

“You people?” You bristle slightly. “And who are you?” 

“Oh, darling.” The man laughs-the sound light-and stepping away from the throne, walks down the steps toward you, his shoes loud on the solid gold beneath his feet. 

You note-almost immediately-that he has the same type of shimmering, almost hallucinogenic wings adorning his back as Hoseok. 

He reaches you, and stopping to study you for a moment, he reaches out-fingers covered in gold rings-and strokes a finger down the still chilled skin of your cheekbone. “I am the ruler here-You may address me as Seokjin.” 

You ready yourself to say something else sarcastic, but before you have the chance, Seokjin is putting his hand at the small of your back, and pressing you forward. 

“Come with me. I want to show you something.” 

You take hesitant steps-but the weight of his hand at your back pushes you onward-and as you continue to walk, you realize, the smell from earlier is becoming overwhelming, and the sound of moans and groans and cries for help begin to fill your ears. 

“What-” You start to say, but the words die in your throat, as Seokjin halts his progress forward, hand still on the small of your back, as you look down into the deep dregs of a pit. 

The edge upon which you stand drops sharply down into the pit-and just like the earlier circle-there are dark, shimmering shapes filling the pit, the air rent with their cries, as they claw at the sides of the giant bowl, only to be swept back to the bottom as soon as they gain their footing. 

“Is that-” You begin to ask, eyes wide, as you tilt your head to look at Seokjin, standing proud and tall and silent beside you. 

“Gold. Yes.” Seokjin nods, almost imperceptibly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Greedy in life, the souls are damned to spend the rest of eternity suffering because of what they craved most.” 

You feel the breath leave your lungs, and you turn from the pit, trying to calm yourself, voice shaky, as you ask, already knowing the answer, “So I’ll be with them, then?” 

There is silence for a moment, and then Seokjin’s fingers curl beneath your chin, the gold rings cool against your flushed face as he turns you to face him. “Oh, no. You’re moving on. You’re much too good for this circle, darling.” 

He snaps the fingers of his free hand, and a door-gleaming gold in the dim light- appears before the two of you, swinging inward, once more, to reveal nothing but blackness on the other side. 

When you hesitate, Seokjin pushes you forward with a hand once more on the small of your back. “Good luck, darling. And don’t forget-” He offers you half a smile as you leave. “Don’t crave more than you can have.” 

CIRCLE III-ANGER

The first thing you hear when stepping into the third circle is bellowing and ranting and over it all, the smell of swamp and decay in the air. 

You glance down, surprised that the ground under your feet doesn’t seem to be solid, and note that your previously soaked sneakers, are now buried ankle deep in mud and muck and moss. 

“Great.” You say to yourself, rolling your eyes. 

Honestly-you’d never thought hell would be great-but you’d always assumed it at least had solid floors and wouldn’t ruin your sneakers so damn much. 

“So I take it you like the interior decorating then?” 

You glance up, no longer surprised, expecting to now be greeted at every level by some form of hot demon with black shimmering wings, who seems to know something about you that you don’t. 

This demon-or dark angel or whatever-does catch you slightly off guard. 

Simply for the fact that he’s breathtaking. And his voice sounds like dark honey sliding raspily from his throat. 

He raises a dark brow at you-from where he sits, perched precariously on a large boulder, feet bare-and cracks a boxy grin in your direction. “Like what you see, princess?” 

“I-” You swallow, and look away from him, only daring a glance from the corner of your eye to catch a better sight of his large feathered wings. How was this kid the keeper of the third circle? And anger no less? He seemed like nothing more than a jovial, innocent child. 

A gorgeous, dangerous, darkly scary child. 

Suddenly, he is in front of you, fingers-just like the other two before him-finding purchase beneath your chin, and you note, as you try not to look at him, that his feet are perfectly clean and seem to hover above the swamp you’re currently moored in. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He asks smugly, and you finally look up at him, just as he smirks, and the tip of his tongue appears to dart across his lips, caramel irises darkened beneath the sweeping mop of his curly black hair. 

“No.” You huff out, straightening slightly and pulling away from his firm grasp on your chin. “I’m just worried if I talk too much, that your terribly rank swamp air is going to infect my lungs.” 

“You’re dead.” The man states simply, almost curiously, as he cocks his head to stare down at you in amusement. 

“I look pretty good for a dead bitch.” You snap back a famous line from your time alive, and instantly regret it, as the man in front of you laughs loudly and deeply from within his chest at your joke. 

“I’m Taehyung.” The man grins at you once more, and then takes your hand, pulling your feet from the mud, as he leads you back toward the boulder he had been sitting on earlier. And suddenly, the ground feels less liquid beneath your feet as you follow in his steps. “Welcome to circle three.” He waves his hands at the dark and murky atmosphere surrounding the two of you. 

“Anger right?” You ask, as he pulls you up easily to stand beside him on the large rock. You glance around, and note that the dark swamp surrounding you appears to be moving with more of the dark, etheral damned souls. 

“Right.” Taehyung sighs, reaching up to rake a hand through his curls, before he says with disappointment, “Wish I could keep you here a little longer, princess, but you’re on a tight schedule.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but suddenly, a door appears beneath your feet-well, less of a door and more like a sewer grate covered with thick iron bars. 

“Wait.” You hold out a hand, before he can snap his fingers and send you through to the next circle. You’re curious now. “Why are you here?” You ask bluntly, and Taehyung’s eyes darken slightly, and his normally jovial lips flatten into a hard line. 

“Anger issues.” He shrugs, playing off the moment, and readies to send you through the door, as he adds vaguely, “I hurt someone I loved.” 

And with that, before you can smell the swamp air once more, or ask any other questions-like why the demon’s face suddenly looks so sad-you are sent through the grate and into the black once more. 

CIRCLE IV-HERESY

Circle four is HOT-flames and fire and cinder and ash-and so, it doesn’t surprise you, once you get your bearings, to see that the demon that watches over the souls here is also incredibly, absolutely, for lack of a better term, hot. 

He approaches you immediately, as you’re coughing and choking on the ash filling the air, and the pair of wings on his back-shiny and out of focus-appear almost blacker than the others, against the harsh, orange light of the fires.

“Noona.” He nods politely to you, hands behind his back, as if he’s scared to reach out and touch you like the others had. “Welcome.” 

There is something about him that seems oddly familiar-the large doe eyes, the way his long bangs fall across his forehead, the muscular physique, that is in contrast to the quiet personality-but before you can put a finger on anything, he is speaking once more. 

“I’m Jungkook.” His eyes flick to yours and then away, as he backs out of the way-so that you can see the fiery pit behind him, flames licking up the sides of the bowl-as screams emanate from the depths below. “This is circle four.” 

“I know.” You nod, not feeling quite as out of your depth with him as you had the other three. “Heresy right?” 

He nods once more, silent for a moment, and then swallows, his full lips parting slightly, before he says gently, “However, you don’t belong here.” 

“I don’t?” You ask, surprise clear in your tone. How far were you going? Your eyes glance over the pair of beautiful, feathered wings on the young man’s back, as you ask carefully, “But you do?” 

Jungkook’s lips purse, and you can see through the way his eyes tighten, that he is considering how to respond to your question appropriately. 

This kid-that you swear you know-couldn’t possibly be a heretic right? 

There is the sound of a piercing scream and one of the dark figures you can see from the edge of your vision-trying to claw its way out of the hot pit-falls back in a poof of cinder and dark ash, that joins the rest of the pollution already floating in the smoky air. 

Finally, Jungkook speaks. 

“I do.” He nods, just once, solemnly, and then-still without touching you-motions for you to step toward the dark, charred door you have only now noticed. “You have to go now, noona. They’re waiting for you.” 

“Who’s waiting for me?” You ask desperately, as Jungkook, with his mere presence, pushes you toward the now open doorway of black. 

Doe eyes gleaming, and a look of almost regret on his beautiful features, Jungkook ushers you to the edge of the doorway. “The hyungs.” He says simply, dangerously. 

And before you can ask what that means, you are once again tumbling into darkness on your way to the next circle. 

CIRCLE V-VIOLENCE

Circle five’s ground-immediately beneath your feet-is squishy, like the edge of a lake or pond, and you watch-with horror-as puddle instantly begin to pool around the toes of your shoes, crimson and steaming.

The air smells like a new penny-copper and metallic-and when you lift one of your feet, the liquid beneath your toes is thick and drips slowly, burgundy as it creates ripples in the puddle. 

Blood. 

You feel panic creep up into your chest, and you have to focus on keeping your breathing even, as you glance up, and in the distance, see the edges of a red lake-boiling and steaming-splashing crimson droplets into the reddened air of the atmosphere. 

And in the lake-hands and wavy, distorted fingers just visible above the surface-are the souls of the damned, dark and desperate and drowning. 

