#i ended up running ahead to the end to gather as many people as i could to cheer him on

[glorified-red]

oooo a 5k? Are you a student athlete?is that how you got a full ride?

Yes, but no, but yes, but no.

I've been an althete for my entire school career up until my senior year of highschool, so I guess? Student Athlete?

For a year or so I was a gymnast. (My sister and I did it together, she stayed her entire life, I did not, obviously)

Then for a few years I played T-Ball (recently found out via my mom that I made the front page of the city newspaper because I hit the ball and then felt really bad so I went to go pick it up instead of like....playing the game).

Then I played soccer for, so many years, I couldn't tell you how many, I lost count. (I was offense most of the time, rip my ankles)

I almost did volleyball but chickened out last minute (wouldve been a setter or libero).

Then, being the band kid I was, I joined marching band my freshman year. (ah seven years of playing an instrument leads to this)

Got bored of that so I switched to colorguard for two years which was soooo much more athletically demanding my GAWD. (two years of ✨trauma✨ but I might buy a sabre soon, idk, feeling kinda silly)

And Senior year I did nothing and got a job to fill the void of having way too much freetime for me to know what to do with. How do you guys not do sports? What do you do with all the free time???

So yes, I was a "student athlete," kinda sorta, not really, but sure. If I kept playing I probably could've gotten a music scholarship but I haven't touched that instrument in almost 3 years. Same with maybe a marching band scholarship? Idk if my college does that tbh.

But how I actually got my scholarships? Tests and Parents pfft.

5.2 + 3.98 GPA (dont ask why its not a 4.0, I will literally start crying, went my ENTIRE LIFE with a 4.0 only for the lAsT sEmEsTer of SENIOR YEAR---full disrespect: fuck college Spanish), straight A's MINUS ONE CLASS (if I could fist fight college spanish I so would).

I was a dual enrollment kid so I was half a highschool student and half a college student, shot my GPA through the roof and got me to graduate with my AA the same year I graduated highschool. I was the Jason Todd, loved school, was great at school, never struggled, never studied, etc etc.

SAT scores and ACT scores got me a 75% scholarship to any college I wanted to go to in the area (I was only a few points away from 100% but I was too lazy to try again lmao). Then I got another scholarship for being a military brat. Then I got another one for having parents with post-military issues where I basically get paid to go to school. All of that just combines to a full ride, plus any extra money from the scholarships goes to me which is more than I need so it's in my savings acct.

First two years of college were completely free because I was in the dual enrollment program (free college woo), next three years are free because of multiple scholarships, I just say full ride cuz it's quicker to say and gets the point across.

As for the 5ks: My mom and I like to do them together and do at least one a month. This month we're doing an obstacle 5k where you physically cannot complete it without a buddy or a group. Army crawling under electricity, balancing on things by countering each others weight, ninja warrior wall where your team is at the top to catch you, etc etc.

My family (found moreso than blood) is going as Justice League members because there were too many of us to be the Power Rangers. We're doing another one of these in Dec. and then the 10k version of it next year and then hopefully the 15k version. I know my mom and I want to eventually do a marathon.

My main goal is to complete a triathalon. I've ALWAYS wanted to do one so we're gonna try to do it sometime late next year. Starting with the shorter triathalons and slowly working our way up to the more average/long ones.

Now don't get it twisted, I'm not like, a runner or workout junky. Quite literally the opposite. My mom is a runner and its her therapy. Mine? Meeting new people, getting some sun, getting the body moving, and maybe getting some nice scenary. I do run parts of the races, but for the most part I like a nice brisk walk since its healthier for my body than running (yay chronic pain and stupid ovaries!)

I hate the stereotype that you have to run the whole thing or be super fit to do marathons and races. No?? Anyone who wants to can. The point for me isn't to win or to place, its just to finish and have fun. Do I enjoy having a good time? Hell yea, I beat my time by 10 minutes last solo 5k I did. But I'm also the first person who will happily sacrifice a good time so I can enjoy meeting other racers and walking with them.

The last 5k I did was a forest one (it fucking sucked) where the terrain was sand and there were soooo many branches and hills. I watched a racer sprain their ankle right in front of me so we ended up walking the rest together and I carried them for some bits. So my time was terrible, but hey, I got to meet someone I never would've if I didn't stop---and that's more valuable to me.

[hedgehog-moss]

I went to see the transhumance last week and it was an experience! I've lived here for five years and I'd never been to this event despite it being advertised in the library & town hall every year because I thought, it's just cows crossing a town on their way to their summer pastures, it's not that interesting—but I didn't realise that people turned it into a whole party, as people tend to do. When I arrived in town I found that a nearby field had been (temporarily) turned into a car park to accommodate the many, many visitors who came to see the spectacle—and I was like, maybe I've been missing out on something.

The town was festooned with tassels and garlands (some of the cows were also festooned, with big pompons on their horns) (festoon is a really great English word.) When I arrived there was a thriving little market with several cheese stands, because of course people would take this opportunity to sell their cheeses. They also sold bread, fruit, and cow milk-based desserts including ice-cream, so you were covered if you wanted lunch. (Unless you're lactose intolerant. I'm sorry.)

There were also folk dancers, and a contest going on where you had to guess the weight of an absolutely massive bull (see above). (My guess was way off, he weighed 1 200 kg!) There was a stand with a guy selling beautiful, framed photos of his cows. In one photo a cow was whispering something in her friend's ear. Nearby some prize cows were waiting to be paraded around and one of them was wearing a halter with a little heart <3

(I was invited for apéritif at a neighbour's house a few months ago, he's a retired farmer and he had old Kodak photos of his cows from the 1980s and 90s all over his house. He remembered their names and personalities.)

There was also a stand selling a dizzying variety of cow bells, and I've been resisting the temptation to buy a cow bell for five years now because, well, it's such a cliché tourist thing to buy, but I will probably end up buying one someday. It's hard to resist their allure. I'm not sure which of my animals will have to deal with the humiliation of wearing a bell for a few hours and being photographed cosplaying as a cow against his will.

(Definitely Pirlouit.)

I was buying an ice-cream and asking the vendor if the cows were fashionably late when finally, the herds started arriving. One herd would cross the town, with onlookers clapping and cheering (including from their balconies), then people went back to buying cheese and watching the dancers or the brass band, and commenting on the prize cows strutting on the plaza, then another herd would arrive half an hour later and children would run ahead to warn everyone "They're coming!" (kids love being sentinels) and people would eagerly gather again to clap and cheer as they walked past, and it went on like this all day. You'd think you might get tired of eating ice-cream and clapping for cows but no, people were still enthusiastic when the last herd came.

Imagine being a local cow, and every year when your owners take you to your summer pastures in the mountain you cross a town where people are eating cow milk ice-cream and clapping for you gratefully as you walk past, and buying cow merch (like bells) and admiring an exhibit of framed photos of you and your friends, and watching cow supermodels walking the catwalk on the plaza, and just as you think you've reached maximum levels of appreciation you reach the entrance of town and there's a lifesized statue in your honour in the middle of the roundabout. These cows must have such solid self-esteem.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jamil Viper - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Main Street]

Jamil: Hmm, the width of this street is much narrower than I thought… If it were to turn the corner here…

Ortho: Jamil Viper-san! What are you doing here of all places? The afternoon classes will begin soon.

Jamil: Ortho… Maybe you could hear me out.

Ortho: Th-That's a pretty serious look you got going on… Sure. If you're alright with it, I can listen to what you have to say…

Jamil: So, tomorrow is my birthday…

Ortho: Huh, your birthday!? Happy Birthday!

Jamil: Thanks. I'm happy to celebrate it, but because of it, I'm in a bit of a conundrum.

Jamil: Well... It seems that Kalim has been plotting something for my birthday.

Ortho: Eh, plotting something? Is he planning something ominous…!?

Jamil: So, after coaxing hints out of him, and gathering more info from other folks around me, I finally was able to piece together his plan.

Jamil: Apparently, he's been planning alongside my dormmates on throwing a birthday parade in my honor down main street.

Ortho: Oh, nice, that sounds fun. Isn't it a good thing that he wants to throw a parade?

Jamil: Seriously… Do you even get how expensive parades can be, not to mention the difficulties of pulling one of successfully?

Jamil: I was so worried about it, I stole a glance at their plans, and just as I expected, it's not well thought out at all.

Jamil: If, somehow, it was to be a disaster and he says, "let's try again tomorrow!" it could further inflate the costs and labor.

Jamil: Plus, I'm not supposed to know about it, so I can't stop it. If I try to run interference, they might try something else which would also be just as bad…!

Jamil: That's why I thought about what could be done to successfully pull this off quick and painlessly, while minimizing any damage Kalim and the others could do...

Jamil: Which is why I am now secretly examining the proposed parade route prior to the event.

Ortho: Eh. So, you're telling me that you're basically doing the prep work for your own parade…?

Jamil: Don't remind me… I'm feeling pretty embarrassed by it already…

Ortho: B-But hey, you're still excited for your birthday, right? Especially since it's your special day!

Jamil: ….Yeah, I guess it's okay. It's a day where I don't have to stress about so many things.

Ortho: Oh, hey, so, what about if you try to surprise everyone else during the parade instead?

Ortho: Maybe you could shoot off fireworks at the front of the parade, or try summoning something via magic!

Jamil: I see… I mean, it is pretty irritating to always be on the receiving end of surprises. Might not be bad to see their shocked faces.

Jamil: Thanks, Ortho. I'll think about it.

[Scarabia Dorm – Lounge]

Jamil: Alright, now. I think I'll put together my lunch for tomorrow before taking a shower… Hm? Oh, what are you guys still here for?

[Scarabia mob students stand there awkwardly]

Jamil: Eh, nothing? Don't worry about it? What's that plate you just tried to hi… No, nevermind.

Jamil: I know nothing. That's right, I know nothing… So, please… Please let things go as planned…!

Jamil: …Whew. Tomorrow's a busy day, so I guess I'll finish up what needs to be done, too.

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

Jamil: Ah, whew. Today was another full day…

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

[Jamil's roommate greets him]

Jamil: I'm back. …Yeah, that's right. There were so many people in the washroom that it took forever to take a shower.

Jamil: You were done pretty quickly, though… Oh, are you actually studying for once?

Jamil: What, because you're going to be busy tomorrow? Oh, so you're saying you're not studying because you want to… Nah, don't mind me, doesn't matter the reason, better you go ahead and do it.

[paper slips to the ground]

Jamil: Hey, you dropped something… Oh, right, the Headmaster did send out a notice earlier.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Jamil: Quality of life improvements, huh. Then they should start with making the shower rooms bigge… Achoo!

Jamil: That's no good. I should dry my hair quickly before I catch a cold.

Jamil: Oh, I almost forgot, I received some hair milk from Najma for my birthday. I should apply some before drying.

Jamil: Urgh, the scent's pretty strong. What is this scent…? Lotus flowers? Oh, she should know this is way too fragrant for me!

Jamil: Is she just trying to mess with me even for my birthday? No, wait, she's more the type to have not put that much thought into it.

Jamil: I'll make sure to at least thank her… Before going back to my usual oils from tomorrow... Hey, I'm going to use the dryer.

Jamil: I can't really take my time drying my hair in the shared washroom. Especially since I require a lot more time…

[starts blow-drying hair]

Jamil: …Improvements, huh. Now that I think about it, I guess it could be useful to have a large standing mirror in the room.

Jamil: Whenever I'm setting my hair in the morning, it's pretty inconvenient that I can't see the back of my head. What I'd really like is a three-sided mirror.

Jamil: If I had known there wouldn't be one in these rooms, I probably would have brought one. Or maybe, I should write and request one.

Jamil: …Nah, it'll just get in my roommate's way. And I wouldn't want it to be used without permission… I dislike having to share my personal items.

Jamil: If I were to try and request some kind of new implement for the room, I think it'd have to be…

Jamil: A COMMERCIAL-GRADE REFRIGERATOR!!!

Jamil: That's exactly what I need! Ah, yes… It would be insanely convenient to have a refrigerator in my room!

Jamil: Sure, there is a fridge in the dorm kitchens, but it is a little too far from my room. Like, the last time I made ice cream…

Jamil: I'd have to wake up in the middle of the night and make countless trips back and forth to the kitchen to stir it. That was frustrating, especially since I was sleepy, and it's a good distance away.

Jamil: It'd be better if I had one in my room. And then I might as well also get a wide sink, stove and oven too…

Jamil: …Wait, that's basically a whole kitchen, huh? I guess it's not really something you'd put in a bedroom.

[finishes blow-drying hair]

Jamil: Alright, it's mostly dry now. I'll just apply some oil, and… done.

Jamil: Hey. Sorry for all the noise again today… WAIT, HUH, HE'S ALREADY ASLEEP EVEN THROUGH THE LOUD HAIR DRYER NOISE!?

Jamil: Geez, he doesn't have a care in the world, huh. I almost feel kind of jealous.

Jamil: Alright, then. Time to look over my notes and prepare for tomorrow, then go to sleep.

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

[alarm rings]

Jamil: Hrn… It's morning already… Yaaawn.

Jamil: I'm still sleepy… But there shouldn't be a crowd in the bathroom this early… I should go wash my face while it's empty…

Jamil: Whew. I feel more refreshed now that I've washed my face… I really do like it in the mornings, since no one else is around.

Jamil: Looks like my roommate is still sleeping, so I'll just go ahead and quickly finish up my appearance for today.

Jamil: I guess I'll start with my makeup. Hm… Yeah, I think I'll just go with my usual palette.

Jamil: First, my sunscreen and colored lip balm. And I'll need eyeliner… Ah, looks like it's almost gone.

Jamil: I still have some spares, but I'll have to make sure to buy some extra.

Jamil: It was a little frustrating when the last eyeliner I would always use took off on Magicam and became hard to find.

Jamil: It's annoying when you can't even keep using the cosmetics you like because they go out of stock.

Jamil: I'd rather they keep a consistent stock of their standard products, instead of trying to come out with new colors each season.

Jamil: I'll have to look for some other brands next time, something that's water proof, and won't come off even if I sweat from running or cooking.

Jamil: …Alright, I'm done. Next, I just need to set my hair.

Jamil: First, I'll take my hair oil and rub it into the ends of my hair to moisturize it… Good. Just from first glance, it doesn't look like there's any damaged strands.

Jamil: It's nice that ever since I've grown out my hair, I don't wake up to bed head, but… I never expected to have to spend this much time taking care of it.

Jamil: Letting it grow out may be easy to do, but it wouldn't do to let it go wild. Grooming it well should be the bare minimum of etiquette.

Jamil: Especially since I don't want to be seen as unsightly…. I'll just finish the braids with magic… And, done.

Jamil: …I've set it as perfectly as I normally do, but since today's my birthday, maybe I should try to spruce myself up just a little more than usual?

Jamil: Today should be a pretty long day, so I think I'll use a stronger eyeliner… Might not be bad to add a splash of color, too.

Jamil: Not only do I have the dorm party, but my clubmates have also reached out, and I promised to get together with my classmates, as well.

Jamil: …Ah, well. Looks like today is going to be one busy day. Heheh.

