#i don’t think i even own this image i seriously have no fucking clue where it came from or what happened here

[fourtccn]

put my phone in my pocket while on today at work and this is the post it made

[googledetective]

the theories that have been presented on this cast + one of my own :)

I do want to mention that I strongly believe this is a prequel due to a conversation I had with a bunch of people on discord earlier. (Everyone was 16+, dw.)

I haven’t seen anything about the first two at all so far, so I’ll be skipping over them and onto the third guy (oh my fucking lord).

(Also this post from @nesisamess helped a lot)

Staring onto the third dude,

(both posts are made by @zitherwaifuus :)

It seems that here this guy has some sort of relationship to XF-Future Tech, which if you’ve seen Min’s side story, you’d know is the company that came into her life and groomed her to be the Ultimate Student. She received special tutoring for them and worked her ass off for that title her entire life because of that. Next, this guy shares the same tie pin she does, and it’s also very notable that she dresses up with the same button down and tie in her MV. Not only do I think she is linked to the company now, but she might be working there before she was in the game. Who knows, though.

Next, I have not seen anything on the fourth girl besides a bunch of people on discord theorizing what the dandelion in her hair could mean. Unfortunately dandelions have different meanings from different cultures all over the world, so until it’s specified about where she’s from, I don’t think there’s many assumptions we can make yet.

Number Five, the purple guy.

Everyone seems to think so far that this is Elliot Cuevas, Charles Cuevas’s deceased brother. Now let me tell you that although I can’t see it based off design, the way he looks (playful and kinda weird but happy) and the way he was described by the creator in the latest qna (a popular joyous dude), can definitely make me see this being real. The only thing that is super far fetched about this is that we know he died a long time ago, and so if this is a prequel, it would have to be at least 15 years before drdt even starts.

Here’s also some more evidence from @sunlit-haru supporting the ‘that’s Elliot’ theory.

Now we’re up to the protagonist, who mind you is definitely my favorite so far. I will eliminate the rest of you protag dickriders so I will be the only simp left.

ANYWAYS, in the about page for this, it’s stated that this is a fangan for someone who wants to be the perfect teacher. Now with the hidden quote on the drdt tumblr page about this teacher…

( @demodraws0606 ‘s post)

Uh oh. I think we’ve figured out who this mysterious teacher might be. As for who is talking to them, I’ve personally got a few ideas, but they are not backed with any evidence.

1. The mastermind from this first killing game

2. Mai Akasaki or David Chiem still

3. The mastermind of the drdt killing game

Whoever it is, I think that these games are surely related and that each current kg participant does have a relation with one of these cast members. And that previous killing game’s end is why this one is happening.

Then, based off the post up top and a few others, people seem to think this is Teruko’s brother. I’m going to give a wild theory (no evidence) that Mai Akasaki knows him, only bc of the red in his hair. Then I think Mai would’ve found Teruko, and she would’ve been trying to reconnect them. Just a theory, though. There’s no evidence based around that this guy might be Teruko’s brother though, sadly.

Last but not least, @1moreff-creator pieced together some of the text on his badge:

I’m just gonna say that I’m seriously impressed with your efforts cause I have no fucking clue that could even be readable lmao.

*UPDATE ON TEXT: holy mother of god, @xmicrophonyx is a fucking god, and deciphered it. Here you go, and we all have got to give a serious thank you to them.

Sadly I cannot link the image of what the phone number gets to, but it gets linked to a yellow pill. I don’t have any ideas on how it would relate to the game, but I think it does. It’s used for high blood pressure and heart failure. If he’s really related to Teruko, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had high blood pressure lmao.

Also, the area code for 555 is just North America.

Here’s what I found on Wikipedia:

“The telephone number prefix 555 is a central office code in the North American Numbering Plan, used as the leading part of a group of 10,000 telephone numbers, 555-XXXX, in each numbering plan area (NPA) (area code). It has traditionally been used only for the provision of directory assistance, when dialing NPA-555-1212.

The central office code is also used for fictitious telephone numbers in North American television shows, films, video games, and other media in order to prevent practical jokers and curious callers from bothering telephone subscribers and organizations by calling telephone numbers they see in works of fiction.”

I don’t understand the first part, but it seems that this is a fictional number. If someone could explain to me wtf that first part even memes, I might be able to give more info.

Anyways, it seems that this guy ended up being a teacher at HPA, before or after the killing game. But I think this was very worth mentioning.

Unfortunately I’ve seen nothing about the next two, but I want to say that the girl in all pink (#8) I think is Felicity Giles, if that’s even possible. I just feel that’s Arturo’s sister. I know, I’m a weirdo. Even if #7 looks more like Arturo, I just cannot see it.

Moving on, nine and ten! If you look at them closely they’ve got the same eye pattern, suggesting they’re siblings, or likely twins, since they’ve got the fire/ice scheme going on.

Lastly, eleven which oh my god, Arturo’s dream girl! But she’s been theorized to be Whit’s mom. Here’s the post that argues a pretty convincing reason of why.

Oh boy. That woman is pretty cool and is very elegant, and has the same shade of blond hair that Whit dyed his too. I don’t think she’s any coincidence.

But joining along on that last little paragraph of this person’s post, it’s starting to seem a lot of characters do have connections to this cast and are seemingly mentioned quite a few times.

UPDATE: oh my lord, @accirax literally went on a deep dive for us and gave us a pretty good explanation and educated guess on everyone’s talents. I’m not going to link it because they covered pretty much every logical point as to why they have their guesses. Here’s the post if you haven’t already seen it https://www.tumblr.com/accirax/728687594893885440/drdt-new-character-talent-analysis

Anyways this is just the sum-up of everyone’s theorizing + a bit of my add on to it, and huge kudos to everyone who’s been making theories so far. I’ll be updating & crediting if there’s anymore notable things that come out.

Thanks for reading!

[jadequeen88]

Incel Tomura

I couldn’t think of a good title for this, so... I just went with something real blunt. Anyway, this was inspired by a friend and how she actually met her IRL boyfriend.

PAIRING: Incel!Shigaraki x egirl!reader

TW: face sitting, degradation, mommy kink, reader basically bullying Tomura (he deserves it)

3.2k~

AS ALWAYS MY FICS ARE STRICTLY 18+

“TCH!”

Tomura scoffed at the screen of his laptop. The Discord server he helped admin had gone to shit since he let that idiot Dabi loosen the requirements to join. It was one thing when Toga joined. He knew she was a decent gamer. But you? With those stereotypical cat-ear headsets, perfectly done make-up and short skirts? Please… He saw right through you. Just another fake ~uwu~ e-girl trying to pretend they knew what they were talking about.

It didn’t end with you being annoyingly informed in the gaming chat, either. You were always in the anime and manga chats, too… Suggesting different ones that there’s no way you actually enjoyed.

But the WORST part of you being in the server? Spamming the picture chat with selfies and outfit pics. No, it wasn’t against the guidelines and yes, you got lots of compliments (of course, you were clearly hot), but it made Tomura livid. Where there used to be pics of half-built PCs and screenshots of character upgrades, now there were endless pictures meant to tease and bait the guys in the server.

Today’s picture is what sent him completely over the edge. Your hair was put up in two messy space buns, signature pink cat-eared headset perched on your head. Your black, mesh top was straining against your tight, hot pink bra, barely hiding your cleavage and your slender neck was adorned with a chunky, black collar with a large, silver ring hanging from the front. The icing on the cake, though… the thing that broke him, was the face you were making. Eyes crossed, little pink tongue lolling past your perfect hot-pink lips, it was an obvious ahegao face. The caption read:

“New collar! Thank you for da gift @XxXknifey_wifeyXxX”

Followed by a bunch of annoying ass emojis.

Tomura shifted in his gaming chair, his growing bulge making his sweats tight. He gritted his teeth and opened his DMs…

******

You snickered as you opened your text chat with Dabi. Poor Tomura… He had no clue his friend was an old high school buddy of yours and sent screenshots every single time he bitched about your presence on the server. At first, it was just a couple of snide comments, but you quickly decided to turn it into a game. You’d add more emojis than you normally would, flirt shamelessly with Toga in the chat, and be very vocal with your opinions. Then it progressed with more and more selfies, pics showing off your new skirts, and pics of your pink, girly gaming setup. Today you pushed it with the ahegao face, you’ll admit. It was pretty out of character for you, but you couldn’t wait to hear about Tomura’s reaction from Dabi.

It was everything you hoped it would be:

Decay_666_

So can we give those bitches their own chat or what? Seriously, I’m sick of seeing their shit everywhere. Did you see her ahegao face selfie? This server was supposed to be for ACTUAL gamers, not fake e-girl sluts spamming the chat with their bullshit…

Cremation_Daddy

Lol, damn dude, calm down… we can make a separate chat. You’re the only one on the server complaining. Y/N really fucking you up that bad?

Decay_666_

Oh, fuck off… she’s just being an attention whore and it’s getting on my nerves.

Cremation_Daddy

Yeah, whatever you say. Prolly jerkin it to that selfie right now

You didn’t know why, but you kinda had a crush on the skinny loser. Knowing how worked up he’d get over the smallest things you did thrilled you. You wanted to know just how badly you affected him and today was the day you’d find out.

*****

Tomura heard a ping from his monitor alerting him to a new DM. expecting it to be Dabi giving him more shit, he scowled and clicked over to his Discord tab. When he saw that it was you DMing him, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He could barely type he was so nervous.

Y/N

Hey :)

Decay_666_

Hi

Y/N

How did you like my new collar?

Tomura panicked. Had Dabi said something? There’s no way he’d do that. How did he even respond to that? He decided to feign ignorance.

Decay_666_

What collar?

Y/N

*image*

He audibly gasped. You sent him the selfie you’d posted in the chat earlier. Somehow, it was even hotter than the first time he’d seen it. Probably because you had sent it to him. You wanted to make sure he saw it. The thought alone made him painfully hard. He typed out a shaky response:

Decay_666_

Yeah… you look really pretty :)

He grimaced. He couldn’t think of anything clever when he was put on the spot like that. Plus, how long had it been since he’d spoken to a girl one on one? Much less a hot one? Never. That’s when.

Y/N

Aww, you’re so sweet :) wanna see it in person?

Now Tomura was wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. Did she want to meet up? Wearing that fucking collar? There’s no way… He stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before another ping brought him back to reality.

Y/N

I’m free now if you are. Plus, there’s a new episode of *insert favorite anime* out and I didn’t wanna watch it alone.

Decay_666_

Yeah. Sure.

His response was almost uninterested but inside he was panicking. When was the last time he showered? How much time did he have to get ready? Did he even have any clean clothes? He leaped from his chair and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Another ping rang out and he raced to check his DMs to see that you’d sent your address. To his surprise, you only lived a short walk from him. Another jolt of excitement shot through his spine as he quickly responded.

Decay_666_

Be over in 30 :)

He turned on the shower then started picking through his pile of clothes finding the ones that smelled the least offensive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous and excited at the same time.

*****

 Tomura shifted from one foot to the other, nervously scratching at the side of his neck. He caught himself before the skin there broke and he ended up having to deal with a bloody neck on top of already being a nervous wreck. He’d only been standing outside your apartment for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. He kept checking his phone to distract himself. Just as he was starting to question if this had been a good idea, the door flung open.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned into a thin line. You answered the door in a fucking towel. He began opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had been plucked from the water. You giggled innocently like it was perfectly normal to answer the door nearly naked.

“You’re here a little earlier than I expected! I just got out of the shower. Come on in,” you moved to the side to give him room to walk through the door into your small apartment. You were sure to not move completely out of the way so he’d have to almost brush against your chest. You could feel him stiffen and hold his breath as he passed by.

This was going to be so much fun…

*****

Tomura’s dick had been painfully hard the moment he’d seen you in that towel. Luckily, when you’d gone into your bedroom to get dressed, he was able to position it in his waistband so he wouldn’t be pitching a tent in front of you. The thought of you noticing him popping a boner just by looking at you in a towel was mortifying. 

However, what you decided to change into didn’t help his situation. Your baby pink terry cloth shorts would have shown the curve of your ass had it not been for the little row of ruffles around the bottom. Your tank top, the same baby pink color as your shorts, was pulled tight across your chest (holy shit, were you not wearing a bra?!). A fleeting glance at your chest proved to Tomura that you definitely were not wearing a bra.

“You can come on back,” you beckoned from the doorway of your bedroom, “I thought we’d be more comfortable in here…”

He gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans before nodding and rising to walk towards you. Your room was foreign to him. Decorated with all shades of pink and purple, soft, plush bedding, and a soft pink glow emanated from the LED strip lights that lined the walls. Tomura stood awkwardly, looking around for a chair to sit in when you flopped onto your bed and began pulling up the streaming app on your tv. 

You looked up at him sweetly and patted the spot on the plush comforter next to you. “Come sit, Tomu! You don’t have to stand way over there. I don’t stink, ya know,” the wink you gave him made his knees buckle.

“Umm,” he chuckled nervously, “No, of course not. You, uhh… you smell…”

No, you were way too close. This was bad. There’s no way he would be able to string together a coherent thought, much less hold an actual conversation with you. You pout and lean in even closer to him.

“Tomuuuuu!” fuck, he hated that he loved that stupid nickname, “You think I smell?!”

“What?! N-no, not at all. I was trying to say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you tilted your head to the side offering up your neck for him to smell and he swears his eyes crossed as he tried to absorb what was happening.

“I even wore my new perfume! Go on, smell. Tell me what you think,” you smirk looking out of the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

You were teasing him, he knew you were, but his dick was so hard that he was completely at your mercy. He leaned in to take a tentative sniff and his eyes wandered lower. His breath hitched when he noticed the outline of your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank top. Before he knew what was happening, you turned your face forward and put your mouth next to his ear.

“Are you looking down my shirt, you pervert?” you purred. Tomura made some sort of incoherent noise and pulled away.

You laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully, “Geeze, I’m just kidding! You’re wound so tight.” you pause making a thoughtful face.

“Oh, I know how to help! Come on, over here,” you pulled him between your spread thighs and proceeded to rub his shoulders, working out all of the knots in his lean back.

After a few seconds, Tomura began to relax into your touch, slumping slightly and letting out a tiny sigh. He was deathly still the entire time you massaged him. He was terrified if he moved too much that his raging boner would free itself from his waistband. When your hands left his shoulders, he started to move away just to be pulled back into your lap. His head landed in your cleavage as your hands trailed down his chest. 

“Hmm, so tense, Tomu,” you whispered into the crown of his hair, “Is my massage not working?”

He wanted to yell that of course he was tensed up. That his dick is the hardest it’s ever been in his life and if he doesn’t hold as still as possible, he’s scared he might start humping the air like a pathetic dog. Before he can answer, your hand trails down to the waistband of his jeans, and he freezes. The tips of your fingers brush across his leaking tip and Tomura lets out a low, needy moan before he can stop himself.

“Just what I thought,” you purred as you began to trail your fingers up and down the hard bulge in his jeans, “Pathetic. Look at you, so fucking hard for me. And all I did was rub your shoulders.” He wanted to defend himself, but all he could do was whine as his eyes rolled in the back of his head while you continued touching him through his jeans.

“And to think, I never thought you’d want anything to do with some fake bimbo like me. Because I only game and watch anime for attention, right?” you squeeze his cock through his jeans, causing him to yelp. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, incel? Wanna tell me why your dick is this hard for me if I’m so annoying to you?”

The realization that Dabi had told you everything flitted through the back of his mind, but he didn’t have room in his brain right then to be mad at him. He had to do whatever he needed to do to keep you touching him.

“I, ahh... I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered pathetically. The front of his jeans was wet from your teasing and the denim was rubbing him raw through his thin boxers, “D-didn’t, fuck, didn’t mean it like… ahh, l-like th-that.”

You loved how easily you could wreck him. You pet his hair back from his sweaty brow as you cooed at him lovingly.

“You know,” you removed your hand from the front of his jeans and he whined from the lack of friction, “You really hurt my feelings, baby. I thought you were so cool and the whole time, behind my back, you said just mean things about me.”

He sat up and turned to face you. His pathetic, needy gaze shot straight to your core. The power you held made you drunk and you desperately wanted more.

“No, no no no…” he grabbed your hands and you realized how clammy they were, “I’m-I’m so sorry. Please! Please…”

“Hmm,” you studied him for a moment, “Well… There might be a way you could make me feel a little better.” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “You were so mean to me.”

“Anything! Please! I-I’ll do anything for you!” desperation started creeping in, thinking you’d leave him hanging with no relief. Little did he know, you had no intention of letting him go any time soon. Your plush lips curled into a devious smile. A soft hand reached up cupping his jaw.

“What a good boy, Tomu,” a tremor passed through his body. You reached over to your nightstand and pulled out the collar you’d taken the selfie in. 

“You know,” the collar danced between your painted nails, “This also came with a leash. I was thinking,” your lust-filled eyes meet his, “If you wanted to be a good boy for me… You’d let me see how pretty it looks around your neck.”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes rapidly moving between your eyes and the collar you held. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. You giggled and clapped your hands together excitedly leaping off the bed. You returned with a short, chain-link leash.

“Now,” you leaned in and fastened the collar around his neck. Your bodies were centimeters apart and Tomura thought he might pass out, “When you’re wearing your collar, you don’t call me Y/N,” you nudge his ear with your nose and whisper, “You call me ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?” you feel him nod against your face.

“That’s not how good boys answer their Mommy. When you answer me, you say, ‘Yes Mommy’ or ‘No Mommy.’ Is that clear?”

“Y-yes… Mommy.”

“Mmm, what a good boy,” you placed a soft kiss on his neck and he let out the most delicious whimper. You hooked a finger through the ring on the front of the collar, “You’re gonna go sit in Mommy’s gaming chair and let her use you as a toy. Okay?” 

Tomura’s head was spinning and he almost couldn’t answer until you jerked him by his collar, “Y-yes, Mommy. Please, please make me your toy.”

You stood and dragged him over to your chair and made him sit, “What a polite boy you are! Saying ‘please’ without being asked. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward,” his belt buckle rattled as you worked his jeans down his narrow hips. 

A ragged breath escaped his chapped lips as you removed your tiny shorts revealing a black, lace thong. You straddled his lap, your dripping slit hovering a centimeter over the angry, leaking head of his cock. His hands shook as you placed them on your hips and slowly moved your thong to the side. Descending an inch at a time, only teasing his tip, was causing him to come undone underneath you.

“You’re already so close and I’ve only put the tip in. You better be a good boy and not come until I tell you to or you’re going to be punished,” you pushed another couple of inches inside and he nearly wept.

“I-I’m trying, M-mommy! I wanna be a good boy!”

“Mmm, I know, baby. You’re doing so,” another inch, “So…” and another, “Well.” you were fully seated on his cock now. Tomura knew he wouldn’t last. Your velvet walls were sucking him down harder than anything ever had before. It made his fleshlight feel like it was made of sandpaper. You had ruined him for anything else. 

With a few rolls of your hips and some high, airy moans, he was about to bust. “Mommy! Mommy, please! I-I’m g-gonna…”

“Tomu,” your voice was authoritative now, “If you come in Mommy’s pussy, I’m going to make you clean it out with your tongue then I’m going to sit on your face until I come as many times as I want.” your hand wrapped around his throat and you started bouncing on his cock. Your filthy words and aggressive motions catapulted him into an orgasm.

“You bad, BAD boy,” a smack to his cheek broke off his moans, “You disobeyed me! Did you do that on purpose?” your hand around his neck flexes, “Are you just a dirty incel that wants Mommy to get mean with you? Answer, Tomu!”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Tell Mommy what you are…”

“I-I’m a-a… dirty incel.”

“And what do you want?”

“W-want… want Mommy to b-be mean to me…”

You lift him by the collar and attach the leash. He’s thrown onto the bed and you waste no time hovering your dripping slit over his face.

“Now,” you jerk the leash, “Clean up your mess.”

Tomura knew he should be disgusted right now, but his dick was getting harder by the second. With each lick inside your sloppy hole, he shamelessly moaned against your skin. The vibrations were going straight to your clit, causing you to ride his face harder. This went on until you’d almost reached your peak.

“Oh, baby,” you’re making Mommy feel so, so good, “I-I’m gonna…”

Tomura grabbed your ass and moved you back and forth on his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. You lifted your body giving him a moment to breathe before sitting back down, earning a startled mumble from him.

“Don’t think that’s all,” you laughed and humped his face, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, “Be a good boy and mommy might even let you come…”

Tomura only nodded as he began to eat you again like he was starved. Maybe all the stuff you posted in the Discord server wasn’t so annoying anymore...