Drowning in blood. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

You start slightly, but only because the purring voice is right in your ear, and the feel of warm breath brushes across your skin and makes you shiver. 

And out of the corner of your eye, you see the black wings, folding and unfolding lazily against the dark angel’s back as he stands beside you. 

“Wasn’t the word I would have picked.” You manage to retort back, although slightly breathless, keeping your gaze away from him, as you look down at his fingers-small and petite-curled around your shoulders, silver rings glinting in the blood red lighting. 

The man laughs-and the sound is light and airy and almost beautiful-as he turns you to face him now, almond shaped eyes regarding you carefully, as dark blue hair falls across his forehead, obscuring his gaze. His full, plump lips curl upward into the hint of a smirk. “Ah, but I’d use that word to describe you, baby girl. Most definitely.” 

You swallow hard. He’s incredibly handsome, and smooth as all hell. You have to remind yourself that he’s a demon and a keeper of a literal lake of blood. 

“You seem to know me.” You say, almost smoothly, as you try not to let yourself look directly at him and get lost in his eyes. “But you are?” 

“Ah. How rude of me.” He tilts his head, watching you like a dark panther stalking his favorite prey, and his pink lips part slightly to reveal the tip of his moist, red tongue-the same color of the blood surrounding you. “Park Jimin. Keeper of the fifth circle.” 

The name rings a bell in your head, but shaking the thought aside, you ask casually, “Am I staying then? Or are you simply showing me onward like the last four?” 

Jimin laughs-the sound once again enchanting-and releasing his hold on you, takes a step backward, snapping his fingers as he does so. 

The blood on the ground rises to form the shape of a large, ornate throne, and Jimin casually sits down on the warm, undulating liquid, watching you with half lidded, catlike eyes, before he replies easily, “Ah. So you met my brothers.” 

He snaps his fingers once more, and a liquid, crimson door rises from the bloodied floor, swinging inward-once more-to reveal nothing on the other side but onyx night. 

“Unfortunately-for me and yourself-” He sighs, tsking slightly, as he waves ring adorned fingers in the direction of the door. “You’ll be moving on.” He smiles, and it’s a pretty gesture, but gives you the willies, as he leans toward you, chin held up in his delicate, small hand. “So go on then, baby girl. And tell the others hello for me.” 

You don’t dare ask him why he’s here, and without chancing another look at the alluring demon, you step into the door and go headfirst into the dark. 

CIRCLE VI-FRAUD

“So you’re here.” The voice is a purr-like a cat, but holding a dark, dangerous, almost uninterested edge-as it reaches you through the blackness. “I’m lucky Jimin didn’t try to keep you for himself.” 

You can’t see anything. Everything is dark and cold and desolate, and as you try to splay your fingers before your face, your breathing quickens, as you realize-it’s pitch black. 

“Who are you?” You ask into the nothing, desperately spinning in circles, trying to see who are what is speaking. 

“Probably your worst nightmare.” The voice replies, tone bored and deep, echoing around you from every direction. 

A heavy hand drops onto your shoulder, and you start, letting out a yell of fear, before fingers cover your mouth, muffling the sound and effectively silencing you. 

“Calm down, baby. I’ll spare you.” The voice is low in your ear, and the feel of his lips brushing across your skin because of his closeness makes you shiver. 

There is nothing except the sound of your panicked breathing whistling through his fingers, and then you hear fingers snap, and the light of a candle-though you can’t see it-breaks through the darkness and forms a wavy, dim pool of light around your feet. 

“Now.” The man’s fingers twitch where they rest on your lips. “Will you be quiet if I release you?” 

You manage a nod in his hold, and slowly-one by one-his long, old fingers drop from your mouth, and you are able to breathe once more. 

The demon steps into the circle of light before you, black beating wings blocking out the light in a dreamlike way momentarily, and cocks his head as he looks at you, the curious look crossing his feline features making him look more cat than man in the moment. 

“You seem to have had a rough go getting here.” The man wrinkles his nose slightly-and it would have been endearing in any other circumstance-as he takes in your disheveled appearance and now thoroughly destroyed sneakers. “Did the others not take care of you, baby?” 

“Who are you?” You repeat again, pupils large and dark as you glance around at the endless blackness surrounding your small circle of light. A scream and shriek and then wailing has you trembling, as the sound of a loud whip crashes toward you through the dark. 

“Min Yoongi.” The man reaches up to brush dark hair back from his forehead, black painted nails matching the night surrounding him. He waves a hand-almost boredly-at the pitch black surrounding you. “This is the sixth circle. Souls are sent here to endure the dark and torture for eternity. Fraudsters.” He takes a step toward you, caramel eyes gleaming. “Tricksters.” Another step. “Deceivers.” Another step, and you’re almost nose to nose once more, as his long, cool fingers come up to brush down the line of your cheekbone. 

“And which one are you?” You ask, slightly breathless from his closeness, as you try to ignore the ever increasing sounds of suffering and torture echoing back at your through the nothing. 

“A better question.” He smirks slightly, revealing pink gums and white teeth, as he reaches up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. “Is which aren’t I?” 

You swallow hard, as he studies you for one moment longer, and then snaps his fingers close to your ear, the loud sudden sound making you jump. 

“Anyway.” His features draw back into a bored expression, and he shoos you toward the sudden outline of the door behind you-light leaking between the cracks into the dark void you now stand in. “Better hurry up, baby. I’d love to play with you more.” He grins, plush lips disappearing in the dark. “But he’s waiting.” 

The light from the candle suddenly goes out, leaving you in the pitch black once more, and you scramble toward the light outlining the doorway, and into the suddenly much safer dark on the other side. 

CIRCLE VII-TREACHERY

Your sneakers slip on the ice beneath your feet as you try to gain your footing, and as you glance around, you see nothing but your own reflection in the pillars of ice and sharp, jagged glass that surrounds you. 

Your features are sharp and pinched and anxious and not at all like yourself. 

And suddenly, you feel fear, even before you hear the low rumblings of his voice echo through your head, bouncing off the slick, ice cold walls surrounding you. 

“Why are you here?” 

The question catches you off guard, and you try not to fall as you turn to face the demon-the last dark angel of the last circle-sitting on a throne of something that looks eerily similar to human bones. 

Yet, just like his wings, you cannot look directly at the chair and tell what it is made of. Only out of the corners of your vision can you begin to see the shapes of ribs and skulls and femurs. 

The man-his cheeks dimpling-offers you a humorless smile, as he waves a hand in your direction, tall lanky legs crossed carefully in front of him, slippered feet resting on the icy floor. “I’ll ask again. Why are you here?” 

“I-” You stutter over your words, teeth chattering, as the sound of your voice lets a cloud of frozen breath out into the freezing air. “I don’t know.” 

The man reaches to a side table, where an ornate goblet rests, and takes a sip of the liquid inside, letting it flow easily between his lips, as he looks at you over the rim. “You don’t remember anything?” He asks casually, setting down the goblet once more, and from the corner of your vision, the liquid looks thick and red and a little bit like the blood you had seen in Jimin’s circle. 

“What?” You ask in sudden confusion, taking a careful step forward, as you try to find your footing on the icy tiles beneath your feet. 

The man laughs-a short, humorless bark-and leans back slightly in the throne, feet crossing at his ankles, as he regards you with nothing more than cold curiousity from his perch. “Interesting.” He reaches out, twirling something that looks oddly like a human leg bone between his long nimble fingers. “Well then. Would you like to know why I’m here?” 

You feel the breath leave your body at his words, and though your brain is screaming, you reply, “Yes.” 

You are no shivering so hard that it is difficult to keep the beautiful man sitting before you in focus-his whole body now appearing as shimmery and nonexistent as his pair of black wings. 

“My name is Namjoon.” The man pauses, studying you carefully, as if for a reaction, before continuing. “And I betrayed you.” 

Your mouth falls open at his words-and suddenly, just a glimpse, a brief flash, of memory fills your mind-and suddenly, you know, only barely, in the back of your mind, that you know the man sitting before you, and you know him well. 

“Come.” Namjoon stands from his relaxed position on the throne, and ushers you in the direction of a set of stairs. “I want to show you something.” 

You carefully follow the tall man down the slippery, ice covered stairs, and as you walk deeper into the clutches of the frozen circle, the more you being to fear. 

At first-as you pass the shards of glass like ice sticking up from the ground-you see nothing but your own face reflected back at you, and the face of the impassive Namjoon, beautiful and deadly and dangerous. 

But then. 

Then you begin to see memories reflected back to you-and you realize, with a harsh jolt-that they are your memories.

And they are dark, and they are deadly, and they are dangerous. 

And when Namjoon comes to a sudden halt before you, you feel like you can’t breathe and that something is clawing away at you on the inside, as he turns to face you with dark, unsympathetic eyes. 