[Main Street]

[birthday celebration cheers]

Ortho: Ah, I spy Jamil Viper-san! Looks like he's having fun celebrating with everyone.

Ortho: Heheh… He was griping a lot yesterday, but he definitely seems like he's enjoying himself. He looks so happy!

Ortho: Hey, Jamil Viper-san! I'm here to celebrate, too. Happy Birthday!

Jamil: Hey, Ortho! You came all this way to join the celebration, too? Thanks, everyone.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[hongjoongscafe]

Bloody Love.

Chapter: VIII-Wings-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 4.4k+

♠︎Warning: blow job, indirect mentions of rape (not from jk's end!), ghosts.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist!

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist.

Lost. That was all Coronis knew. She lost her life. There were chains around her ankles, wrists, and neck. The hold was in the hands of one of the Royal men who rode the horse with the other four walking like pillars.

Her hair was sticking to her face, her sweat was running down her face and dropping on the ground. Even in this ungodly winter, she was burning.

The soles of her feet were bleeding down the path. And the muddy stones were clinging to her wounded feet, deepening them, reminding her of the gore of her life that it turned into.

Life has never been forgiving to anyone and it only took and took and took. It was a game of time, where only those who survived cheated their ways. And those who died, who died every day.

The grey of the sky and howling of the wind didn't scare the woman that Coronis had become. Instead, they showered the comfort of the fact that she was not the only one having the deeper turmoil of fucked up emotions. All of them grey and thunderously howling.

Harder, it always got harder. And now it was the hardest to even take a step ahead. Knowing that death was waiting behind those tall walls of the hell called the castle. Waiting for her in the craving of lust… the lust of blood.

Hours had passed since they started dragging her like a dead cow on the muddy lanes of the village. The people took the greatest pleasure in seeing a woman being humiliated.

It seemed like it was in the human nature of men to humiliate, degrade, and bury a woman who stood a chance in class. A woman who was more intellectual than them. They hated it. And took them down until no respect was left for their poor feminine name.

An object. That's what a woman was and is and will remain for a chunk of men. A woman whose religion is her man and her holy scriptures is her man’s order. They live under their horrid boots and get stepped on by many others under that boot.

As they took Coronis away the men looked. Some smirked and threw names at her and some made up fucked up stories that were nowhere near her fucked up truth.

Only if they knew.

The anger erupted inside her head and her face twitched as the events of the day echoed in her burning head.

~

“No, my love. You must know what it costs for your actions. For your betrayal.”

The King smirked under his mask and took Coronis's hair in his fist, pushing her out of the alley. “No one disregards what I say,” he whispered in her ear, the roughness of his voice stood out. “If they do indeed do that, they are met with the hell of their eternities. Now be a good fucking bitch and walk to your little shack.”

His hold on her hair tightened, making her yelp in pain before he released and pushed her.

Her breath was shallow, and coming in pants. There was no way out of such commotion. And she had to run through it. At least, to protect those who were close to her.

Coronis took heavy steps, trying not to break down in front of the man who got on his horse to see the drama unfold for his pleasure. This was the beginning of the sick pleasure. She knew it.

People gathered around as Coronis arrived at her shack, looking paler than before. There was a tremble in her shoulders and unshed tears in her eyes. They, too, took pleasure in seeing the drama.

She was the puppet and he was the puppet master. Coronis scoffed, thinking that everyone in her vision was his puppet. He played them all and dropped them when their wires broke or joints didn't move as swiftly as he wanted.

And what happened after?

They burn.

They all fucking burn.

They all burn in despair. They burn in hell. They burn in vengeance.

And then they fall on the ashes of the poor and become one with them.

This is how His Majesty's world worked. And anyone who disturbed the cycle shall meet the same fate.

The King, with his head ever high in the sky, got off the horse, “Tell me, pretty thing. Where did you keep it?” he asked as he played with a lock of her hair.

Circe was inside. There was no way in hell she wanted her to see him. So she stood on her grounds. The silence ticked the king’s patience. His jaw clenched as he wrapped his fist around her hair and pulled her ear close to his mouth. “You either be an obedient little birdy and show me where you kept it or be a bitch and I look for it myself… and remember, little birdy, if I do… I’ll finish whoever steps in front of me. Get it?” He said as his lips brushed her ear.

Coronis felt her anger consuming her. Finally, she stepped inside her shack with the dark shadow following her through. She quickly went inside her slot and opened the trunk where she had kept the damn thing away.

Her shaky hands fumbled around in the trunk and took hold of the dainty chain. The bone locket rocked side to side like a pendulum in slow motion. However, a big hand wrapped around it and snatched it from Coronis’s hand.

The king looked at the bone with strange emotions in his eyes. It was almost like he thawed and showed a human beneath the monster. But it was gone in a blink.

Maybe she hallucinated. He wasn't capable of that. He had no emotions in his blood.

His eyes snapped at her. They were cold and ruthless. No emotion. No sign of life. Just as good as the eyes of the dead.

“You called it upon yourself, little birdy,” his voice was low as his eye twitched. “Say goodbye to your little family… but when the sky will loom with wrath, they will take you to me,” he whispered as his eyes grew psychotic with each word. “Don’t fight if you want your family to live.”

~

Coronis was thankful for one thing. They, who were taking her to her death, didn't put a hand on her. She had grown up seeing these men putting their bloodied hands on women they took to their deaths and humiliating them in front of everyone. No shame for anyone just dripping in lust and taking the sole respect of a woman away before she could die. They stained their souls. Souls… if they could, they would catch those mourning souls and humiliate them, too.

A sick reality that wasn't just bound to this hell of His Majesty but everywhere on this round living hell of a world.

No one was safe. Children, women, men, older… they were all puppets. A pawn in His game.

Through the dense fog, she could make out the house of horrors. The tall, black, and gory castle stood high up. Its pointy peaks pierced through the sky.

Coronis had heard about this. It was a place better not seen. This was the place where the hell formed, where The Monster lived…

The narrow-staired bridge came down the way. The captors aligned themselves. Now they were in a straight line. Two ahead of her and two behind her. The pathway was narrow, one mistake and she could fall below.

Who knew what lived down there?

As she followed them to the inferno, her burning skin got a cold whip of air. The cold. That's what she thought it was. Until… the whispers echoed—

Come on pretty girl, come down here. It said.

Look! Look here, it's so pretty here and- and so peaceful! The other one whispered.

Don't cross the door. You're gonna die! Someone whispered, crying. It was the voice of an old lady. A shivering old lady.

He is going to ravage you… kill you. You won't even acknowledge your own face! They laughed.

You are going to end up here anyway, pretty thing. Come! Just come down here already! You will save him time. A sweet voice whispered.

What a waste of that pretty face, they said, sadly, what's the point of such glassy skin and those black hair and eyes when there is no regard for that? A snarky voice chirped.

Coronis looked around, eyes wide open. Have I gone maniac? She asked herself.

Oh! She hears us! Sweety, we were once in your position. A voice giggled.

How are you so pretty? Why so little blood on you? Huh? Some of us here were already dead by the time we reached this bridge.

They threw me here because I was half dead.

You should jump off right now!

How could she? She is protected by them. Look! They have her tied securely. Even if she did jump, they would catch her.

She must be someone important to Him.

Shut up! No one is important to Him!

The whispers evaded her head as they grew louder and louder. The one, very precisely, stood out from the rest…

Get away. You are going to die horribly.

Die.

Die.

Die.

The hysteria rose within her and the adrenaline rushed through her blood. It was only when the captors stopped she realized they had crossed the bridge and were in front of the humongous metal doors.

The adrenaline blinded her throughout the journey. She looked back and could not see more than a few meters. The fog was too dense and it seemed as if the other side didn't exist at all. As if she entered a whole other world. Even worse from where she came.

The captors got off the horses. The horses were escorted back as the metal doors creaked open. The guards passed, tugging her in with them.

The inside was steady. As if no one lived there. However, she could see some men standing in their positions. All dressed in black, holding their swords or axes. Their half of the faces were only covered with sheer cloth. Not as much as they wore while lurking in the village.

The front was a huge garden, filled with black, white and red roses, and dried shrubs. It looked abandoned. Lifeless. An illusion of death around the thorny beauty of roses, one could say.

The guards pulled her through the thorny path and took her in through a much smaller door.

The inside was dark and eerie. Huge black chandeliers, barely reflecting the orange of the mashal, were hanging down the path they took. The Gothic design followed throughout. If she wasn't bleeding and brought here like an object, she would have been amazed. It was unlikely, she had never seen something remotely as beautiful as this.

“She is here,” a guard spoke with another guard standing outside of another set of doors. This was distinguishable from the others. The rest were metal but this was a black, velvety door.

The four guards removed their masks as the doors opened. “Now, when we go inside, you need to bow down to His Majesty,” one of the guards said, tugging her inside.

Court. It was the court of His Majesty.

The scent of roses filled her nose as she stepped inside. She saw six women standing there, three on each side, with their heads lowered. They wore black dresses that left very little to the fantasy. Although, they were draped with mesh cloth.

They walked in, and Coronis’ feet left bloodied imprints on the floor.

Coronis slowly took in what was in front of her. There were big, black seats. What appeared to be the members of the court, were sitting on them. Every man sat was accompanied by two ladies dressed the same as the six others. There were three on each side.

Her eyes came back to the centre. Royal stairs were leading her eyes up and up and up until her eyes fell on the lady kneeling between long legs. Coronis followed those legs. She noticed a large hand clutching the hair of the lady and pushed and pulled on it.

She could see his big chest through the opening of his robe blouse. His chest was defined and she could see the pointy bits poking through the silky material. His chest was moving up and down as he breathed heavily.

Following the path of his thick glassy neck as it bobbed when he groaned hoarsely, her eyes fell on The Creation of the Devil. Her mouth fell open when she saw His face. It was the art of the devil. Sinfully sculpted monster. He had a chiselled jaw, clear skin, and a perfect nose. His eyes were closed as his head was resting back on his high chair. The big crown was held high on it, signifying his power over his kingdom.

She gasped as her eyes snapped to the whole scene, realizing what he was doing to her.

Nobody seemed to care but no one wanted to disrupt his euphoria either. But her gasp did.

The King's eyes slowly opened as his smirk grew. He looked at her with those same piercing eyes that she had been having nightmares about.

No way he was so sinfully beautiful. His cunning features were sharp, reflecting his influence and his confidence among his people. He was breathtaking and clean.

She had always envisioned Him to be an older man. With a dirty self and skanky looks. But oh was she wrong. But the monster living under his skin was all of those things. He was the Satan who lured innocents with his ethereal handsome looks to manipulate them to hell.

The monsters come in good faces, Coro. Never forget that, her mother has said once. She was right.

His Majesty let out a breathy moan as he chuckled. “Oh, we are here, aren't we,” he hummed as he shoved his cock deeper into the lady’s mouth, feeling ever so aroused in his Birdy's warm presence. This time, his satiny voice was not muffled behind the mask he wore.

The guards bowed down, pulling her along them and made her kneel in front of Him. Her forehead touched the ground roughly.

The King groaned, not liking how his pretty little birdy was bowing making her pretty little face hide behind her dark black hair.

“Let me see that pretty face,” he rasped. The guards pulled her up by the chains until she was standing again. “Hm,” he hummed as his cock twitched inside the lady's mouth. He was about to finish down her throat by just looking at his little birdy. “So, pretty but a fucking bitch. Can't even obey one thing I asked her.” he tsked, shaking his head in disappointment.

Coronis was scared, who wouldn't be when you are surrounded by a pack of bloodthirsty wolves? But she tried to not let it slip. She stood on her ground and looked into his hazel, burning eyes.

The King's gaze darkened as he shoved the lady's head deeper, holding her there until she was unable to breathe. “You shall obey every command I give you. Nobody has the power to deny it. And you did! And you shall now pay the price,” he darkly said and let go of the lady. “You must remember your place, little birdy. Or you might get in trouble with the unspeakable. Now tell me, will you obey your lord?”

Coronis looked at him, panting with boiling rage. Forcefully, she nodded.

“Words!” He snapped, making her and the lady flinch. “You use your goddamn words!” he sneered.

She took a deep breath and muttered, “Yes, my Lord.” She looked like the words physically pained her. “I will obey.”

A dark smirk flashed on his face. “We will see that. Now take her away and lock her up!” He commanded his men.

The guards tugged her with them after bowing once more. The last thing she saw of the king was him shoving the lady away from his lap as his eyes stayed focused on hers with a dirty smirk dancing across his thin, sinister lips.

…

The slammer was small. It barely had any space to move. One Mashal was burning in the corner of the box. There was no gap in the wall for a skylight. No sign of day or night. No sign of the outside world. No sign of life.

Coronis’ body was aching. She had been sitting here for days as it felt. The only interaction she got other than talking to herself in her mind was when the guards brought food. The food was one stale bread. Sometimes with mold on it. She kept the count of the meals served. If she wasn't wrong, it had been two days since she was brought here.

Her clothes were the same one from that horrid day. She couldn't even use the hole for a toilet at the corner as at least one guard always kept an eye on her. Her insides were hurting but she refused to show them any more of her skin.

Their smirks and scoffs were humiliating her enough.

She missed her home. Her mother's delicious food. Circe's warm hugs. Her father’s quirky remarks. And her brother’s protection.

It felt lonely and depressing. Never did she realise how much she relied on them until now when she was far away from them. All this time she kept whining about them relying on her but she was the one relying on them for sanity.

She wondered what they were doing, whether they were missing her or considered her dead. She didn't even get to properly say goodbye to them.

~~~

Circe clung to Coronis. She was numb, knowing her sister would never come back. She just sat in her lap and took all the comfort she had to give to her.

“I will miss you,” the little girl whispered.

Coronis hugged her tight, “Me too…” she kissed her forehead. “Promise me you won't disobey Mumma and Papa and our brother. Okay? See what happens when you go out? You get in trouble that costs you your life. Don't repeat what I did,” she patted her back for comfort. She wasn't even sure who she was comforting more, herself or her little sister.

Circe nodded and a soft sob escaped her throat. “I won’t.”

“Take care of everyone. Don't let them fall, okay? And you are going to look after yourself, too, for me,” Coronis found it hard to let go of the tiny being in her arms. Nothing could ever prepare her for this.

Her father and brother were away for work. They couldn't even meet her before she left for good. She could only hug their belongings, filled with their scent to her heart and feel them with her eyes closed.

Her mother was a mess. She had fainted when she came to know about the whole deal. She blamed herself for this. The moment she woke up, she prepared Coronis’s favourite food. She wanted her to go with her stomach full. She sat her down and fed with her own hands.

“Coro, we love you, okay? You are loved, my child. Never forget that,” she kept repeating.

Coronis found it hard to look into her eyes but she did, for the last time before they dragged her away from them.

She didn't look back, knowing her mother and sister were not fine. If she had, she wasn't even certain if she could leave them like this. There was no choice but to leave.

The dark beauty left her heart behind in the shack with her family.

~~~

Tears of despair tracked down Coronis’ scratched face. She felt cold. Not the one because of winter but because of the distance between her family.