[makeste]

BnHA 326: What’s up Kids, It’s Me, Your Old Pal Stain

Previously on BnHA: Ochako shamed the U.A. Clown Mob into letting Deku go back inside his own fucking school by giving them an hour-long speech about how not to be humongous dickheads. Kouta and Gigantic Fox Lady saved the manga by being the only ones brave enough to give Deku a hug. Shouto was all “man, all this togetherness sure does remind me of that promise you made that we would handle Touya together which you immediately bailed on, doesn’t it, Dad.” Aizawa was all, “for the one and a half people out there who thought that my losing an eye and a leg might actually make me less sexy, I’m very happy to prove you wrong.” All Might was all, “[standing outside the U.A. fortress alone in the rain talking to someone or something??].” Like seriously, what was up with that though.

Today on BnHA: All Might is all “here I am in Kamino having a belated mid-life crisis because Deku abandoned me and I’m a terrible mentor and everything sucks and I hate myself.” Stain is all, “don’t make me come over there and give you a ten page speech about why you’re still the goat while menacingly holding you at swordpoint the entire time” because idk if you knew this guys, but Stain is pretty crazy actually. Anyway so he does that, and then All Might gets all emotional, and then the lady from chapter 92 shows up and gives All Might’s statue an encouraging pep talk, and then Horikoshi is all “and it even stopped raining lol can you believe this shit I’m not even a little bit subtle,” and he really isn’t. But I still got emotional anyway, because seeing people reassure All Might that everything he’s struggled for his entire life hasn’t been in vain just got to me okay. Horikoshi knows I am weak to the All Might feels and he just goes for the jugular every time, that bastard.

lmao. “in the neverending downpour, All Might is...” yeah, thank you, glad we’re getting right to that then

“All Might is driving 95 mph in his busted ass car in the pouring rain, is what he’s doing.” huh

so basically a day or two after his adopted child refused to accept the handmade bento that he packed with love, my man is out here acting like he’s got nothing to live for anymore. this sure bodes well for certain prophecies on which the clock is still ominously ticking down

his fucking face though omg. is it weird that I’m kind of hoping more people ambush him just because I think it’d be funny to see them get their asses kicked like the last bunch

(ETA: or maybe he will just stand there openly not giving a fuck and basically daring them to stab him!! get it together please All Might.)

side note, “anti-hero supporters” is such a strange way of saying “people who hate heroes”, which I’m assuming is what they actually wanted to say?? this makes it sound like it’s a group that really loves antiheroes. “these Hannibal stans have been a real menace lately. time to go deal with them”

ha ha ha, fucking ouch

are you really gonna do it Horikoshi you bastard. are you really going to let that be the final encounter between the two characters whose relationship you once described as the vertical axis of the entire fucking story. are you really gonna?? huh??

huh

you’re telling me you were driving 112 mph and you still didn’t get there in time. you’re losing your touch old man. lol Todo’s ice is almost fully melted already, how late were you

(ETA: so apparently this is taking place after the end of chapter 325, meaning he went to U.A., hung out for a bit, saw the kids come back with his bedraggled half-dead protégé in tow, watched as they shamed the civilians into some long-overdue character development, and then was all “welp, time to go argue with the hero-hating faction or something because I’m feeling useless.” and Edge just let him go, just like that. though to be fair I have to imagine it’s pretty hard to say no to All Fucking Might.)

also belated lol at the fact that the kids were all “yeahhhhhhh we are definitely not gonna touch that thing, let’s just leave it here, he doesn’t need it anyway.” probably the right call to make since they couldn’t get a hazmat team on such short notice

fuck. ha ha ha fucking ouch part two

All Might please put that thing down before you get gangrene. also yeah, you dropped the ball, good for you to acknowledge it. nobody’s perfect and you did your best. but yeah you could have handled a lot of things completely differently. but I still love you

is Horikoshi really putting this flashback here. are you serious. what kind of fucking sadist

look, I swear I’m not one of those people that runs up and down the street shouting “DEATH FLAG!!” at every third panel lol. but this shit screamed Death Flag when we originally got it, and it’s screaming DEATH FLAG!!! even more now. like with the capital letters and exclamation marks and all. and that’s just a fact. I don’t like it but that’s how it is

ffkdjslk

“DID YOU READ THE SIGN??!” Horikoshi asks while zooming in maniacally because he thinks we’re blind or something. lol what

-- though actually, it only just occurred to me that this sign is actually written in English. I never really paid attention up until now and had been assuming it was written in Japanese and translated by the scanlators, but the writing here is clearly part of the original image. anyway so maybe that’s why he’s zooming in?? just to make sure everybody pays attention lol

okay fuck this

see, this is the whole problem right here. once again All Might is all on his own. Deku’s self-destructive angst spiral was fortunately brought to a grinding halt because he actually has support from his friends and family and teachers and classmates. but All Might never had that same kind of support, and it’s made all the difference between the two of them, and not in a good way. Katsuki wasn’t wrong when he said All Might and Deku were both cut from the same cloth. but now when it’s All Might’s turn to go all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD~~” once again, there’s nobody in sight

just, after forty plus years of him carrying this torch, I just wish someone would finally come along to let him know he doesn’t have to. all those things that he wanted to say to Deku are also things that he needs and deserves to hear himself. Aizawa was making a little progress there, but now he’s got his sad zombie cloud boyfriend situation to deal with, and we can’t expect him and his perfect hair to solve all our problems. someone else has gotta step up

oh my god

“you rang?” never mind I take it all back sob

omg why am I laughing. shit

this man truly has the best PR game in the series. we were truly convinced he was gonna suddenly become a good guy and defend All Might against the other villains or some nonsense. as if this wasn’t the same man who decided on a whim that Iida Tensei deserved to be paralyzed, and that his fifteen-year-old brother deserved to die for daring to be upset about it

lol even All Might is all “I genuinely never saw this coming” lmao

just want to say, for the record, I have always harbored a very sensible hatred toward Stain. feeling very vindicated right now. good job Past Me

adsfklwkfsdwgkj

ffffwefjslkg. ghsdlkg. dsfkkkslkjldwkjrg

STAIN: heard you talking shit old man

ME: smh that’s what I thought you’d say you dumb fucking Stain

STAIN: how dare you talk about All Might that way

ME: gljfljgk

(ETA: in hindsight I have no idea how I didn’t clue in sooner that he didn’t recognize him -- or, well, ~didn’t recognize~ him, to be more accurate lol. I think it was the whole “is that a slight against the heroes?” thing that threw me. Viz’s translation makes it much clearer that he’s offended on behalf of All Might specifically, not heroes in general. anyways.)

sob. so All Might is all “yeah I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this sweet leather jacket”

good thing he still knows how to do this party trick

A+ reflexes on Stain’s part presumably pulling the sword back a few inches to keep this dumbass from impaling himself with his whole pufferfish routine. can you imagine if that was the gruesome death Nighteye foresaw. and he was just too embarrassed to say anything

lol anyways guess I was wrong about Stain everyone

way to fucking go, Past Me. you really biffed this one

oh wait

Stain sure is one wacky rollercoaster ride

oh fuck me lol I forgot how much I did not miss this

(ETA: “this here is the sacred ground where All Might gave up the last of his power and turned into a shriveled old man!! please ignore the part where I admit to knowing all about that, and yet pretend not to recognize said man when he’s standing two feet in front of me.”)

Past Me, I know we’ve had our ups and downs these past ninety seconds, but I’m really starting to think you were on to something. this dude has always been kind of insufferable. always acting like his high horse is a fucking giraffe when it’s actually a Shetland pony

dammit now he’s got All Might going off on a depressed monologue

oh my god my heart

shit

why the fuck does that hit so hard. he became a hero because he couldn’t bear to just sit back and let bad things happen to people who didn’t deserve it. I mean that’s basically the same as every hero ever, right? so why does it still hit so fucking hard every single time though. what is it about seeing someone so determined to stand up for other people and fight on their behalf. it just never loses its impact no matter how many times I see that determination mirrored in so many of my favorite characters

“I wanted to make the world a better place.” omg. but you did, though. like seriously, I feel like people are always dogging on him for not being 100% perfect, and fandom really doesn’t give him enough credit for everything he still managed to accomplish. this man came of age at a time when Japan was by all accounts a total shitshow, and singlehandedly managed to bring about an era of peace that lasted for four fucking decades. can you imagine having peace for that long?? that’s longer than I’ve been alive. shit

and he gave people hope. he inspired them and protected them and made them feel safe. and no, he couldn’t save everyone, because he’s only one fucking dude (and also because the whole time AFO was also out there desperately working to undermine him so that he could keep preaching his narrative of “heroes are bad actually”). but you know what he did do, is inspire multiple new generations of heroes who, if they can all manage to work together, will finally be able to accomplish everything he never could

so yeah. forty years of peace, and inspired the “that’s how we all became the greatest heroes” generation -- that’s a fucking win in my book. talk about having a net positive impact on the world. lol anyways now I’m all fired up and ready to fight anyone who tries to talk any shit about you, All Might

“but what if I talk shit about myself” okay listen up All Might I’m gonna need you to try just a little bit harder to work with me here okay. please calm down and stop blaming yourself for every single bad thing that’s ever happened in the world. do you remember that time Bakugou was blaming himself for Kamino, and you gave him a hug and told him it wasn’t his fault, and that he was only a boy, and that even though he was strong, even strong people can struggle with the burdens they place on themselves, and that you were sorry for not seeing that earlier? do you remember all of that? that’s what I want someone to tell you too, dammit. anyway please stop breaking my heart please and thanks

wtf

are you dead All Might

um

I don’t even have the slightest idea what’s happening lol

oh snap did he grab him so they could hide??

hold the fucking phone. don’t tell me this person in the background with the umbrella is here to actually do something decent??

oh my godddd

and here come the feels. oh boy. okay don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit here sobbing over this fictional lady and her simple act of kindness in this weekly shounen manga that I care about way too much

FUCKING DAMMIT AND HERE’S A SECOND HELPING

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST GETTING DISPROPORTIONATELY EMOTIONAL OVER THIS WOMAN’S DETERMINATION TO HONOR A MAN WHO SACRIFICED EVERYTHING TO SAVE HER AND COUNTLESS OTHERS. I’M JUST HAVING SOME FEELS OVER HERE ABOUT HER HEARTFELT, DOESN’T-EVEN-KNOW-ANYONE-ELSE-IS-WATCHING FEELINGS OF GRATITUDE THAT COMPELLED HER TO COME OUT HERE AND MAKE THIS SMALL BUT POWERFUL GESTURE. I’M JUST OUT HERE GETTING ALL PROFOUNDLY WORKED UP ABOUT STATUE MAINTENANCE AND THE HUMAN RACE. NEVER MIND. JUST IGNORE ME AND CARRY ON

holy shit. I was not even remotely prepared. you can’t just do that to me. you can’t just leave all these death flags on my lawn and then suddenly shift gears to show me the best of humanity in a chapter where I was expecting the worst. that fucks a person up lol

OH ARE WE STILL GOING

my heart. you see that, All Might. your legacy is so much more powerful and meaningful than you think

...has. has Stain actually been giving All Might a pep talk this entire time

I give up lol. this dude is a fucking enigma

YAYYY

it may just be a metaphor panel, but I’ll take it lol. I missed them. nice to see the traffic light trio front and off-center. I know the whole “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes” thing had left some questioning whether certain characters would continue to play a central role in the narrative, and hopefully this will help to ease those concerns just a bit

anyway, so idk if it’s getting a bit chilly down there in hell, but damned if Stain didn’t just give an actual decent fucking speech

I have to say, earlier when I was whining about All Might not having a support squad, I really was not expecting Stain to be the one to come over and pat his head and reassure him that he made the world a better place

-- okay LISTEN

YOU CAN’T JUST COME INTO MY HOUSE AND HIT ME WITH THOSE ALL MIGHT TEARS AGAIN GODDAMMIT THIS ISN’T FAIR. my god. first 317 and now this

holy fucking shit

“I’m just gonna pretend like I haven’t been stalking him for two days and didn’t see the entire Deku bentogate thing go down, and then I’ll give him the whole big speech that I rehearsed, and then I’ll turn around and be all ‘BUT IF YOU’RE A TRUE HERO’, and then I’ll toss him the super-secret AFO wifi password that I stole from Tartarus. god I’m such a badass. fucking give myself chills”

so basically what you’re telling me is that this whole time my “what’s up kids” characterization of Stain from this shitpost has actually been 100% accurate. just want to make sure I’m understanding this right. okay then

“and then I’ll dramatically spin around and be all NOW COME KILL ME BITCH”

it must be so much fun to write Stain. drawing this coked-out maniac who talks like a chatbot that was trained to speak by reading Alan Moore monologues. that must be a trip

anyway so All Might is still crying, the awesome lady from chapter 92 is admiring her handiwork totally oblivious to the batshit insanity going on fifty meters to her right, and it’s finally stopped raining lol

“THE RAIN WAS A METAPHOR YOU SEE” yes, yes, we got it lol. thanks for that Horikoshi. don’t think we needed any help putting the pieces together on that one but I appreciate the effort

so that’s the end! and as I mentioned in another post, I had the count off by one chapter, but next week should be cliffhanger week! so break out your U.A. Traitor bingo cards, friends and fiends. either that or something else happens that I’m completely not expecting at all. which, based on my success rate with Stain predictions, I’d say is more than likely lol

mmm but anyway, so now that the Hug Deku 2021 campaign has finally come to an end, what’s it gonna take to get a hug for my struggling bento-preparing jacket-rocking world-weary death-flag-waving husband who is the worthiest man to ever live and deserves the fucking world, goddammit

[antiloreolympus]

11 Anti LO Asks

1. I don't get it, weren't the fans praising Persephone for wanting to own up to her crimes and saying she deserves any punishment she receives? Why are they now upset she got a temporary punishment  that isn't even different from her life pre-uni? Why is Persephone upset too? It's not forever. It's almost as if the fans only care about the aesthetics of looking morally "good" while they really wanted her to get away with murder, and Persephone is a bad person who lied to keep up her nice facade.

2. I legit do not get why LO fans act as if it's some personal affront when people don't like it and even critique it. How self centered if their worldview to think everyone has to obsessively love and praise what they like? What reality are they living in where this is a thing? Get a grip, kids, you're not important and people not liking what you do is not a personal insult, it's just life.

3. LO would probably be better handled if it was put under an age restriction like more mature romances and other comics are, but WT and Rachel would never allow it because then they can't market it as YA and get the biggest draw of tweens and teens to spend their parents' money on it, so now LO is left w/ trying to be tween friendly while also trying to do serious topics with all the nuance of "bullying is bad >:(" but instead of bullying it's being critical of rich mass murdering slave owners 🤔

4. how does rachel have at bare minimum four people working on LO and it only looks worse?? like is it because they arent paid well, is the pay as low as the effort theyre expected to do. i dont care how much thhe fans are obsessed with it they seriously cant think this looks better??

5. What's going to preemptively anger me is that with IRL people I know, r/aita, and even tumblr anecdotes, giving a teen time away from a grown man for a long enough period of time usually results in the teen going, "wow, that was actually fucked up. thank you for stopping that disaster." Yet I KNOW that in LO, Persephone's probably gonna have her love grow by tenfold and miss her dearly totally-not-creepy beloved.

From OP: On a side note, I hate when fans try to justify the age gap by saying “it’s normal” or “perfectly fine since they’re adults” when most people (especially from tumblr, reddit, and just people irl) find it weird as hell and very questionable on the older person’s end. It’s just a blatant lie to try and justify this creepy dynamic.

6. introducing a major villain with no actual build up or reason for them to be in the plot right before a season finale is, no matter how you cut it, bad writing, and that's only one of several poorly planned and executed writing in this thing.

From OP: Yeah, even Apollo had some kind of foreshadowing. The only thing that hinted at Eris was an old tumblr ask from RS (Before LO became an original, RS said something about Eris and Hades having a bad date but that’s probably retconed) and Hera’s line to Hebe about getting her sister. With the sister thing, it’s too vague to pinpoint on Eris since she could also be Nyx’s daughter.

7. ok now LO fans are just lying and saying it was "always supposed to be a dark story" and people who are calling out it didn't develop these aspects well and it should have stuck to its original lighter tone "cant see context clues" like?? yes it did have SA shown early on ... which was IMMEDIATELY dropped and had rachel right way go into making puns! even persephone admitting she killed a village was framed with fart jokes and forced romcom flirting! how is that being a "dark and serious" story?

8. Rachel Smythe seems to have taken a weird approach to making HxP sympathetic? Like, I feel like she's trying to make the infinitely threatening villains more infinitely threatening as a way to make it seem like the rich, straight, cis, white coded deities in the story are the underdogs. The classism almost seems to come from her being too concerned about the image of rich people. Which, come to think of it, actually makes a lot of sense.

9. Even if we get Perse aow "justified" by Eris blessing it still doesn't mean she is innocent. She knew for a very long time that there is something "wrong" with her and she may be dangerous to others but she did nothing with it. Even now after everything that happened she still let that feeling affect her and didn't tell anyone beside Hades who equally doesn't care she may hurt someone again. Her wrath may be not her fault but her actions are

10. Part of me wonders if RS actually took any writing classes or even... just did basic research about how to write cohesive stories? The plot and timeline of LO is all over the place and it includes a lot of unnecessary scenes with characters who don't have a large bearing on the plot (like that whole subplot with Eros and Psyche, Thanatos and Daphne, that flashback with Persephone and the yellow war god who's name I can't remember. Like what was the point of that flashback? She could have just told us they'd met before and left it at that). Even just stuff that could have taken much less time than it did, such as those Medusa ladies spying, that dinner with HxP, Hera, and Zeus, or Hades taking the photographer's eye out.

I just always found the story very confusing to read. I've taken writing classes for my novels before and LO follows none of the guidelines for good writing.

11. I'm just upset that RS chose to make Persephone a young, impressionable literal teenager when she could have made Persephone an older, elegant goddess with years of knowledge and experience about how her world works. Like, if she wanted the r*pe subplot so badly, it could have been set up as Persephone deliberately avoiding Apollo/trying to expose him throughout the story, whilst the readers and Hades try to piece together what happened between them in the past before it's actually revealed. It also would have eliminated the gross age gape and Persephone acting like a child, etc. While we're at it, we could probably just take out that whole uncomfortable, unnecessary subplot where Apollo takes those photos.

[smolalienbee]

The Old Witch

the very beginning of the 2nd chapter of In the Earth of Me; full chapter available on AO3!

Yennefer.

She looks exactly like she did last he saw her, a purple cloak pulled over her forehead and her face cast in shadow. The one difference - the main difference - is the look in her eye. The way she looks at him, it reminds her of when her Chaos was still hers, how she’d look down at anyone that dared disrespect her. He knows, now, that much of it has always been an act, a defence, and yet seeing it in her face again still makes him shudder.

Somehow, it hasn’t even crossed his mind that chanting the incantation could lead him straight to her. It’s a fairly logical leap, now that he thinks about it as he stands in front of her sorceress. Regardless, he still has no clue as to what’s happening. He has no Chaos in him, that much he’s sure of, and yet whatever it was that he did has worked. How?

“What the fuck are you doing here? No, actually, no, don’t answer that, better question, what is this place?”

“You never shut up, do you?”

He scoffs at her words, puffing up his metaphorical feathers in offence. “Well, now - if you haven’t noticed, talking is what I do. Wouldn’t be much of a successful bard if I kept my mouth shut - but, seriously, where are we?”

Jaskier would never want to admit it to her, but there’s something about this place that makes his skin crawl. It certainly makes it so that he’s less willing to joke around, to banter with her. He’d rather get out of here and soon.

(Maybe that prison cell wasn’t so bad after all.)

“Come, Jaskier.”

She gestures to a table - he could swear there wasn’t one there, just a moment ago. Or maybe there was - he finds it difficult to keep track of the space around him, feeling like it’s constantly shifting around him.

(The fireplace feels closer than it should be. He tries not to think about it too deeply.)

“It’s safe here,” she continues. He wonders if she can sense his discomfort. “Come, let’s have a drink.” There’s a bottle in her hand now - clearly something alcoholic, but he can’t make out any labels, anything that would give away what it is. He doesn’t even think to ask.

“Right,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes at her. With not a word of protest, he steps closer to where she gestures for him to sit.

When he pulls the chair out from the table, it makes an awful scratching noise against the floor. He barely resists the urge to flinch, but he knows better than to take his eyes off her. Something about this whole situation puts him on edge, makes him even more wary around her. It’s strange.

Slowly, he sits down. She does the same, although with far more ease than him. Still, her eyes remain on him as well, as though he’s her prey and she’s waiting for him to bolt.

(He wishes his own overly active imagination wouldn’t supply him with such comparisons in a moment like this. He’s already creeped out enough as it is.)

“What if I told you -” she begins, pouring them both a glass. When he looks at hers, the image mirrored in the glass is not her face. He blinks. “- that you could get away?”