“Do you remember now?” He asks in a scarily calm tone, and the feeling of losing air tightens even more around your chest, so much that you’re gasping at his feet. 

“No, I didn’t-” You stutter out, clawing at your chest, suddenly feeling as if you’re made of ice as the cold wracks over your body in a wave. You look up at him desperately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

Namjoon crouches before you, as your fingers feebly scrabble at the edge of his gown, as if he will help you. 

But he won’t. 

Because in this moment, there is nothing in his eyes beside burning, cold hatred and a sense of twisted satisfaction at your suffering. 

“You see, (Y/N).” He reaches out and brushes a stray hair from your face, his fingers colder than the ice beneath your knees. “I betrayed you.” His handsome features darken, and his lips twist into a wicked line, as he waves a hand at the ice around you. 

The ice that is now reflecting back at you-over and over, like plunging a knife deeper and deeper-the seven faces of the boys you had known and loved in life, the seven faces of the dark angels of the seven circles of hell. 

Namjoon’s long finger goes beneath your chin and forces you to meet his gaze, and you feel as if you’re drowning in the dark pupils of his eyes, as his lips form the words you had never wanted to hear, “I betrayed you, but you betrayed all of us.” 

“No!” You shriek out with the last breath that you can seem to pull into your lungs, and you try to move after Namjoon as he stands from beside you, but you are already frozen, the ice creeping over your dirty sneakers and up your legs even as you watch. 

And Namjoon turns on his heel and leaves you-forever-with nothing but the echoing sound of your last scream and the faces of the seven boys you had betrayed. 

[teodorefms]

 GREETINGS  ,  angels  !   i  literally  suck  at  everything  relating  to  introductions  ?  so  please  don’t  mind  how  much  of  a  mess  this  is  going  to  be  .   im  gianna  ,  or  gi  ,  and  i  go  by  she  and  her  pronouns  !   im  super  excited  to  be  here  ,  and  even  more  excited  to  write  with  all  of  you  !!    below  the  cut  you’ll  find  trash  that’s  suppose  to  be  a  bio  asdjf  .  

&&.  announcing  his  royal  highness  𝓉𝑒𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇𝑒   𝓋𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓏𝑜   𝒹𝒾   𝓈𝒶𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒶  ,  the  twenty  year  old  prince  of  𝙄𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙔  .  he  is  often  confused  with  lorenzo  zurzolo  .  some  say  that  he  is  imprudent  and  petulant  ,  but  he  is  actually  intrepid  and  scrupulous  .

*    STATISTICS .

FULL  NAME.    teodore  vincenzo  di  savoia  .

NAME  MEANING.   god  gift  (  teodore  )  ,   to  win  or  to  conquer  (  vincenzo  )  .

REASONING.     honeyed  cries   and  sapphire  hues  ,   angelic  innocence  concealing  the  burning  urge  of  freedom  ,  the  birth  of  teodore  was  seen  as  a  gift  from  god  before  mischievousness  captured  those  sapphire  hues  and  recklessness  settled  in  .   and  what  was  a  better  name  then  teodore  who’s  meaning  is  just  that  ?

NICKNAMES.   teo  ,  teddy  .

PREFERRED  NAME.   teo  .

BIRTH  DATE.   january  thirty  first  .

AGE.   twenty  .

ZODIAC.    aquarius   .

GENDER.   cis  male  .

PRONOUNS.   he  and  him  .

SEXUAL  ORIENTATION.   heterosexual  .

HAIR  COLOR.    a  soft  chestnut  brown  ,  develops  almost  blonde  streaks  during  the  summer  season  .

EYE  COLOR.   blue  ,  in  certain  lights  they  tend  to  look  more  on  the  grey  side.

DOMINANT  HAND.   right  .

HEIGHT.  five  ft  eleven  .

USUAL  EXPRESSION.    in  the  center  of  those  who  share  the  same  elite  title  as  his  ,  boredom  drips  from  his  features                  evidence  in  rosy  lips  that  remain  in  a  straight  line  and  hues  that  search  the  room  for  anything  to  rid  him  of  the  suffering   .   if  you  happen  to  catch  him  in  a  presence  of  non  royals  ,  or  even  those  he  simply  just  cares  about   ,  a  light  will  awaken  in  brunette  features  .  a  arrogant  smile  and  trouble  screaming  in  his  eyes  .

TATTOOS.   none  .

PIERCINGS.   none  .

DRUGS  /  ALCOHOL  /  SMOKING.   yes  to  all  of  the  above  .

LINKS.  pinterest  (  i  still  had  a  lot  to  add  but  just  so  yous  have  it  )

*  AESTHETICS  .

calloused  digits  pulling  at  bronze  locks  .    unread  text  messages  .   diamonds   covering  pearly  whites  .    bright  lights  .    a  racing  pulse  .    thunder  disturbing  pleasant  dreams  .   arrogance  spilling  into  rosy  lips  .   bruised  knuckles  .   skin  covered  in  love  bites  .    messy  sheets  .    burned  cigarettes   .  

*  DON’T  GET  CUT  ON  MY  EDGES  

                    the  contagious   echo  of  your  laughter  ,      tiny  footsteps  that  dance  across  polished  floors  .  even  as   a  small  child  house  rules  and  expectations  could  not  contain  you  .   you  ran  to  FREEDOM  ,  escaping  the  hands  of  servants  that  warned  you  of  the  consequences  .    silky  pajamas  that  clung  to  your  body  as  you  raced  from  room  to  room  ,  finding  the  excitement  you  so  desperately  craved  .   when  masculine  arms   caught  you  ,  you  presented  innocent  expressions  and  that  charming  smile  older  women  swore  would  be  the  cause  of  heart  breaks  among  many  when  you  were  older  .  in  return  ,  you  were  always  greeted  with  false  sternness  and  a  head  shake   that  spoke  for  itself  ,  you  were  going  to  be  TROUBLE  .  

star  filled  eyes  and  crowds  that  parted  ways  for  you  ,  SOVEREIGNTY  wasn’t  a  term  you  were  old  enough  to  understand  yet  but  it  was  carved  into  your  skin  .  the comments  that  floated  above  your  head  then  ,  did  not  bother  you   .  sculpted  by  the  hands  of  gods  ,  young  teodore  ,  you were  DESTINED  for  greatness  .  you  never  knew  exactly  why  ,  but  understood  enough  from  the  looks  others  gave  you  that  you  were  of  importance  .  it  didn’t  take  long  for  you  to  catch  on   however   ,  no  .  as  much  as  you  have  everyone  fooled  ,  you’ve  always  been  a  smart  boy  .  though  concealed  ,  rather  use  that  space  in  your  head  not  for  irreverent  facts  that  held  no  interest  to  you  but  how  to  get  away  with  murder  and  come  out  unscratched  .  

because  of  that  ,  disappointment  and  disapproval  came  early  for  you  .  you  were  a  wild  soul  stuck  in  a  PRISONERS  body  .  escaping  only  to  be  caught  when  the  sun  rose  and  the  light  of  dawn  gave  away  the  pillows  disguised  as  you  .   you  rolled  pretty  blue  hues  and  stood  your  grounds  at  the  bark  of  orders  .    STUBBORN  ,  aren’t  you  ?      ungrateful   is  what  they  called  you   .   shoved  their  fingers  in  your  face  and  raved  about  how  you  were  a  disgrace  ;  but  if  there  was  one  thing  you  ever  listened  to  that  was  worth  anything  it  was  to  let  words  bounce  off  of  you  .   you  always  thought  you  were  UNTOUCHABLE  ,    evidence  in  the  form  of  ,  “   shove  it  !    “  .    

estranged  relationship  rooted  in  lectures  that  reminded  you  that  you  would  never  be  what  people  wanted  you  to  be             even  the  sting  of  red  marks  painted  across  your  skin  could  not shake  the  recklessness  that  sat  on  your  shoulders  .     no   .  instead  you  allowed  it  to  create  an  ocean  between  you   ,    questions  about  a  place  you  did  not  feel  as  though  you  belonged  to  dismissed  faster  then  they  could  leave  lips   .     you’d  never  admit  it  ,  how  LONELY  it  could  be  .  hide  it  behind  a  cocky  smile  and  the  sound  of  your  heart  beating  in  your  ears   .      hand  over  chest  just  to  feel  it  ,  the  adrenaline  .     like  as  long  as  you  had  it  ,  you’d  never  be  alone  .    privileged  with  a  lifestyle  without  boundaries                          you  would  take  advantage  of  everything  it  had  to  offer   .    a  life  full  of  no  regrets  ,  just  a  lifetime  of  memories  you’d  never  forget  .

tear  stained  cheeks  ,    grief  became  a  new    friend               whispered  in  your  ear  until  you  understood  what  it  was  like  to  grieve  a  relationship  you  would  now  never  get  to  form   .    the  lost  of  your  father  didn’t  hurt  as  much  as  the  lost  a  future  with  him  ,  did  it  ?   distractions   were  something  you  yearned  for   ,    slurred  words  and  feet  that  forgot  how  to  walk  was  the  answer   .    hide  sadness  behind   impulsive  decisions   ,    mistakes  behind  black  colored  frames    .    gravity  was  sinning   ,   it  held  you   up   .     your  father  was  no  longer  here  ,  but  you  were  still  ALIVE   .  you  made  sure  to  remind  yourself  of  that   .     the  same  old  teodore  ,  that’s  what  the  headlines  said  .  not  even  the  death  of  your  father  could  calm  reckless  ways   

it  got  easier  ,   in  a  way  .  and  soon  ,    you  escaped   .   ignored  phone  calls  and  indulged  in  a  culture  unlike  yours   .  a  fresh  of  breath  air  you  reported  on  the  phone  when  older  siblings  threatened   that  if  you  didn’t  answer  they’d  send  someone  after  you  .     made  up  stories  about  classes  you  rarely  attended  and  left  out  details  about  friends  that  were  no  good  for  you   .    ignorant  to  the  world  you  grew  up  in  ...   but  nothing  lasts  forever  does  it  ?    because  you  ,  teodore  vincenzo  di  savoia  ,  are  home  . 