She had nothing left, except these tight walls of hell. She was ruined, destroyed and left to rot. If one thing she could change, she would have. She would have stayed in her shack that day. She could have kept her head down or gone inside of some seller. Anything but looking into death's eyes.

Silent cries were all she could afford here in this dark place.

Two shadows loomed outside of her space. The guards. She curled in a ball and hid her face from them. She couldn't bear looking at them.

“What do you say? Should we use this fucking thing?” one of them said in a low voice.

“Are you fucking quipping me?! If He finds out, He will skin us alive and drink our blood like a bloodthirsty hound,” the other one screeched.

“How would he know? We won't leak a word to anyone. Just look at that fine flesh. I bet she is nice and tight,” the guard moaned.

Coronis closed her eyes tightly, wishing that it was just a sick nightmare that would end soon in death. The final piece.

“She is His prized possession. I won't take a chance with her…” the second one said. “Maybe just let Him have his merriment and then when he gets what he wants, we can take over.”

They scoffed. But quickly rushed away when the main door to the slammer banged opened. The heavy boots thumped against the concrete floor and stopped right in front of Coronis’ space. She assumed it was one of the guards.

The gate of her slammer opened and the tiny space was consumed by a heavy presence.

There it was, that unique musky scent. Her eyes shot open and looked above her. And there he stood, His Majesty.

His lips curved into a thin smirk, deepening his little dimple. The broad chest was bare for her eyes. She could make all eight pecs on his abdomen very precisely. His long luscious hair was half-tied behind and his shorter loose hair fell on his eyes.

There was a wickedness in his glint. Menace. That's how it came across like. He was hungry and he came down to devour her.

It looked like her time finally came to an end.

“My little birdy has never looked so dirty. We shall change that, shouldn't we?” he cooed.

Coronis shifted and tried to sit up straight, but her body wasn't shifting how she wanted. She ended up limping against the dirty wall.

“I don't like you here, my birdy. I think you belong in an amenity, next to me like my pretty little birdy. Isn't that right… little birdy?” he crouched down, His finger lightly grazing her cheekbone.

She was shivering like a leaf in a storm as she hurried to the far corner, not wanting to have His hands on her. But he was fast to hold her bruised ankle and pull her closer to his sickening warmth. Her pretty little feet were swollen, bloodied, and- and needed care. His care.

His pretty little birdy was in pain, he realized. He told them not to hurt his birdy but here she was, all bruised and wounded. Her pretty little face was scratched, and her eyes were dull and swollen, aching from crying.

What else was she hiding under her dirty white gown?

“My birdy…” he whispered. “My little porcelain doll, they broke you? Poor thing,” he kissed her ankle, making her flinch.

“Y-you can't b-break something that has been turned into ashes long ago,” she sobbed. She hated that she got so weak in front of Him. He was nothing but a fear of destruction. He held authority over her and she hated that she let him.

“Why do you think I brought you here, hm? I shall heal you, my little birdy,” he whispered as his hand caressed her hair. He was gentle with her. Just as he said– his porcelain little doll. “We shall heal together,” he quietly whispered, not letting her know his silent words.

His Majesty looked around in the slammer, he saw how the bread had not been eaten and was rotting near the toilet. He looked pained, his thick eyebrows narrowed together. As if he could feel her pain.

In a sick, twisted way, she felt comforted. His touches were gentle and meant no harm. As much as she was scared, she yearned for this, a bit of warmth.

But her rational mind took over, making her aware of the menaces of this heartless tool. “Please,” she begged.

He cocked his head to the side, “Please what, little birdy? What are you begging for?” He gently held her jaw and made her look into his eyes. “I think I should be the one begging for you to give me yourself,” his thumb played with her trembling bottom lip.

Coronis shook her head vigorously to get his hands off her face, “please let me go,” she begged again. “I won't say a word to anybody. Just let me go back to my family. I want to go back!”

“I am your family!” He snapped. “I didn't bring you here to let you walk out. I brought you here to keep you and nourish you like the doll you are!” the understanding of the situation was out of Coronis’ reach.

She wondered why she was so different in his eyes that he wanted to nourish her. She wondered why she was His little birdy or a porcelain doll that he didn't want to break.

Oblivious of her blinding beauty, she questioned His thinking.

“You belong here, Coronis,” He said, sternly with softness at the edge of His rough voice. “You belong right next to me.”

She shook her head as tears poured out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“This was your punishment,” He whispered, looking around the dingy slammer. “I hate to keep you here, little birdy… you need to be reminded that my command is your obligation, your duty and that you must fulfill it with all your heart. I think now you won't ever forget that. And if you do…” He shook His head, His expression as if He was scared. “It won’t be a bearable punishment,” the faces of all of his convicts who were punished by his hands. He didn't want to paint a picture of her in that dungeon of slayings. She was too pretty and too precious to be in that picture. His Majesty's heart squeezed thinking about it. He shook his head, “you can not be in there. I won't take you there for your punishment. No no no,” He whispered to himself.

The thought of losing this beauty was far too dreadful to be having.

Coronis looked at the King dealing with his own commotion deep down his hazel eyes. She gasped when he pulled her in his embrace, her cheek against his bare chest. She could hear his heart beating like a storm.

“I can't let that happen,” He whispered. “I can't lose you, too. I will protect you,” He kissed her hair as he kept whispering to himself.

Coronis realized she was not getting out, not alive, not dead.

She couldn't figure out if this was the end or the beginning of her tale.

Perhaps, this was going to be the beginning of an end.

Her fate was sealed with His. She was bound to serve him in this lifetime.

She accepted her fate and melted in His chest. Her tears stopped and her mind numbed. The last thing she heard while she felt faded kisses on her head before, out of strain, she lost consciousness was—

“I'm going to keep you under my wing forever, my little birdy.”

…..

Sanaa's note:

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae

@darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @unhingedgf @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13 @jksgirlhere @lavenderymoons @passionandsuga @posionapple24 @blueberry711 @shawtylilsalty @gukiebaby @vantelover07 @douknowbts @andioppsworld @xicanacorpse @ttanniett @koohrs @crazy-eight17 @jesshujk @sadxaries @fantasticwarl @catlove83 @iveivory @lippynabiii @igotnojamsz @deadgolgibody

Have nice day/night💓

[theostrophywife]

I love everything that you write and I was wondering if you would write a Ruhn fic where the reader is a friend of Byrce and are in a secret relationship but then get caught making out by the others and there all happy for them? Please and thank you.

best friend's brother.

author's note: it's been a hot minute since i've gotten the chance to write, but i was feeling our boy ruhn so please enjoy.

Ruhn fucking Danaan. 

The Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae and the absolute bane of your immortal existence. 

The Vanir male leaned against the doorway of your apartment, dressed in his usual all black outfit despite the heatwave currently sweeping through Crescent City. Silky black hair cascaded down his shoulders and covered the Starsword draped against the back of his leather jacket. 

“What the hell do you want?” You growled through the small opening of your door. 

Behind you, the noise of the small housewarming party that had somehow spiraled into a rager thanks to Bryce filled the hallway with the pulsating beat of a pop song. Ruhn raised a brow and dangled the Aux badge between his fingers. His tattooed bicep flexed slightly as you swatted  his hand away from your face. 

“I didn’t know crashing house parties were so high up on the priorities of an Aux leader.” 

“It isn’t, but I made an exception for you, sweetheart. If I’m being honest, I’m quite offended that you didn’t even bother to invite me.” Ruhn smirked at the sight of your frown. “I’ve been told I’m the life of the party.”

“Bryce said you had the late shift,” you grunted. “And even if you didn’t, this was supposed to be a small gathering. Close friends only.” 

The Crown Prince flicked his tongue over the hoop pierced through his bottom lip, his heated gaze sweeping over your body. Against all common sense and logic, the sight made your toes curl in your high heels. 

“Considering the amount of times I’ve seen you naked, I’d say we’re a little more than close.” The sensual and seductive purr of his voice threatened to melt you into a puddle of arousal right at Ruhn’s feet. 

You pushed him into the dim hallway and shut the door behind you. “Say that a little louder, why don’t you? Everyone inside may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean their hearing suddenly stopped working. Your sister included.” 

“I don’t care if Bryce knows about us. You’re the one who seems Hel bent on keeping it a secret.” 

“You know how Bryce feels about being kept out of the loop. She would go absolutely ballistic if she knew we’ve been seeing each other behind her back. I mean, the best friend and the older brother? How cliche could we get?” 

Run closed the gap between you, his intense blue gaze dipping to your mouth. “So what do you propose? You want to put an end to things?” 

“No,” you retorted quicker than you’d intended. Ruhn’s lips twitched into a smile and you realized that he was baiting you. “I just think…we should take things slow. Warm Bryce up to the idea of us together. Maybe go out to dinner or something.” 

“Are you asking me out on a date, sweetheart?” 

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole about it.”

Ruhn rolled his eyes. “I’d love to take you out to dinner, but only if I get to have you as dessert afterwards.”

Before you could answer, the door swung open. As casually as you could manage, you put space between you and Ruhn as Bryce and Hunt peeked out into the hallway. 

“Ruhn, what are you doing here?” 

“Being a pain in my ass as usual,” you answered with a frown. 

“Honestly, I don’t get how the two people I love most could bicker so much,” the redhaired female said with a bemused smirk. 

Hunt appeared slightly offended, but seemed inclined to agree with his mate. “That’s because Danaan can’t seem to quit while he’s ahead. No matter how many times he gets his ass handed to him by the little witchling.” 

Ruhn snarled, which only spurred his sister on further. “You two reek of sexual tension. If you ask me, you two should just spar it out in the bedroom for all our sakes,” Bryce stated matter-of-factly.

Burning fucking Solas. The gates of Hel may as well open and swallow you whole. 

“I’m honestly not drunk enough for this,” you muttered under your breath while shooting an incredulous look at your friend. “Which is just as well, since it looks like the Aux is officially shutting down this party.”

You subtly shot a pleading look at Ruhn. Please get these people out of my apartment. 

The Crown Prince had the audacity to smirk. It would be my pleasure, princess. 

I hate when you call me that.

Ruhn tried to subdue the shiteating grin spreading through his handsome face. 

And yet you’re asking your Prince Charming to rescue you from the big, bad party.

You glared at the Vanir male, but nearly sighed in relief as he ushered the crowd currently crammed in your living room towards the door. His roommates included. 

“Busted.” Flynn remarked, shaking his head at Ruhn. “That’s cold Danaan, even for you.”

Ithan, Declan, and Tharion all crowded around the Fae lord, who threw an arm over your shoulder before kissing your cheek goodbye. “See you later, babe.”

You swatted Flynn’s arm away, but smiled nonetheless. The male may be a shameless flirt, but you’d grown fond of him. Ruhn, on the other hand, appeared to be considering ripping his friend’s arm from your shoulder, but said nothing as his roommates filtered past him. 

“You coming, Ruhn?” Dec asked. 

“No, I’ll help clean up. Since you assholes are probably too drunk to even pick up a mop.”

Tharion whistled. “Someone’s in a mood, aren’t they? Don’t get your crown in a twist, Your Highness.”

Ruhn only glowered at the mer who winked at you for good measure. As though he knew exactly how much it pushed his roommate’s buttons. Luckily, Bryce shoved Tharion out the door before he could annoy her brother further. 

“We can stay and help clean up, too.” Hunt offered.

“No,” you and Ruhn answered almost instantaneously. 

Bryce raised a suspicious brow. Hunt’s knowing stare flickered between you and Ruhn before the angel smirked. 

He tugged at his mate’s wrist, garnering her attention. Thank Urd Bryce was drunk enough not to second guess the distraction. “I think they’ve got it handled, Quinlan. Besides, are we really the best pair to offer assistance with cleaning?” 

Bryce sighed in defeat. “Point taken, Athalar.” 

With that, your friend enveloped you into a hug and bid you goodbye. “If Ruhn gives you a hard time, just beat him with your broomstick,” she whispered non-discreetly. 

Ruhn snorted. “Don’t give her ideas.”

“Get home safe,” you said with a chuckle as you waved Bryce and Hunt goodbye. 

And finally, fucking finally, the door closed and you breathe a sigh of relief. You loved your friends, you really did, but socializing took a horrendous amount of effort. You needed to recharge. 

“Are you actually going to help me clean?”

Ruhn hummed in response, threading his fingers with yours. “I’d rather make a mess of you instead.”

Alone at last, you wasted no time and raised on your tiptoes to kiss him, savoring the surprised sound he makes and the smirk that followed after. Ruhn tasted like a mixture of peppermint with a hint of honeysuckle and you sighed in satisfaction as he kissed you back fervently, giving and taking in equal measure. He cupped your face, gently dragging the cold metal of his lip ring over the hollow of your throat in a way that makes goosebumps erupt all over your arms. 

His moan is a low and teasing timbre in your ears as he grazed your earlobe. “Admit it, princess. You missed me.” 

If only Ruhn knew how many times you kept finding yourself wishing he was beside you throughout the night, the male would never let you live it down. “It was…dull without you here.”

Ruhn raised a brow, pulling away to look at you. That startling shade of blue painted you with heat. “Fine. I missed you, Ruhn. I always fucking miss you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

“Perhaps I need a little convincing,” the male teased, tilting your chin up. “It looked to me like Flynn and Tharion were keeping you occupied.”

“Jealous much?” 

He smirked. A slow, feral smirk that showed all his teeth. “Not even close. Neither one of them could handle you,” Ruhn declared confidently, cupping your ass lightly as you moaned in response. “It takes a special sort of male to handle you, my little witchling.”

You swatted at his chest, but said nothing to deny his accusation. “You’re a pain in the ass, Ruhn.”

“Maybe so, but I’m your pain in the ass.” He squeezed your right cheek in his large hand before giving it a light smack. “And what a sweet ass you’ve got.”

“Gods, just fucking kiss me already.”

Ruhn’s cock strained against his jeans at the utter neediness in your voice. His fingers snaked through your hair, tilting you back right where he wanted you before his lips crashed into yours. You were filled with relief as the taste of Ruhn overwhelmed your senses. You had no idea what it was about this male, but you couldn’t fucking get enough of him. 

You’d missed this. Missed him. More than you cared to admit. 

A satisfied moan slipped past Ruhn’s parted lips before his tongue prodded against yours. The kiss was a clash of lips and teeth, heated and desperate as though you’d never get the chance to taste each other again. You bunched up the front of Ruhn’s shirt and pressed him closer, kissing him over and over again until you felt lightheaded and dizzy.

You were so consumed by him, so drunk on your own desire, that you didn’t even hear the front door opening. It was only when Bryce’s soft gasp echoed through your apartment when you finally pried yourself away from Ruhn. 

“I fucking knew it!” 

The red haired female stood at the door with her arms crossed. Hunt grimaced behind her, shooting you an apologetic look as his mate swatted at his chest. “What did I tell you, Athalar?” 

Instead of anger, Bryce looked triumphant. A reaction that you did not expect to receive from your friend after she’d caught you heavily making out with her brother. 

“You’re not mad?” you asked, gaping at Bryce. 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. It was only a matter of time before this happened. You two are about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.”