Jaskier’s fingers curl tightly around the glass, scarred skin soothed by the coolness of it. He doesn’t take a sip, though - suddenly, he doesn’t feel like drinking at all.

“Get away from what?” he huffs, frustration seeping into his voice. He hates it, the way she’s speaking to him - with this sense of superiority, as though she knows something he doesn’t. Perhaps she does.

(And it hurts, when he thinks about how she hadn’t spoken to him like that, the last time he saw her.)

“This heartbreak, Jaskier.” She looks up sharply and their eyes meet. The shade of her eyes is not the right one. “That you could finally matter. For once in your short, miserable, human life… All you need to do is ask.”

read the full chapter on AO3!

[kyloswarstars]

ROOMMATES • Part 10

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

When the sun had completely set, the natural darkening of the sky carried you out into the universe. Brains were only organs. Still, you couldn’t apply the lessons you had learned today. Your thoughts drifted off, completely out of your own body and settled themselves somewhere in the taurus star sign or something. Your blood was boiling and it only got worse for the time being as long as it took for the truck to be removed and the traffic to roll again.

Zooming out was the only thing that could make you escape from Eric while being trapped in a car with him.

It was possibly long after midnight when you finally made it home but you couldn’t recall how you got there or when Eric started to drive again. You only noticed that you had followed him out of the car and stopped in front of the apartment door for him to unlock it. Not even the three flights of stairs had made it to your awareness.

Music was droning, your roommates were gathered around the dining table and obviously on a good way to get completely wasted. Loud bawling erupted when they realised Eric and you were there.

You stared at them in confusion, slowly zooming back into your body and, unfortunately, your own brain. You were far too agitated to ask the question as to why they were in the apartment already when it took so long for the traffic jam to vanish, though.

Without a word, you left for your room, grabbed a pillow from your bed and screamed into it.

Eric’s door was thrown into its frame with a loud bang shortly after.

He didn’t say a word anymore after you forcefully ripped yourself from him. And you hadn’t dared to look at him. You didn’t know what was going through his head. Did he even care? The way you did?

It kept you up all night. You didn’t have a single minute of sleep by the time you saw the sun rise outside of your window.

At some point in the night the living room bender sounds had died out. You had heard everyone leave for their rooms. They wouldn’t wake up any time soon, no chance to search someones presence to distract you with. You were left with your brain and the staring at the wall.

His knuckles didn’t say good night last night.

You hadn’t knocked as well. You couldn’t. You hadn’t been able to stand it if he didn’t respond to it.

The first time you got up to knock at Eric’s door was around six. You stood there with your bare feet, had your hand formed to a fist but didn’t bring it to his door. Instead you left for the kitchen, got a bottle of water and threw yourself into your sheets again. That they didn’t smell of him like his own bed made you freak out so you laid on your floor instead.

The image of his lips returned whenever you closed your eyes. Even if it was for the short blink to hydrate your eyeballs. You wanted to squeeze some matches between your eyelids so they didn’t shut anymore.

It had been easier to zoom out when you stared at the night sky with all its stars instead of your room’s ceiling. It just didn’t work anymore. You couldn’t escape and even with more room than in Eric’s car, you felt more trapped than ever.

You took a second attempt to knock at his door after you heard some of your roommates already woke up and left the apartment. Noon?

Eric’s door was there and you only had to knock at it. You couldn’t. You leaned against the wall beside it, observed the wood and overthought everything that had happened in the car yesterday. It didn’t seem like Eric had been disgusted by the fact to kiss you. In fact he totally respected your decision not to kiss him. So he had respect. But why were you even thinking about this? You didn’t want to fall for him. Not yet and you didn’t know if ever. You didn’t even know if it was worth brooding over this reoccurring debate with yourself. You didn’t even know if Eric’s self-control had been on the verge of torment because he liked you and you just didn’t finally kiss him or because he was a guy and it was hard to control the heat of the moment.

Ugh. You went back to your room.

It didn’t matter what Eric thought or that this situation happened. You didn’t want it to happen. You wanted to stay for yourself, start the new semester and be totally okay with the way things were going. Because they were going well. The Peter chapter was closed, flashbacks were at bay, you had finally accepted the fact that your scar wasn’t a window to your past. It was just a scar. Only a scar and only you alone decided how much importance you assigned to it.

You decided. You could decide.

You were running around your room like a mad cat. None of your little papers worked. And everything that could possibly distract you was just aggravating. You didn’t want to do things. You wanted to… kiss Eric.

The third time you found yourself in front of Eric’s door was in the evening. None of your roommates was in the apartment. You didn’t care for where they had vanished to. But you knew for sure that Eric was home. You could hear the never ending foot steps in his room.

3… 2… On one you wanted to knock but the door flung open. „Get in for fuck’s sake,“ Eric said, dragged you in with a tight grip on your wrist and threw the door shut just like last night.

He didn’t wear a shirt, of course he didn’t. The dark circles under his eyes told you he didn’t get any sleep either.

Eric sat down on the edge of his bed, propped his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands as if he had a headache. His silence was torturing as you went to lean with your butt at his desk and studied him. Now what?

„I want to know something.“ Even though those words just left your lips, you didn’t have a single clue on what it was that you wanted to know. Because you basically wanted to know everything.

Eric took a deep breath and sat up straight. „Go ahead then.“

„Why are you so… you?“

„What do you mean, Y/N?“ Eric stared back at you, slightly desperate and full on confused.

„I don’t know, Eric. Why are you so good?“ You seriously didn’t know what you were doing or what you wanted from this conversation. All the thinking of last night and the questions you had thought about were suddenly hard to remember.

„Me? I am no good.“

„You are. With me… and it’s irritating.“

You didn’t make any sense and it showed. On Eric’s face. „I don’t know what to say, Y/N. Really.“

He was confused. You were confused. Where was this leading to? Was it even leading to anything at all? It was a pointless conversation as long as you couldn’t bring out the words you actually intended, those you were in deep need of answers for.

Eric’s muscles were tensed, you could see that from seven feet away, and this specific expression returned to his face. He looked angry. You were scared to ask but couldn’t resist. „Are you mad at me?“

„For what?“ He threw his hands in the air, more desperate than before but completely without the expression which you thought had been anger now. He didn’t make sense at all. Eric swayed back and forth. He was close to get up from his bed a couple of times but always stopped himself in the last second. „You did nothing wrong. Why would you think I am mad at you?“ The rasp in his voice was so prominent and it distracted you more than the plain view of his torso.

„Because I tried to kiss you. And then didn’t.“

At some point you expected the vein at his neck to burst and cover the room in blood. It didn’t of course but Eric seemed so under pressure, just like in the car, that you wouldn’t have been completely surprised if the vein did burst.

Eric shook his head. „That’s okay, Y/N.“ Once again he was close to getting on his feet but didn’t. „You are allowed to decide what you want to give to someone and what not.“

„Why are you so… so good?“ The picture just didn’t want to fall into place for you.

He sighed, so deeply that when he exhaled you were afraid his lung would come out as well, not only air. Eric bit his lip, tried to speak, bit it once more. „Y/N, what is it that you want?“ Eric’s question was far from being annoyed. He wanted to have a true answer but you had no clue what answer that would be.

You stared into each others eyes for so long that your eyes started to burn from not blinking. When you finally did, that millisecond had been enough for the image of his lips to return in your consciousness. Your eyes trailed away from his own down to his lips. And you knew what you wanted.

„I want to kiss you.“

He bit down on his lip again but this time with full force. Eric shut his eyes and his voice was only a whisper. „What is holding you back?“

„Nothing,“ you stated and Eric’s eyes flashed open. You stirred free from the leaning to his desk and stumbled over your own feet on your way to his bed. He reached out to catch you from falling. You regained your balance quickly but the dynamic of closing the distance between you was gone.

„What a clumsy penguin you are,“ he laughed.

„Shut up,“ you finally stood before him, bowed down to his face and crashed your lips on his. Eric’s hands immediately found their place at your waist and dragged you down to sit on his lap. For it being your first kiss, there was no shyness or getting used to each other. Eric slid his tongue between your lips and demanded for everything you were willing to offer.

The butterflies in your stomach weren’t butterflies anymore. They were finally and probably once and for all replaced by that doomsday thunderstorm and even the attempt to find words for how that made you feel was impossible.

One of his hands reassured your back, so you wouldn’t escape Eric’s proximity, the other one worked its way under your shirt. You felt it touching your scar but you weren’t afraid of that touch. He kissed you with such a rough gentleness that you wondered where this cockiness of his debates had went to. Maybe it had been sent right into your own hands because you vaguely sensed them tugging at Eric’s waistband.

Eric tried to break the kiss but it was hard for you to let go just yet. He stopped your hands with one of his and placed the other in your neck to gently pull your face away from his. He stared into your eyes for a moment only to close them once more when he pressed his forehead against yours.

„Do you really want this?“ His question was mumbled completely out of breath. „I need to know that you want it.“ His hand on yours was trembling. The thunderstorm in your chest made you tremble as well.

You cupped his jaw and shook him a little so he would open his eyes. „I want you.“

He swallowed a lump in his throat and connected his lips with yours again. He removed his hand from yours on the waistband and none of you stopped anymore because this, all of it felt like a symphony – big time orchestra.

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee • @liiinetti

[deniigi]

Jack and the other folks at the gym; how they met, what their relationships are like, how they are with Matt etc.

For you, anon. I have an old fic that answers all of these questions.

It’s written from the perspective of Jack’s best friend and sparring partner Rudy DeLuca.

Title: Tape

Summary: There were two generations of devils at Fogwell’s Gym

Warnings: child abuse, physical abuse, references to drug use and suicide/suicide attempts, and foster care

-------------

There was a famed baby at the gym at the moment and Rudy was scheming how to get it into his arms when the old man caught him leaning on the front desk and told him that he had two whole grandbabies waitin’ for him at home.

Matty took that moment to fly in from the back room where he’d been harrassing the shit out of the new ‘clerk’ (as Fogwell called him) to ask if Tina had finally popped.

Rudy was caught off guard by the image of Tina beating the shit out of Matt for that and then by the wave of nostalgia that the kid’s sudden enthusiasm bought.

“Well, look who’s here?” he drawled instead, slowly turning around towards the beast. “Where you been, neighbor?”

Matt beamed at him.

He looked good.

Happy.

Far, far too happy.  

Rudy squinted.

Matt waited a beat, then scrambled back into staff entrance and knocked shit over on the desk back there in his haste to go hide behind Fogwell.

Uh-huh.

Yeah.

That’s right, troublemaker, go hide behind Grandpa. He’ll protect you, you little shit.

The new gym baby was a full two months old. He was fat and grumpy and his papa’s pride and joy already. Rudy managed to snag an opportunity to get the thing into his arms when Bert and Kenny came in, signaling for the youths that the senior citizen shift had begun.

Fogwell was the most distinguished of the senior citizens, but, of course, he would wait his turn until the rest of them had finished lavishing attention upon his fiftieth great-grandbaby.

Baby’s papa was proud as a peacock.

“His name’s Henry,” he told Rudy, while Henry wrinkled his nose and eyes up at him.

Henry.

Ehn.

Terrible name.

“He looks like a John,” Rudy said.

Papa, who Rudy had forgotten the name of at least six times since he’d joined the gym, laughed.

“I thought about callin’ him Jack,” he said. “But my girl drew the line there.”

Ah.

Right.

This was that kid.

Kenny had gathered everyone into a group huddle in the changing room the other week to explain seriously how they all needed to avoid the fuck out of this guy. He’d said in a whisper that the guy was one of them people into vintage shit.

A hipster, he meant.

A fuckin’ hipster in their midst.

God, there were more and more of them in the gym every day.

Rudy lifted an eyebrow at baby Henry.

He didn’t deserve to be called Henry. He really did look more like a John. But, for the sake of the dead, Rudy decided that he’d squint for as hard and long as it took for him to become a Henry.

 ---

 Fogwell’s had been legendary back in the day for producing pro boxers out of good-for-nothin’, trouble-makin’ guys with no other prospects.

Fogwell was that general from Mulan who made men out of boys (and the occasional girl. And the most recent kid who said that they weren’t a guy or a gal and if anyone wanted to throw down about it, they were posting their number on the cork board by the front desk).

Back in Rudy’s youth, that had been appealing as hell. And so he’d had a swagger on into the place, thinking that maybe he would pop his guns a bit in Fogwell’s direction and get the polishing he needed to make enough money to buy his girl a ring.

On the upside, Fogwell had, in fact, noticed him. But the downside was that Rudy had had no fucking clue what that actually meant, and so three years later, he’d found himself smoking only twice a week instead of every day, drinking goddamn protein shakes, and doing a daily fuckin’ jog like a military brat.

Fogwell had no time for dumb shit. He didn’t care if you wanted to kill yourself slowly with whatever vice you picked from the basket, but if you walked into the ring with his name on your back, then you would disgrace that name on pain of divine retribution.

It was way easier just to get one step ahead of the guy’s nit-picking than to suffer his judgemental silence.

That had been Fogwell back in the day, and that was still Fogwell in the now.

But as with any force of nature, even if the old man had planted his feet and announced his intention to rest there in that place for the next two millenia, the world around him still carried on spinning around.

Fogwell’s wasn’t just a facility for churning out pros these days. It wasn’t just legendary, now.

It was a fuckin’ institution.

God help them.

They were a tourist destination. Ghost hunters, folks on buses, sports fans, teen girls with a mighty need for a vintage-lookin’ selfie. You name it. They pressed their noses up against the yellowed glass to watch the people inside break their bodies down to build them up into something money-making.

It wasn’t an unwarranted curiosity, to be fair.

Fogwell had produced twenty pro boxers in the last several decades who’d really made it. Like, really, really made it.

Bert was one of them—to literally every one of the senior citizens’ surprise.

Bert had been a empty-headed wise-guy with a porn-stache at best way back when. And like, don’t get Rudy wrong, he was still an empty-headed wise-guy. He was just an empty-headed wise guy with a head like a helmet and a whole lot of money now.

Not that you’d have known it from lookin’ at him.

Bless him.

He was paying college tuition for all his kids and he was helping the older ones vet kindergartens with tuition or what the fuck ever, doing all that he could so that those babies didn’t have to live life out of Kraft Mac ‘n Cheese boxes like him.

Bert had made it. That was the dream.

The dream was just that, though. A shot in the dark. A drop in a bucket. Kenny had done alright, just like Rudy had done alright. They’d had their ten minutes of time in the spotlight. Had made enough to get by. Had made enough to be comfortable in Hell’s Kitchen. To retire and become personal trainers or sports commentators or whatever the fuck opportunity jumped up in their faces.

A lot of fellas hadn’t made it, though. And then there were the Almosts.

Jackie had been an Almost, god rest his soul.

This new hipster kid at the gym with his baby had latched onto Jack’s image, found in old magazines and grainy footage, and had decided that that whole vibe fit the image that he wanted to live in.

It made Rudy sick. It made Kenny angry—hence the group huddle.

There were about seven of them left who’d both known Jackie and who still used the gym on the regular. Eight if you included Fogwell.

Nine if you included Matty.

Jesus fuckin’ help them.

This dumbass hipster kid didn’t even know who Matty was. Most of the newcomers didn’t. He was just some bright, perky blind guy to them. He was Center-Left-Second-Back bag. That was his bag.

And he was good.

He was a curiosity to the newcomers and the people pressed against glass—one of a handful of middle-weights in a sea of heavyweights. He didn’t look like everyone else. He wasn’t packing muscle like everyone else. He was lithe and coiled and looked, honestly, a little out of place to folks who didn’t know the gym as Home #2.

He was interesting to the newcomers mostly because he was 100% Fogwell’s favorite. Fogwell doted on him by ribbing him and bullying him viciously, by bumping into him and throwing him off mark left and right, and all the while, Matty just beamed.  

The newbies thought he got preferential treatment because he was blind. But that wasn’t it. Matty got treated that way because that was how his grandpa told him he loved him.

 ---

 Before Jake and Carlos and Omar and Matty, Jack had been Fogwell’s favorite up-and-coming rookie.

It had been no secret. Well. To most people.

Jack had been horrified when he’d found out.

No one wanted to be Fogwell’s favorite. That’s how you went pro whether you liked it or fucking not.

Jack had pleaded with Kenny for hours to take his place, but there was nothing that could be done. Jackie was the youngest and Jackie had come from a shit home life and Jackie would do anything and everything Fogwell told him to do because he was just that kind of sweet and respectful.

Fogwell could smell Jack’s lack of a father-figure on him like Chanelle No. 5.

He could smell it miles away.

Jack had actually been at the gym before Rudy had joined up. He’d been around since he was about seventeen. He’d come in on the heels of his big brother who wanted to go pro.

It quickly became apparent to Fogwell that Tom Murdock didn’t have what it took to be a boxer. He was just a bully. But that little brother of his, Tom’s punching bag, now he had some talent. He had the diligence and respect that the game, in Fogwell’s opinion, was severely lacking.

So Fogwell did what he did best and drove a wedge slowly between Tom and baby Jackie, separating the two of them so that he could get his mitts on Jackie and do something with him before Tom and his junkie sister took Jackie down with them.

Rudy had met Jack soon after Jack’s eldest brother had been arrested for murdering his wife and stepdaughter.

The kid was a wreck. He’d just turned 18.

He didn’t talk. He just fought and fought and fought until he cried and cried and cried. All on his own, from 5pm to 1am, at Center-Left-Second-Back.

Fogwell let him.

Fogwell came over to put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed when he finally dropped from exhaustion.

It was hard to watch.

The older guard at the time had bared their teeth and clenched their jaws as Jackie had pummeled his heart out against that bag.

No one could help him.

Everyone but Rudy, at that time, had seen the man he’d walked into the gym with. They’d seen this coming a mile away. And over a few days of that, it become clear to Rudy that Jack didn’t have a home to go back to that didn’t scream at him from morning until night. At that time, the gym for him was Home #1.

 ---

 It took about a year, but Rudy eventually got to know this weeping, heartbroken boy from the worst side of the Kitchen.

Rudy learned from the others about the Murdocks.

They were sinners and drunkards and addicts, word had it. The police were always in and out of their rooms, taking one of the five kids or one of the parents to jail for some damn reason or another. Neighbors wasted their hard-earned money on phone calls to the police for domestic disputes and violence and so on and so on. Everyone on the streets said to be careful of the Murdocks, especially them boys.

They got the devil in ‘em.

But not Jackie, Rudy learned.

He was shy, bless him. He wasn’t suited to those others’ kind of life.

Rudy actually had felt, for the second time in his life, strong brotherly feelings around this kid. He and his own sister didn’t get on until someone threatened the other. Then it was no-holds-barred, bear-like feelings. Just them against the world.

But Jack was different. He had puppy eyes with a constant black one and perpetually chapped lips. It had never occurred to him that he could spend a buck buying chapstick. It had never occurred to him that he could have friends that he didn’t have to smile at until his face hurt.

He didn’t really get what it meant to have relationships with other people and for the first six months of their acquaintance, Jack refused to meet Rudy’s eye, much less say more than five words to him.

He was more than respectful.

He was skittish.

The other guys, who were happy to haze Rudy, warned him that he if so much as looked at that kid, Fogwell would break his bones and his career would be over before it even started.

It had definitely turned into a kind of spite thing.

Rudy had absolutely been that kind of shithead back then.

He’d started by offering to hold Jack’s bag while he worked out his aggression. That had been a mistake.

He’d caught Fogwell snickering at him about ten minutes into it, after trying and failing that whole time to find a way to plant his feet that would let him actually hold onto the bag.

Jack had noticed.

Jack had gotten flustered and freaked out bad enough that Rudy had been forced to leave him be or else he’d hyperventilate or go hide in the backroom in a cupboard or something in self-flagellation.

It took some practice and some muscle, but they got there in the end.

Jack was a great sparring partner because he did not fucking go down. It was like trying to fight a pine tree sometimes. He would, could, and did take hit after hit without batting an eye.

And when it was his turn for offense?

Rudy was well aware that he’d signed up to be a human punching bag, but this? This was a lot.

Fogwell critiqued the fuck out of Jack’s everything.

His form.

His posture.

His aim.

His drive.

His commitment.

His tape.

His fucking hair.

Jack thought he was like that with everyone.

Rudy loved that kid like a brother, but he wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. Not by far.

That had become more clear when Kenny joined their mottley crew and, aggravatingly sharp, had taken to teasing Jack. That was more frustrating for Kenny than anyone else because Jackie didn’t get a single joke or jibe.

No, Jack didn’t know Seinfield. Or Friends. Or Charlie’s Angels. No, he didn’t know anything about cars. No, he didn’t know about physics or chemistry or math. What the fuck was English lit? Wait, what’s the difference between books and literature?

God.

Bless.

That.

Kid.

He wasn’t unintelligent, he just wasn’t academic.