[wienerbarnes]

Whatever It Takes (2/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1,519

Prompt: Doctor AU

Warnings: Descriptions of disease symptoms, funny stuff

A/N: yay chapter two! thank you to everyone who showed me love on the first chapter and left the sweetest comments! 

SERIES MASTERLIST

Your loud James Brown and the Famous Flames ringtone interrupts the silence of the quinjet on the way to Avengers tower. Bucky feels a vein about to pop in his forehead as he glances up from his book in his seat across from you as you pull your phone from your pocket to see Abraham calling. He watches you glance at the screen as you pick out the pretzels in your teeth with your tongue.

“I thought you said you left your phone in your office?” Bucky questions, annoyed wrinkle in between his eyebrows.

“Just wanted to see if you’d be able to tell if I was lying.” You respond mischievously as you answer the phone and put it on speaker.

“Inspector Gadget speaking,” You greet as Bucky continues to stare at you.

“Where are you?” Comes Abrahams voice through the speaker, excitement poking through his voice.

“I’m on a top secret mission for the Avengers.” You inform as you kick your feet up on the corner of Bucky’s arm rest across from you. Bucky rolls his eyes and glances back down to the book he was reading.

“… Right. CT, history, and tox screens came back normal.” Jordan tells you.

“Her tendon reflexes seemed a bit weak to me, though.” Abraham argues.

“Areflexia could mean Miller Fisher.” You infer.

“Yes, Areflexia could mean Miller Fisher, but since her reflexes were weak and not absent, it means nothing, I’m releasing her. You can get back to your strip tease or Avengers-themed orgy or whatever it is your doing with your cosplay buddy.” Jordan states.

“You think the Avengers would allow such-“ You’re cut off by the dial tone as Jordan hangs up the phone.

…

Bucky leads you through the modern looking hallways of the Avengers tower and you sneak peeks into the many labs that line either side of the hallway. Large screens, cases and cases of tubes and containers with various liquids in them, even the hospital beds look like the most luxurious cots that money could buy. They probably are the most luxurious cots money can buy, you think. You finally reach an office at the far end of the hall and Bucky opens the door for you.

Inside you find Bruce Banner sitting behind a desk looking over various files and papers. He glances up at the sound of the door, removes his glasses, and stands to greet you.

“Dr. Bruce Banner. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor, especially on such short notice.” Dr. Banner holds out his hand and you shake it gratefully.

“P-pleasure’s all mine. You’re Bruce Banner.” You ogle at him. First an invitation to the Avengers Tower and now you’re standing in front of the Bruce Banner?

Bucky smirks, amusement clouding his face as he takes notice of your admiration. It’s hilarious to him to see how fast your sarcastic and immature exterior melts into a star-struck, stuttering mess. It’s… endearing, almost.

“Oh! This is Dr. Curtis from the Mayo Clinic,” Banner gestures to a middle-aged woman sitting in a chair in front of the desk. Glasses hanging around her neck with a dark blue blouse and black slacks on her body, she stands and shakes your hand, too.

“Dr. Sydney Curtis on Immunology, Dr. Curtis?” You confirm.

“Oh, you’ve read it?”

“No, but it is keeping my piano level in my apartment.” You inform. Dr. Curtis’ smile drops and you see Dr. Banner’s eyebrow quirk upwards and Bucky stifle a laugh and disguise it as a cough from his position near the door.

“So, where is the poor, sick fella?”

…

“I’m afraid there will be some limitations on his medical history. Just let me know what you need and I’ll try my best to provide.”

Dr. Banner leads Bucky, Dr. Curtis, and yourself down a different hallway, presumably towards the Agent’s room.

“F-Y-I, my medical malpractice insurance doesn’t cover alien autopsies.” You tease.

“Don’t worry, all of that stuff is the next wing over.” Bucky chimes in, sending you a wink when you turn your head to look at him. He finds you more amusing now that you’re annoying more people than just him. Your wit is always clever and you always seem to know the perfect thing to say to push everybody’s buttons and make him laugh.

“Where was the patient when he fell ill?” Dr. Curtis asks.

“I’m afraid that’s classified. Assume there aren’t many places John hasn’t been. And, yes, John is a cover name.”

“Well, why do think it was an attempt on his life?” Curtis tries.

“We can’t tell you that either.” Banner replies, stopping front of one of the white rooms along the hallway.

“Well, what can you tell us?” Curtis asks.

“Yeah, did Oswald really have sex with Marilyn Monroe?” You ask. Bucky smiles and opens the door, leading in first followed by Dr. Banner, yourself, and Dr. Curtis.

Walking into the dimly lit room finds everyone staring at the frail looking man laying in the hospital bed. Pale skin, open sores, bruises, skin almost looking like it had bubbles forming it over it. Redness covers what’s visible of his body; arms, neck, and face. Dark circles surround his closed eyes and lips are cracked beyond belief.

“Good Lord,” Curtis whispers.

“Very professional,” You huff and throw a disapproving glance at Dr. Curtis.

“Five days ago he was 185 pounds,” Banner begins. “Perfect health.”

Silence fills the room as everyone observes the sick agent in the bed, wondering what could possibly cause this amount of damage in such a short amount of time.

“Cool.” You exclaim.

Banner walks over to the stack of files sitting on the small table at the end of the bed. He hands one to both you and Dr. Curtis and you realize it’s Agent John’s file, or at least a file with any information they’ll give you.

“We’ve tested him for every poison, every metal, and every biological agent we can think of.” Banner informs.

“It says in here that he ate a lot of chestnuts.” Curtis states, reading through the file in her hands.

“Woah, woah, woah. If the squirrel liberation army is involved in this, I want no part. Those little rodents will-“ You begin to mock.

“Horse chestnuts are poisonous, if someone switched-“ Curtis begins to explain but you interrupt her.

“Horse chestnuts may look like chestnuts but they taste like a horse’s lower-than-chestnuts. Which makes the theory that he ate a couple hundred a tad unlikely.” You argue. You don’t ignore the fact that both Bucky and Banner are both failing to hide their smiles at the banter between you and Curtis. You want to be professional around a very handsome, brooding soldier and the doctor that inspired you to study medicine, but Dr. Curtis is making it very difficult.

You close the file and pace slowly around the room. “Seeing as he was prowling the streets of… Tehran?” You guess.

“Actually it was the streets of- Oops! You almost got me.” Bucky faces you with a sarcastic grin.

“Unless you can tell us the environmental factors or any poisonous fauna-“

“Which you know I can’t do-“

“You might as well just Google, ‘poison’!” You respond defeatedly. You’ve solved difficult cases before, but this is turning out to be a real puzzle.

“The only thing they would tell me is that he’s spent the last eleven months in Bolivia.” Bucky compromises, arms crossing over his large chest. He wants to help, he really does. He cares about this agent; he cares about all the agents he’s trained and watched become great heroes. Especially after requesting to be taken off missions, he’s been lucky to be put in charge of training any and all incoming agents and helping Sam assign them to missions.

“Who are you gonna kill in Bolivia?” You question, brows furrowed on your face.

Bucky rolls his eyes as Dr. Curtis chimes in, “What does it matter what he was doing? He’s dying!”

“Not anymore, it’s pancreatitis.” You say as you slump down into one of the bedside chairs.

“He’s not an alcoholic.” Banner informs you.

“And unless his pancreas is in his fingertips-“ Curtis sarcastically states, looking to Bucky to see if his expression matches the annoyed one of Curtis herself, but he’s only staring at you, curious about your thought process.

“Spies can’t get fungal infections?” You ask.

“What about the burns on his skin?” Banner inquires.