“I’d say,” Tharion said from the doorway, leaning against the frame as Flynn and Dec peered over his shoulders. “Though I enjoyed watching Ruhn nearly pop a blood vessel every time I flirted with you, I’m glad we can all stop pretending not to notice the puppy dog eyes you two make at each other when you think we’re not looking.”

Flynn chuckled. “Sickening, really. But in an adorable way.”

Your eyes widened in accusation. “You all knew?”

Dec grinned sheepishly. “To be fair, you two weren’t very good at hiding it.” 

Ruhn crossed his arms, slightly angling himself so that you were behind him. You couldn’t see his face, but you heard him all the same. 

I’ll take the blame. I kissed you. I crossed the line. You don’t have to—

Ruhn.

His gaze flickered to you, an unreadable emotion dancing in his eyes before you twined your fingers through his. 

I don’t want to keep us a secret anymore.

A small smile formed on Ruhn’s face. So you admit that there’s an us.

You rolled your eyes, but mirrored his smile all the same. Don’t push your luck, Danaan.

He winked before squeezing your hand. You turned your attention back to your friends. Confusion danced on their faces as you pulled out of your silent conversation. 

“Ruhn and I are…seeing each other.” You fixed a hard glare at the males standing in your doorway. “And if anyone gives him shit about it, I’ll nail your balls to the wall.” 

Flynn and Declan winced, but Tharion only smirked. 

Bryce grinned, but threw you a pointed glare. “Brunch tomorrow. I need details of how this lovely union came to be.”

You sighed. Bryce would no doubt grill you over eggs and pancakes, but it was worth it if it meant that you and Ruhn could stop sneaking around. 

“Fine, Quinlan.” You replied with a fond smile. “But first, get the Hel out of my apartment so Ruhn and I can finish what you so rudely interrupted.”

Your friends groaned, but beamed nonetheless as they once again departed. As Bryce sashayed into the hallway, Ruhn triple checked that the door was firmly locked and that all of your wards were in place. 

Once he was satisfied, he hauled you over his shoulder and strode straight for your bedroom. You giggled as he deposited you onto the mattress. 

“I believe I promised to make a mess out of you,” he growled against your ear, pinning you underneath him. “And you’ll find that I’m a male of my word, princess.”

You smirked, tugging him down to you. “Prove it, Danaan.”

So he did.

[merakiui]

Thinking many Floyd thoughts, but the most coherent one is a journalist darling who goes to the prison that serial killer Floyd (who is on death row) is being kept at to interview him. Floyd has never spoken to a single journalist and has turned away all news and media outlets ever since he was incarcerated, only ever sitting down for monitored phone calls with his brother Jade and his friend Azul. Perhaps his opinion on journalists has changed, or he’s grown bored and wishes to speak to a new face.

You’re not frightened when you sit across from him. He’s in handcuffs and there’s an officer standing at attention should Floyd get any ideas. You’ve talked to plenty of criminals in your career. Granted, none can compare to the violent brutality Floyd has inflicted over the years, but even so underneath the merciless veneer of a killer he is still human. 

He stares at you, a blank look on his face, while you gather your notes and set a recording device on the table. His mismatched eyes are drawn to it, slowly at first, as if he’s a haunted portrait whose only modicum of free will is a slight movement of the eyes, and then his focus is back on you.

“Do you give your consent to record our conversation?” you ask, gazing at him while he looks through you.

“Go ahead. S’not a big deal to me.” He shrugs.

“All right. Thank you.”

You introduce yourself. He mumbles his name even though you’re already well aware of it. He’s oddly polite and soft-spoken, talking to you as if this is just casual chit-chat between friends. You ask simple questions about how he’s been faring or what he does here, and though Floyd answers all of them with varying levels of blunt honesty and sarcasm you can tell he’s starting to get annoyed and impatient. His brows knit together, his shoulders square, and he’s gritting his teeth. 

You let him wallow in silence for five minutes. Often, if there is silence between two people, one will hurry to fill it. This is why most journalists try to ask open-ended questions to keep conversations flowing, and if things become stale they will usually resort to utilizing silence as a double-edged sword, prompting the other to speak in order to avoid awkward tensions. It works well, often creating more conversation. But this doesn’t seem to be the case with Floyd. He stares right back at you, his mouth clamped shut and jaw set so firm you can see the muscles straining in his neck. He’s challenging you, you realize, attempting to see how far he can push you in this silent, one-sided battle. 

When you breach ten minutes of silence, you give in and ask, “What are you thinking right now, Floyd?”

There’s a beat of silence, a shift in his body as his prison jumpsuit rustles with the movement, and then a sharp-toothed grin is sprawling on his features, his eyes alight with twisted delight. 

“You really wanna know?” He’s giddy, keeping it from you as if it’s a vicious secret. 

“I do,” you say, offering him an encouraging smile. “Please tell me if you feel comfortable.”

And oh does he feel comfortable. He leans forward in his seat, meeting you halfway, utilizing the same tactic interviewers use when building rapport and trust with suspects. You recall one note you’d scribbled hastily: Floyd is an excellent mimic. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s committed all of the tricks and traps investigators use in order to pry answers from criminals to memory. 

“I’m thinkin’ about how easy it’d be to kill ya,” he whispers, tilting his head like a sweet, innocent child who expects a pat on the head for good work. “I’d take a knife to your throat and saw through skin and sinew until you’re wearin’ a necklace of red. You know they dress it up in movies, yeah? Takes a little while to truly kill ya, though. And you choke on your own blood during it. You can’t even scream for help. It’s super gross, but not much you can do when you’re dyin’. Death ain’t pretty.”

“I...” You gaze at the recording device; it’s still running smoothly. “I see.”

“You’d be a really lame kill, y’know. No fun at all.” He looks away, boredom darkening his face. “I coulda grabbed ya from off the street, squeezed your little throat until your eyes popped, and that’d be it. Or I’d break your neck. Maybe kick your ribs ‘til they cracked and tear your lungs open. Paint ya in a real pretty red.”

You stare at him, absorbing every threat. The officer looks just as stiff as you, but you were expecting to hear the worst when you ventured here. This shouldn’t be a surprise. 

What really surprises you is how quick he shifts through moods. One minute he’s pouting about how boring you would be to slaughter, and the next he’s turned his body back towards you, smiling so brightly, his eyes devoid of frigid malice. 

“But your shoes are really neat! Super cool. Always wanted to own a pair like that, y’know. But my work got ‘em dirty all the time, so I gave up buyin’ nice shit for myself.”

You’re not sure how long you spend in that room with Floyd, interviewing him and seeing all facets of his personality, but by the time you’ve finished—Floyd’s frowning when you announce your leave, even going so far as to whine and say, “Already? I wanna talk more!”—you feel so very drained. He’s definitely interesting, even more so when he starts to go out of his way to request to see you, asking the officers so sweetly. You’ve yet to write any articles about him—there’s still so much information and recordings to sort through—but you visit Floyd every time he asks to see you, if only to learn more about what makes him Floyd and what makes him a feared serial killer. 

You expect the unexpected with him, but you really couldn’t have expected he’d propose months into your acquaintanceship. You think he doesn’t truly grasp the fact that he’s on death row, that his execution date could be any day of this month or any day in the next few years, that polite society deems it wrong for serial killers and law-abiding citizens to be wed. You illustrate this boundary clearly to him. He pouts about it, grumbles about how it’s “not fuckin’ fair,” and then he drops the subject entirely. You don’t hear anything more from him about marriage or how he loves you so much until a few weeks later when you turn the recording device off after yet another successful interview and his fingers catch your wrist, dragging you down so he can whisper in your ear.

“I wasn’t askin’ an open-ended question,” he mutters, his tone low and threatening. “It was yes or no, Shrimpy.”

He releases you when the officer yanks him back, scolding him for laying his hands on you and advising him that, if he isn’t going to follow the rules, he won’t be permitted to see you. Floyd’s humming and nodding his obedience, all giggles and grins, while the officer helps him stand from the chair, guiding him to the door. His eyes remain pinned on you as you pack your bag, awkwardly avoiding his petrifying stare. And just before the door shuts and officially separates the two of you, he smiles at you.

Even when you’re all alone, clutching the recording device in your shaky hand, you wonder if there’s more to those ominous words than what you were hearing. A warning, perhaps? Foreshadowing? You hope you’ll never find out.

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x reader - people can change

Part 1:

A/N: italics is sign language

Sitting on the roof of your house, you stared out at the shore on the other side of your lake, watching a few straggler walkers wonder around.

“Should we kill them?”

You glanced upwards, and you turned your attention back to the dead that walked on the land which once belonged to the living.

“No. Why are you here?”

The man dropped himself next to you, leaning back on his hands, kicking his feet back and forth slightly.

“People are walking our roads, they hunt out animals.”

You turned to him, looking at the wooden mask that was laid next to you.

“Dead?”

“No. Alive, they have weapons, horses. If they keep this up they’ll scare all our food away, they’ll find the farms.”

“How many Luke?”

Luke shrugged slightly.

“We’re not sure, at the moment there’s only four of them, but there could be more somewhere.”

“Round up the first squad, place the second and third in position four, we’ll go see what these trespassers want.”

Picking up your mask, you placed the strap around your head, tying it, and you pulled your hood up, walking back to the other end you jumped down.

Luke followed you, jogging ahead to gather the fighters as you made your way to the edge of your pier.

Looking to at the logs embedded deep into the lake you carefully stepped on them, walking over one at a time until you reached the other end, stepping on to the sand.

A large group gathered around you, and you turned to them all.

Make no noise. Do not speak. Do not raise your weapons until the signal is given. Surround them. Keep your masks on. Do not let them see who you are.

The whole ground nodded, pulling up their hoods as well.

They split up, running into the surrounding trees, and you turned to Luke who nodded his head, leading the way.

You were quick, jogging through the trees, around any walkers that you saw, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to yourselves.

It wasn’t long until you reached the road that the group was spotted on, and you crouched in the bushes.

Looking over you saw a scout pointed down the road.

Not fair. We have them surrounded.

You nodded.

Any signs of others?

She shook her head at you.

Just them.

You turned to look who pointed at himself, then you, tilting his head a little.

We both go.

You waited for the group to draw a little closer so yours could draw a tight knit circle around them all to prevent anybody running off.

Standing up, you looked to Luke who did the same thing, following you out of the bushes, standing in the middle of the road.

The group saw you and immediately pointed their weapons at you.

“Who are you?!” The woman shouted.

She aimed her sword and stepped forward, clearly she was some sort of leader to this small group.

You had your hands clasped behind your bad, and you held up two fingers, then man a circling motion with your index finger.

Your group were quiet as they crept out, bows pointed and ready.

When you held up three fingers and did the same thing, and they came from the sides, making the group turn to them instead.

Luke looked at you and you gave a slow nod of your head, letting him know it was okay.

“Instead of asking who we are, I suggest you lower your weapons.”

“Not until you tell us who you are! What do you want?!” Another yelled.

Luke chuckled slightly, placing his hands on the back of his head.

“Maybe this isn’t enough people for you.”

You held up your index finger, then made a circle with it, and the final of the three groups came down, knives in their hands.

They all turned their attention towards you and Luke.

“Weapons on the ground and kick them over, all of them. Don’t try pull a fast one we have eyes on you from all angles.”

They dropped their weapons, kicking them all over and you let a few of your people pick them all up, then you turned to Luke.

He walked over, standing next to you, his back towards them.

“Do we kill them…?” He whispered.

“No… see what they want…”

He turned around and walked over, and you crouched down, rested your arms on your knees as you carefully watched them.

“I want names.”

“You first.”

Luke chuckled.

“You’re in no position to give out demands. Names. Now.”

They reluctantly gave their names, and you made note of them, placing them to the people as they spoke.

“Why are you here?”

“We were hunting, we didn’t know there was anybody out here.” Aaron said.

Luke began to slowly pace back and forth, regarding them.

“Hunting yet no way to bring any game back?”

“We have our ways.” Michonne spoke.

Luke slowly began to circle them, like a hunter stalking its prey.

This seemed to make them nervous, they tired to keep an eye on him while making sure their own backs were covered.

“You don’t belong in these areas, they do not belong to you.”

“But they belong to you?” Daryl scoffed.

Luke looked at you.

What do we do?

You thought for a moment, standing up and you walked over to one of your people, taking a crossbow and a sword from them.

Walking over, you handed them back to Daryl and Michonne, Aaron and Gabriel having their weapons returned to them.

“Who are you people?” Gabriel asked.

“We are nobody, we are nothing but a silence that passes through.” Luke said.

“Are there more of you?” Michonne asked.

“I could ask you the same thing, this is a long way to hunt just for four people. You’re clean, you have fresh clothes, you appear to be well fed. A community. Now given the ones we’ve spotted, probably Alexandria, correct?”

This put them all on edge, and you stood in front of Luke.

Do not work them up.

He raised his hands and you walked behind him again.

“We have scouts, they check for hordes that may be coming towards us. We’ve passed a few communities including your own. That’s all. We have no interest in harming you.”

One of your people jogged over, tapping their spear in the ground and you looked over.

Walkers. Coming close. We also found their horses and a few more of their people.

You nodded, turning back to Luke.

Walkers. And their people. Take them back. Send them on their way.

Walking over to one of the scouts, you dug through their bag, taking out some dried venison and you walked back over.

You handed it over to Michonne who narrowed her eyes at you.

You gestured for her to take it.

“It’s safe, it’s just been dried in the sun. It makes it last longer.” Luke explained.

Michonne took it.

“We’ll have a group take you back to your people, the walkers are coming. But if you, or anybody else comes too close again you’ll know.”

You held up two fingers, and the group split, group two walking over to the other survivors, surrounding them.

Let’s go.

The others began to make their way back and you followed them, pointing to Luke behind your back then to the group.

“I don’t want to fucking babysit them!” He called.

You just repeated the motion and disappeared back into the trees.

It wasn’t even a week later when a few of your scouts returned with Aaron blindfolded, and they looked at you.

What do we do?

You gestured into your house, putting your mask on and they took him inside, tying him to a chair.

They closed the window boards, and you jumped down from the roof, making your way inside, closing the door.

You gestured for them to leave and you walked over, pulling his blindfold down, grabbing some paper and a pencil.

‘Why did you return?’

“I just wanted to talk, that’s all. You could have kill us but didn’t, you let us go, you left a few deer at the gates of all our communities. So, I wanted to thank you, but I couldn’t find where your community was.”

‘We want to be left alone.’

Aaron smiled a little at you.

“Then why did you help us?”

You didn’t say anything, you simply sat down in a chair, kicking your feet up on the table as you looked at him through your mask.

“Maybe we can help each other, a deal.”

He gestured with your hand for him to carry on, curious about what he was going to say next.

“We can open a trade route, we give you things, whatever you need, and in return we get things as well. Whatever it is you want to share.”

You leant back slightly, regarding him and it made him nervous.

He couldn’t see your face, he couldn’t read your expression, or tell what you were thinking.

You could have him killed in the matter of seconds and he knew that, with a simple flick of your wrist and he would be dead.

He watched as you wrote something down, and you turned the paper around so he could see it.