He was sweet about it, though. The youngest of five, he had no choice but to be sweet because all his siblings called him hopeless and useless and stupid, so he had to be something and so pretty it was.

Rudy had never met someone who performed so well under pressure and around two years into their friendship and, suddenly privy to the full extent of Jack’s honestly horrific, borderline surreal upbringing, he finally got it.

But then along came Grace.

The Lord’s agent herself.

Jack was a good Catholic boy who saw a nun and dropped his eyes, but for some reason, this novice caught his gaze and he was gone.

He got dopey and dreamy the night after she and some friends had snuck out in their novice habits to see a load of guys in desperate need of the Lord hitting on each other.

It was tooth-decaying the way Jack swooned for that girl.

Her name was Margaret, she told him saucily at the church one street over from the one he’d grown up attending, but he could call her ‘Grace.’

Jack banged his melon on a locker a week later at the gym and the jolt make him realize that he was in love with her.

He cracked his head a second time with everyone watching him in a mix of pity, exhaustion, and indulgence and then scurried off to the bathroom to hyperventilate over a urinal.

“Someone go keep Baby M from drowning in a sink,” Horace Whalin, a professional beast at the start of his career, had sighed.

Everyone had looked right at Rudy.

 ---

 Grace was the worst thing that could ever have happened to Jack.

Everyone at the gym knew it. Fogwell hated that girl with a cold passion.

She made Jack stupider than usual. Bolder than ever.

She made him think and made him question things and like, that was probably a good thing in terms of Jack’s life experience and mental health, but in terms of boxing?

Not good.

Fogwell was openly dreaming up schemes to break them up the day Jack came tearing into the gym and announced that he was getting married.

It took everything in Rudy not to start cackling right then and there. The entire gym’s necklines bulged with the effort not to fucking laugh. Fogwell went silent and blank.

He’d waved Jack in close and and when he came—because he would always come to Fogwell, no matter what—the old man set a hand on Jack’s shoulder and told him that if he brought that woman into the gym he’d kill him.

Jack stared up at him and said that they were getting married in a church, Coach. Why would he bring her to the gym?

At that point, it would have taken a saint not to laugh and the gym was full of only sinners.

 ---

 Grace was the worst thing that had ever happened to Jack, but Matty was by far, the best thing.

Fogwell, after being vindicated upon Jack and Grace’s abrupt and tragic separation, found that Matt could be used as a motivator for his up-and-comer.

Matty, of course, played the part beautifully.

He was unfairly cute with those delicate, whispy red locks and them big hazel eyes. He was bubbly and chatty. An unrelenting troublemaker. Just a barrel of laughs.

Fogwell took to letting Jack put Matty’s carrier on a bench next to the ring or on one of the metal bleachers around the mats in the weights and sparring room. He found that if Matty started whining or crying, that Jack got twice as motivated to finish whatever task was at hand with maximum efficiency.

Matt was the best thing to ever happen to Jack’s boxing career, truly.

He also immediately became the gym’s darling because all the veterans there at that point were dads. Rudy himself had had his first girl Tina the year before, but unlike Jack, the rest of them had childcare arrangements and the money to maintain them.

 ---

 It was just natural for people to gravitate towards the baby. Out of paternal instincts, yeah, but also because Matty was a source of constant entertainment.

He called everyone uncle until he was seven and he needed to be negotiated with to leave Fogwell be until he was nine. Fogwell didn’t mind him. Fogwell had unwittingly adopted him.

Matty didn’t meet his own uncles and grandpa. Jack couldn’t bear that. He took Matty to meet Bill, Jack’s eldest brother—the one who’d killed his wife—in jail and afterwards had been heart-broken and anxious for days.

Grace did not approve, it turned out.

Grace, who went by Maggie at that point, and who had given up her rights to be the mother of Jack’s child, remained one of Jack’s closest and dearest friends.

They still loved each other, and in Fogwell’s very correct opinion, that was nothing but trouble. He snatched Matty at every opportunity and informed him softly but firmly that he was not going to fall in love with a nun when he was big or there would be consequences.

Matt seemed to have come to understand this rule over time, but he never seemed to put together pieces as to why Fogwell was so insistent about it.

 ---

 When Jack turned up murdered, everyone at the gym decided that it was their fault.

It was surreal.

Unbelieveable.

He’d been right there, just fine, laughing and smiling the day before. Rudy had held his bag and Jack had told him to tell the girls and Mel that he missed them.

And, in a moment of crushing realization back then, Rudy had understood the implications of those words and then remembered how good Jack had always been about smiling at people.

He knew how to make himself seem okay and unimportant. He knew how to fade into the background.

Fogwell took it hard.

He blamed himself for not recognizing how bad things had gotten at home for Jack and Matty. He blamed himself for not booking him for more jobs, for pushing him harder and harder on his form lately.

Matty was taken away by social services and his absence from the table at the gym the next day finally brought out the tears that Rudy hadn’t been able to let fall.

He tried.

He tried, he did.

Over the years, Matty had become a brother to Tina, Angie, and Penelope. He fit right in that two-year gap between Tina and Angie. Rudy had him over when Jack worked and Jack had the girls when Mel needed a break from the screaming and crying. And really, by then, everyone’s kids were everyone’s at the gym.

It wasn’t a matter of who belonged to who, it was more of a matter of when someone belonged to someone.

Rudy tried to get custody or at least foster rights. Mel gave herself an ulcer over it, trying to think of how to arrange things to make their home safe for Matt. Trying to think of how to make space for him. He could share a room with Tina. They were still young. They probably wouldn’t mind after some growing pains. But social services said that that wasn’t possible. Matt was too high-risk for them. They didn’t have enough experience with ‘his type of child.’

Which was bullshit.

Matt wasn’t high-risk, Matty was traumatized and scared and with people he didn’t know, who didn’t know him.

That was what made him high-risk.

He knew Rudy and Mel’s house. He knew their girls. He knew their neighborhood.

Still, nothing.

Fogwell himself tried. Shocked the shit out of everyone at the gym, but Social services sadly shook their heads.

By then, Matt had been placed out already.

 ---

 Matt disappeared for five years. Just vanished completely. There was no sight of him until one day, Tina came home and said that ‘oh yeah, I saw Matty today’ while playing with her food at the dinner table.

Rudy and Mel had set down their forks.

Tina sighed and said that he was taller now, but he didn’t look good.

He looked sick, she said. With dark rings around his eyes and broken sunglasses. He’d been sleeping, leaning against the side of some stairs out in his school uniform at the Catholic highschool a few blocks away.

She’d poked at her chicken and then set down her fork and excused herself.

Rudy stroked her hair that night as she cried into her pillow for her lost brother.

 ---

 Matt was, by fifteen, a troubled kid.

Rudy heard shouting one day from Clinton Church and stepped out to see what was happening. He was shocked to see that familiar ginger mop struggling in the arms of two cops, swearing that if these people took him back to wherever he’d come from, that he’d kill himself. He’d do it. Don’t try him.

The priest was called.

Matt was forced down to the ground and handcuffed, still fighting.

It was--it was a whole lot to see. Kenny swore softly behind him and Bert left them to go back inside. He went to the bathroom and didn’t join them out on the mats for a while.

 ---

 Fogwell decided around then that enough was enough.

He went to the church and asked if he could borrow Matt for a while. He needed some help getting his accounts together and he knew Matt was a bright kid. Giving him a little work experience in a familiar and disciplined setting would be good for him.

But Matt wasn’t there.

 ---

 The hospital didn’t allow anyone to visit Matt. He apparently hadn’t earned the privilege of visitors from anyone who wasn’t on his care team.

Rudy felt numb at the front desk.

Jack’s boy had tried to kill himself. He’d warned them all that he would do it.

He’d apparently screamed himself hoarse that he wanted to be with his dad in the ground.

He was still screaming.

This wasn’t the first time he’d done any of this, Rudy came to learn through a few whispered conversations with some nuns from St. Agnes.

Grace had found him after the three attempts the nuns knew of. This last one was just bad enough that she couldn’t bring him back from the edge.

Grace’s eldest younger sister had committed suicide. Grace had found her and then left home immediately become a novice. To find her own son as she’d once found her sister was cosmic and divine cruelty—enough that even Fogwell shook his head and said it just wasn’t right.

 ---

 The first time Rudy saw Matty after the whole situation, he looked exactly as Tina said he did. Tired. With dark circles. Thin. His clothes threatened to fall off of him. They were threadbare and had holes in them here and there.

Matty didn’t talk.

He moved his head around a lot and jerked when anyone spoke to him or brushed against him, and he scrambled back and tripped sometimes if he was touched directly.

It was like looking at a smaller, thinner version of Jack all those years ago—this time with tightly bound wrists and a hospital bracelet that looked like it had been stretched and torn and chewed on.

Fogwell asked Matt if he thought he could do something with the accounts.

Matt said nothing.

Fogwell gave him a box of receipts and bits and bobs of payment cards and IOUs and Matt had frowned and put his hand into the box to touch its feathery contents. He’d lifted his face up in Fogwell’s direction and sneered.

“You can’t seriously live like this,” he’d said in a voice that almost brought tears to Rudy’s eyes. He’d heard Kenny clear his throat behind him.

 ---

 Matty was the smartest person Rudy had ever met.

He set Fogwell’s accounts into order in an afternoon and then he fucked off for a few days, only to come back and digitize the whole thing after making the Big Man himself sit with him and read everything out individually to him as punishment for his nasty, twentieth-century ways.

Matt was disgusted with Grandpa’s living conditions.

He banged into every object in the backroom and swore like a sailor, loud enough that the folks hitting shit in the front room could hear him.

It was hard not to laugh.

“WHY?” Matt finally raged at Grandpa. “WHY. WHY. WHY?”

Grandpa shrugged.

Matt flailed at him in agitation at the lack of verbal answer and told him to get into the fartherest corner of the room and to get a pen, they were going to organize.

Matt was the reason that Fogwell’s Gym had survived for long enough to become a tourist trap.

Matt put every document in that place in order, ready for an audit. He made computer systems for payments and receipts and direct debits. He singlehandedly bullied Fogwell into the new century and made him get a card machine.

He bitched and moaned and belly-ached until Fogwell had interviewed a handful of tax people with actual, non-criminal reputations and picked one and once he was done with all that, Matt harrassed him to invest in a deep clean for the place and to make it accessible by ADA guidelines—the whole nine yards.

Matt, at fifteen, breathed new life into Fogwell’s Gym and it was kind of amazing how the place went from barely hanging on to a decent business once more.

 ---

 After that, Matt seemed to be doing a lot better.

He didn’t have any more foster home placements. He didn’t try to hurt himself again. He decided, instead, that he was going to graduate highschool. He’d failed a fuckload of classes, though. Rudy found him despairing in the backroom over these and settled in across from him and asked to see the reports.

They weren’t good.

Matty’s teachers wrote constantly that Matt was extremely bright, but failed to participate in class or turn pretty much anything in for a grade. He slept in class. He seemed dazed. He didn’t ask for help or give any indication that he needed it.

His assigned para said that she found him challenging to work with. He was resistant to questions and seemed to be angry or, at best, uninterested in her speaking to him.

He was way behind.

Rudy had tapped the reports against the table back there and had taken a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” he told Matt. “We’ve got two years. We can make this work.”

And Matty’s head had jerked up from the table.

“We?” he’d asked in a small voice.

 ---

 Matt really, really struggled with high school. Not because he wasn’t smart enough, but because his experience was so wildly different from other kids. He didn’t go home like they did. He went to St. Agnes’s. He didn’t play video games, he read books. He didn’t smoke cigarettes or joints. He didn’t drink. He was under constant surveillance.

He was bullied. Relentlessly.

Fogwell was quietly furious when Matt came in a few times a week to type away at the desk, inputting receipts for the new secretary to deal with later. Matt was always hurt. Always fighting.

He got his classwork done out of spite, seemingly, but then went home to the orphanage and got harrassed the whole way.

He fought his peers like the devil himself.

It was…

There was…

Something not quite right with him.

 ---

 Bert pointed out when Matt was seventeen that he didn’t always use his stick like other blind folks. He forgot it sometimes and wandered around the gym like anyone else.

He didn’t trip over anything or keep fingers touching the wall like he usually did in other places.

They all chocked it up to him having grown up in the place.

Matt asked Fogwell to let him train.

Center-left-second-back.

That was Jack’s bag.

That was his son’s bag.

The veteran boxers all cycled through teaching Matt how to box. He knew—they all knew Matt already knew how, but there was always shit to learn.

Except that sometimes there wasn’t?

Matt seemed to already know everything that they taught him, including the nit-picky, little things. He listened to their descriptions, let them manipulate his hands and arms and hips, and then did what they asked immediately and with perfect form.

It was eerie.

It just wasn’t right. There was just something about it that wasn’t right. Rudy couldn’t put his finger on it.

 ---

 Matt graduated highschool the year after Tina and it was only when Rudy saw the draft of the commencement program slip out of his bag on one of the benches that Rudy realized that Matty hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.

He picked up the program while Matt was attacking his bag and considered it, then did what was done in the gym and handed the program off to Fogwell who, in a booming voice, told Baby M to get the fuck over there, front and center.

Matt clung to his bag in terror at the sound. He, unlike his daddy, had the good sense to be reluctant to follow Fogwell’s orders. Eventually, with his tail between his legs, he skulked over and had his nose shoved in the program.

He pawed at it when Fogwell made him acknowledge it and mumbled something about not going.

Which was absurd.

“It’s not a big deal,” Matt said. “I’m not valedictorian or anything. It’s just highschool. And no one’s got time to go anyways, so what’s the point if it’s just me?”

God, this kid.

 ---

 Matt’s graduation was very Catholic. Far more Catholic than Tina’s had been, but when Rudy looked over his shoulder, he was pretty sure that even a school this Catholic hadn’t been prepared for the influx of nuns hurrying down from Clinton’s church, all bustling and excited about young Matthew actually getting his diploma.

Between those four (aw, Grace. Look at you trying to play it smooth) and the seven boxing families who’d shown up, Matt was embarrassed to the point of tears. He’d hidden behind his mortarboard for the thirty minutes it took for people started calling folks up on stage.

He didn’t want to come out to take any pictures afterwards, but Tina wasn’t letting that happen. Her sisters leapt on board with the program and Rudy had managed at least one picture of the four of them smiling. Even better, he had one of Matt trying desperately to keep a smile while Fogwell stood stiffly next to him in stone-faced approval.

 ---

 Matty was the first in the gym’s kid’s generation to graduate college, and then he was the only one to go on to law school.

It was only at that big graduation that Rudy finally saw Matt beaming like a loon—like he had up at Jack as a baby, but this time at the long-haired, chubby guy next to him.

This, legend had it, was the Roommate.

The one Matt refused to speak about to anyone at the gym.

Period.

At all.

There was no discussion.

That is, until he was forced by Fogwell standing menacingly over him in silent demand for a hug, to introduce them all to Foggy.

Foggy Nelson.

And then, just like that. It was exactly Jack all over again.

Veins bulging as everyone tried desperately not to laugh at Fogwell’s face at the realization that Matty had gone out and found a better, nicer Fog-person to be friends with.

 ---

 Foggy Nelson—Edward Nelson from the hardware store’s son—was not fucking good enough for Matty, Fogwell decided. He’d begun a stoic campaign to introduce Matt to every available boxer’s son and daughter in the city in the hopes that a little nudge would get Matty away from all them conniving lawyer-folk. That was all fine and well with Matt because Matt, they’d all learned after a few years in his company again, was a horrendous flirt.

God, this boy.

Incorrigible.

He flirted with Tina and Angie and Penelope and got slapped every time.

He flirted with Bert’s daughter Becka.

He flirted with Becka’s husband.

He flirted with Kenny’s son’s best friend at the son’s wedding.

He flirted with the new secretary’s sister-in-law.

He was completely unstoppable.

Kenny approved.

But Kenny also asked Matt pointedly if he and his roommate had worked things out yet and that sent Matt scowling and shuffling off to go hide behind Fogwell, wherever he was, for emotional support.

 ---

 Matt was Daredevil.

He had to be.

Everyone in the gym suspected this.

He was too good at fighting. To flexible. Too sturdy and relentless and angry to be anyone else. They all recogized his shoulders in those little blips of videos people posted online. They recognized how close he got to people from the way he get up in his bag’s imagined face.

He had some kind of superpower—some kind of 360 degree awareness was the best Rudy could describe it.

He felt like he remembered Jack freaking out about something like this a million years ago. Nattering on about super-senses in the aftermath of the accident.

Fogwell was the one who’d brought it up again after he’d noticed that Matt liked to come in at night and spar on his own.

One time, just once, he’d left one of the security cameras on, concerned that Matty might get mugged in the night on his own there.

But Matty wasn’t getting mugged anytime soon.

No, for real.

Matt was…maybe something a little beyond them.

The video Fogwell had shown the older guys before deleting it and telling everyone to mind their own fucking business had shown Matt throwing his weight at the bag—throwing legs and fists—in complicated, almost choreographed movements that spoke of lethal intent.

He moved like a weasel. Like a predator.

Like a devil.

God knew where he’d learned those moves. The boy had lived a lot of life in those few years he’d fallen off of the gym’s radar. There was no telling who he’d met or how he’d learned to be as he was, but things made a lot more sense after that.

Jackie had had a devil in him. It only made sense that his dramatic-ass kid had one, too.

Matty had made something more of himself than his daddy. In so many other things, but in this, too.

Fogwell’s Gym was protected. It was home to a devil in disguise.

 ---

 The hipster Jack-fan appeared with baby Henry a few more times before Bert asked him if he knew that his hero’s kid, who’d lived the life baby Henry was currently living, was actually a regular at the gym.

Hipster-kid gaped and fell over himself trying to ask Bert if he could meet the guy.

Bert smirked. And then waved across the place over to where Matt had just slithered in with absurd orange sneakers that he was very proud of. He was clearly on the hunt to go show Fogwell so that he could be disgusted.

He froze when Bert called his name.

The hipster’s jaw dropped.

“Matty, come tell this man about your daddy,” Bert said.

Matt stared.

Then made a sad, aborted gesture with his free hand that said that he had very important annoyances to make of himself, so could this maybe wait?

“You’re—you’re--?” the hipster stammered.

“Matt Murdock,” Matt said hurriedly. “Great to meet you? You’re the one with the kid, right? Congrats. Have either of you seen Fogwell?”

The hipster blinked.

“Uh?” he said. “Not today?”

Matt scowled.

“He’s not escaping these,” he said, tapping his way angrily back to the door. “I got him a matching set. No one is escaping them.”

The gym at large watched him stalk back out the door, tapping away furiously, no doubt on the way down the block to Fogwell’s house.

“That’s Matt Murdock?” the hipster asked.

“Man, I thought he’d be taller,” another newbie said.

“Kid, that is the least of your problems when it comes to Matt Murdock,” Bert laughed. “Now, all of you, back to work. This ain’t a dog and pony show. Go on.”

 ---

[the-quiet-winds]

The Gravity of Tempered Grace (part three)

[Things come to a head in the queens’ household.]

[part one] - [part two]

[Part 3: Tell Me That the World’s Been Spinning Since the Beginning]

The Life and Times of Jane the Queen, Chapter 17 - Epilogue: The Grief of a Queen’s Widower

“Historians have long debated over Jane’s significance in Henry’s life. Some argue that her legacy only truly exists because of her son, and that he was the only reason Henry cared for her. Others disagree, pointing to not only her funeral, but Henry’s extended period of grief that followed Jane’s death. He wore black for three months and remained a widower for over two years before taking his fourth wife, which is a longer period than after any of his other marriages. During those years, it was clear that he did not deal well with his grief, becoming obese and developing gout. Upon Henry’s own death, he was buried next to Jane at his request.”

Over the next few days, it’s increasingly clear that something is wrong with Jane.

She went from emotional detachment to, seemingly, feeling every emotion possible at increasingly random times.

Cathy will find her sitting on the couch, watching a house hunting show on the television, laughing hysterically. Anne will find her sobbing over potatoes in the kitchen. 

The oddest moment, the one that truly freaked everyone out, was when she made an advance on Catherine.

It’s late, they’re at a bar after the last show of the week, and Jane decides to have something other than her usual glass of chardonnay.

A screwdriver on the rocks, “with extra vodka,” is her drink of choice.

She downs it almost in one fell swoop, and it doesn’t seem to affect her at all.

Yet.

Jane orders another, then decides she’s done for the night. 

There’s a voice in her head, though. A ridiculously seductive voice that she can’t help but listen to. The voice is familiar. The voice is warm.

She’s learned never to question or refuse the voice. Otherwise she gets the pain in her chest that makes her think she may just die.

The voice is right. It’s always right. 

Jane approaches Catherine, who is watching Anne dance with Katherine, nursing a pinot grigio.