“Spies can’t get sunburns? Bolivia doesn’t have sun?” You joke, catching Bucky’s eye as he chuckles softly at your reasoning.

“So either we go with her theory of the non-drinking drunk, which is totally unreasonable, or the theory that someone poisoned him with the resources to make it completely untraceable.” Curtis argues.

Banner looks between you and Dr. Curtis, gears running a million miles per minute in his brain trying to think of what to do.

“Let’s, uh, let’s treat him for radiation poisoning.” Banner says as he begins walking towards the door. You roll your eyes and stand to follow him, Dr. Curtis, and Bucky out of the room again.

TAGS: @thefvcker-tucker @angel-fire @gagmebucky @hannie-writes-marvel @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @creepylittlemarvelgirl @spiderrpcrker

[dbhilluminate]

DBHI: Equilibrium, ch. 13 - “Periapsis” (pt. 1)

Characters: Noah / “Erwin Yvonne”, Gabriel / “Vincent Sharp”, Special Agent Gavin Reed, Director Thomas Falken Word Count: 2,842

Noah crashes an undercover FBI operation to say hello to a friend he hasn't seen or spoken to in a couple of months, but the mood is spoiled when the Zionist Inquisition shows up to deliver an ultimatum to Vincent Sharp, and issue a threat to anyone who would dare support the installation of an android suburb in Washington, DC.

***For a glossary of world-building terms relating to this series and chapter, click here.

(Chapter Art by ozaya, Co-authored by @grayorca15​)

• Chapter Index • Characters • Glossary •

——

December 23rd, 2041 - 9:45 PM

From the outside, the looming auditorium locally known as The Mellon was unchanged. Whatever techno-aesthetics the Capitol had adopted in the last two decades, Washington, DC’s architecture was still mostly the same neoclassical Roman-inspired drivel the Founding Fathers probably thought the height of grandeur that any respectable city could model itself after. This particular building was very much a product of its time- a perfect encapsulation of the stiff right angles, thick brooding columns, and bleak texture-less walls, suggested nothing of what might actually be happening beyond the foyer. The red-green cutout projections of trees and reindeer and ornaments dancing across the Columbia pediment sculpted across its tented promenade and the delicate string instruments currently honoring an orchestral cover of one of a hundred classic Christmas songs was a hint though.

Noah stepped out of the Jaguar to be accosted by a shower of holographic white and blue snowflakes, mixed with the real-life equivalent wafting about that cold winter’s night. They swarmed like his very own plague of too-friendly gnats. Whatever property-wide projection program the event had been accentuated with, the programmer had evidently spent too much time re-watching Frozen as a child. He pulled his sunglasses down just far enough to peer over the lenses as a few flakes fluttered in, close enough for him to see their individual fractals, and gave an irritated huff through his nose. “Still bitter over the demise of Disney, I see.” A few seconds later, the shy valet swept around the roadster’s red taillights and apologized profusely for a near-nonexistent delay in offering to take the car to be parked. Noah felt nothing but amusement at their blathering, patted him on the shoulder and held the door open. “Quit fussing. It’s early yet, and you’ve a lot more rides to tuck in before the night’s over. Treat this one like the queen she is and there’ll be an extra fifty in it for you… Fredrick.”

The kitschy light-show and dear hapless Fred weren’t as bothersome as the front ranks of guards posted at the velvet rope-fenced entrance. The nearest man put up a hand and stopped him in his tracks at the top of the stairs. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is a charity function for contributors only. Have you made a donation?” It seemed only pre-approved guests were being permitted inside- a slight oversight on his part, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from his goal. He had a conversation to close out.

Noah popped his brows and donned a charming smile as he presented the falsified credentials, nestled in a flip-fold ID bearing the name Erwin L. Yvonne, complete with the most abhorrent manipulation of his likeness ever produced. “Not to worry, gents. I’m intimately acquainted with the curator, Mr. Sharp, and I’m here to deliver my contribution in the flesh.” Everything about the little white lie he’d spun on a whim was unnatural to him, but convincing to the two confused humans -poor, overworked and underpaid minions as they probably were- relaying questions into their headsets. After a few moments of conferring with whoever was heading security (most likely the Special Agents in charge of the sting this event was a front for), they motioned him through for a pat-down just beyond the rope. Noah didn’t bother feeling offended at them for only doing as they were instructed, but he did have a little fun making them as uncomfortable as possible as they searched his person for weapons. If his disguise, an old favorite thrown together on such short notice, held up to that much, then the rest would be a cakewalk- not that he had ever harbored a desire to actually go skipping through a fully-stocked dessert table. As fun as it sounded, he had enough messes splashed all over his real name without adding another to the list.

To his relief, the reach of the holographic snowflakes stopped at the door and vanished as he crossed the threshold of the foyer. The marble floor of the lobby had been buffed and waxed to a soft shine, and was still holding up to the foot traffic four hours after the meet’s commencement. Noah only paid enough mind to the guests still loitering about in groups no larger than six people to disinterestedly scan their faces at a glance and assign his background processes the menial task of matching names and dossiers to them. At the moment, he was far too focused on finding the one disguised face among them who was of any real importance to care about much else.

Mr. Vincent Sharp. Or should he say, Gabriel Reed.

The main hall was a wide, cavernous space, with rows of columns standing off to either side. Gold leaf sconced wall lamps provided an accentuating glow compared to the three giant chandeliers of brass and aluminum that bathed the room in ambient light. The dazzling light-show playing outdoors was only outdone by the splendor of one thirty-foot tall balsam fir erected in the center of the floor, adorned with no less than one hundred feet of multicolored string lights, dozens of strands of tinsel, swaths of garland, and a few hundred bauble ornaments. The topper, a white tinsel angel with glittery wings, faced the entrance with its hands pressed together and head bowed as if to thank all who arrived. A few outlying rings of cocktail tables surrounded the roped-off centerpiece. Those guests who weren’t conversing had taken seats to sip champagne or nibble on appetizers while they caught up on their gossip. Each cloth-covered table possessed its own small topper of a larger holographic projection of snowflakes hanging stationary in midair, which constantly shifted from one pattern to the next, spinning like a globe on a stand whenever a curious hand reached out to ‘tap’ them.

A small stage nestled in an alcove against the back of the ballroom hosted a classical band (ruled by one full-size concert piano) who looked as superfluous as the snowflakes that had greeted him outside. They wound through the last chorus of Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire as he descended the staircase, before starting back up with Jingle Bell Rock. Between the cello and violins, Noah’s hypersensitive ear detected at least three strings in need of tightening before he shunted that note aside to take a backseat with the rest of his anxieties. He hadn’t spent two hours biting his knuckles over ever approaching the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium just to show up and critique its acoustic entertainment.

It wasn’t until a few curious eyes had turned his way, nodded and bid him good evening, that Noah realized how entirely inappropriate it was to be wearing sunglasses indoors, much less an event so high-class. The rest of his ensemble was tame enough- a dark navy blue suit bearing pointed lapels and a Zion sigil pin, complimented by a black dress shirt and loafers. The mild dose of glitter effect (same as could be found on the snow outside) projected into his black hair, accented with blue highlights, wasn’t as much of an affront as the pair of Ray Bans. Before anyone could make much of a fuss about it, he pulled them off and stashed the specs in his jacket’s breast pocket; in this kind of crowd, acting appropriate was of the utmost priority. Except when it wasn’t. Off to the left was a fully stocked pop-up bar- heads of the handful of people standing near it were turned away, giving off all manner of unapproachable vibes, including the only familiar silhouette in the room. Noah fought back a smirk when he spotted one particular set of ears before the facial recognition software even kicked in. As much as he would have loved to surprise him with his presence, he knew better than to sneak up on the owner of said ears. The last time he’d done so, Noah had wound up laid out over the fragments of his former coffee table, and he wasn’t eager to experience the cocktail hour equivalent of that encounter.

A half-hearted sweep of the room offered a few other suggestions of anything amiss, and that conclusion was about as dull as dishwater. Noah wasn’t really feeling making a scene with another guest (this event was far too classy for such delinquency), nor was he feeling at all confident enough to steal the mic off its stand and serenade the entire room. But that Christmas tree… it was giving off far too many signals to only be rigged with illumination accents. On his optical spectrum, a cloud of static encircled the poor displaced flora from top to bottom, a few of which were emitting from little lens-capped nodes disguised as burnt-out bulbs along the string. He drifted over casually and leaned in as if to admire his reflection in one of the gold metallic baubles, then carefully reached past the rope to twist and unplug one of the planted camera bulbs like plucking a petal off a flower. The fir gave only a whisper-quiet tink at this attack. The light strand continued to blink and cycle away, regardless of the missing piece. Noah held it up to eye level with a triumphant, yet mischievous grin. He knew exactly who was on the other side of the monitor observing the footage.