‘Why?’

It was a simple question, but even Aaron knew that his very answer could be the difference between him being able to go home or not. Having an another strong community, or having another powerful enemy.

“I’ll be completely honest with you, we need all the help we can get. The saviours did a lot of damage to us, we’ve built a lot since there, imprisoned their leader Negan, but we need food, weapons, anything to help us.”

‘So you therefore have nothing to offer us.’

“No! No that’s not true! We can offer you weapons, or.. or grain, you know like fresh produce, clothes, we have plenty of clothes. I.. I’m sure we can find something.”

You stood up, leaving the home, and you walked along the bridge, over to another house and walked in.

Luke looked up from where he was sat with his wife and son.

“Verdict?” He asked.

“He wants to open a trade. Says they need help, supplies, they’ll offer us supplies in return.”

He nodded a little bit.

“The people need warmer clothing, blankets, firewood. We’re doing what we can, but we need more. We could do with some more food, and medicine, definitely medicine.”

“Do you think it would be wise to open a trade?”

“Perhaps not, but they know we know where they are. What else did he say?”

You sat down in the corner, letting the boy come over to sit in your lap, still playing with one of his toy cars.

“Saviours, they were there.”

“We never had any trouble with them. They’ve been gone for years now.”

You nodded.

“We were more trouble than they could handle even with their guns, could never find us. He wants us to help them continue building their communities.”

Luke furrowed his brows a little bit.

“Refuse, not until we get the medicine and a doctor at least.”

“No, we bring nobody else here, if they agree we bring our sick to them.” You said sternly.

“Okay. Okay. That works as well.”

You nodded, picking up the boy and you gave him back to his father, making your way back to your home.

As you walked in aaron tried to look outside, but he couldn’t see anything so he turned his attention back to you.

You were writing something down, and you walked over, slamming the paper down next to him.

“A doctor, that’s what you want?”

You have a nod of your head.

“So, if we take some of your people to Alexandria for medical help you’ll help us? Trade with us?”

You grabbed another sheet of paper, and you quickly wrote before showing it to him.

‘We helped you get back to your people. Now you help us. If that works, we will consider a deal.’

This made him smile and he nodded his head.

“Okay, I’ll take that. I’m sure you know how far it is from here, all you have to do is get everybody ready and take us there, I can get you all inside and to the doctor.”

You held up the blindfold.

“I understand, to protect your people.”

You nodded, putting it back on him and you went outside to where Luke was waiting by his house.

“Round up the sick, he’ll get inside. I want team four with us, team three is to follow behind, the other teams will stay here and watch the place. We are to be in lockdown until I return.”

“I’m coming.”

You quickly shook your head, lifting up your mask so you could look at him.

“No. Somebody needs to ensure they’re safe. Cole will come with me, as my right hand man I trust you to watch the community.”

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t like this plan of you going and me not being there.”

“Neither do I, but until we know it’s safe, I can’t leave this place without their commander.”

He looked away and turned to you, balling his hand into a fist, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Okay. Fine. But the moment it’s safe you send for me, swap me out with Cole.”

You nodded in agreement to this, and looked to the blonde male he was walking over, mask in his hand.

“You sent for me?”

“You’re coming with me to Alexandria.”

He nodded.

“Very well, shall I get the man?”

“Yes, take him to the shore, we’ll meet you there, and remember the rules.”

“No talking, no showing our faces, do not act unless instructed.”

You gestured for him to go ahead and you did the same with Luke, sending them both of their way as you went to get a few basics supplies for the trip.

You also wanted to go and see their prisoner, you wanted to see how far the leader of the saviours had fallen after hearing about what he had done, after killing endless amounts of his people you came across.

You wanted Negan to know that you were still there, haunting him as the only community he couldn’t touch

[xdaddysprincessxx]

Go Ahead and Cry Little Girl

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader (Agent Gin)

Warnings: Daddy issues!!, character death mentioned, daddy kink, piv (again wrap it up guys!), f & m oral, dacryphillia, 1 use of song lyrics, dirty talk (it’s jack mf Daniels what did you expect?) boss/employee dynamics, sex work (we support sex workers in this household!) squirting, voyeurism, cum eating, Reader is described as having hair, a vagina, well hydrated (; and can blush. that should be all! Lmk if i missed something (:

A/n: This one’s for my babes with daddy issues! I see you, I love you. This idea hit me while I was driving to work and the song “Daddy issues” by The neighborhood came on. As of right now I think each Murder daddy is gonna have a daddy issues one shot but we’re starting off strong with my personal favorite cowboy.🤠

Growing up your dad wasn’t home very much. You honestly don’t have very many memories of the guy. The memories you do have always seem to be of him frowning at you, disappointed and telling you that you need to do better, be better. You were just a kid. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Instead of having a loving, doting father you had this stranger who’s approval you wanted desperately. So you worked hard in school, played sports, joined as many after school programs as you could and when you graduated high school you had full ride scholarships to all the big schools across the nation. I’m talking Harvard, MIT, Stanford, Yale, the list goes on. You ended up choosing Columbia University in New York so you could be as far away from home as possible. College was a breeze for you, graduating early with high honors you weren’t surprised when Statesmen approached you offering you an intelligence job.

Accepting this job was an easy decision for you. A few years after graduating high school your dad kicked the bucket and your mom ran off with the first guy who gave her a lick of attention. You had no one to go back too, no family to visit on the holidays. And you loved working at Statesmen. Working in the lab alongside Ginger, you helped create new technologies and advance healthcare. You had it all; a great career, a nice studio apartment in Manhattan. What more could you want? Ah yes approval. For some reason you still had this deep seeded need to be well liked and needed by others. So you do what any girl does, you sell your nudes online to creepy men in exchange they give you their money and high praises. You never reveal your face or your real identity so nobody knows it’s you.

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Coming back to work after a long weekend is proving to be a tough one. You’ve been overworking yourself lately and having three whole days off you went home and slept for hours only waking up to eat Chinese takeout and then go directly back to sleep. Back in the lab, you find yourself frustrated and having to keep retrying new samples for a new antibiotic your working on.

“Hey Gin go ahead and take a break hun. I’ve seen you redo the same sample 10 times now. I’m not sure where your head is but try to get it out of the clouds before you come back.” Ginger Ale says to you as you lay your head down on the table next to the microscope you’ve been staring at for the last two hours.

Sighing, “Yea yea. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me Ginger. I just can’t focus and I have zero energy.” you say as you get up and start gathering your things.

Soon enough your back up on the fifth floor, down the hall from the cafeteria. Just as your rounding the corner you find yourself running right into the very man who haunts your every thought. Jack Daniels or Agent Whiskey as most people at Statesmen know him as. The man has been the star of all your dirty daydreams, his accent and mannerisms scream ‘southern gentleman’ and boy do you eat that shit up every time you see him.

“Well hey there darlin’ watch out where your going. Don’t wanna go runnin into any ole body now do we?” Jack says in his thick accent just as you bounced backward after hitting him square in the chest.

“Oh my god Agent Whiskey I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!” You manage to get out despite having the wind knocked out of you.

“Now darlin’ call me Jack. Am I gonna have to tell you this every time?” He teases you causing a deep blush to creep across your cheeks.

With a soft smile on your face and your eyes cast down, “Of course not Ag- I mean Jack.” You say with the smallest giggle. As soon as the words left your mouth you felt Jacks finger under your chin, lift your face up forcing you to look directly into his gorgeous deep brown eyes.

“There we go. Now that’s what I like to hear. My name come out of such a beautiful lady’s mouth.” Jack says with a smirk.

As if you couldn’t blush any harder, you somehow turn even redder in the face.

“Now go on beautiful, have a good day.” Jack says as he tilts his hat towards you.

“Thanks Jack, you have a good one too.” You manage to squeak out as you gather yourself once again and continue on walking toward the cafeteria.

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Sitting down at a table in a far back corner, you crack open a cold can of coke and take a deep sip. The carbonation leaving a cold wake of bubbles in your throat, already feeling the affects of the caffeine. Pulling your phone out you decide to hop on your website and respond to a few messages as you wait for the soda to really kick in. You have a good handful of regulars who like to ask for custom content and one of them had recently asked for a video of you riding your favorite toy. Just as your about to send the video, a text comes in from Jack.

1:32pm - Hey I hope I didn’t hurt ya when you ran into me earlier sugar 😉

1:34pm - No you didn’t! If anything I’m sorry for running into you! I hope I didn’t hurt you Jack.🩷

Without even thinking, after you press send you hit the icon for your photos and pull up the video you were sending to your regular, find it and hit send.

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Jacks sitting at his desk when he hears a ping and sees you’ve texted him back. As soon as he read your text he saw a video message pop up immediately after. Opening the video, he sees you sitting on the floor in your bedroom and a decent sized pink dildo. The video starts and you swing your leg over the dildo, lowering yourself down, you grab the dildo and swipe it through your folds a few times. Moaning, you drop all the way down on the dildo. The angle of the camera allows Jack to see the dildo stretch you open. Not quite as big as Jack, it still gives him a delicious view of what you’d look like speared on his cock. Thinking to himself, he wonders if you meant to send this to him through text. Most likely it was on accident. But what you don’t know is that Jack knows all about your little secret. In fact he’s been one of your regulars for awhile now. Always sending in requests and tipping generously. Something else he knows you are ignorant too is that he was the one who requested this particular video.

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After texting Jack back and sending out the custom video, you feel awake enough now to get back to work. Just as you get back into the lab, you hear the lab phone ring. You go to grab the phone off the hook, “Hello Agent Gin, how can I help you?”

“Well well well if it ain’t the pretty lady I need to talk too” Jack crones into your ear. “I need to see you in my office darlin’ now. Please.”

“Yes of course sir I’m on my way now.” You reply, your voice cracking just the tiniest bit.

Unsure as to why Jack needs to see you in his office, you check your texts between you two to see if you misread something and that’s when you realize you sent Jack the video! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. You’re screwed! Your dirty little secret is out now and the one man you want so desperately inside of you now knows all about it.

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Knocking on Jacks office door, you go to turn the knob to open the door.

Peeking your head in, “You wanted to see me sir?” you say as you clear your throat that’s suddenly dry as the Sahara Desert.

Sitting at his desk, you see Jack look up at you with this hungry look in his eyes.

“Ah there she is. Come in sugar. Have a seat.” He motions to the chair in front of his desk. You quickly come in, closing the door behind you and taking a seat.

Jack stands up, slowly walking towards the door when you notice he locks it. Making his way back to his desk, he sits on top of it directly in front of you.

“Now sugar your probably wondering why I need to talk to you.”

Gulping, you look down unable to look him in the face, “um I think I know why sir.” You manage to say, knowing there’s no reason to play stupid. You both know what you sent him. Might as well confess to it and get it all over with.

“Look at me sugar. I wanna see those pretty eyes of yours when I’m talking to you” Jack says in a low baritone voice.

Looking up at him, a deep blush covering your cheeks, you try to swallow as best you can and find your words.

“Now we’re both adults here. We both have urges. If you needed a good fuck darlin’ all you had to was ask. I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He says in a matter of factly tone.

Stunned you just gawk up the agent in front of you. Did he really just say that? Is he- he’s not- what is happening?!??

Jack goes to stand up, directly in front of you, “Get on your knees little girl.”

Unable to speak you do as he says and you push back your chair as you lower yourself onto your knees.

“There’s my good girl. Now sugar I’m going to fuck you good and hard. And your going to take every thing I give you. Understood?”

Shaking your head yes as you look up at Jack. Nervous as hell but you can’t help but get excited. Isn’t this what you always wanted? Isn’t he the star of your wet dreams?

Jack goes to take his blazer off, rolling up his sleeves as he begins to unbuckle his absurdly large belt buckle. Watching him undress like this has your mouth and pussy watering. Your finally gonna have the Jack Daniels inside of you. You can’t wait.

He pulls out the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. Now you get why this man walks around so arrogantly. The man has the dick to back it up. Your eyes widen as the head of his cock seems to stare at you in your soul. At about average length, he’s girthy as all get out. There’s no way you’d be able to get much of him in your mouth.

Jack gives his cock a few good strokes, “Open up sugar. Let me see how good you can be.”

You drop your jaw quickly and open your mouth, dropping your tongue out. Smirking, Jack takes his cock and starts rubbing it up and down your tongue. After gliding the head on your tongue a few times, Jack sticks his cock in your mouth, forcing it down your throat causing you to gag at the intrusion. Without holding back, Jack continues to gag you with his cock. Your eyes over flowing with tears.

Jack looks down at you the whole time, just staring in awe at how beautiful you look with his cock in your mouth, eyes wide with tears looking back at him.

“Go on and cry little girl. Nobody does it quite like you sugar. I’ve been watching you for some time now. Oh yes I know all about your dirty little secret baby.” He reveals, making you choke even harder on his cock in utter disbelief. He’s known this whole time? How much of you has he really seen?

Jack finally pulls his cock out of your mouth, spit strings still connecting you two. Brown eyes staring deep into your soul, you take a deep gulp of breath, chest heavy as you manage to stutter out, “y- you know? How long?”

“I’ve known for awhile now darlin’. I love watching your little videos. Always gets me harder than a goddamn rock. It was actually me who requested that particular little video. So it is funny you accidentally sent it to me.” Jack admits.

Before you have the chance to respond, Jack grabs you by your arm helping you up before he’s leading you towards his desk and gently pushes your top half down so your bent over. Wearing a dress that day, you can’t help but feel bare as he bends you over his desk. You feel Jack crouch down behind you, warm hands running up and down the back of your thighs. You feel his warm breath on your clothed pussy.

Taking a deep breath in, Jack slowly pulls your panties down exposing your sweet pussy to him. Unable to help himself he presses his face in and lays a kiss to your exposed clit. Hearing you let out a soft moan breaks any bit of self control Jack had and he dives in. Tongue poking out, he swipes it through your folds a few times before making a zig zagging motion from your taint up to your clit.

Feeling his thick tongue protrude your wet pussy, you feel yourself gush as he starts to flick your clit.

Moaning, “Please Jack I need more. Please.” You whisper breathlessly.

Hearing your sweet request, you feel jacks thick fingers enter you and curl up, hitting that sweet spot.

Taking his tongue off your sweet, sweet pussy, “That’s it sugar. Tell daddy what you want baby. Tell daddy how to make this pussy cream.” Jack growls as he pumps his fore and ring finger faster into you.

All to quickly you feel the sudden need to pee. Moaning even louder causing Jack to pump his fingers even faster, all to soon you feel yourself start to squirt.

“Oohhh ungghh!!!!” Comes from deep in your throat as you continue to squirt, the exquisite feeling of squirting all over his fingers is a high you never want to come down from.

“Fuck sugar that’s it. That’s it baby come on, give it all to daddy baby that’s it” Jack crones as he tries to drink up every single drop.

Boneless, you can’t help but drop on top of the desk, unable to hold your upper half up any longer. Knees weak, legs shaking, you feel jack stand back up behind you. Jack takes hold of his cock, swiping it through your folds, gathering your wetness on his cock before he slides in your sweet pussy. The feeling of his thick cock splitting you open takes your breath away.