“Hey.”

Catherine turns to her, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Hi, Jane.”

“You look… really pretty,” Jane says.

Surprised at the compliment, as well as the sincerity behind Jane’s eyes, Catherine doesn’t quite know how to respond. “Um, thank you?”

“Seriously,” Jane says, “all the guys in this room probably agree with me.” She grins, just slightly. “And I get to talk to you.”

Catherine is even more disturbed now, but tries to keep her cool. “Well, Jane, we are friends. Talking is part of that.”

Jane fully rolls her eyes. “What if…,” she covers Catherine’s hand with her own, “we were more than friends? What if I wanted to make every guy in this room jealous and kiss you right now?”

That’s the last straw for Catherine, who roughly pulls her hand away. “Jane, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, or if you’re drunk, but I don’t… I don’t like you like that.”

“C’mon, don’t be a prude,” Jane murmurs, and Catherine is growing more uncomfortable by the second. 

Jane takes a step closer. Catherine takes a step back.

It’s then, perhaps by some miracle of God, that Jane blinks once, twice, then looks around as if she has no idea where she is.

All she can see is the nearly horrified look on Catherine’s face before she races out of the bar.

She doesn’t look back even once as she quickly maneuvers the streets, dodging people and street performers under the glowing lights of Times Square.

Jane does pause, though, looking up at the giant glowing billboard for their show. She studies her own image, scrutinizing every inch.

Is she supposed to feel something, staring at her own enormous picture in one of the biggest entertainment blocks in the world?

Because she feels nothing. All she can tangibly feel is… 

Nothing.

The previous shame of her advance on Catherine has melted away. Now she just feels numb again.

Jane shoves her hands in her pockets and continues to walk. It isn’t until she gets home that she starts to feel again.

The voice in her head is proud of her. It’s showering her in compliments, telling her how incredible and wonderful she is.

There’s a warmth in her chest that she hasn’t felt in a long time as the voice continues to whisper praise in her head.

She’s so infatuated, she doesn’t hear the rest of the queens entering the house a short while later.

But they hear her.

Cathy and Anne quietly lead the pack up the stairs to where they hear Jane’s voice, with Catherine, Anna, and Kat just behind them.

“You say just the sweetest things.”

Pause.

“It’s like you know me more than anyone else.”

Pause.

“I can’t help but listen to you.”

Anne and Cathy exchange a very confused look and crack Jane’s door open.

She’s completely alone, laying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, having a full-blown conversation with herself.

“You love me?” Beat. “No one else loves me?”

Cathy makes to march in there right at that questioning, but Anna is the one to hold her back.

“But, the queens-” Beat. A sniffle. “They think I’m crazy?”

Catherine and Anna pull everyone away from Jane’s door and shuffles them into Anne’s room, the furthest from Jane’s. 

“What the fuck was that?” Katherine breathes.

“I have no clue,” Catherine asserts. “But something is definitely up with Jane.”

“Maybe she is crazy,” Anne offers, only half-sarcastically.

“Anne,” Cathy hisses.

“She has a point,” Anna says. “Janey isn’t crazy, but something isn’t right here.”

Catherine begins to pace. “She hasn’t been herself since we all came back. First she had no emotions whatsoever, now they’re in overdrive, she’s talking to herself, and she hit on me at the bar.”

“Jane hit on you?” Anne repeats.

“It was so strange, though,” Catherine mumbles. “It wasn’t a joke, but it didn’t seem like she really… wanted anything. It was like-”

“-someone is living through her,” Cathy finishes.

“Okay, that’s insane,” Anne says finitely. “I think everyone is just reading too much into all of this, and we should just admit that Janey hasn’t been right in the head since we came back.”

“I knew it.”

In nearly comical unison, the five turn to the door, where an incredibly stoic Jane Seymour is watching them. “You do all think I’m crazy.”

“Jane, listen-”

“No! I can’t believe I fell for the whole ‘we’re friends now’ stick! You all are lying bitches, just like he-” She stops, contemplates for half a second, and continues. “Just like I knew you were!”

Cathy holds her hands out and takes a slow step towards the increasingly irate Jane. “We know you aren’t crazy, Jane. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay? Okay?! I find out that all of you think I’m some mental case and you want to know if I’m okay?!” Jane is shrieking now. Her fists are clenched and her face is red, but still, she doesn’t seem convinced of her own anger.

“Jane, please, please,” Kat begs. “Just breathe, let us explain.”

Jane scoffs, rolls her eyes, and takes a breath. “Fuck all of you,” she mumbles, before turning on her heels and marching straight out of the room and out of the house.

She doesn’t make it two blocks before realizing what she’s done, but she feels no remorse.

Jane pauses under a streetlight and watches a couple amble by, glancing at each other with love-struck eyes. She wonders when she’ll ever feel that love again.

A dog on a leash bounds up to her. Henry had gifted her a dog at court, once, just after they had married, and she had loved the little thing.

But as this dog sniffs at her legs and looks for attention, the apologetic owner trying to coax it away, Jane can only watch. The dog is absolutely adorable, but Jane just feels apathy.

The same apathy that has haunted her since she came back to this life.

Apathy has become all that she truly knows.

Maybe the other queens were right.

Maybe she is crazy.

[anxiouslyfred]

Painted Diving Gear

Summary: Remus is a diver and teaches it to tourists so of course occasionally some of the gear gets lost. That why his soulmate, genius that they must be, has learnt how to return the gear, designs painted onto the edge to claim it before losing them once more.

/\/\

The was a familiar oxygen tank sat in the middle of Remus's flat that morning.

Honestly it wouldn't be anything worth commenting on usually, except this particular tank had been lost a month prior, left behind on a hired van by accident. The company had claimed they couldn't locate it to return the item and from the painting on its edge that made a lot more sense now.

His soulmate must have received the gas tank at some point between him realising it was missing and contacting the company. Remus had been ecstatic the first time something he lost turned up back in his flat, just with a painting added onto the edge. It seemed the artwork was enough to swap ownership between them so far as whatever the magic moving objects between soulmates was concerned.

He didn't have much time to delay though, only just having gotten up in time to head to work. The tank was easily thrown into his trunk to take in with him and some ready roll icing was grabbed to eat as breakfast on the way in. Remus might not care for having breakfast but knew better than to dive with no energy, especially in the middle of the summer vacation period.

The Diving company was already open when he arrived, another of the team having opened up and started taking bookings for the day. The oxygen tank got a raised eyebrow when Remus brought it in.

“That soulmate of yours probably gets worried sick every time you loose one of those.” Janus offered but waved to the edge of the room.

They'd made something of a display of the equipment since it started coming back. Neither of them were sure what type of paint was used on the equipment or whether it was safe to be used in the oceans or not so erred on the side of caution. The last thing Remus wanted to do was accidentally harm the creatures and corals he dived down to see and show to tourists in small groups so unfortunately the scuba gear that got painted on and returned was just left to one side for the moment.

So far they had 4 oxygen tanks, various scuba masks and a few pairs of flippers all painted by whomever Remus's soulmate might be. The designs had started off as somewhat plain, simple swirls and patterns done over the front of them. Gradually, with each item returned the images grew more complex, from featuring ocean life, to spiders, until today's intricate design. The was an octopus wrapped around a pile of knives, most of which Remus could recognise as ones he'd lost throughout his life. It was almost as though his soulmate was attempting to paint an image of who they thought he was, and that idea thrilled him.

All Remus could tell about his soulmate was that they were a freaking genius who figured out how to return lost items when nobody was known to have managed that ever before.

“Nah, they don't. They wouldn't try returning to someone they think could have died losing an item.” Remus brushed the comment away, making sure the latest one was stood clear to see for any customers that walked in.

Janus was finally able to properly see the painting now it was down, smirking at the image. “And it seems like they even have a collection of knives to challenge your own. Must be a perfect match.”

“Once again wrong. That's my collection of knives. They just get to look after it for a while and it's even better than some of those rusting at the bottom of the ocean too.” Remus corrected, snatching their bookings diary from the counter to check if they'd be taking walk in customers today or if something particular needed setting up on the boat.

“Of course you lose more knives than you manage to keep, how could I be so misguided?” The sarcasm rolled thickly through the reply. “Does that mean they presume you are an octopus rather than a human then?”

Remus cackled, thrilled at the suggestion. “I wish I was. Those lovely babies are so brilliant, shame today's a boring day so I probably won't get to see any.”

“You never know, the next walk in could be an avid diver needing to rent equipment and get shown the most interesting places to dive.” Janus suggested, a wobble of his head betraying how outlandish he thought the idea was.

Remus just snickered, heading through to where the boat was moored so he could check everything was prepped for use.

The walk-in customer they did have unfortunately wasn't an avid diver when Janus called him back through to the shop, but a tourist hoping to learn something about diving because of something to do with their soulmate. The reason had come out in a mumble just as Remus got through so he didn't quite catch it.

“I can do that. There's some shallows in a quiet cove just around the coast I can teach you in. Come through and I'll get you set up with the gear in your size before we head out.” Remus had already walked through into the other room, expecting the man to finish staring at their displays and follow.

A few minutes later he was still alone and Janus poked his head through the door. “Your display of returned items seems to have broken our customer. Come and fix it!” With the order given he'd returned back to the counter.

Once Remus was back in the front of the shop the man was still gaping at the items, reaching out to follow the lines of the knives on the one brought in today. “Yeah, that's some pretty awesome artwork. My soulmate does it so they can return them to me, but since I don't know what paint was used we've been avoiding using them where possible.” He commented, resting his head on top of the customers trying to get their attention.

“I'd be a fucking idiot if I figured out how to return them and didn't also do research on what paints are used on diving equipment, or can remain in tact under the pressure and salt water of the ocean.” Came a snapped back reply. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that the first time I try to learn something about my soulmate I end up in your freaking shop?”

Remus stepped back just enough the guy could turn around, tilting his head. “Well if you're the one who painted them, I guess I am. Let's get you some permanent gear so I can properly teach you how to dive over the rest of the week, or however long you're in the area.”

“Well if this gets mentioned to the friends that dragged me on this holiday that might just be permanently. What's your name anyway, or should I just call you Knifapus?” The man asked, looking Remus up and down.

There was a snicker from the counter but Remus ignored it, shimmying a little. “You can call me anything you like, Spidat, but my name is Remus.” A number of the items his soulmate had actually lost had spiders and bats on them and most were dark despite the fluffy nature a lot of them shared; the nickname had come from a year where any words Remus could combine would be mixed.

“Let's stick with Virgil or something that uses real words, shall we? Are you serious about getting me permanent diving gear, cause I don't think I can afford that?” Virgil corrected, glancing over at one of the displays of the gear they had for sale.

“Soulmate privileges.” Janus called over. “It can come out of the company funds, but only if you actually are going to use it for more than a couple of days.”

There had never been a policy like that in the company before and Janus had actually insisted to his soulmate he couldn't give them a discount for the gear just to enable them dragging him out on the sea. Remus wasn't going to argue though. Diving had always been a way for him to share his darker thoughts without people giving him concerned looks, but it had been Janus's escape to isolate and calm down for years.

“And here, I was just hoping one of those soulmate privileges would be getting to use the equipment I so painstakingly returned.” Virgil's whine was exaggerated, but the twist of his lips and quirked eyebrows showed how entertained he was by the idea. “Honestly though, I have no clue if I'm going to join you diving much. Isn't it terrifying to get that deep underwater with no way to breathe if the oxygen tank comes loose or something?”

“I taunt death daily and he's yet to do more than wave while clearing up the devastation humanity is sending to the oceans.” Remus insisted, excited to share the experience.

Virgil groaned. “Damnit, am I going to have to play, 'Let's not die today' with you too? It's bad enough with friends running into busy roads because there's a dog on the other side.”

“You're the one that came looking for him, otherwise I'd sympathise.” Janus snickered.

“Let's try a small dive today and see if you could work up to coming on the deeper dives in a few years time.” Remus compromised, still bouncing between his feet and reaching forwards to tug on Virgil's arm.

“That we can do, I guess.”

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Insufferable

Chapter two - A king’s duty is a king’s duty

Sander’s sides fanfiction - ‘Off the Devil’s head’ spin-off (can be read as a stand-alone)

Wordcount: 1928

Ship: intrulogical

TW: cursing - a lot of cursing (still Remus, lovlies, get used to it), confusion, cute bickering (I think...?), forests at night, very obvious autistic tics (based on my own, so I know they are real and how they work, in case you’re not sure ^^ I wouldn’t write something that I haven’t checked at least twice with someone who has, or deals with or is deeply interested in this stuff). And I think that’s all. If anything pops up, do let me know :) <3

Summary of the whole story: This might have not been the brightest idea - steeling from a cart right in the fucking smack-dab-middle of the Square. But Remus never claimed his ideas were bright. Never said his words and actions were appropriate either. So how in all off goddamned hell did he find himself sprawled out on a giant comfortable throne instead of a cold and dark (and very drippy) prison cell - with guards actually guarding his safety instead of assuring his imprisonment - is completely beyond him.

Link to AO3 for those who prefer reading there ^^

----------------------------

Chapter two - A king’s duty is a king’s duty

There’s not a lot of things Logan dislikes. There’s a total of fifteen so far. But disruption of order, change and tall grass is definitely in the top ten. And wouldn’t you look at that?

Green-haired hurricanes are tearing threw his peaceful kingdom, disrupting peace - thus creating an unnecessary change. Which caused his sleepless state, which lead him down a path where he has to hop from foot to foot like a dear, to eliminate any unnecessary contact with grass.

And the fact that all these things alone cause unnecessary stress, let alone combined, just makes it all worse. His movements are more jagged then usual, more frantic. Gestures all over the place in unorganized manors. And his eyebrows are stuck in a constant ‘thinking scowl’ as his advisors call it.

To any other person, his behavior would seem truly strange - Logan can’t say he doesn’t feel a little embarrassed by it, even now that he’s alone. But there are some things that just can’t be helped.

Besides, all of his kingdom know that their king is a ‘little weird’.

Since Logan first sat on the throne - at the mere age of thirteen - everybody’s been in love with their ruler. It sounds a little odd, that they let a thirteen-year-old kid on the throne, but Logan’s never really been a kid. Since when he can remember he read books far too difficult for the usual kid his age, listened in on conversations he probably had no business listening to, let alone understanding. Sat by his father’s side, while he made life-concerning decisions. Watched his mother as she took care of every problem with caution and care not everybody could offer. Although Logan never got around to fully understanding that care, he learned to act the same way. Same words, same gestures. Nobody was worried when the crown got passed down to him. All the people in the kingdom knew they were in good hands.

Logan’s very first mission was learning the name of every single person in town. It wasn’t an easy task, but it wasn’t as hard as someone would expect, since a surprisingly big amount of people shared the same name. And Logan had a really good memory when it came to association. A face to a name. A shape to a math formula. The smell, color, density and overall look to a chemical. And of course, the exact numeric measurement of a star’s whereabouts.

But there was no way of ‘associating’ his way out of this. He had no clue of the density, the weight, the pace, the name, nor the whereabouts of this mysterious disrupter of peace. All he knew was, that his hair was unnaturally green and he looked way too skinny for a wealthy towns-man - which just underlined the reason why he was steeling.

Oh, and let’s not forget he wanted to kiss Logan. Right there on the Square, apparently.

The young king scratched his arm, absentmindedly, trying not to think too much about it. Not that that’s helping. Questions keep popping up, tripping up his sane thought process.

It’s not like Logan liked the idea of the stranger kissing him. He didn’t like to be touched, let alone landing his lips to someone else. But the thoughts didn’t leave him alone.

Maybe that’s why he was here, stepping over unnecessarily high strands of grass in the middle of the night. He might not like the greenery touching him, and the jutting out branches and leaves of trees and bushes cause him immense panic (and make him scratch his exposed body parts like crazy), but he actually likes the forest. It is really calming (for the most part, anyways).

He hoped that this almost-calming surrounding would help him clear his head. But it just seemed to stress him out even more.

The thoughts kept on swiveling in his head - swirling and twirling, not letting the unknown thief out of their claw-clad grasp.

Logan needed to find out the thief’s name. He knows everybody’s name. And if this thief stays close to town, he’s considered a citizen. He needs to learn his name.

Not far from the obsessing king, Remus was lounging out in the hammock he hung outside Matilde’s old run-down cottage. One leg swung over the edge, he swayed from side to side, twisting the silver ring on his slender finger.

Bored out of his mind.

There wasn’t many days, when Remus’s screwed-up brain didn’t come up with things to entertain him; but some days even that head needed some rest, it seemed. Apparently today was one of those days.

Not a single fun thought. Even the inner monologue he never seemed to be able to end, somehow bored him to death. The only thing peeking even the slightest of interest in him, was the constant image of those scarily-blue eyes the king-dude possessed.

Seriously. In all his life, he has never once seen such ocean-blue eyes. Dark and deep, holding many a secret. It made Remus desperate to know each and every single one.

But that was not happening. No matter how much the eyes mesmerized him. How much he couldn’t get them out of his head. (Agh, Jesus fucking Christ those eyes…) There was just no way he could go back to that town.

The king has let him go once (he chalked it up to his good looks, charm and smooth words) and the second time is as likely as Matilde coming back from wherever she fled to.

So here he was. Bored as all hell.

He sighed heavily, wondering what kingdom was next on his agenda tomorrow. When suddenly he heard a scrunch. Then another. And another. This was no squirrel. Remus sat up immediately, eyes darting along the dark forest.

It was so late. What the hell would anybody be doing up at this hour of the night?

He darted out of the hammock - almost falling face first when his foot got caught in the fabric - hiding in the near-by bushes. Thank the lords that he didn’t forget to turn the fucking lights off again.

The scrunching got louder by the second, and Remus crouched lower.

Low muttering drafted into his ears. “…nice of you good sir, but I’ll have to decline. I am not sure that would be appropriate considering we just met…” A dark figure, drafted in shadow came into view. “And besides, you haven’t even introduced yourself. I know the name of every citizen in this kingdom. For the sake of consistency, I would also like to find out yours…” Jesus Christ, who were they talking to?  And what were they doing?!

One leg up in the air, like soldiers marching, then quickly stamped down, hopping to the other. Weird movements all over the place, not even in a straight line, like a sane person. Was this person drunk? They looked like a fucking goat, jumping from one small jutting out pebble on the mountain-side to the other.

The site alone would make Remus want to piss himself, but together with the inconsistent murmuring? He couldn’t hold back the snort.

The figure immediately froze in place. All movement and words falling into still silence. “Who’s there?” They called out cautiously.

Remus bit his tugging lip hard. Fuck.

Well, there was no backtracking now. Besides, it’s not like he was scared. It was more likely he’d scare the crazy-pants over there. So slowly, he razed from his hiding spot with hands in the air and a huge grin on his face. “What are you doing dude? You look like a fucking crazy person.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” came the person’s answer. Voice laced with nerves.

“Just a random dude in a forest.” Rem shrugged.

“That’s not a very satisfying answer.”

Roman bit back a laugh. Seriously, what the hell? “Don’t worry I won’t hurt you.” he snickered. Then this thought blinked into his head, and as you know, thought’s bring words. Stupid, embarrassing and unnecessary words. “Unless you want me to.” he winked seductively. Then realized the person probably couldn’t even see his face, let alone the wink he just threw at them. Ah well, at least it saved him some embarrassment, when his tongue betrayed him.

Swear to god, the person ‘Eep’-ed at this. He made this strangled sound that sounded like a nervous whine mixed with surprise cut in half and that just made Remus want to laugh even more. “That’s really unnecessary, thank you.” And they’re still being polite! How even…?

Rem couldn’t help it at this point. It was too much. He burst out cackling like to crazy idiot he is. Probably scaring the poor person to death. (But then again, the ‘poor person’ did come wondering into a forest in the middle of the night, muttering to themselves and jumping around like an idiot.)

“Am… You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh that’s right…“ Rem’s forhead creased in thought. “…what was the question again?”  

“Who are you.”

“I’m Remus.”

If Logan could allow himself to curse, he would. But he couldn’t so instead he just gave a long exasperate sigh. “And who might that be?”

The stranger stepped closer, allowing the fleeting moon-light to reach his features and gave a big bow. Hand gesture and all. “Me, obviously.” No matter how much he disliked to admit it, Remus was every bit as dramatic as his brother. If not more…

The king’s eyes lit up with recognition (not that Rem could see). Well, guess his duty’s done then - the thief’s name is Remus. Huh…Very interesting.

“Well, now that you know my name, it’d be nice to get yours, pretty.” Rem grinned, daring to get a few more steps in. Bringing him closer to the still standing-frozen person.

From here he could finally see more of them. Well, him. Because apparently the smooth deep voice he was conversing with was the royal-head himself.

And his royal head slanted to the left slightly, eyebrows drawing together. “Why should I give my name to unknown man in the forest?”