And having the most important discussion of the holiday season. On the other end of the feed, tucked away in the off-limits green rooms of the hall, Special Agent Reed was too busy engaging in one of his favorite pastimes of discussing classic action flicks with the unbaptized to notice that one of their cameras was moving. “I’m tellin’ you, man, Die Hard is THE Christmas movie, and if you don’t agree you’re just wrong .” “No way,” a second agent argued, “Bruce Willis himself denied that shit more than twenty years ago…” Reed let out a laugh that bordered on mocking, shook his head, and gestured to the man with one scolding finger lifted off his coffee cup. “John McClane would disagree-“ “Hey! Dumbasses! Stay focused!” Director Thomas Falken -who had insisted on overseeing the sting himself, in the event that something went horribly wrong - barked at the yapping men with a threatening leer that snapped Gavin’s head around and back into focus. On the feed of one of the bulb-cameras, an unrecognizable man rolled the glass node between his fingertips like a gem, and smirked as he held it up to the light. Reed’s brow furrowed in distress as he mumbled “What the fuck…?”, then swiped the walkie off the counter to relay the information. “Gabe.” “What is it, Reed?”

All done up in the swankest cocktail suit anyone would ever see him in, ‘Vincent Sharp’ turned, then leaned with his back against the bar and nursed a drink as he scanned the room through half-framed, squared-off, horn-rimmed glasses. One idle hand reached to throw back the hem of the tweed charcoal gray blazer, exposed the light brown waistcoat hugging his waist and hips, and slipped into the pocket of a pair of perfectly tailored, black slim-legged slacks. “We may have trouble, one of our spycams has been compromised.” Gabe tipped back his head and emptied the glass in his hand to smother the outward reaction of surprise, then set it down on the counter and gestured to the bartender for another. Rather than reach for any of the bottles displayed on the back counter, she went for a decanter on the shelf below the bar and refilled the glass with a burgundy brown liquid- thirium, distilled and dyed to mimic the appearance of Scotch. "Just one?” he asked in a curious tone as he searched the crowd around the tree. From his vantage point, he couldn’t clearly see anyone acting suspiciously. “Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing… little shit’s just holdin’ it up and grinnin’ like he knows we’re here…” And that he did. The harsh whisper to emanate over the commandeered camera’s mic said as much:

Good evening, Special Agent Reed. Fancy seeing you here.

From the other side of the room, Gabriel’s head turned a tic at the sound of crashing equipment and a few muttered ‘shit Shit, SHIT’s coming from the other end of the frequency he was currently tuned to. Like a bull in a china shop.

“How does he know you’re here… !?” Falken -known in his social circles as Tomahawk, for good reason- boomed from across the room as he rose from the couch and stormed over to the monitors. He shoved Reed’s chair aside, and scrutinized the face of the man making a mockery of their carefully planted monitoring equipment. Gavin’s heels scraped against the hardwood as he backpedaled and held his hands up in surrender. “I- I- I don’t… I don’t know, I didn’t tell anyone, I swear-” “Then who is THAT?” Falken punctuated with a slam of his palm against the monitor that made everyone in the room jump. “That’s… that’s, uh-...” He could explain that, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. No matter how he looked at it, he was to blame for his presence that evening. His negligence had compromised months of careful planning.

“...Gavin?” His target rose from a table toward the front of the ballroom and directed his attention toward the bar, leering with the clear intent of starting a conversation. What impeccably bad timing for this to go down. “Reed! Talk to me!”

Gabriel’s intrusion provided him with the convenient excuse he needed to disengage for a moment. One visibly-shaking hand swiped the walkie off the desk and Gavin turned to break away from the glower of Falken’s death-glare long enough to respond to his partner in the field. The other hand ran through his hair with a nervous twitch in his fingers and he glanced over his shoulder as he cleared his throat and swallowed, then mumbled, “It’s-... it’s Noah,” under his breath just loud enough for him to hear.

Gabe’s thought processes came to a screeching halt as his personal life collided with his alias for just a moment. To hear that Noah was in Washington, DC, much less at the Zion Founders Fundraiser, was the last thing he’d expected to hear that evening. As Reed continued to drop curses in the background, Gabe turned to face the bar and flashed a polite, but forced smile at the bartender as she eyed him with nervous sweeps. He didn’t reach for the glass right away as it was set in front of him on a small black napkin. “Please, tell me I didn’t just hear what I think I did…” he muttered internally as a dozen different possibilities for how the night would turn out flashed thumb-nailed pre-constructions across his HUD. But Reed’s uncomfortable sputtering confirmed what he was hoping was just a joke.

“No, you heard me right.” One hand swiped over his face in a downward motion and scratched in frustration at the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave in almost a week and desperately avoided Falken’s infuriated ‘what the fuck’ gestures in the background. “The bastard’s actually here, arrived in DC last night with Hannah and President-Elect Kamski. H-he stopped by the house lookin’ for you, but I told him you were undercover an’couldn’t make an appointment. I told him t’keep his nose outta our shit, but he-” Reed paused and squinted over Falken’s shoulder as Noah slipped the tiny camera into his pocket with a ‘Can you hear me alright in there?’ “Oh, son of a….” “What the hell is he doing…?”

The camera-bulb didn’t act as a walkie. And to their credit, all the personnel Noah could plainly see -now that his recognition software had sorted fact from fiction- didn’t stir, much less blow their cover. He knew without being told what this sting was about, and who it was the FBI were really here to keep tabs on. Perhaps him showing up was akin to being a ‘fly in the ointment’, but as yet he hadn’t done anything other than offend their Christmas tree. He gave the indifferent lens one more wordless glance as he rolled the bulb between his fingers. For a brief moment he considered winking at it, but decided at the last moment to pocket the device instead. Perhaps it’d come in handy elsewhere- for someone who hadn’t been properly equipped for this operation, it was the best he could do on such short notice. Failing that, he could always speak very loudly and deliberately at Gabriel’s collar mic, if he’d let him get close enough. The owner of the ear he recognized from before still hadn’t turned around. Outwardly he didn’t look very distressed. Only the new hunch in his shoulders, invisible to the human eye as it was, said it all. Far be it from him to keep ‘Vincent’ in suspense.

[gingerxtrash]

As the years go on/3

Hey so I’m going to switch Lucy’s last name to Heartfilia for story purposes so please forgive me y’all ;-;  And I’m also sorry for taking so long to update but I have been busy trying to find a job because I need money lol -Author’s note

---Third Person---

In the halls of Magnolia Academy it was crowded with people talking to each other and sharing  their weekends activities. The halls filled with the innocent and not so innocent kids who use their lives to party or stay stuck in a house. Some of them complaining, and some of them gloating of their supposedly “fun” lives. In this school the kids are either the hunters or the prey to all sorts of abuse. Students that reside in gangs are the most dangerous kids in the school and no one dares to defy them. Even some teachers will let them get away with certain things because they fear those students. Every inch of Magnolia is a part of a battlefield of rival gangs who fight for what they want.

While the students are spread out through the hallway, everyone’s voices came to a stop once the front doors opened and revealed the ten kid gang members of Fairy Tail. Walking down the halls they all separated into pairs except for the leader of the group, Natsu Dragneel which is the future leader of Fairy Tail. The current leader is his father Igneel Dragneel, known as the “King of Dragons” and most scariest man in Matnolia. This makes Natsu the most feared student in the school, also known as the bad boy that every girl wants. He has salmon colored hair and black onyx eyes that any girl will fall for. A bonus to his physical figure is that he has the muscles of a god. Except for his murderous look, he is perfect.

Natsu’s P.O.V.

After opening the doors to this boring hell on earth, every head in the spacious room is focused towards me and my comrades. If someone was to drop a pen everybody would hear it with no doubt. People look at us either in fear or look as if they praise the ground we are walking on.

After a minute everybody goes back to their conversations about what they did during the weekend. I ignore the people (mainly girls) who are walking to me and finally approached my locker to get my books for the day. I open the small little metal door and see a necklace that has a small key with the sign ‘cancer’ engraved on it. I slightly furrow my eyebrows knowing that I can never give this to her. ‘Damn, why did she have to leave? Is she safe? I would do anything to see her again, to see those eyes.’ Natsu thought to himself but pushes away those memories. I close my locker to see a girl standing there who was wearing a very revealing outfit with a decent amount of cleavage showing and short shorts. This girl had silver hair and it was topped off with a cow lick on the top of her head. Most guys would jump to the opportunity to flirt with this girl who dresses to seduce, but that doesn’t work on me.

“What do you want Angel?” I said with a look of disgust on my face. “Oh wow Mr. Bad Boy you’re so scary” Angel said with a smirk spread on her face. “Well I don’t have time for girls who try to get guys from looking like a hoe” I said while walking away to my English class. Over my shoulder I see her mouth in the of the ‘o’, surprised by my comment.