Taking his time, feeling every ridge inside of your pussy, Jack finally fills you up to the hilt.

“Fuuuccckkk” Jack breaths out as his cock kisses your cervix. After not moving for a few seconds to let you adjust to his girth, Jack begins pummeling into you. Hands gripping your hips, forcing you back onto his cock as he fucks you good and hard just as he promised.

“That’s it sugar. Look at you. Taking my cock. So. Damn. Beautiful.” He grunts out. Jack leans forward, his chest on your back when you feel his arm snake around your front and pulls you up to him. You feel his other hand bury in your hair forcing your head up when you notice a little red, blinking light up in the corner, “Smile for the camera darlin’” Jack crones into your ear. Knowing he’s been filming this entire time has your eyes rolling back as you moan.

“This sweet fucking pussy belongs to me now darlin’ you hear me? Only I get to fuck this pussy.” Jack whispers in your ear.

“Oh fuck yes. Yes daddy it’s yours. All yours! Fuck!” You say breathlessly, agreeing to whatever he says as long as he continues to fuck you this good. You feel yourself getting close once again, the feeling of needing to pee is back.

“Daddy I’m close, please please can I cum? I wanna cum daddy! Please let me!” You beg, hoping he shows you a little mercy and let’s you cum.

Jack slaps his hand over your mouth, “Fuck baby you gotta be quiet. Daddy’s gone let you cum baby girl don’t you worry. Daddy wants to feel his sweet pussy cum on his cock.” He tells you as his other hand snakes down towards your clit. You feel his thick finger swirl around your clit and that does it for you. All too soon you feel the dam break and your coming. Hard. You bite your lip trying your hardest to keep quiet. The euphoria you feel is hard to contain, your eyes rolling back once again.

Feeling you gush hard around his cock, almost as if your pussy is trying to push him out, does him in. Jack pumps a few more times before he’s coming inside of you. As your both coming down from your highs, chests heaving, you feel jack pull out of you leaving you an empty mess.

Not sure what possessed you, you turn around to face him and lower yourself down to your knees once again. Gripping the base of his dick, you lick the mixture of you and Jack off his cock all while looking up at him. Making a show of you swallowing every bit of your cum.

“Well I’ll be damned sugar. You never fail to surprise me.” Jack chuckles darkly as he watches you from above. You can’t help but smile sweetly up at him hoping this isn’t the last time you get a taste of this cowboy.

A/n: idk where this came from lol the song inspired me but this?^ yeeaaaa we can blame my hormone monster for this, I am ovulating lmao. I hope y’all enjoy!

Tagging a few Whiskey connoisseurs and friends that I think will enjoy: @neverwheremoonchild @foli-vora @whiskeynwriting @lumoverheaven @toxicanonymity @multiversed-daydreamer @nosesitter @beefrobeefcal @juletheghoul @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @megangovier20 @ikissdin @wannab-urs

[adaptacy]

omg HELLO i have a complicated request of some sort 😭 i’d love to see some more of sympathetic johnny so — what if the reader has a really shitty boyfriend who was with them among their friend group on the sawyers’ property & johnny notices the boyfriend basically being a total asshole to the reader, to the point of sacrificing them for his own survival, thus, he ends up killing the shitty bf and helping the reader escape while also offering them some comfort?? i hope this made sense LOL

Howdy Anon! This is a super cute idea!! and yes, dw, you made sense <3

As if things weren't already bad enough, as if you didn't already have enough problems on your plate, and far too many people trying to kill you, he just had to be an asshole. He always found a way to make things worse. It was astonishing, really.

"Can you- Can you just move? Like, can you back up?" He snapped, and you flinched, giving nothing but a nod as you took a step backwards. You were terrified, and completely lost; he'd told you to follow him, and you didn't want to risk losing sight of him. "Jesus, I should've never gone with you."

Maybe he was just stressed. You took in a quiet breath, trying to reassure yourself. There were footsteps up ahead, and he froze, leaning forward as he inspected the shadows. A large man emerged, and you gasped, looking to your boyfriend for assurance.

"Shit, go, go," he ushered, shoving past you as he moved back in the direction you'd been coming from. You stumbled, but eventually trailed after him.

"Can you please slow down? I can't see anything down here," you whispered, trying to keep up with his jog, but it was hard to balance that and glancing at the ground in case of obstacles.

"Hurry up," he snapped, and you frowned. Maybe he had a point. You were running from a psycho killer, after all.

It wasn't long before his advice screwed you over, and you yelped as your shoe got stuck on the corner of a sickening bone pile, the shards digging into the fabric and causing you to fall to your knees. "Ow- Wait up!" You begged, trying to tug your shoe free.

You could see the man approaching down the dirt corridor, and you whimpered. It was impossible to see anything down here, and while you definitely could feel that your shoe was stuck, you couldn't figure out how. Your boyfriend looked behind himself, and took two steps in your direction before he saw the attacker. "Oh, hell no," he scoffed, shaking his head. "You keep him busy. I'm getting the hell outta this shithole," he scowled, and you froze, completely taken aback that he'd just leave you.

But, he turned tail and ran, and you found yourself on the edge of tears as you fought with the bone pile. As the man approached, he seemed to grow in size, becoming some twisted beast with your blood on his mind, ready to tear into you, ready to completely rip out your internal-

"Did he just... leave you?" He asked, coming into the light as he looked down at you, and then at where your boyfriend was last seen. He was still terrifying, and he loomed over you, but he looked more confused than dangerous.

"What?"

"That- he was your boyfriend, wasn't he? The hell happened to chivalry?" He grumbled, crouching down beside you and motioning with his knife to where your shoe was stuck.

"Aren't you... uhm.." You stammered, shaking your head. "Like, supposed to be killing me?"

"Eh," he grunted, giving a small shrug. "Ain't as much fun without the chase. Your boyfriend, though... Well, he's a runner, ain't he? Might put up a good fight..."

"What? You- you can't kill him!"

"Darlin', I ain't sure if you noticed, but he left you in the dust. While a killer was chasin' ya. That ain't anythin' to repay with mercy. How 'bout I get you outta that trap, go find that asshole, and let you gather yourself. We can play later," he chuckled, reaching down towards your ankle. You flinched as he lifted his knife, but all he did was cut your shoelace free from where it was tangled.

"I.. Thank you?" You mumbled, scooting away. He stood, shrugging again.

"Don't mention it. Go on and run, sweetpea, I can't promise my family'll be so understandin'." You watched as he headed in the direction of your boyfriend, though he paused, looking over his shoulder at you. "Say... Your heart's still beatin' by the time I get done, I may be able to keep it that way. Hold out for me, darlin', yeah?"

"Uhm.. Okay, I can try. Sure."

"Great. Best'a luck." With that, he turned back around and walked off.

What a weird interaction. Hey, at least you were still alive.

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 8 - First Theater Experience

*Door creaks open*

Towa: …

Towa: (It’s almost time for it to start, but I wonder if it’s fine for me to come in…)

Izumi: Ah, Towa-kun, welcome. You can go ahead and take a seat over there while you wait.

Towa: Hello…

Boy: Hey, I’m thirsty.

Father: Here’s some water.

Izumi: There’s vending machines in the lobby, so if you want to get anything, now’s the time.

Young Man: Umm, where’s the bathroom…?

Sakuya: It’s that way. I’ll show you!

Towa: (There’s all kinds of people here, from elementary school kids to elderly people…)

Towa: (I wonder if those high school-looking girls and college-age-looking ladies are Spring Troupe fans like me.)

Towa: (It’s kinda a relief that no one here seems like they’re an actor. Everyone looks pretty beginner-ish.)

Izumi: Well, it’s about time. Let’s get things started.

Sakuya: Everyone, please come and gather here~!

Sakuya: Hello! I’m Sakuya Sakuma, the leader of MANKAI Company’s Spring Troupe!

Sakuya: Thank you for participating in today’s beginner’s workshop!

Sakuya: This is our first time doing something like this, so I’m sure there’s some things we’ll kinda have to ease into, but we’ll do our best and we hope you all have fun!

Citron: We will start with a very eggciting backstage tour led by me and Sakuya!

Citron: We are also bringing in some special guests for today, so we hope you look forward to seeing them~!

Sakuya: We’ll start by showing you the part of the stage that can be seen from the best seats in the house! Be sure to watch your step as you make your way up.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Here’s where we always perform for the audience.

Boy: Whoa…!

Towa: Amazing… so this is what it’s like to be on stage.

Sakuya: When you’re actually standing up here, it’s kinda surprising how small the stage is from one end to the other. But since it’s up higher than the audience seats, you can see all the way to the back from up here.

Woman A: So you really can see it from up here.

Citron: We can see all of the audience members!

Sakuya: Akashi-saaan, please go ahead!

Akashi: Okay…

*Stage lights turn on*

Sakuya: This is the stage lighting. It can change the color of the entirety of the stage, and can be used to cast a spotlight on a single person…

*Spotlight turns on*

Towa: !!

Woman B: So hot…!

Citron: It is always hot and shakes us sweat!

Tsuzuru: You mean makes us sweat.

Itaru: You sure letting Citron and Sakuya run this thing is a good idea?

Citron: Just leave it to us!

Sakuya: When a scene is exciting, the light can flicker like this, and when a scene has a slower tone, the lights can become subdued like this…

*Lights flicker and then slow down*

Citron: We can do many performances this way!

Sakuya: Let’s move on to the lighting booth next.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Citron: It is time to introduce one of our special guests!

Sakuya: This is Akashi-san, he does all of our lighting for us.

Akashi: N-Nice to m… you…

Towa: Huh?

Citron: He is a bit shy, but he has instanding lighting skills!

Tsuzuru: You mean outstanding?

Akashi: A-A single light can completely change the atmosphere of a scene… the mood of the stage can completely differ depending on who’s in charge of the lighting…

Sakuya: The mood on stage that Akashi-san creates is always so gentle and warm.

Akashi: T-Thank you…

Towa: (I hadn’t ever really thought about the lighting that much before. Next time I see a play, I’ll pay more attention to it to see how it changes…)

Citron: Next up is the sound booth!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Rento: Yo.

Sakuya: This is Rento-san, he’s in charge of the sound for us!

Rento: Nice to meetcha.

Rento: My job is to do stuff like prepare the music ‘n sound effects used on stage ‘n then make ‘em fit in line with the flow of the play.

Rento: I’m basically a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to sound-related stuff.

Rento: ‘Course, the music’s gotta fit for the scene, ‘n the sound effects can’t be too dull or they’ll take away from the play.

Rento: Not only does that stuff really liven up a scene, but it also pushes the play forward so it doesn’t fall into a lull or anythin’ like that.

Boy: Huh… the music really does get me more excited, now that I think about it.

Towa: (So this is the guy that does the sound effects that go along with the sword fights…)

Sakuya: Even a tiny timing error can disrupt the rhythm of a play, so it’s a pretty tough job.

Citron: Rento’s sounds are always very nice and perfect!

Rento: Thanks much.

Sakuya: Now let’s head to the backstage dressing room~.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Yuki: Hey there.

Azami: Nice to meet you.

Towa: Huh, Azami-kun and Yuki-kun…!?

Sakuya: These guys are Yuki-kun, the one in charge of our costumes, and Azami-kun, the one in charge of our makeup!

Woman A: I didn’t think we’d get to meet anyone from a troupe other than Spring Troupe…!

Woman B: Same here!

Yuki: I’ve been in charge of costumes for every performance since the Newborn Spring Troupe’s first play, RomiJuli.

Yuki: I create the designs based on the plots of Tsuzuru’s scripts, and then from there, I draw up the patterns, which you can kind of think of like being the blueprints for costumes…

Yuki: Then I buy the fabric and get to sewing.

Yuki: I make designs that not only fit the image of the role but ones that’ll also look good on stage and are easy to move in.

Woman A: Do you make everything all by yourself?

Yuki: Generally speaking. It’s easier for me to get a solid idea that way. But sometimes I have Taichi or the others help me with some of the smaller details.

Towa: Amazing…!

Azami: And I’m in charge of plannin’ out the makeup to match the roles and costumes and also doin’ everyone’s makeup before each performance.

Sakuya: We used to do our makeup ourselves before Azami-kun was put in charge of it, so it’s a little funny to see how our makeup skills compare to his.

Citron: The impact it has on our faces is totally different~!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Well then, that concludes our backstage tour. Now it’s time for everyone to try their hand at acting!

Itaru: The theme this time is “Enjoying your first theater experience”.

Tsuzuru: You don’t have to worry about any special techniques or skills, we just want you to experience what it’s like to perform.

Izumi: We’ll now pass out the scripts~.

Tsuzuru: The script is actually an excerpt from the Spring Troupe play “Romeo and Julius”.

Tsuzuru: We thought it’d be one that’s easy to act out since Romeo and Juliet is a pretty famous work.

Itaru: And because at the time of Spring Troupe’s first performance, all of us were just beginners.

Towa: (“Romeo and Julius”… Masumi-kun’s Julius is so cool.)

Towa: (I can’t believe he was just a beginner when he first performed as him.)

Tsuzuru: Alright then, we’re gonna split you guys into six teams now and decide on the casting. We already planned out how we’re gonna split you into teams, so we’ll tell you which team you're on now.

Towa: (I wonder what role I’m gonna get!)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Masumi: I’m in charge of your guys’ team.

Towa: (I must be some kinda oshi magnet or something…! No, could he possibly be doing this out of all the care and consideration and kindness in his heart…!?)

Masumi: Quit staring so loudly.

Towa: !!

Masumi: For the casting… do any of you have any preferences?

Towa: --.

Towa: (My luck’s been good so far, so I’ve gotta go for it…!)

Towa: I wanna play Julius!

Masumi: Anyone else want Julius?

Masumi: …Okay, you’ll be Julius. Anyone else have a preference?

Young Man: Ah, well, I’d like--.

Masumi: What role do you want?

Young Man: Umm… someone with fewer lines would probably be better… but…

Masumi: You’re going to be switching roles around anyway, so just pick who you want.

Young Man: T-Then, Romeo.

Masumi: If no one else has any preferences, I’ll just decide for the rest of you.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Young Man: “Umm, let’s go on a journey together, Julius. We can leave behind this cramped town and travel the world.”

Towa: “Romeo, you’ve got brawn, and I’ve got the brains. If it’s the two of us together-- then we can surely do anything.”

Towa: “Right, together we can go anyw--.”

Young Man: Ah, sorry…

Towa: No, no, it’s my fault, I completely screwed that up!

Towa: (This is the worst. That wasn’t anything like Masumi-kun’s Julius at all. What I did wasn’t even close to Julius.)

Towa: (Embarrassing myself in front of Masumi-kun, I would’ve been better off just being publicly executed instead.)

Towa: Sorry, maybe it’d be better for me to switch with someone…

Young Man: Then I should also…

Masumi: That’s just how everyone is at first. It was the same for me and Sakuya too.

Masumi: Try switching your roles.

Young Man: Huh?

Towa: W-Will that really work…?

Masumi: Read Romeo’s lines from the scene we’re on right now.

Towa: “Let's go on a journey together, Julius. We can leave behind this cramped town and travel the world.”