“Why should I give my name to some random bloke, then?”

“Because I asked you to?”

Remus wondered what this dude’s problem was. Logan wondered why even wanted to get out of the safety of his chamber in the first place.

“Alright then, weirdo, tell me one good reason why I should answer and you shouldn’t.” Rem crossed his arms over his chest. Yes, he was aware he was talking to the king. But that doesn’t mean he had to play nice.

Rem treats everybody the same way, because that’s how it should be. (Maybe that’s what landed his ass behind bars twice already…)

Logan jutted out his chin. He could use the ‘King-card’ - as his advisor calls it. Could easily force the thief to answer without any objections (that is if he abbeys rules; which he should.) But honestly, Logan felt like doing neither. It was late, and he was supposed to stop obsessing about this whole thing. Which he did. The thief’s name was Remus.

So, as gracefully as a king can, he shrugged. “I don’t have one.”

“Well, shit. Then you ain’t getting my name, darling.”

The royal couldn’t decide whether the thief was that simple-minded or just easily distracted. “You’ve already said your name.”

Our beloved idiot’s expression froze, grin falling. “Ah, fuck.” his shoulders did the same. (In a very overdramatic - and admittedly, impressively flexible - way)

Well, if he wasn’t screwed before, now he certainly was.

-----------------------------

Jesus Christ, I’ve never cursed more in my life and I hate it so much! I don’t curse in real life, not even while texting with friends (I use shit, hell and damn, but that’s about it) and this is killing me on a whole other level! But this is Remus, and I feel like a good Remus requires a hella lot of curses. 

So here we are. Me actually cursing more then my brain can accept it. But at least I get to project on Logan, right? I love autistic Logan, too damn much. He’s too precious. And the greenery thing? Believe me, my mum constantly makes fun of it XD But I don’t mind, I know I look ridiculous.

Anyways! I hope you liked this chap! ^^ I still have no idea where the hell I’m going with this, but I guess we’ll see where we end up. 

[unsettledink]

Kinktober Day 30

Test Subject

Prompt: Drugs

Word Count: 3668

Summary: Tony knew Beck was unbalanced when he fired him. Knew he had the potential to be dangerous, but he wasn’t going to take Tony on and win.

It’s really, really unfortunate Beck found out about Peter.

(underage, recorded sex, noncon, abduction, drugs, victim blaming, revenge, Beck is the worst)

*

“Boss, you need to take a look at this.”

“Nope,” Tony says. “Not now, Friday.” Not that it really matters, since she blanks out his screen and puts up a video file instead. “Ugh, what's this? Someone send me a home movie?”

There nothing on screen except a bed, brightly lit. “Why did I need to see this?” Tony starts, and then— 

And then Peter stumbles into frame.

He not moving right, uncoordinated and clumsy, like his limbs are numb. He pauses, swaying, and seems to get a shove, taking another few fumbling steps forward and almost falling over, catching himself on the foot board of the bed.

“Shit,” Tony whispers. “When did we get this? Does anyone know Peter's missing? Is he?”

Friday says something, but Tony loses it completely because Quentin Beck steps up to Peter. Quentin fucking Beck, who he'd had to fire just a few months ago. The guy was brilliant, sure, but seriously unstable; the tantrum he'd thrown over Tony's naming of BARF had been insane. Tony'd had to get security to get him out of there, but the second they showed up, Beck had gone still, cold, completely in control of himself, and that was almost more worrying than the hysterics.

“You're going to regret this,” he'd said. “You have no idea what you're losing here. Who you're fucking with.”

Tony hadn't even replied, just rolled his eyes and told security to have Beck's things shipped to him.

“Hi Tony,” Beck says. Steps closer to Peter and grabs his hair, yanks his head up and around to the camera. “Say hi, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, and Beck clicks his tongue. “You'd better start listening to me,” he says. “You're going to pay for it all in the end, you know. Now say hi to Tony, so he knows you can still talk.” Peter swallows.

“Hi Tony,” he says, his voice shaking.

“Good boy,” Beck says. “You know, I was actually a little surprised when I figured out who you were hiding. Somehow, I just didn't think you had it in you to be keeping a kid as a side piece. How old are you again, honey?” Peter shakes his head again and Beck sighs. “Fifteen's awfully young, Tony. How long have you been fucking him?”

“Where are they?” Tony says. “Friday, what have you found?” This is bad. This is really bad. “Is this live, or recorded?”

“When I saw him,” Beck says, as Friday lets Tony know that it's not live, and she has no clue where they are, “I thought, now there's the perfect way to pay back Tony Stark. I mean, look at him.” He pulls Peter further up, sliding his other hand under Peter's shirt. “He doesn't look fifteen, does he.”

He pulls Peter's shirt over his head and spreads his hand over Peter's stomach, bending to put his mouth on his neck. Peter yelps and flails around, kicking at Beck and getting nowhere. Whatever Beck's given him hasn't just messed with his balance and coordination, but somehow fucked up his strength as well. Oh, this is bad.

Beck pulls away from Peter's neck, this dark red mark left behind, and then he's got his hand down Peter's pants. “No,” Peter gasps, “no, don't, you— fuck you, stop it!”

“Going to be noisy?” Beck says, pulling Peter's pants down as Peter twists in his grip. “Going to be difficult? I hope so.”

“You bastard,” Tony whispers. “Friday, anything?”

Beck runs his hand down Peter's side, biting at his neck again. “No,” Peter tells him, “no, stop, no!” over and over again as Friday says the same.

Tony winces as Beck pushes Peter down, almost shoving him onto the floor. Peter lists over, unable to stay up on his own, and Beck's opening his pants— god, no, no.

Tony knows, he already knows it's too late, that what's happened has already happened, but he can't— he can't— “Let me see,” he tells Friday, pulling over her tracking. She's better, faster at this than he is, but he can't just sit here and watch this and do nothing.

The camera angle changes, completely, without Beck moving— shit, he's had time to edit this. The view is on Peter's face now, a little shakier, handheld maybe. Beck's hand is back in Peter's hair, his cock against Peter's cheek. “Don't you dare,” Peter whispers. “I'll—”

“You won't do anything,” Beck says. “If you try to bite me, I'll break your arms. And then I'll hold your mouth open and do it anyway. Your choice how you want to do it.”

No, Tony thinks, no, no— Peter doesn't give in easily, he's going to fight it and— 

“I hate you,” Peter says, and Beck lets go of his hair and backhands him. Peter falls over, trying and failing to catch himself before he hits the floor, and once he's down, Beck kicks him, hard.

“I know you think you do,” Beck says, “but you're going to hate me so much more by the time I'm done with you. Now let's try that again.”

Peter's crying when Beck hauls him back up, silently, tears running down his face as he shivers. Beck rubs the head of his cock against Peter's lips, and Peter closes his eyes.

Opens his mouth.

Tony— Tony doesn't want to watch this, doesn't want to hear the muffled, choked noises Peter is making, the wet sounds of Beck fucking his mouth. He doesn't want to look at Peter after this and have that image in his head, have Peter know he's seen it. But— but Peter can't escape this, and he's only suffering this because of Tony. Tony doesn't really have the choice to look away now, does he. “Friday,” he says. “Tell me we've got something, anything.”

They don't.

Beck's pushing Peter down on his cock, pulling him off, Peter too uncoordinated to be doing much of the work, but Beck doesn't seem to mind. “Maybe if you're good,” he tells Peter, “later I'll let you try this again, when you're a little more with it. Because this can't be what you give Tony.” He shoves his cock further in and Peter chokes, his hands coming up to push uselessly at Beck's legs. He doesn't give me anything, Tony wants to scream, you sick fuck, that's not— 

Peter's mouth is wet with spit when Beck pulls out, letting his cock smear more over Peter's cheek. Peter whimpers, softly, his eyes still closed. They fly open when Beck yanks him up, Peter scrambling to follow, and pushes him over onto the bed. Peter topples onto it, Beck shoving him around until he's on his stomach, hands limp above his head and legs spread. No, Tony thinks, no, please, don't let what he knows is coming happen, don't— 

Beck's stripping off his clothes, the camera angle changing back to the wide shot. “Can you hear him?” Beck says, and turns Peter's head so he's facing the camera. Peter's begging, quiet mumbled little nos and pleases. “This is Tony's fault,” he tells Peter. “If he hadn't treated me like he did—if he hadn't taken an interest in you—well, all our troubles can be laid at his feet. You think you're still going to run to him all grateful for being saved when I'm done with you? When I've finished doing what I have to, because of Tony?”

“Fuck you,” Peter says, low. “None of this is his fault.”

“You'll learn,” Beck says, and crawls onto the bed.

“No,” Peter says, louder, as Beck pushes his ass up, spreading it. “No, no, stop!” when Beck spits on his hole, Tony flinching away.

“Friday,” Tony says, desperately, “Friday—” but he doesn't even know what to ask for; they've found nothing. Not a single useful thing, and that's insane. There's no way Beck is that good.

Peter sobs when Beck pushes a finger in, trying to jerk away and just skidding forward a bit. Beck just jerks him back and shoves a second in with barely a pause, Peter yelping. “You're practically virgin tight,” Beck says. “Does Tony like that about you? Is that why he wants you so young?”

“No,” Peter gasps, repeats, the sound of his voice spiraling higher and higher as Beck fingers him, as Beck kneels up and pushes into him, Peter's voice finally breaking into sobs.

All Tony can hope for is that whatever Beck's given Peter— he can't know that Peter's enhanced, that he's Spider-Man. Whatever dosage he used isn't going to last nearly as long as he thinks it will, so Tony hopes, god how he hopes, that it will wear off before this gets any worse. It's— it's too late for that, it's already worse and worse, but maybe soon Peter will be able to save himself. Maybe he won't hate Tony too much for making him do so.

Beck's so much bigger than Peter; when he spreads himself out on top like that, Tony can barely see Peter at all. He can hear him though, hear him crying out at every thrust, hear him begging for Beck to stop, to please stop, don't, please. Can see his hands, grasping desperately at the bed above his head, his feet kicking weakly against Beck's calves.

“Fuck, you're tight,” Beck groans. “What, has Tony been saving this for a special occasion? Too bad; he's never going to have it now.” He fucks Peter harder, deeper, and then pauses. Laughs.

He sits back a bit, hauling Peter's ass up harder. “Now what's this,” he says, mockingly. “You've been saying no and don't and how much you hate me, honey, but this,” and he reaches down, wrapping his hand around Peter's cock, “well, this says that's all been a lie. You don't get this hard from nothing.” He laughs again, louder, longer. “Peter Parker,” he says. “Are you getting off on this? What would Tony think?”

Peter fights him then, as best he can. Which isn't very; he jerks in Beck's hold, squirming and flailing and not making any headway. “I'm not!” he says, “It's not like that, I'm not— I'm not, Mr. Stark!”

I know, Tony thinks, wishes he could tell Peter. I know you aren't, I know, this isn't your fault. God, please don't let Peter think it actually does mean he likes some part of it.

“Don't lie, Peter,” Beck says, stroking Peter's cock, Peter going limp in his hold, sobbing. “It's not even a  good lie at this point. What is it, I wonder. Do you like hurting?” Peter shakes his head, keeps shaking and shaking it as Beck goes on. “Maybe you're just that much of a slut, or maybe you get off on being made to do things, on pretending it's rape, hmm?”

Beck glances toward the camera, a smirk growing on his face. “Or maybe,” he says, “maybe you have a little exhibitionist streak. Maybe you really like that you're being recorded, that someone is going to see this. Maybe,” he says, lowering his mouth to Peter's neck, speaking right into his ear almost so quietly Tony can't hear, “maybe you like the thought that it's Tony who's going to be watching. You like showing off for him, is that it?”

“No,” Peter whispers, but Beck clicks his tongue.

“Honey,” he says. “Do you think I didn't feel how your cock just jumped at that? You're a terrible liar.”

“No!” Peter snaps. “It's not— I don't!”

“You do. You love that Tony will see this, that Tony's going to see you spread out like this, taking it from a complete stranger and still getting off on it. Does he like that you're that easy?”

“Shut up,” Peter hisses. “Shut up, shut up!”

“Oh, does he not know?” Beck says. “Does he think you're something sweet and innocent? Well isn't he in for a surprise.” He takes his hand away from Peter's cock, and it is hard, is wet at the tip, dripping. Fuck, poor Peter.

Beck angles Peter a little, shifting until there's a clear view of Peter's cock even when Peter's face is shoved down into the bed, gasping for breath. “He'd going to watch you come on my cock and you're going to love it, going to get off because you know he's watching. Go on, tell him,” and he starts fucking Peter again, slower, harder.

“That's not—” Peter starts, and Beck slaps his ass. Peter yelps, gasping when Beck does it again.

“Tell him,” Beck says.

Peter hesitates, not protesting but not saying anything. “Just say it, kid,” Tony whispers, staring at the screen. “It doesn't matter, it doesn't mean anything, just give him what he wants so he'll stop hurting you, please.”

“You know he'd like to hear it,” Beck says. “Give him what he wants, Peter.”

He doesn't, he doesn't want to hear that.

“I—” Peter says. “I wish he was here.”

“To save you?”

“Yes,” Peter whispers. “Yes, and— and— instead of you, I'd—”

“You'd want, Peter?” Beck says, fucking into him. Peter jolts.

“I wish you were him,” and it's small, ashamed. Fuck, Tony hated Beck before this, but he hates him even more for making Peter say these things, twisting thing up in Peter's mind like this. “I wish he was fucking me instead.”

“I bet you do,” Beck says. “Who's the better lay, hmm?”

“I don't know,” Peter says. “I don't— I can't—” and Beck is never going to believe that's true.

Beck laughs. “I know you think he is,” he says. “I'm not going to get angry at you for that, not yet. I'm not trying to make this nice for you, Peter. But I am going to make you come.”

“Please, just— please don't,” Peter moans.

Tony agrees. “Friday,” he says again, like she wouldn't have said if anything changed, if there was anything new. “Please, give me some good news.”

Friday gives him silence. And then— “Based off previous biometric data,” she says, “Peter is telling the truth.”

“He's— what?” Tony's mind stumbles to a stop. She must be very, very confused. “We'll recalibrate that later,” he says. “Because there is no way Peter actually wants any of that.”

“I'm very sure,” Friday says, sounding offended. Onscreen, Beck is still pounding away at Peter, Peter sobbing into the sheets and jerking helplessly, his cock swinging with each thrust, still hard. “Peter is not lying when he says he wishes you were fucking him.”

Tony— 

“You're close, aren't you,” Beck says. “You want to come?”

Tony cannot deal with that right now. He can’t think about that right now.

Peter doesn't say anything, but after a long moment, his head dips, ever so slightly. “Yeah, I thought so,” Beck says. “Filthy slut. Why don't you beg Tony for it?”

“What?” Peter whispers.

“Go on,” Beck says. “He's watching, after all. I'm sure he'd give you permission if you begged pretty sough, and then you could pretend it's not so bad, coming on my cock.” He grinds into Peter, reaching forward and dragging his head up. “I want to hear it, Peter.”

Peter sobs, an awful broken sound. “Please,” he says, so soft. “Please, I— I want to come. Please, Tony, please let me, I just, let me for you? Please?”

“Peter,” Tony whispers, agonized. “Fuck, Peter, do anything you have to get though this, you— whatever you need, I'd tell you yes if I could, you have to know I would.”

“Please,” Peter begs, his spine curving, body stiffening as he pants out the word, over and over. “Tony— Tony, Tony, please—” He shudders, still for a long tense moment; “Tony,” he breathes, “oh god, Tony—” and Tony could have lived the rest of his life not knowing what it sounds like when Peter comes, saying his name. He might not want to never know it, but if it meant he didn't have to watch Beck fuck Peter into sobbing incoherence, he would have been glad for it all the same.

“You are disgusting,” Beck says. “Un fucking believable, coming like that just because Tony might watch this some time. You're not going to get away with pretending you don't like this anymore, honey.”

Peter's limp beneath him, not offering any resistance as Beck fucks into him fast and hard, groaning, his hands bruisingly tight on Peter's hips. He turns, looks at the camera; he's flushed, mouth gaping open as he takes these short, harsh breaths, close to coming. “I'm going to fucking ruin him,” Beck says. “Even if you get him back, he's never going to be the same, Tony. You're never going to get my mark off him, fuck, he's— he's not yours anymore, nothing is yours, I'm going— god, going to take everything, ruin everything you love—” He moans, bending lower over Peter, coming as he fucks into Peter a few more fast, short thrusts.

He's already ruined the one thing Tony wanted most to keep safe— no, no, he hasn't ruined Peter, nothing could ruin Peter, Peter is still perfect and amazing and worth the world. He'll find a way to get Beck's taint off him if it's the last thing he does.

Beck takes a long, shuddering breath and pulls out. “I'll give Tony this; he did find a nice piece of ass.” Peter moans, stuck like Beck left him, unmoving. Beck steps out of frame for a moment, the camera angle changing back to that handheld close up.

“Alright honey,” Beck says, camera on Peter's head. “Look at me.” Peter shakes his head, weakly. “Don't make me do this for you,” Beck says.

Peter turns his head, slowly, not looking at the camera. He looks terrible, red and blotchy, his eyes and mouth swollen, still crying. “Look,” Beck demands. “Look at the fucking camera,” and Peter raises his eyes. It's awful, so fucking awful; he's glassy eyed, unfocused.

“Tony saw all of that,” Beck tells him. “Every last bit, including the part where you liked it,” and Peter's face twists. “Maybe he doesn't think you need rescuing anymore. You'd better beg him to come save you.”

Peter shakes his head. “Don't,” he says. “Don't, it's got to be a trap, you don't— you don't need to help me, Mr. Stark.”

“Wrong,” Beck says. “He really does need to help you. And I know you want him to save you; just imagine, honey, how much fun I can have with you. I've got enough of this drug to keep just like this for weeks. For longer than that, even. If he doesn't come save you— well, I think eventually you'll stop wanting to leave.”

“No,” Peter whispers, “no, I— oh, god, please, please Mr. Stark—”

“Tony,” Beck snaps, and Peter falters. “Mr. Stark is awfully formal, isn't it,” Beck says. “Maybe he gets off on you calling him that, but I think we should stick with Tony. After all, you've already used it. I'm sure he'd like to hear it again.”

“Tony,” Peter says. “Please. Please find me, Tony, please, I— I don't think I can do this myself. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please come for me. Please don't let him keep me, Tony.”

“Jesus,” Tony whispers, staring at Peter's face. “I'm trying, kid, I'm trying. I swear I am. I'm so sorry.”

“Very nice,” Beck says. “I'm sure that will dig the knife in a little deeper.” He reaches into frame and tilts Peter's face to the side, bring the camera closer to the hickeys he'd left earlier, still dark and vicious looking. “He won't find you, though. You won't, Tony. You're not going to be able to back track me, to hack me, to trace this video. You're not going to be able to find out where we are.”

He pans down Peter's body, showing off the marks he's left, the scratches and bites and bruises already turning dark, on Peter's back, his waist, his hips. “Don't you remember where I learned some of this from, Tony?” he says. “I know you've been trying this whole time, but you haven't had any luck yet, have you.” He lingers on Peter's ass, the red imprint of his hand still vivid.

“You'll never see me even if you're standing right next to me,” Beck says. “And you'll never find him until I get what I want.” He spreads Peter's ass open, showing the sore, abused redness of Peter's hole, the come leaking out of it and around it, like this is the end of any breeding porno. “Then again,” Beck says, “I might just keep him. He's fun; I can see why you picked him despite being a bit on the young side, even for me. You're a dirty man, Tony.”

“I'll find you,” Tony says, even though he's got nothing, nothing to go on. “I will fucking find you.”

The camera moves away from Peter entirely, though Tony can still hear him in the background, his quiet sobs and whimpers, gasping breaths.

“Now,” Beck says, the camera focusing on a case. Beck flips it open; inside are dozens of vials, with labels Tony can't read. “This was fun,” Beck continues. “And I really do have enough of that one to keep him loopy for months. But I've also got a whole bag of tricks here—you made most of them, you know, though not all—and I'm going to spend some time working my way through them. I know what they're supposed to do, mostly.” He turns the camera around, smirking into it. “But I don't know how they'll affect Peter. After all, he's not really human anymore, is he.”

Oh no, no no no— Beck knows. He knows what Peter is. He's— he's prepared. Fuck, Tony has to find him because Peter's not going to make it out of this on his own. Beck's made sure of that; Tony would bet the armor on it.

Beck picks one out, holding it up to the light. Grins.

“Let's find out what these do.”

[keanureevesisbae]

The Tran-Cavill Grandkids

Henry = 79 / Olivia = 70 / Vanessa = 47 / Elodie = 40 / Heather and Chloe are 36

Olivia: We have 8 grandchildren. It has been sixteen years since I first became a grandmother, but I still have to get used to it.