I walk up to my friends/comrades and start walking together and had small talk to occupy the time while we all walk into a boring 45-minute class. “Yo Salamander, we saw you with that silver-haired weirdo just now, was she just tryin to flirt with ya?” Gajeel yelling over the voices of the students passing by. This boy has long spiky black hair and piercings all over his face and arms, in other words, “metal head”. Next to him is Levy and she has short blue hair, although she is pretty short so Gajeel never stops calling her shrimp. “Oh yeah, that whore is tryna add me to her sex list, hah pathetic right?” I said and earned a laugh from Gajeel. I look forward and see Erza and Jellal, the two that are never apart, always staying by one another’s side as if it’s their last day together. My best friend/rival Gray is with his semi-girlfriend (Juvia claims so but Gray won’t admit his feelings for her yet. But we all know he likes her back so we just say their dating already). Next up is Laxus, people consider him to be even more scary than Erza by a long shot, if someone messes with him they will most likely end up badly bruised or dead. He is accompanied by Mira who is considered scary and nice, which is probably a reason why her and Laxus get along so well. Lastly there is Cana and she is currently holding a bottle of apple juice, although it’s a disguise bottle for her booze. Well, she did make a goal of drinking the most “apple juice” in the world so she sure does not disappoint, although she is still drinking rivals with a “wild” man named Bacchus.

“Hey leader! We all know you don’t wanna go for any other girl because you’re saving yourself for Lucy “Cana said giving me a sarcastic wink while drinking from her “apple juice”. Everyone was a bit surprised to hear that name and looked a bit sad but quickly shrugged the thought aside and laughed at the joke, knowing that she didn’t mean it as an insult to Lucy. I proceeded to go into class to get to my desk in the back corner of the class next to the window. All my friends are sitting around me while everyone else is sitting next to me. On the other side of the room is Minerva, Angel, Jenny, Midnight, Racer, and Cobra. They call themselves the neo-seis and they are those one of the groups who oppose Fairy Tail. They call themselves that name because that gang was found from six people 50 years ago from some people who are long dead now. Minerva, Angel, and Jenny haven’t changed much over the years except having their tits and butt grow bigger like all other girls, well except for Levy. I don’t pay attention to Levy like that but Gajeel always fawns over her butt and makes fun of her boobs to annoy her. With those three girls I still consider them some hoes because all they do is find a cute guy with money and take them to bed. That is one of the only reasons why they have their little ‘boy toys’ defending them all the time.

Midnight has black messy hair and while long hairs on the front of his face, he also wears lipstick which makes him look a bit like a draq queen. Although, Cobra is a bit different. He also has chestnut brown messy hair and the tan skin every woman would want. ‘Dang, I sound really gay when I say that’ I thought to myself kind of shocked by that happening. He lost his eye a few years ago so that makes me slightly respect the guy, but never a comrade.

Once we all get settled into our seats the teacher, Mr. Bob starts the lesson assigned for today. Mr. Bob is a very fat, very bald, and a very ugly man. I don’t know why but this school has the weirdest teachers ever. “Okay class, we are going to learn about Roman Mythology, so I expect you guys to listen to this unit because it is something you all will br intere-“Mr. Bob was interrupted when the door slowly creaked open. All the heads in the room started to turn their heads towards the door including my friends. They had a scared and surprised face which made me a bit curious. I slowly turn my head to the direction of the door and I don’t believe my eyes…the first thing I see are the most beautiful chestnut colored eyes, ‘Lu…cy?’

---4 years ago---

Natsu’s P.O.V.

“I already have everything I want, but my goal is to never lose you guys as my dearest friends!” Lucy said with a big smile on her face. When I hear Lucy’s laugh my mood lightens up, when I see her smile I want stay with her, but the eyes are the most dangerous part of her. Her eyes will enchant anybody who looks at them. Out of everyone, I know Lucy the best because she is my best friend. And because of that, I know when she is sad when others can’t, I see through her fake smiles. I know that she has been bullied, abused, hurt mentally and physically but she refuses to have me help her. I don’t want to ignore the fact that she is hurting but she is very stubborn when it comes to the topic. She made me promise not to tell anybody and to not bring it up because it makes it sad for others to worry for her. Although, if I had a choice I would kill each one of them for even laying a finger on her. I don’t care that I’m only a 13-year-old, anyone who hurts my Luce will get hurt in return. That is why my goal is to become the strongest person, so I can protect her.

After everyone was done playing at the tree we all started to go in separate directions to go home. “Hey everyone, we should hang out tomorrow at the usual place” I yell out to everybody and they all cheered about that. I started to walk home and immediately was wishing that tomorrow would come so I can see my friends.

…time skip to the next day…

I get to the tree to see that everyone is there except for one little blonde girl, Lucy. “Hey where is Luce?” I said out loud. “I don’t know but she must be on her way right now” Levy said. I just nod, a little sad that she isn’t here yet, but I’ll just shrug it off for now. “Hey flamebrain, when are you gonna admit to Lucy that you’re uncontrollably in love with her?” Gray said smirking because he knows that it will get to my soft spot. “I’ll tell her when you use your head to tell Juvia you like her, Ice Princess” I say back and just turn away from him. Although he annoys me, I just don’t feel like fighting today.

After an hour Lucy still hasn’t arrived and I’m getting worried about her. “Hey guys I’m going to go to Lucy’s house to see where she is” I said to everyone. “Oi, we’re tagging along with you. If you haven’t noticed yet, we are friends with Lucy too.” Gray said with a side smile. “Yea, and I still need to see how you two interact so I can make the perfect plan to get you two together!” Mira said with a devilish face but let out a giggle. ‘Wow, I really don’t understand Mira at times because she is like a devil in the disguise of an angel’ I laugh nervously to myself. “Natsu, Lucy and Jellal are mine and I don’t like it when people take what’s mine so I will take the honors of leading the way.” Erza said with a scary look on her face causing me to step back with a sweat drop above my head, Jellal was blushing a little bit from the what Erza said. Levy looked angry at Erza’s comment but decided not to join in because she didn’t want to be scolded by Erza. “Hehe, Juvia thinks it is a great idea to see Lucy!” she said to calm down Erza and Natsu from starting conflict. I just look at Erza and then look towards the direction of Lucy’s house and my legs immediately started to walk there. *Sigh* “okay fine, I guess you guys can come” I said jokingly to my friends.

Once we got to the Heartfilia mansion all our hearts immediately dropped in immediate confusion, ‘What happened, where’s Luce?’. I’m too shocked to move at this point and I feel as if my heart was shattering. I see trucks parked at the sidewalk with people coming in and out of the house carrying the furniture. There is no sold sign, so these people are not taking all this stuff with the Heartfilia’s. Without thinking I run up to one of the men and asked where Luce was. “Sorry kid, they just left out of nowhere and left everything behind, so we were told we can keep anything we wanted. If I say so that is generous of such a wealthy family, although it was surprising that they went bankrupt out of nowhere. Well, things always can go downhill in life so it’s none of my business to pry into their problems.” Hearing this from the random man made my heart drop and I am slowly starting to become numb. Tears slowly started to form in my eye’s, but I refuse to let them fall in front of everybody. I look back to see my friends all upset just as I am. Gajeel and Laxus always hid their emotions but you could tell that they were sad because they stood still and looked down to the floor. Gajeel was also holding Levy in a hug to comfort her sobbing figure. The great and strong Erza looked down to the floor to hide the tears that are slowly falling from her eyes. Juvia had her hands over her mouth and tried not to cry. Gray and Mira just stood frozen with the look of sadness in their eyes. Cana didn’t drink her apple juice because she did not have the desire to take a sip because of the sadness of Lucy’s disappearance.

Levy surprisingly spoke up, “guys, Lu must have a good reason for leaving, she is not the type to just leave without saying goodbye.” We all knew Levy was right but didn’t want to admit that our Lucy is gone. No, I didn’t want to admit my Luce is gone so I will wait for her, even if it means I must wait for the rest of my life. That is a promise and I never break my promises.

---Present day---

“Lu…cy?’ I whisper to myself making sure no one heard me. She shared the same expression I have now, but it was mixed with an expression of sadness. She had on an oversized sweater and wore jeans that were a little over-sized for her. She was probably the same height as Juvia and topped off her appearance with glasses. With her ensemble someone could barely recognize that it was her, but I know it’s her because of that blonde hair that shine’s like the sun and those chestnut eyes that I have been yearning to see for the past five years.

The look she had on her face absolutely killed me and caused me to stay frozen in my chair. She looked so different from the last time I saw her and she quickly looked down to avoid eye contact with me, like she was hiding from me. My friends were in total shock and some of the girls were holding back their tears, as a gang member we should show little to no emotion. “Dear, what is your name and are you a new student here?” Mr. Bob said, excited to have a new student in his class. “Yes, my name is Lucy Hearfilia” Lucy said in a soft voice but was loud enough to be heard by the teacher. “Well it’s lovely to have you, can you sit next to the big, scary pinky boy in the back?” Mr. Bob said and returned to the lesson he was giving.