Young Man: “Romeo, you’ve got brawn, and I’ve got the brains. If it’s the two of us together, then we can surely do anything.”

Towa: “Right, together we can go anywhere.”

Towa: (Huh? The lines somehow came out more naturally than they did before…)

Towa: (It feels good to say the lines like that…)

Young Man: Huh…

Towa: I did it somehow…?

Young Man: Me too…

Towa: You’re amazing, Masumi-kun!

Masumi: It was just because those roles fit you more.

Towa: (My heart is still pounding… I wonder what this feeling is… I feel like I can’t stop the urge to keep acting.)

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[waroferas]

Cia HyWars is pure evil?

There is so much I could say about Cia . and i will ! you’re stuck with me now idiot !!!!! (speaking into an empty room)

i was going to skip this section bc if anybody reading this somehow didn’t know who Cia is then like . google is right there . but zeldadungeon actually has fuck all to say about cia’s backstory and i would never knowingly subject someone to the fandom wikis.

Cia was originally known as the Guardian of Time, a minor deity tasked with overlooking the checks and balances of the triforce across the past and future. She did this work alone, and her psyche was left vulnerable to a fragment of ganondorf’s soul. Her admiration and jealousy of the holder’s of the triforce was manipulated until she became physically fragmented, her “light half” being cast from her as she was fully corrupted.

That half goes on to become Lana, and what remains of Cia wants two things: Collect Link like barbie doll, and help Ganondorf restore his soul and gather the triforce so she can Collect Link like barbie doll. She’s the main antagonist of the game now.

why would she do this? is she stupid?

being lonely makes you crazy and i mean this very genuinely.

Hyrule Warriors is constantly hammering in that you need to rely on other people through gameplay And story beats. i would even say that friendship and teamwork is one of the strongest and most recognizable themes. In the very first stage there is an honestly comical back and forth that goes as follows: link runs in to fight volga. impa runs in to save link. link hops up last second and saves impa instead . and then they round out the stage with impa saving link and delivering the hero’s tunic to him. this has to be a joke? but it isn’t . they LOVE TEAMWORK !! not to mention the gameplay that forces you to run around and help your allies, or the massive story beat that revolves around Link running ahead to fight on his own, which i could dissect in its own post.

unrelated but related, in the first edition of this game Cia dies. she asks lana to make her pain make sense, reveals that she knew on some level she was doomed to fail, and admits that lana really is better than her. it’s a bitter ending with very little fanfare, as ganondorf swoops in quickly to kickstart the beginning of the end.

But in later versions, there’s additional content. Cia is found to be alive, struggling against Phantom Ganon’s forces with the last of her power. She becomes an ally and she gets to live at the end, finding a happy ending in resuming her duties now as one of two Guardians of Time with Lana.

Would it be such a stretch to assume that the root of her pain was her solitude? Her admiration of Link as the revered hero, her jealousy of Zelda as the damsel who is destined to always fight by his side, and her happy ending. she easily walks away from Link, Zelda, and the allure of the triforce because now she finally has company, and knows she is leaving them all as friends. Wouldn’t it make sense thematically that in the game about friendship, the main antagonist would be driven in part by a lack of it?

this doesn’t justify starting a war

yeag . the devs for the Dynasty Warriors hack and slash series should have made it Not a war (JOKE. PARODY. but see the first sentence or the previous section)

but what about the part where she is an irredeemable creep?

look me in the eyes . i cannot describe how much this train of thought kills me. i am trying not to point at anybody specific here but it actually scares me a little bit how common and Assumed To Be True this is considering the preexisting racism and misogyny surrounding Cia’s design and role within the game

Cia is creepy towards Link. it’s not normal to disregard a person’s autonomy because you want to “make him yours”, and it’s not normal to have just So Many pictures and statues of a guy. but i have to draw the line there because Genuinely that is where it ends.

Pet names? if you play her side campaign you find that she calls Literally everyone things like “lovelies” and “darling.” Her speech mannerisms are classically cartoonish villain and i am absolutely biased because i love this

Age difference? an important thing to note is that cia’s design is one of the things the most afflicted by the aforementioned racism and misogyny. considering she has no canonical age afaik it freaks me out that people treat her like a Textual Predator with the Everything in mind.

if she’s redeemable then they did a shit job at it.

no argument there . i think everyone forever should make something new up to make up for the fact that they did a Poor Redemption . at least have her say sorry or something idunno .

in my opinion they had a lot going on when cia joined the allies, so i like to imagine she ended up getting a proper redemption arc After phantom ganon is put to bed. it lives in my head and it’s just as convoluted and weird as the rest of the game 👍

Hyrule Warriors is just an extremely elaborate excuse to play dolls

and i LOVE my tuoys. come play with meeeee come have fun with me and ciaaaaaa

[mariamegale]

What Becomes of the World

Burakhovsky, rated M, 13,131 words.

He thinks about what a fucking miracle it is that he’s still alive, and his chest tightens again. The problem with survival isn’t the here and now, Artemy is beginning to realise; that’s easy. Here and now, what matters is taking another breath, is pushing through whatever is happening into the next moment. Doing what you need to get done when your life is on the line and, by proxy, the lives of countless others, isn’t the hardest part. That is what comes after, when you’re no longer gasping for air, when there are no longer singular moments to gather your thoughts but an endless stretch of time ahead of you with no more looming disaster to take your mind off of the future. Now, that’s where he finds himself; in the future, inside that vague notion of hope he was clinging to for weeks as he sprinted across town, plague clouds chasing his heels, herbs and bottles and raw human organs jostling around in his medic bag, dead bodies left in his wake. The whole time, the future was on his mind, getting himself and his children and his friends to it, and now it’s here and he doesn’t know what to do when he’s stopped running.

Read it on AO3!

For @whumperless-whump-event 2024, day 29: Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

a/n:

'write something for whumperless whump,' i said. 'it'll be fun,' i said. little did i anticipate when i woke up this morning with 800 words that this was going to evolve, because i don't know myself and never learn the message of anti-hubris i need to sorely figure out.

I have once again seen inspiration, lost my mind, and hurled out a fic so fast I should be concerned by my mental state. I do also have covid, so please, any typos or other nonsense, point it out to me.

As always, I adore you, and I hope you enjoy <3

Tags: Enemies to Lovers, The incredible romance of shooting three people to protect your idiot beau, Getting Together, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Making Up, Making Out, Slow Burn, Post-Diurnal Ending, you know when you're soulmates, but you need to argue for a few thousand words before you both figure it out, yeah that: The Fic

Archive warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Full tags under the cut.

Enemies to Lovers, Robbery, The incredible romance of shooting three people to protect your idiot beau, Getting Together, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Canonical Levels of Violence, aka nothing too bad, Arguing, Making Up, Making Out, Slow Burn, Post-Diurnal Ending, after the world ends, and the horrifying realisation you need to figure out what to do Next, Existential Crisis, Artemy is a Dad but it's very very background, Drug Use, aka morphine, Safe Sane and Consensual, aka daniil is not going to veer into dubcon whether artemy likes it or not, (he does not.), you know when you're soulmates, but you need to argue for a few thousand words before you both figure it out, yeah that: The Fic

[choicesficwriterscreations]

January MC of the Month: Nora Rose

Please welcome January 2024's MC of the Month! Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month’s MC of the month is…

@inlocusmads's Nora Rose

More below...

In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

The thing I like the best about Nora is how she has a killswitch alternative to any plan she comes up with. Even if it is something as simple as coming up with dinner options. She has this interesting perceptive ability that's akin to playing 4D chess, but at the same time, she has elevator music running in her head.

At the same time, she's sometimes terribly wrong and isn't afraid to acknowledge that. The things she's able to do today - from keeping a level head and a calm composure in the hardest of situations come from her childhood where things were hard, and she had to grow up quite quickly. A lot of times, she'd have to think on her feet, run through options, remember new stuff, and be able to work with her constraints, not just pertinent to her job but in her adulthood as a whole. Her capacity to be able to stand up on her own feet came from so many instances where she couldn't even get off the floor or look straight ahead. 

Nora's also a slow learner but an avid one nonetheless. She was kicked out of so many schools when she was young, mostly because of her not being able to focus properly or standing up to her bullies (something the school calls ‘stirring trouble up’), and it kind of stunted the faith she had in herself. She had to build up an open mind to be able to differentiate between what is good and bad for her. She had to learn how to carve out her own path, despite dealing with so much grief she could never move on from. All of these things stuck to her when she grew up, which made her more aware and sponge-like to gather the mental ammunition needed to face all kinds of problems. 

Nora's far from what she pictured herself to be as a kid, but she's kind of bittersweet about making it this far. Optimistic that if she just doesn't think too much about stuff, the space and time around her would heal even the bloodiest of wounds, but also disappointed she can't deal with things more openly and faster, like in a brawling match. But I'm happy for her, given the circumstances she was in. Nora's always had this ability to chew her way out of things - by hook or by crook. If she can't decode a lock, she'd just give it a slight nudge. If the nudge doesn't work, she'll just straight-up shoot at it and deal with the fallout later. Her main motto is to “just keep going”. 

Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

I'd say I took a lot from my experiences growing up and gave them to Nora - dealing with people at school, understanding where she truly “belongs” (before she realized that was a load of bull and she should just stop tunnel-visioning a perfect outcome and instead think about laying down a different road to her path). Nora and I share this trait where we can't sit still, but if something's up, we'd spend hours at the same place, even if it involves doing absolutely nothing. Plus, it takes both of us ages to respond to a message. Nora more than me, for sure, and half the time, she's just bored of the routine email chore (not a good sign in her line of work, but she manages.)

That's where the similarities stop haha.

She's a tough person. She throws a good punch, having undergone a lot of physical training to qualify for her NYPD officer job and more recently, for her private eye job (Mafalda had some strict requirements). She's also a great problem-solver as aforementioned. Besides the usual differences in physicality and all, she doesn't get startled easily - as in, the world could possibly end tomorrow and she'd still be at her desk, responding to a two-year old email. Her self-assurance at that instant (not anytime or anywhere else) but at that very instant is so strong, it is honestly remarkable. 

Nora also enjoys doing things on her own. Whether it be making dinner from scratch, down to the bread-baking, deducing information (without relying on scraping the bowels of the internet) or stitching her clothes if they don't fit her. It was one of the only lessons her mother taught her before she passed. Which is also the reason why she doesn't like frozen food. More on that later. 

What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Vengeance. 

Just kidding. 

It is actually vengeance. I don't know how else to put it. 

Nora's been wronged by a lot of people in her life. From losing her mother because the hospital in charge neglected her to losing her father also because her co-workers neglected him, she went through pretty much the same neglect-arc in school and college. She was always dismissed as a “traumatized kid” half the time and the other half the time, people didn't listen to her when she'd say, for example, report a bully for what they did or critique a faculty member for showing their bias. It resulted in a lot of things that went wrong in her life - from not having a good support system to being an actual orphan when she was barely thirteen. 

This kind of manifested in horrible ways when she was a kid. She suffered from a lot of anger issues and would immediately resort to physical violence if she were confronted. It isn't fair to blame her either, because she was so helpless. She'd wanted someone, just anyone to listen to her - to be there for her. This desire to help her child-self developed well into adulthood. Nora began building back the stability she never had. She's still doing it. She allows herself optimism even when she doesn't believe in anything. She puts her faith in the arbitrary workings of the universe so there's less burden to carry on her shoulders. Even though the things she tells herself aren't all perfect, they would be something her younger self would have appreciated so much. 

Taking revenge for the child in her to rest easy, for the teenage girl in her to find joys in stupid things such as trashy television shows and emo music and for her to be at peace in her own skin without wanting to explode every five minutes has always been her plan ever since she grew up. That and simply because she uses it to feel more proud of what she does. When something isn't getting anywhere, she's like “Yeah well, f it, we'll get it done. A setback ain't shit.” It was always about the “we”. 

Nora is also driven by the motivation to finish something as fast as possible. Everything is like cross-country running to her because she relishes in the satisfaction of getting a chunk of time just to herself right after getting something done. Which means she's either very good at jumping through hoops or crashes and burns. If something takes longer than her intended expectations, she'll drop it in an instant or table it until she gets her motivation back to finish it. It resulted in a lot of half-completed, archived projects but a few she's proud of, including having made her own quilts and bedsheets for the winter. 

This mentality is something she can never get rid of. At school, she was either the best player on her soccer team or the absolute worst. (Hey, at least there's no in-between to her.)

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

She hates frozen food with a burning passion. Being from a Chinese household, her parents, in the few good years they had with her - taught her the importance of a home-cooked meal or just any cooked meal. Nora, being the impressionable naive child she was, caught onto it and developed this visceral hatred for frozen anything. While she digs the convenience, she isn't a fan of how it tastes either - apart from her family values. This seeps into how Nora sees everything. She's the weird survivalist aunt with a shotgun in her closet because her personal goal is to make everything she consumes. From food, down to the clothes she wears or the curtains in her window, everything has to have had her work and hours put into it. 

Nora is also not a fan of people who don't listen first and just yap, yap and yap. This is why she often got into “creative differences” with her co-workers in her precinct. This is also the reason why Mafalda gives Nora full control of the wheel when she isn't there at the Agency, because the fewer people yapping, the happier Nora is and the better she works. 

As for visceral dislikes, boy oh boy does she have a lot:

Starting strong with the NYPD because they suck, point blank, period. She also thinks there's a special place in hell for people who just assume a lot and can get away with baseless accusations. She can understand broken promises - after all, people move on sometimes, and it's hard to keep track of them, but she draws the line at a proper betrayal. Words don't matter much to her, but actions do. Nora also isn't a fan of people who jump to the easiest conclusion just because it's easy. She’s seen a lot in her life not to automatically red-flag them. It’s worse when it comes from authorities, y’know people you’re taught to trust.

Also, people who gate-keep their expertise. She’s come across so many pretentious people who’d rather let an important investigation hit a dead end than worry about spilling their “trade secrets.” Kind of a niche dislike, but if you’re running out of time and your only hope banks on a mystery novelist’s ability to describe what he saw and tell the truth like his characters would have done, you too would be frustrated if he’d rather drink his coffee when he knows he’s purposefully jeopardizing the investigation’s momentum. And that’s just one of her ‘good’ experiences. Nora loathes academia and wouldn’t touch it even with a six-foot pole.

If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Be blessed with a readable medical textbook so she could diagnose her mother earlier than her doctors ever can (and) get magical surgery skills to revive her dad after he got stabbed. 

She still regrets not being able to do anything because she was “just a kid”.Nora has learned to cope with it, knowing she can't do anything about it but she still has this itching feeling of what if things had turned out for the better. It's this heavy rock she's gonna have to deal with for sometime now. 

Nora has this tricky relationship with her heritage. She isn't a fan of how different she is compared to the rest of her family and how they'd ostracized her after her settling down far from home. She wants to be able to change that aspect but knows it is too late to repair the damage. If she could go back in time and “pick a side,” she wouldn't have to feel the FOMO.