Henry: I love being a granddad. I love everything about it, especially when they all come over and we have seventeen people over.

Oliver (16)

Olivia: Oliver is Chloe’s and Joon Ki’s first son and our oldest grandson. Chloe was still in college and scared out of her mind when she found out she was pregnant. I stayed over in her dorm from her twenty fifth week of pregnancy to the thirtieth, since poor thing was suffering from a lot of panic attacks and because of their different schedules, Joon Ki and her friends couldn’t be there for her. I forgot how disgusting those dorms were. After that, she took online classes, because she was really fatigued and uncomfortable. She stayed at our place again up until the birth.

Henry: When Oliver was born, my life stopped for a moment. I was officially a granddad. I mean, I always knew I wanted to become a father, but a granddad… I never really thought that far into the future. But Oliver is such a wonderful young man. Takes his job as the oldest grandchild very seriously.

Olivia: He comes over a lot, since our house is on the route when he goes home after school. He helps us with some chores or just comes over to drink some tea with us. Oliver even offers to do groceries for us every Saturday.

Dylan (14)

Henry: Dylan is Vanessa’s and Trey’s first son. We were delighted that we were going to be grandparents of two boys. However, it was pretty hard for Vanessa and that absolutely broke my heart. My poor girl was in a lot of pain and discomfort and there was nothing I could do about it.

Olivia: Vanessa became dehydrated pretty early on in her pregnancy, forcing her to quit her job. I actually quit my job too, because I realized that I needed to be there for her. 

Henry: Finally, after all those years of her saying that just because I am rich, doesn’t mean she should stop working. 

Olivia: Anyways, my poor baby was really out of it and I moved in with her and Trey for a while, because they obviously needed to prepare a lot for the arrival of their little boy. So Henry and Trey decorated the entire nursery, while Vanessa and I tried to come up with a birth plan, me telling her about the whole giving birth thing and how scary it can be. We even went to a few therapy sessions, simply to put her mind at ease.

Henry: However, Dylan was born ten weeks too early and it was a trying time for all of us. We spend so much time in the NICU. Thankfully the entire family stepped in to help Vanessa and Trey out. Dylan was a pretty weak baby, also really tiny and had troubles eating. Though he was sick and tired pretty often, he grew out to be such an amazing kid, who understands the limits he has and despite that, still manages to participate in certain sports. We are so proud of him. 

Megan (9)

Olivia: It took five years before Vanessa got pregnant again and thankfully this pregnancy was easier on her. We were so excited when we found out she was pregnant with a little girl! Our first granddaughter. Megan is such a bright young lady. When she was four, she saw a picture of Henry having a tea parties with her aunts when they were around her age. The next time she came over, she brought a dress and her cups and saucers and forced Henry to partake. 

Henry: I thought those days were over, but I’m a push over and I couldn’t say no to her. Megan is such a happy go lucky kid, with the most infectious giggle. I remember when she was a baby, she started to giggle and didn’t stop. Nowadays, she can just stare at you, before bursting out in a fit of giggles. She also forces me to dance with her, but thankfully every Tran-Cavill girl tells her that it’s for the best that I don’t dance.

Jake (8)

Henry: Jake is Chloe’s second second and that is one special kid. He was already dancing in the womb, according to the sonographer. I think he was only two months when I was playing some music in the background and Jake was in his seat. He started to move his arms right on the beat!

Olivia: He is now going to dance classes and I have to say: that kid knows how dance. He can appear to be a bit more introverted, isn’t really in your face when they come over to visit. All in all, he is a pretty timid kid, but the second he hears music or is on a stage, he dances his heart out. So amazingly talented! When he visits, he always gives us little previews of the dances he taught in class. 

Kiki (4)

Henry: Heather was never the type of woman that dated. She was always more focused on her own career. It did shock me when she told us that she got pregnant and that she had to tell her boyfriend about it, since we all had no clue that she was even dating someone. Not even her own twin sister knew! 

Olivia: What a fucking doorknob that guy was. Heather wanted me to join her, when she would tell this Tom dude she was pregnant. Turns out she really is a daughter of mine, because she found herself a man that is the spitting image of Wesley, appearance wise and personality wise. He got so mad when she told him and even had the audacity to tell Heather that she got knocked up by someone else. He really wasn’t hiding the fact that he was an idiot, because he told my sweet Heather all that, when I was right next to her! Long story short, I broke them up, slapped Tom in the face and threatened to kill him if he ever sought out to her or the baby.

Henry: That’s my girl.

Olivia: But Heather is a real trooper and manages to take care of Kiki just fine. Thankfully we love her dearly and didn’t kick her out, because she got pregnant out of wedlock (like my parents and brothers did). We are the go to baby sitter for Kiki and it’s so much fun to pick her up from school. It reminds me of the times that we would pick up our own girls from school.

Henry: Kiki is such a happy go lucky little girl. She is a ray of sunshine and we are so lucky and grateful that she is in our lives and that that idiot Tom is not. I fear the day that I run into him, because I will throw him in front of a bus. Accidentally of course.

Olivia: Henry, honey, remember: you’re nearing the ripe age of eighty. What if you break a hip or your wrist?

Lewis (14)

Olivia: So, Katie, Elodie’s wife, used to teach English in Secondary school, but after she lost her job, since her school had to close, she became a substitute for three months at another school. That’s where she met nine year old Lewis. According to her, he was a shy kid, but every day after school, he’d linger around the classroom and talked to Katie. He would help her out with cleaning up, make his homework and often they would walk out of the school together.

Henry: Unfortunately she had to leave after three months and according to her, it was pretty hard leaving Lewis. Two weeks after she left the school, she got a call in the middle of the night. The principal of that school informed her that Lewis was removed from his home by the police. The neighbors called it in, since they heard the abuse going on. Later on, it turned out that Lewis was the victim of abuse on a daily basis. He lingered in Katie’s class room to postpone the moment of going home to his father. He was in desperate need of someone who would take him into emergency foster care.

Olivia: However the only person he wanted to stay with, was Katie, so she and Elodie took him in. It was supposed to be for a week, but a week turned into a month and after a nasty trial, they officially adopted Lewis on his tenth birthday!

Henry: I remember him coming over for the first time. Maybe it was a bit mean to let him meet everyone at once, but despite his nerves, he managed quite well. Now we know Lewis as such a hardworking young man, who desperately tries to help others and makes sure that they can reach their full potential.  

Stella (8)

Olivia: Elodie and Katie got into foster care a whole lot more seriously after they adopted Lewis and three years ago, they had to foster Stella, who had lost both of her parents in a tragic accident and there wasn’t anyone that could care for her. I remember Elodie and Katie having a bit of trouble with Stella, because she would lock herself up in her room and not talk to anyone.

Henry: It was hard, but Lewis swooped right in and the two of them had such long conversations. I think it was because of him that Stella opened up to her moms, but also to the rest of the family. She and Lewis are definitely partners in crime. She is quite something. Very mischievous and sneaky. She loves to scare people, hiding behind doors, but she doesn’t do it to us (thankfully), because she is afraid will scare ourselves a heart attack. So considerate. 

Olivia: In a lot of ways she reminds me of Vanessa. She is very eloquent and uses fancy words to throw you off guard. I love taking her out with me, because, just like Vanessa, she “whispers" something to you (most likely she’s gossiping), but the people she is talking about, can always hear it. I know I shouldn’t condone this, but I love the faces of the people when they hear Stella say: ‘Grandma, why is that woman wearing those shoes? The straps are too tight. She looks like a ham.’

Henry: You allow that? You should discipline her.

Olivia: I have been raising kids since I was twenty three and I always made sure to discipline them. Now that I’m a grandma, I can let it slide for a few times.

Charlotte (2)

Henry: And last but not least, little Charlotte. They fostered her since she was a year and officially adopted her six months ago. We don’t know exactly what happened to her, since she was abandoned at around nine months. No one actually knows what her exact age is, let alone her birthday. 

Olivia: It’s such a shame that something this horrendous could happen to such a precious little bean. She is, despite the things that happened to her, a lovely young girl, who kind of reminds me a lot of Elodie. A bit shy, a bit quiet and not a smiler.

Henry: Definitely not a smiler to strangers at all, but when she does… She’s so precious. Lewis and Stella are really good with her as well. These two were made to be older siblings. I can’t wait to see what kind of girl Charlotte becomes!

◎◎◎

Olivia: We are so blessed with our beautiful grandchildren and it’s my goal to become at least a hundred years old, so I can see every single one of them at least graduate!

Henry: And I want to hold my great-grandchild, so yeah, I agree, my love. We should become at least a hundred years old.

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @flhorah​ // @sausagefest1996​ // @laufeysodinson​ // @xxxkatxo​ // @memoriesat30​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @crimsonrae​ // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed​ // @summersong69​ // @lyrafraiser​ // @peakygroupie​ // @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ // @mary-ann84​ // @thereisa8ella​ //@crazyandanonymous4u // @xuxszx​ // @emmaofgreengabbles​ // @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​ // @onlyhenrys // @omgkatinka​ // @oddsnendsfanfics​ // @speakerforthedead0 // @agniavateira // @gearhead66 // @chamomilebottom // @diegos-butt // @yoyoanaria // 

[locktobre]

I’ve already talked about how Anneliese did not agree to be switched and almost died bc of it, but today I want to talk about the Popstar of it all and why I don’t get manipulative vibes from Tori but do from Amelia lol, bc after all those situations are far more similar than any Pauper comparisons that can be drawn

so like, Tori was a huge Keira fan, obviously. and bc Keira was already in Meribella, Tori invited her to the castle. she invited her. Keira could have said no! but Keira decides to go, and that makes sense bc she’d already expressed an admiration and longing to be like a princess, there is literally a whole song about it (and obvs, Tori doing the reverse). and then when they actually meet, they actually talk about their lives and stuff, and their switch basically happens on accident at first bc they were just switching hair and dresses for fun and then realized wait a minute... we look alike. and then Duchess Amelia comes in to drag “Tori” back to the party, and basically it rolls from there and they go thru the rest of the party like that. the kicker for me is that when Tori wants to keep the switch up, Keira objects and points out that she has stuff to do. and Tori acknowledges this and says but if we do it this way it will still work. and then they both agree to it, and then they have a whole song talking about different responsibilities and then they both go off to live each other’s lives. I think it’s very well done, all considered.

but for Amelia... like... the way she even got Barbie to Floravia feels so weird and skeevy! bc like, she went thru her school, she arranged this whole bogus trip, and like... for what? for what, really? she couldn’t have just reached out to Barbie directly? Barbie had no opportunity to really say no to this situation. I mean I guess she could, but if you “win” a lottery picking for a super cool special study abroad trip to another country, who’s gonna turn that down? and then when Barbie’s actually there, Amelia’s just like oh poor me I can’t do anything I want (but I don’t even know what I want) and basically pressures Barbie into switching bc she is unhappy. Barbie also has some unclear ambitions in the movie for like... Fame or whatever, but she wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it bc she is spineless. and the kicker for THEM is that Amelia literally just bails and Barbie has like, no idea what to expect of her day bc Amelia just texted her a list of stuff and was like “lol good luck” before she, let me say again, just BAILED. and I’ve already talked about how stupid it is that we don’t even know what Amelia was DOING all that time, but really... it’s SO stupid.

and UNLIKE Tori, Amelia wasn’t established as like... someone who shirks her duties or doesn’t take things seriously. like, just the opposite in fact. so for her to BAIL on her KINGDOM on like, the EVE OF HER CORONATION is just like... WHAT? What am I SUPPOSED to think about her? It’s not like she was set up as like super tightly wound and we see her having fun for once--bc we don’t really see her at ALL! so Amelia just comes off as like... manipulative and flighty and she just wants to not really do anything, and then to top off this whole mess the movie doesn’t even end with her walking away from her throne that she CLEARLY DOES NOT WANT OR CARE FOR, even tho Johan was literally RIGHT there to take over both countries.

ppl give Tori a lot of crap (rightly) for her frankly mean pranks, but she grows up a hell of a lot during her movie! it ends with her realizing that her kingdom was in dire straits and she had no clue about it, but resolving to actually do something about it. and not just right then, she is planning for the FUTURE. and she’s not even queen yet! her dad’s very much alive and seems to be in good health, so it’s not like she has to step up right then and there. no, she CHOOSES to bc it is the RIGHT thing to do, and she has a moral compass!

what does Amelia do? what does she learn? how does she grow? how does she prove that she’s going to be a good leader? a better leader than Johan? like, okay so we don’t know that Johan would be a good leader, but at least he gives a fuck! at least he CARES! what does Amelia care about? NOTHING! nothing in the real world, all of her problems are fake stupid social media problems that mean NOTHING in the grand scheme of things. not to mention the fact that she’s about to become queen of not just her OWN country that she (presumably) knows the laws and customs and traditions of--BUT A WHOLE OTHER GODDAMN COUNTRY! this never even factors in. not even at the end during the literal coronation does she mention Johanistan. that’s disgusting it’s truly disgusting

and yes, the problems with BPA are writing problems with the whole narrative being basically garbage from the ground up, but I mean, it’s not as if Amelia was given a strong introduction and we could say this is where the writing fell apart. no, this was her intro, this was her movie, and it was a complete travesty. she’s manipulative and cares about nothing but herself and her own image, apparently, and I hate that. I really do.

[kill-the-teen-memories]

365 So Fresh Part 5

Genre: Angst/Fluff/Humor

Word Count: 2,578

Warnings: Curse words, smoking, poly, mentions of smut, character death?

Pairings: Triple H x Reader

Summary: You just wanted to take a nap wile waiting for your friends, never did you expect the car you were sleeping in to be stolen and you would end up going for a road trip with a guy who had a gambling problem, a girl who committed a murder, and a guy who seems to just hate his life. You especially didn’t expect to have feelings for them?? 

Hui called an uber and we waited outside of the club for a few minutes. Once we climbed into the car, we were off. My leg was shaking in anticipation, I could hear the other three, whispering in the backseat. As soon as the car came to halt, the four of us ran out. Laughing and stumbling we made it to our room. Hui pushed the door open and the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I had started developing an attachment to these three individuals and it hasn’t even been a week. “Y/N!” I heard Hyuna giggle from inside. I snapped out of my thoughts, went inside, and closed the door behind me. It all went by in a blur. All of our lips ghosting over each other’s bodies. Our clothes flying in all directions. The screams, the groans, the degradation as well as the praise. Before I knew it, I was exhausted. The last thing registering in my head was the warmth of a body covering my own and then everything went black. 

I groaned as I tried to sit up but couldn’t as I was being held down by a heavy arm around my torso. I blinked a few times, trying to get my eyes to focus. The room slowly came together and I noticed it was early in the morning. I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was nearly 5 am. I then became increasingly aware of the two bodies I was laying in between. Hui had his front pressed against my back, his face in my neck, softly breathing, and an arm around my waist. While Hyuna was facing me, sound asleep. Her chest which had been exposed to the cool air around the room was slowly rising. Images from last night came tumbling into my head all at once. Being kissed by all three of them at the same time, throwing my head back as the feeling of Hui’s dick slipped in and out of me, the feeling of Hyojong’s lips pressed against my neck as he murmured praises and groans as Hyuna pleased him with her mouth. It brought a smile to my face. I moved Hui’s arm and sat up. The blanket sliding off of my own chest. I looked down at him, brushing the hair out of his face softly. I looked over to Hyuna’s side, only to realize Hyojong was nowhere to be found. As quietly as I could, I slipped out of the bed. I pulled on my underwear and grabbed Hui’s button-up. I walked into the living room, now semi-dressed and there he was. Hyojong sat on the couch, his head leaned back as he took a drag of what looked like a blunt. His eyes were closed and he was shirtless. Though he was thin, he had a nice build. My eyes raked over his body and all the bruises forming across his chest, probably from last night. He opened one eye before closing it again, “You know it’s rude to stare.” My cheeks burned slightly at the fact that I was caught. I shook my head as I made my way over to him. I plopped down on the space next to him, leaned my head on his shoulder, and sighed. He placed one hand on my exposed thigh and used his other hand to take another drag. He exhaled, “Couldn’t sleep?” I asked. He shook his head. A few minutes passed in silence. I picked my head up, placed a hand over his, and brought the blunt to my lips. He watched me carefully. His eyes flickering down to my lips where the blunt sat. I pushed his hand away and before I could exhale, he brought his lips to my own. Gently he used his tongue to open my mouth, causing me to release the smoke into his mouth. He softly groaned at the feeling, I moved his hand from my thigh and straddled him. Hui’s shirt rose up slightly, exposing my underwear. I felt Hyojong shift under me and I assumed he placed the now dead blunt on the table since both of his hands came to rest on my hips. The kiss wasn’t too needy but it was hard. Neither of us tried to take it further than just making out and I was okay with that. I parted, trying to catch my breath as Hyojong moved his head down towards my neck, leaving soft kisses. I let my hands rake through his hair, causing him to smile against my skin. He rested his chin on my shoulder as I laid my head against him. It was a soft moment compared to what had happened the night before. Soon I found myself drifting again.      

When I awoke again, it felt like a different day. Except it wasn’t, Hyojong and I were still in the living room cuddled against each other. I lifted my head just in time to see Hyuna walk out of the room wearing her underwear and one of Hyojong’s shirts. “There you two are.” she smiled. I nodded at her while climbing off of Hyojong who seemed to have also fallen asleep, “Hey.” I yawned. I opened my mouth but stopped when I spotted Hui coming out of the room, pulling another one of his shirts on. “Oh! There’s my button-up.”  He walked over to me placing his hands on my hips. “Good morning,” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “My shirt looks really good on you,” he said as he pecked my lips. “Oh yeah?” I murmured. Before Hui could say anything else, Hyuna lightly smacked my ass, “Come on, get dressed, I’m hungry.” A little while later we were all dressed now and climbing into the car. The windows were rolled down, the music from the radio was playing loudly, laughter and song filled the air. It was beautiful. We ended up getting the food to go. Now we were sitting on one of the many benches surrounding the park. I didn’t give much input, I was just happy to be there and observe. I didn’t feel left out though. After we all ate and threw the food away, Hyuna reached for my hand “Come on.” she pulled me towards the swing set. We sat on them lightly swinging back and forth, that was until the boys decided to come up behind us and start pushing. It wasn’t long before Hui and Hyojong turned it into a game of who can swing the highest. Hyuna and I were just laughing and screaming the higher we got. I felt free. Eventually, the swinging came to a halt and we made our way back to the car. “Hey, I know of a place,” Hyojong spoke as he got into the passenger seat. Hui shrugged, getting behind the wheel “Lead the way.” 

I looked out the window as buildings zoomed by soon turning into nothingness. Hyuna was resting against my shoulder. I looked over at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Seriously Hyojong where the fuck are we?” Hui mumbled. We were in as some would put it “the middle of nowhere” I had no clue where we were going but Hyojong didn’t seem to mind. “Just trust me,” he said, “You’re going to lead us out here to kill us aren’t you?” Hui grumbled. “Turn right here,” Hyojong replied. “You didn’t deny it.” I chimed in. 

“There’s literally no road.”

“You’re still driving.”

“I don’t even know where I’m going!” 

“I do.” 

“We’re going to die.” 

“Stop being dramatic.” 

“It’s just trees!”

“I’m aware.”