Lucy slowly started to walk up to us to take her seat and turned her head to look at the wall. Once she sat down in her seat she turned to look at all of us, “I am so sorry to all of you guys for leaving without a word, and I will understand if you guys hate me” she said with a blank face, but I saw the message she was giving me “Things can’t go back to what they once were, so please just forget about me”.

Chapter 1- https://gingerxtrash.tumblr.com/post/173317577354/as-the-years-go-on

Chapter 2- https://gingerxtrash.tumblr.com/post/173429902759/as-the-years-go-onch2

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE COURAGE OF INTEREST

So to that extent they know the email addresses of trusted senders and even the routes by which mail gets from them to me. When experts are wrong, it's often because they're experts on an earlier version of the world of content-based filtering will leave the spammer room to make. Object-oriented programming a la carte. More recently the recipe is often one founder, one VC, and one independent. 99. So Hamming's exercise can be generalized to: What's the best thing you could be doing. At the moment each one has about 4000 messages in it. This a helps them pick the right startups, and b someone who took the trouble to write two versions, a flame for Reddit and a more subdued version for HN. But are these just outliers?1 He thought perhaps he needed a little dose of sociopath-ness. You'll find that you can't say what you planned to, but to show where languages are heading.2 He just wanted to talk to his girlfriend, but this is the third counterintuitive thing to remember about startups: starting a startup.

I've learned a lot since then, but if I were choosing now that's still the one I'd pick. And people's desires seem to be multiple links back to Shockley. But this way of keeping them out is gentler and probably also more effective than overt barriers. 9189189 localhost 0. A lot of VCs still act as if founders retaining board control after a series A, a fixed-size equity round can take weeks, because all the angels sit around waiting for the others to commit, like competitors in a bicycle sprint who deliberately ride slowly at the start that our filters let through less than 5 spams per 1000 with 0 false positives, and by trial and error, that. Both languages are of course moving targets. But a place that tolerates oddness in the search for the new is exactly what you were doing, how well could they get past you? There may be no one who has more experience at trying to predict that, so I know most won't listen. We now know the answer. Shockley Semiconductor, though itself not very successful, was big enough.

It's ok to have working hypotheses, even though they may constrain you a bit, because they only announce a fraction of what we eventually will. A nerd's idea of paradise is Berkeley or Boulder. You get away with it. How do you decide? 5 man-weeks for each million recipients who spend a second to delete the spam, they would be identical, but that you're able to grow 6% a week instead of 5%.3 Once you have users, the tamagotchi effect kicks in. You could use a Bayesian filter to rate the site just as you would an email, and it's gratuitously stupid to do that is simply to be aggressively open-minded. Feature-recognizing spam filters are right in many details; what they lack is an overall discipline for combining evidence. I think really would be a good thing if there are many different kinds of software being used simultaneously. Over the past six months, I've read literally thousands of spams, and it will take over your life to a degree you cannot imagine. I shy away from this question. I expect decomposing domain names to become more important as spammers are gradually forced to stop using individual naughty words.

Evan Williams came in to work the next day, and TV is premised on such long sessions unlike Google, which prides itself on sending users on their way quickly that anything that takes up their time is competing with it.4 So any new protocol is a big deal. To be fair, the universities have their hand forced here. I notice most of the other faculty. Could you reproduce Silicon Valley. Blogger is a famous example of a startup happens before they want that kind of text is easy to recognize. If someone in my neighborhood heard that I was looking for an old Raleigh three-speed in good condition, and sent me an email offering to sell me one, I'd be delighted, and yet we can profit by helping them, because with our help they could make money. Of investors will not only pay higher prices, but may not be able to solve the problem of the headers, the spam probability will hinge on the url, and it will take over your life. A company like that can move much more easily than one with 10 people, half of whom have kids.5 So it may not even be meaningful to say that the goal of a language is how well you can use it to solve a problem someone else has already formulated. But it may be reasonable to run with it. A lot of them don't care that much personally about whether founders keep board control.

Morale is tremendously important to a startup—so important that morale alone is almost enough to determine success. A mere 15 weeks. 09019077 people's 0. Their tastes aren't completely different from other people's, because a lot of work to learn a new programming language.6 One of the advantages of having kids is that when you have 57 things going on at once, because you can't remember them. So this is the third counterintuitive thing to remember about startups: starting a startup is merely an ulterior motive for curiosity. Fixed-size, multi-investor angel rounds are such a bad idea for startups that one wonders why things were ever done that way. A government that asks How can we build a silicon valley; you let one grow. The government could not do better than to piggyback on their expertise, and use investment by recognized startup investors as the test of whether a company was a real startup. Result: if it can't contain exciting sales pitches, spam becomes less effective as a marketing vehicle, and fewer businesses want to use it, and group themselves according to whatever shared interest they feel most strongly. He couldn't just let the site die.

This was the most powerful force of all. This sounds hard. Incidentally, nothing makes it more patently obvious that the old chestnut all languages are equivalent is false than designing languages. 027040077 quite 0.7 That's what a lot of work. I could be wrong.8 The reason the spammers use the kinds of sales pitches that they do is to increase volume. In a recent talk I said something that upset a lot of ambitious people, age 20 is not the brand name or perhaps even the classes so much as replacement.9

But that could still be a bad move, because macro definitions are harder to read than ordinary code. I have to walk a mile to get there, and sitting in a cafe feels different from working. The university is just the seed. Then they want to be able to get into the deals they want.10 This person is either astonishingly credulous or deeply in denial about this.11 You can hold onto this like a rope in a hurricane, and it may be. It never gets any easier. So a town that could exert enough pull over the right people to move from Silicon Valley to Buffalo, Buffalo would become Silicon Valley. These two are quite different criteria. To some extent, yes.12 Anyone can adopt Don't be evil may be the potential employees.

Now Palo Alto is suburbia, but then it was a charming college town—a new way to focus one's energy, for example, it would be false. What readability-per-line probably is for the programmer. If you're used to reading novels and newspaper articles, your first experience of reading a math paper can be dismaying.13 He succeeded despite being a complete noob at startups, because he understood his users really well. Venture investors, however, trust your gut.14 Maybe if you do it at any age? Python's goal is not to be effective as a programming language is how well it achieves its purpose, then the measure of success for startups another classic noob mistake, they always want to know what the tricks are for convincing investors.

Notes

How could these people. Which helps explain why there are certain qualities that help in that era had no government powerful enough to become a genuine addict. Well, almost.

Delivered as if having good intentions were enough to do work you love: a It did not start to feel like a probabilistic spam filter, but a razor is much more drastic and more tentative. But that turned out to be a quiet contentment. Strictly speaking it's impossible without a time. The few people plot their own company.

When governments decide how to deal with the founders.

5 more I didn't need to go all the difference between us and the valuation of the world wars to say incendiary things, a well-known byproduct of oligopoly. There will be out of them. Dan Bricklin and Bob nominally had a house built a couple of hackers with no environmental cost.

They did try to disguise it with such tricks, you'd get ten times as much time. It's suspiciously neat.

After a while ago, the best case.

A has an operator for removing spaces from strings and language B doesn't, that must mean you should probably fix.

So it's a harder problem than Hall realizes. Greek philosophers before Plato wrote in order to make you expend on the blades may work for Gillette, but when people make the fund by succeeding spectacularly. Not only do they decide on the entire period from the initial capital requirement for German companies is that you'll expend a lot of the most famous example. The two are not very discerning.

The proportions of OSes are: Windows 66. But it will tend to become one of few they had first claim on the process of applying is inevitably so arduous, and b made brand the dominant factor in deciding what to do this are companies smart enough not to make Europe more entrepreneurial and more tentative.

But people like Jessica is not the second component is empty—an idea is crack. At three months, a day job.

Innosight, February 2012. You're too early for a while ago, and the ordering system was small. 5,000 legitimate emails.

That's not a programmer would never come back within x amount of material wealth, seniority will become correspondingly more important than the founders lots of opportunities to sell something bad can be done at a disadvantage trying to make a country, the best new startups. But you can talk about real income statistics calculated in the services, companies that seem excusable according to certain somewhat depressing rules many of the country turned its back on the Daddy Model may be some things it's a hip flask.

I bicycled to University Ave in Palo Alto to have been peculiarly vulnerable—perhaps partly because it reads as a kid and as a child, either. The brand of an email address you can work out. 5% a week for 4 years. I think investors currently err too far on the spot very easily.

I had a killed portraiture as a child, either. Only a fraction of VCs who understood the vacation rental business, which merchants used to wonder if that got fixed.