They went back and forth like this but Hui didn’t stop following Hyojong’s directions. “Okay now stop here.” Hui stopped the car and turned to the other male, “You brought us to look at trees.” Hyojong didn’t reply to that and got out of the car. Hui soon followed him. I shook Hyuna lightly, she had fallen asleep. She stirred and looked up at me. “Come on, apparently we’re here,” I told her. We both got out. “We go on foot from here,” Hyojong spoke. Hui looked at me, “We’re going to die.” I rolled my eyes and walked past him. After a few minutes of walking, Hyojong stopped. Once we all reached him we saw what he was looking at. It was a creek. There were moss-covered rocks which caused the water to form little waterfalls. The birds were chirping from above, some even drinking from the water. It was a sight. “Wow.” Hyuna breathed. Hyojong turned around looking at Hui “Told you I knew where I was going.” “You’re going to drown us,” he mumbled in reply. We all took seats by the creek. No one said anything for a while. We all just sat there appreciating nature. It wasn’t until a rabbit came into view that Hyojong broke the silence. “Isn’t it funny how life comes out differently than what you expect?” He laughed bitterly. He leaned back on his hands, head tilted up. “I wanted to be a veterinarian.” We didn’t reply so he continued “I wanted to help out, take care of and treat animals. God knows how many times I’ve tried to kill myself. How shitty my life turned out. Before this week, I couldn’t tell you the last time I had felt anything. It’s all been so meaningless. Maybe our meeting wasn’t.” “I wanted to be an entertainer.” Hui suddenly started. “I used to play piano with my mom, haven’t touched one since she left. All I ever wanted to do was make people happy by doing what I loved which was singing and playing the piano. I wonder if she still plays…” he trailed off. “I’m not sure exactly what I wanted in life, I ended up a hairdresser which I’m not too mad about but I always felt like there was something missing,” Hyuna spoke. They looked over at me but I didn’t know what to say. “I never gave anything much thought,” I mumbled, embarrassed that I didn’t have a “dream” that I wanted. “I just kind of went with things as they came. Never was truly passionate about something. I just exist, I don’t live.” I shrugged. It was true all of my interests had been fleeting, I moved on to the next thing fairly quickly. We were quiet again, everyone seemed to be thinking deeply about how their life had taken a turn. I thought back again. Growing up I had my problems, but I figured everyone did. I left my mom and the town I grew up in not long after I turned 18. Once in Seoul, I found that Bora had been looking for a roommate. Through her, I met Wooseok and Hyolyn. Yet I was never really there. I would listen to their stories of adventures and parties they went to. I hardly participated, and it wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it was that I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to let loose and be comfortable in my own skin. The voice in the back of my head always had something to say and made me feel unsure. And that’s when I realized I hadn’t heard that voice this whole week. It was just me. As I looked out at the three of my newly found...friends, I smiled. A smile that I wasn’t faking, a smile that was as real as our surroundings. Hui nudged me with his foot. “What’s got you all smiley?” he chuckled. “I don’t know, everything, this, us.” I shrugged. 

I don’t think anyone of us knew how much time had passed as we sat there in the woods, talking and listening. What we did know was that the sun had started to set somewhere behind the trees. So we got up, dusted ourselves off, and made our way back to the car. As regularly Hui drove, I got into the passenger seat, while Hyuna and Hyojong got into the back. We drove for a while to get back into the main part of town. “So what are we going to do tonight?” Hui clapped his hands together. “We could go to an arcade?” Hyuna spoke up. “Another bar?”Hyojong answered. Before I could say anything, lights flashed behind us. “Shit,” Hui mumbled. I looked in the rear mirror to see a police car driving closely behind us. The logical thing would’ve been to pull over. But seeing as the car was stolen, Hyuna was wanted for murder, and I was registered as “missing”, Hui did the next best thing. He made a sharp left into an alleyway and sped up. The police must not have seen it coming as they drove right by. Though I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time we saw them. As Hui continued to zoom past the streets in an attempt to lose the cops, Hyojong rolled the window down. His hair danced in the wind and he smiled. I decided to roll down my windows too. The wind was cool and refreshing. With the speed of the car and wind blowing against my face, I laughed. When lights flashed again but this time from in front of us, I laughed more. Hui made another sharp turn, narrowly missing another car. This time the cops were prepared as they made a turn equally as sharp in order to follow us. This time everyone felt the adrenaline. Hyojong climbed halfway out of the window and screamed. He then proceeded to flip off the police before getting pulled back in by a giggling Hyuna. Hui then turned onto a parking garage, the cop car that had been following us soon turned into three. Soon we made it to the top of the structure and we all climbed out messily. Still laughing, we ran over to the edge. “Wow. It’s beautiful.” I said as I looked out to the city lights. The other three nodded in agreement. We finally heard the sirens behind us and car doors slamming. One of the officers brought out a megaphone and yelled something about our hands. I couldn’t hear clearly, my ears were ringing. None of us turned around or even acknowledge the police. We all just held hands and stared out into the night. “Together?” Hyuna yelled. Without missing a beat, the remaining of us yelled back “Together!” I heard a faint “No” somewhere in a distance but it was too late. We had jumped.  I glanced over to my side in time to see that Hyuna, Hyojong, and Hui were indeed there. I wasn’t alone. I looked up to see the stars and once again, smiled. I was going to be one of them soon. Falling is a weird feeling. Knowing that you’ll soon hit the ground is a weird feeling. But it’s free. It’s all apart of the journey in the end. And with one final glance at the moon, I closed my eyes. Until I felt no more.  

When I opened my eyes again, everything was white. The deafening sound of silence was all to be heard. That was until I saw Hyuna appear, followed by Hyojong and Hui. They were all smiling and gestured at me. “Well come on!” Hyuna giggled. My smile grew as I sprinted in their direction, their arms awaiting me. I was home. And then we walked. We walked until our surroundings slowly disappeared and we were nothing but a speck.  

Taglist: @cherrycolababie @killcomet​ @coolssssssss 

A/N: AAAAA My first completed series!!! I know this part may not be the best especially with the long wait but it’s here. Pls pls let me know what we all think! 

[ksbwnotes]

Chapter 9, Part 1

Ahhhh...poor son of a bitch.

1. Heyyyyy, green tape

Hmmmn, Koogi seems to use green a lot...is that just more common a color for duct tape in Korea? But thing is, her main outfit for Bum is green tones. And he likes froggies, which are green. 

Also, we never do see Sangwoo use this tape with CEO daughter girl (just ropes, a cloth for her mouth, and this weird metal thing to cover her eyes). Or with Bum, for that matter (I only saw it so far used with Koogi’s illustrations, which are a different matter altogether...I might be mistaken, I won’t skip to that part, but Sangwoo might have used it on Bum in the last chapters, which could signify how far his mentality has deteriorated). 

But this guy is different. Sangwoo has no emotional attachment to him.  The duct tape could be, in a way, signifying how worthless this person is to Sangwoo. That he’s nothing more than a box full of unsavory memories he would rather tape shut forever and throw away to rot.

2. Ooohp. Bastard’s bringing out his iconic apron

Sangwoo the butcher.

But this is something new that we haven’t seen before. Again, Sangwoo has never once wore this with Bum. So that means Sangwoo truly has no intentions of going easy on this guy. Blood is going to be pretty much spurting every-the-fuck-where. 

So even though Sangwoo doesn’t consciously plan to kill someone, he has his habits and ideas down to a pat so that once he does get into that territory, he can more or less get right down to it. Sangwoo seems to do what he can to ‘separate’ himself from his atrocious acts, but also fulfilling an ‘aesthetic’ that fits with the atrocity he has become. 

Like, that apron.  Too risky to wear regular clothes, so apron is the next best thing and can act as a barrier of some sort once the blood goes flying. It’ll reduce how much splatters onto his skin and how much of his body he has to actually clean. It’s also just keep things less gross and more sanitary that way lol.

3. I am the type to find this funny and really be amused by Sangwoo’s smartass-ness

I suck at being a smartass and I can’t do it, so I really appreciate it whenever someone else can, even if it’s mean lol. But if it’s mean, it’s a guilty pleasure for me, like right now. x’D

4. Honestly, Sangwoo, how did you get yourself into this situation...

Oh!  So he was able to get out of the blow job. Nice. The guy was actually respectful. If Sangwoo were sane, he’d understand this and just run away instead of luring this guy in to kill him. 

But, really, why did Sangwoo put himself into this position?  I don’t have anything foolproof as evidence, but I really don’t think Sangwoo is the type who actually needs to kill at specific intervals as an outlet.

If anything, Sangwoo has a more...instinctual response to sexual situations, like Bum. For Bum, he becomes hyper-aroused and zeroes in on the pleasure to a point that it overrides his more logical line of thinking. The “he’s a killer I should be scared” becomes “it feels so good and nothing else can exist but this pleasure”.

For Sangwoo, he has two modes. The first one is passive, where he’s just following his partner’s whims and saying that he’s enjoying things but he’s actually just powerless to resist. It’s his instinctual reaction after being forced to just...take his mom’s advances. He feels empty, like a doll that is just meant to be used and taken for pleasure. It’s no better than being a corpse that is fulfilling another’s necrophilic tendencies.

The second mode, I believe, came to be as a self-defense mechanism to the first mode. In order to avoid ever feeling like that, he is in control of everything. He has complete dominance over his partner. In a way, the extreme violence is the only way he can genuinely feel pleasure because he’s ‘safe’. He can literally go one way or the other, his trauma has made it impossible for him to have any other mode than ‘docile’ or ‘predator’. 

5. Well, even without the possibility of murdering someone, Sangwoo choosing an alias is no surprise

He did go into a gay bar, lol.

I also find it interesting that this is where we get a look into Bum’s thoughts. And it’s regarding Sangwoo’s alias. 

Also, now I am wondering if Sangwoo ever resorted to using aliases with his other prey. Because if he had, then this does add a whole other layer of premeditation to his serial killing. Even if he’s not purposefully scouting for prey, it would at least mean he’s always prepared in the event that he comes across prey. 

That is what makes Jieun such an outlier and also Sangwoo’s downfall in terms of getting caught. Jieun knows Sangwoo personally. There is a connection between them. And her disappearance could easily be traced back to him. Sangwoo isn’t an idiot. He knows how to pick and choose his prey and he probably makes sure to never make it so that the prey can call him by name. 

That is also what makes Bum such an interesting outlier. Because Sangwoo is risking A LOT just to keep him--someone who knows Sangwoo’s real name and actually has witnessed his personal life, both in the outside world and behind closed doors. Sangwoo chose him over the girl. Sangwoo broke his legs, not only to keep Bum from escaping, but to keep Bum with him. 

This does suggest that Sangwoo is not serial killing for the thrill of it (at least, not just for that), but because he’s in search for something that could replace the kills. Sangwoo doesn’t want a pile of dead bodies under his feet--he wants one alive body to stay by his side and love him, in spite of those dead bodies. 

6. ....cute motherfucker

Koogi, I resent you so much for making him this cute...

Honestly though, it just strikes me how Sangwoo keeps trying to keep on a carefree and happy facade even during times like these. We do later see him doing that as a habit as a child, so it fits that he does that on steroids during his adult years, especially considering the things he does. I’ll refer back to this when we get to Jieun’s death scene.

7. Shows of weakness

Ah damn I’m going to have to revisit this part. I have a lot of thoughts on it, but I’m too sleep deprived to actually make sense of it. But this part is important in understanding Sangwoo’s mentality and the ways he tries to train Bum to fit a certain image.

Aaaaaand today is a new day!!  So going forth:

During the times Bum showed fear and was trembling, I do think a major part of why Sangwoo hates it so much is because it reminds him of how much of a monster he is. But I also think it’s because it reminds him of his mom, which he does say about Bum’s trembling. Because no matter what happened to his mom, she never learned her lesson. If she were able to change, then Sangwoo’s childhood would be less painful. 

But Bum being quiet and looking scared, but still able to meet Sangwoo’s eyes...that reminds Sangwoo of what he was while with his parents. And even though Sangwoo does hate himself--to a point where he doesn’t want to change because he has no belief he can be better--I do think he’s grieving for that child who had no clue that things will just get worse and worse from there. 

Especially since, from what I’m assuming, he knew how to manipulate his image so that he could avoid being beaten and locked up like his mother. So he would hold more respect towards his conditioned response versus his mother’s conditioned response. He probably refused to admit to himself how he felt back then, because obviously that’s a cruel thought to have and Sangwoo’s level of empathy was still average to high at the time. But it still doesn’t erase his resentment towards her inability to be better (I think this also contributed to why Sangwoo presumably felt ‘free’ after his first kill).

I think I’ll have a better grasp over my thoughts once we get to Jieun’s death >_< 

8. *opens mouth, then silently closes it*

That first sentence probably is not meant to sound the way Sangwoo makes it sound. xD  Which is a bit too gay for someone who firmly claims he is wholly hetero.

Oh actually this is funny. Since the only other person in the basement is a guy, the card dude probably thinks Sangwoo really is gay or internalized-antigay or something. But the truth is a lot more complex and sinister than what it appears to be on the surface.

9. Ooooooh, high stakes indeed

Lol, this does drive home the idea to me that Sangwoo is really pissed at Bum. Because, again, he would’ve never went to that gay bar had it not been for Bum. So, in a way, even though Sangwoo internally knows Bum isn’t the one going out in a body bag, this instillation of fear is a punishment for making him question his sexuality in a way that triggered Sangwoo’s trauma. Because there is literally no safe way for Sangwoo to explore his sexuality considering his past and his current lifestyle.

On the other end of the spectrum, I wonder how Bum is feeling about this. He probably genuinely believes that Sangwoo is genuinely putting Bum’s life on the line, in a way that if he fails the card game, he’ll die. Like. I definitely would. No matter what past form of affection Sangwoo showed, if he says he’ll kill me, I would full-heartedly be like “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t doubt you, hun.”

And, still, Bum knows better now than to complain or beg. Because unlike his mother, despite his own mental issues, Bum can be trained and that is why Sangwoo keeps him around.

10. Where do you come up with these things, you bastard

I mean, seriously, he has so many ideas on how to break a person. These are more psychopathic than sociopathic tendencies, I think, so that’s why Sangwoo right now, is a high-functioning sociopath.

11. Oh my fkkn god tho, this smart boi XD

Or maybe I’m just dumb and have no clue how to play cards. 

Or maybe Sangwoo has been spending time with Bum playing cards.

Or maybe Bum is just good at cards and has spent his time practicing them.

Either way, the fact that Bum is able to fkkn pay attention during these times shows that his own trauma and mental issues have no bearing on how smart he actually is. He doesn’t have strong observation skills and is slow to understand people, but that’s more of a natural character trait, even if it is more emphasized by his mental disorders...mmmn, I do kinda wonder if Bum could have some traits shared with autism but I’m too neruotypical and untrained to say whether or not he does.

12. No seriously, we have creative Sangwoo here with this card game from hell...

...Then we have Bum here able to pull out logical conclusions like his mind is clear despite the immense anxiety and pressure of the situation. There’s a reason why Bum is still alive. For some reason, the longer Bum is stuck in his situation, the more 

13. Seriously, I could stab him in the eye for being so cute despite being revolting, it’s not RIGHT KOOGI

Stab stab stab stab

14. It probably doesn’t mean much, but I still can’t help but point out how Sangwoo is making sure to be close to Card!dude and facing Bum

This would be the most logical choice since it will ensure his victim doesn’t try to escape. And even if he does, he can quickly do shit like pulling back his hair if he tries to be ‘bratty’. Also, being behind someone like this is meant to represent a menacing appearance and being the ‘controller’ behind the scenes. Sangwoo has the upperhand since card!dude can’t see him and Sangwoo can do whatever he wants to the guy. 

But this also puts Sangwoo and Bum on more equal ground. Sort of like “partners in crime” because they can face each other and communicate via body language. In a way, Sangwoo can help Bum or make Bum do things, influencing his next move. While, at the same time, keeping a literal eye on Bum but without the upperhand he has on card!dude--because Bum can also keep an eye out on him. 

15. I’d probably laugh if I were Sangwoo too lol

I bet you Sangwoo didn’t expect Bum to actually get the goddamn ace. The fact that Bum is this fkkn lucky is indicative of how Bum is lucky enough to even be alive at this point. Bum has been able to avoid his ‘fate of death’ over and over again that, honestly, the sheer disbelief of it is ridiculous. But it’s also like Sangwoo is saying ‘Of course you’d get the goddamn ace. Of course you would, you little shit, why am I even still surprised by you at this point’.

In a way, Sangwoo might also be thinking that ‘Huh, it’s like I meant to mess with the cards so that’d they be in your favor.’ But of course, he can’t have that because Bum being ‘too’ happy about things means he won’t be able to control Bum. So, for Bum’s case, he’s doing a second round to train Bum further, rather than to fuck with him before he kills him (like what he’s doing with card!dude).

Other than that, this is also indicative of just how well Bum is dealing with the anxiety of this moment. Card!dude might have done better (though he can’t have that much control over the cards) under normal circumstances, but between the both of them, Bum is actually calm enough to think things through. It says a lot about his capabilities lol. It makes me wonder what kind of person he could’ve been had he been raised well.

ALSO, AGAIN WITH YOU BEING CUTE SANGWOO. NO. ESPECIALLY NOT UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES YOU ASSHOLE. STOP IT.

16. Lol, even though this is a throwaway line, I think this is indicative of who Sangwoo has already chosen

This is really like a “come on, partner in crime, get up to my level here and let’s fuck with this fucker together”. But the thing is, Bum is just as much a victim as this guy. There is literally no way for Bum to think any other way but Sangwoo fucking with both of them, not just card!dude. 

Because the thing is, if Bum forgot himself and reacted the same way as card!dude, Sangwoo would kill him, along with card!dude.

But yeah, it does make me think of how Sangwoo would’ve reacted if card!dude actually won. How would his script go? Would he still do a practice round? Or would that have been enough for Sangwoo, and he would’ve skipped to the next part of his plan?

I don’t think this second round was something Sangwoo expected. And that really drove home to him how Bum keeps surpassing his expectations again and again. 

17. *wince* Oohp.

The trembling and slight protest. Definitely not what Sangwoo wants to see. I can’t blame Bum for responding like this, BECAUSE A FKKN SERIAL KILLER IS PRETTY MUCH TRYING TO SCREW HIM OVER, but at the same time, he should know better than to respond this way. 

I also do think, other than the threat to his life, Bum is perceiving this as Sangwoo ‘choosing’ card!dude over Bum. It’s like a rejection and that probably hits Bum’s rejection sensitivity. If it was just a threat to his life, Bum would probably be able to still stay silent at this point (uh, most likely not because again, life is on the line, but still maybe). However, there’s also this sense that Sangwoo doesn’t actually want him to live--that the card game is just an excuse to kill Bum.

18.  think it says a lot that Sangwoo still responds to Bum’s protest via ‘patting’ him on the head rather than pulling on his hair. 

If card!dude was more intuitive, then he probably would’ve noticed that something was off in the way Sangwoo was treating Bum. More leniently. Because any small variation in treatment is not a promising outlook for card!dude.

But the thing is--now that I know how the ending is--Sangwoo is just doing this as a way to fuck with the other dude.  Actually he was probably proud of Bum winning so that he could further fuck with card!dude and make him taste the bitterness of false hope. Sort of like a “heh, you did better than I thought you would”. 

Sangwoo does want him to live because this card game is not about ‘who’ to choose. Sangwoo has already chosen Bum. This is just a matter of how much satisfaction Sangwoo can get against his revenge on the other guy.

Though, Bum is genuinely worried because why would he think that lol. There is also this thing where Sangwoo chose to kill a pretty girl and keep him, a skinny male loser, alive. So from his stand point, Sangwoo’s choices are difficult to pinpoint. Bum also won’t see himself as more ‘attractive’ than card!dude, so he most likely was scared that Sangwoo’s choices has changed once again and he would be thrown away like CEO daughter.

19. Hmmmn...

Now that card!dude has been given a second chance and can see Sangwoo’s willingness as a show of ‘favorability’, he has more control over his anxiety (which I do think is different from Bum, who has this sort of ‘on-off’ button for his anxiety, versus card!dude who seems to have more of a ‘reduction-enlargement’ slider). He probably feels more confident. 

And this is probably exactly what Sangwoo wanted, because then that will make the fall so much sweeter, the look of horror that much more gratifying.

20. Really, and there were people who wanted Sangwoo and Bum to have a happily ever after

The psychological warfare Sangwoo is putting onto Bum is so brutal that it’s really difficult to keep reading. Again, Koogi making it so that Sangwoo got better, then got worse when he realized he couldn’t handle what it means to ‘improve’, and then die...it made me respect this work so much, because nothing about this is romanticized.  And furthermore, Bum didn’t die, but at the same time, he was scars that will never be able to heal. His mentality was worse in the end than it was in the beginning, which is a goddamn feat because there wasn’t much left for him to fall.

Another alternative that I saw float around was Bum and Sangwoo dying together and...no. No no no. That’s too romanticized as well. And Bum being left alive while Sangwoo dies has this very...god I don’t even know how to explain. It’s not a happy ending. For me, there’s no vindication for it because I got to see just how deeply Sangwoo was suffering, which made it impossible for me to enjoy his death despite every incredibly shitty thing he has done. It was literally just...a masterpiece. One that showed just how, really, there are places on earth that truly have no hope and the suffering only ends with death. 

I usually never like nihilistic stories like these. Like seriously, there’s a reason why I avoided Killing Stalking like the plague. But after so many stories where things have a happy ending just because they MUST, it doesn’t only get tiring, but destructive for me. 

And Killing Stalking is special to me because instead of showing that everything was hopeless in the beginning just BECAUSE life is hopeless, period...it shows that things could’ve gone differently because Sangwoo and Bum were never truly without hope in the beginning. Sangwoo wasn’t a classic serial killer. Bum just needed better guidance. They just needed to be given a goddamn chance, like so many people in the world in general.

Instead of outright nihilism, it’s more in line with existentialism and that things reach the point of no return if nothing is changed. Or that if there are changes, it’s the type of change that makes things worse and doesn’t allow for healing.

Anyways, I don’t quite have all my thoughts on this together, so this is something I have to revisit once I’m done reading KS.