This regret of hers, however, is attributed to her never feeling she belonged somewhere among her family. Someday, she'd have to find her own family, own circle of friends, and culture to build. Someday, she'll learn that she's as valid to celebrate her heritage as her Aunt Mei or Uncle Tommy. That there aren't true extremes to anything there's no “one way” to be something, but until then, she's going to angrily sew back some loose stitches and groan about not being able to speak Cantonese as fluently as her relatives or being a “true” New Yorker. 

Also maybe her hair. (Also it is so hard to draw her hair consistently.) Sometimes it gets in the way. And maybe fix her eyesight without needing contacts or glasses. Automatically give herself 20/20 vision whenever needed and blur her eyes out when she doesn't want to.

What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song?

It's hard to pick one song, because Nora listens to anything and doesn't really have a music ‘taste’ as long as the song she's listening to has some spunk to it. Something she relates to would be I Talk To The Wind by King Crimson. Combined with the slow pace and the lyrics that basically put her life as a picture, it's a bop.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  (It can be why you created them, how they’ve inspired you, or you could write a little blurb as if it is coming from your OC - an acceptance speech. :) )

I've struggled a lot with naming characters before but Nora's was the only time I knew her name wayyy before I could give her a personality. I was like “yep she's Nora, she's definitely one, yep.” and somehow I didn't anticipate how much she'd like, write herself and the story just writing itself. It literally popped into my head as outlandish as it may seem. And somehow that process worked because I don't ever run out of new headcanons to add.

Nora's also the first character I've created a 100k-worded introduction for (which will never see the light of day and is chucked into my files). I honestly expected her to just be fleeting. I'd make up something about her character, and I'd leave it at that, but nope. 

She's the most organized person in the universe. Her clothes never had a chance to get folded since 1999. She is so methodic and yet will pull off stupid shit like kickboxing a door because she doesn't want to open it. Nora is the character to every character but she stops charactering if she's in front of any screen with something playing on it. She can calculate the angle she needs to throw something so it can hit something, but she fails at basic math at the checkout line. She's masterful at cooking up a storm in the kitchen but enters her flop era when she forgets to take her stuff from the oven when the timer beeps.

Honestly, Nora was such a good lesson in writing as well because people are not always black-and-white. Sometimes, their strengths are their weaknesses. Sometimes the things they are chasing after work against their benefit. Maybe their opinions are skewed after all, even though the narrative conditions into believing that they're the Hero character. They should be allowed to be terribly piss-pathetic poor at something before learning to solve the problem, and sometimes it's okay if they're just bad at something if they can improv a way forward.

Plus, she's cool and stuff. Sometimes. 

[butterfrogmantis]

Explorer Magellan was born in Sydney, Australia, to two travel-agent parents. At four years old, his maternal grandmother fell ill and so the family relocated to care for her back in Lancashire, England. This is where Explorer was raised.

Explorer had a .. fairly normal childhood all things considered. Loving parents, popularity - oh and a hefty inheritance left to him by his ailing grandmother. Flipping through his parent's travel-agency booklets gave Explorer little insights into the wonders of the world, and he longed to see them. And, in learning about treasures, coveted them. As a young man, Explorer enrols in an archaeology degree in Yorkshire where he ironically ends up in the same class as Archie Baines. But they don't really interact during their time at university. Both were good enough students, just hung out with different crowds. Archie was here with a genuine interest in history and what could be learnt from it. Explorer was here to find what he could take from it, as he feels the degree would be useful (and perhaps grew up with unrealistic expectations handed to him from the Indiana Jones movies)

Post-Uni, Archie, his brother and Archie's then boyfriend Miner all move to Belgium for an assignment, whilst Explorer takes his degree to a different market. The black one, if you will. This was no coincidence. You see; behind the scenes Explorer had had some tip offs from some buddies about certain … items certain people wanted retrieving. And with his grandmother's inheritance giving him easy leverage on bribing security and officials, Explorer began to develop quite a knack for retrieving artefacts. After all his archaeology degree helped him with background knowledge of ancient buildings and whether artefacts were worth anything at all, stuff the average person would overlook. And I mean if this ancient ruby is just sitting right there in the ancient pyramid of the pharaoh why SHOULDN'T Explorer keep it? It's only gathering dust.

It wasn't until a few years down the line that Explorer and Archie met again. Explorer was on his way across Europe when he needed to stop and rest for a while, and ended up in a little village in the woods run by a Mr.Smurf. Here, he runs into Archie Baines again. A little surprised, but cordial at first, they exchange polite convo and catch up on some old memories. Explorer even asks Archie to join him on his next expedition - that way he can take double the treasure, but he doesn't tell Archie that. Archie thinks 'hey ive met a fellow archaeology nerd this will surely be an insightful trip'.

So they go, and it's successful! They find the stuff Explorer theorised was there. Awesome, Archie can't wait to hand this into the local authorities and get some archaeological recognition. Maybe write a paper on the finds.

Local authorities? says Explorer. No way. He's taking this stuff back with him and finding the highest bidder.

Archie is appalled at the clear difference in their attitudes. Thus begins a lifelong rivalry. Of course, Smurfverse Explorer has no use for money but he's still adamant about keeping stuff, and maybe trading for high bidders from other species like fairies, goblins etc after stealing artefacts from other races. Archie continues to try and be noble about preserving history. Papa just kinda .. well its all going on behind his back, see? Explorer puts up a cute front and so Papa keeps sending him on these missions and thinks he and Archie are buddy buddy even when they're fighting behind his back.

Anyway their day to day rivalry can get kind of boring so we're gonna skip ahead to something exciting!

One of the many marvellous misadventures leads them to an ancient temple where, surprise surprise, Archie warns Explorer not to tamper with the stuff because this particular temple belonged to ancient goblins and BELIEVE him you do not want to mess with ancient goblins, they were rather particular about their treasure, even after death.

So of course Explorer ignores this bcuz he wants to wind Archie up and grabs a random bracelet and slips it on to tease him. But uh oh spaghettio thats how you get yourself a nice little goblin possession curse!

Thus begins a thrilling chase. Explorer thinks Archie is boring and pretentious as all hell but a Smurf is a Smurf, he'd never actively try and KILL Archie until now. Goblin curse overrides that. Pick up a sword. Aim between the ribs. He's got Archie backed up against a wall now, this might be the end of Archaeologist Smurf.

Except of course it isn't because this is Butterverse.

And quite frankly Skelly hasn't been too fond of Explorer either since he insinuated Skelly could be sold to a high bidder for a private museum so recently Skelly has been tagging along after ol' buddy Archie to keep an eye on him. And it's just as well because Archie is on the verge of being killed in an … unsettlingly familar way. Luckily Skelly has an advantage this time- no organs!

Explorer's sword raises, Archie's life flashes before his eyes, Skelly jumps … and the sword hits ribs. Giving Archie just enough time to snap out of it, and beat the shit out of Explorer. Don't worry, it was for a good cause, he was able to break the goblin bracelet that was possessing Explorer. He'll be fine once he wakes up.

Skelly on the other hand has a couple broken ribs and some scratches. Luckily his bones restore themselves so for now all Archie has to do is wrap them and thank him for saving his life. Alls well that ends well.

Explorer hasn't necessarily learnt his lesson. Learnt not to slip cursed bracelets on, yes, but that just makes him more careful about how he handles stuff. He and Archie are still bitter rivals, but neither has tries to actively kill the other again yet so there's that.

Other Explorer info:

Doesn't really have AS big of a rivalry with Pal. Pal thinks he's a jerk yes but Pal's not super confrontational and doesn't end up on dig sites or in temples the same way Archie and Explorer do so most of it is just Pal getting tea later on.

Verdict is still out on his sexuality I haven't decided if he's got any exes going for him or if he has some current, messed up relationship or if he couldn't care less about romance and is legit only after treasure so for now it's ?? This is not an enemy to lovers thing, even if Explorer were to repress stuff about Archie deep down Archie still finds him despicable. So the occasional joke is fine .. i guess? But very much not going to be endgame here anymore than Smooth and Jokey would be and Smooth has a positive view of Jokey unlike Explorer who finds Archie self-righteous

Smurfverse Explorer obviously just grows up in the village and he and Archie are on OK terms as kids but then he gets involved with some black market fae behind Papa's back and the story progresses the same.

If Explorer isn't doing his whole 'stealing' thing he's actually … considered fairly charismatic by other people. His whole morally bankrupt thing is tied into his work, he's not actively jerkish to anyone apart from Archie and co to the point a lot of Smurfs consider him quite friendly, and really he does have a genuine passion for exploration and discovery, it's just overshadowed by the greedy side of his personality.

Also the accent thing … inside joke mostly

Explorer and Archie (c) The Smurfs

Skelly is mine

Oh PS - I've been thinking about it, and even if Skelly doesn't remember his death and wouldn't know up till coming to the village, that's kind of Archie's whole job. From the rip in his cloak and some original damage to the ribs I think it would make more sense for Archie to have a good theory about his death than to not. It's also why that spot is a little more fragile than the rest of his bones. They'll still magi-heal but only to how they were before.

[theamityelf]

I also would like to hear about Makoto also being kidnapped because if dr1 is anything to go off of he would be put into a bunch of dangerous situations for the sake of finding clues or taking down the mastermind and come back alive.

Also the prospect of Kokichi lashing out because he thinks he's lost the one person who believed in him and Makoto wanting SO BADLY to comfort him or make him understand but can't during this situation. Then later when he gets kidnapped when there is time, Makoto tries to make him understand that he has NEVER stopped believing in Kokichi he just thinks he crossed a line but he NEVER EVER hated him. Despite all of Kokichi's efforts Makoto has never hated him and I would like to know if he breaks down (from relief or grief that he doesn't think he deserves that kindness surprise me) or if it's just a small but meaningful consolation while he dies (because Makoto would never just LET Kokichi die no matter how much he did) that someone cared. It makes me go FERAL.

Please.

Absolutely! I'm right there with you, lol.

Okay, I can imagine it going down a few ways.

First of all, I can imagine Makoto starts asking too many questions when Kokichi says he's the mastermind, to the point that Kokichi realizes Makoto will undermine his "big reveal" if left unchecked, so he goes ahead and grabs him when he grabs Kaito, to make sure the group's reasons for questioning him are pulled out of play.

Alternatively, I can imagine that the whole "everything Kokichi does to mess with someone else ends up affecting Makoto by accident" thing that gets repeatedly set up earlier in the AU comes into play again here, in that Kokichi truly meant to only grab Kaito, but the Exisal accidentally grabbed Makoto, too, and rather than look like he made a mistake and isn't fully in control of these things, he plays it off like he meant to do that and takes Makoto with him.

Either way, Kaito is locked in the bathroom by himself and I imagine Makoto being kept elsewhere. If I'm being self-indulgent (which I am 😁) Makoto is kept in the big main area with Kokichi, to facilitate all that conversation and hurt/comfort.

(The bathroom has a window, and it's fine for Kaito to talk to people outside, since Kaito is buying into the idea of Kokichi as the enemy, but Makoto can't be allowed to talk to anyone and spread his belief that Kokichi is lying.)

And at that point, it becomes such an "I'm not trapped in here with you; you're trapped in here with me!" situation. Sorry, Kokichi; you can't run from him now. He's here, he believes in who you demonstrated yourself to be in your best moments, and he wants to have a genuine conversation with you. Makoto is using all the information he's gathered over the course of the killing game to contradict Kokichi being the mastermind, and Kokichi is doing his best to demoralize him as a last ditch effort to not have to deal with him. Maybe invoking Gonta as a kind of, "Do you want to be the next fool who believes in me until it's too late?" But Makoto's resolve doesn't shake.

Kokichi's smug mask falls and it devolves into a shouting match where Kokichi is pulling out every low blow he can and insisting that he's an evil supreme leader (Panic Talk Action, anyone?) and in the end Makoto just says, "No...that's wrong." And the last facade shatters.

I want Kokichi crying into Makoto's shoulder, wailing, "I really liked Gonta! And I really liked Miu!"

And then, because he can't help himself, once he's done crying, he sits up with a brittle smile, like, "Wow, did you really fall for that again?" (It's so ineffective, because he literally just went through the full process of sobbing to shuddering to sniffling to just breathing, and it was very gradual and peaceful, and then he just sits up like "lol jk".)

And Makoto replies, "Yeah. I did."

"Stupidhead. Obviously I was lying. You're so naive, it's a wonder you've made it this long. Maybe I'll put you out of your misery."

OR, if I'm being suuuuper self-indulgent, maybe Makoto actually gets hurt in the accidental Exisal grab and Kokichi can't do any of the posturing because as soon as they're locked in the hangar and the Exisal lets them go, they realize that Makoto is bleeding profusely and he and Kaito have to rush to give him emergency first aid. They're bickering the whole time.

Kaito's blaming Kokichi and Kokichi is blaming Makoto, like, "Why didn't you tell me you were bleeding, idiot?!"

Kaito's like, "Why would he?! You said you never cared about any of us!"

And yet Kokichi is so serious about making sure Makoto's okay, it occurs to Kaito that maybe that was a lie, too.

[flatoutin-eaurouge]

I don't want you to see me cry

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Michael Schumacher

"Are you... are you going back already? Are you leaving me here alone?"

Aila Häkkinen stared at her son's tear-stained face and swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. It was as if some invisible force had slammed a hammer against her heart, making it crack, making it shatter, then crumble to dust.

Her wounded heart ached for the crying boy in front of her. The boy that looked so pale and devastated, so unlike what he used to look like. Gone were the beaming blue eyes and the never wavering smile. He was so vulnerable and in pain. How could she ever leave her baby boy thousands of kilometers away from what they called "home".

She wished she could just quit her job and care for her son full time, but she couldn't.

"Mika, kultaseni. There is no other way. We can't stay here for many weeks to come. No one knows how long it will take for you to recover." She carded her fingers through his hair, while trying to fight against her own tears.

Mika didn't understand. His father had left days earlier for the same reason as his mother: their jobs. Mika had offered to pay for their expenses. His parents could both very well quit their jobs and still be financially stable. He lived in a Monaco pent-house for heaven's sake, he could do with a little less! But his mother had clasped his hands between her own and had kissed his palm. "You don't need to pay for us, kulta. You might need all of that for the future."

First Mika hadn't understand the meaning behind it, but he quite quickly realised what his mother had meant. And it made him nauseous. His parent's minds were two steps ahead. They wanted him to safeguard all his money in case he would end up paralyzed and disabled for good.

The reality of it had downed on him like a dark thundercloud. It had made him even more anxious and depressed. Even more afraid of the future.

"But I will have to be here for so long!" A big fat tear rolled down Mika's cheek.

Aila shook her head in sorrow. She knew how much difficulty Mika had with showing emotions openly in front of people he didn't know well. She was afraid he was going to surpress it all, which she believed was detrimental to his healing process.

"Mika, honey, I believe you are in good hands! They have saved your life and they know what they're doing. I will ask them to keep an extra eye on you."

She gathered her hurt son in her arms and kissed his brow, then tucked his blonde head under her chin. 

"We will miss you and we will throw you a big party when you are allowed to leave the hospital! We are going to call and write. We will visit you every oppertunity we get!"

Aila rocked Mika back and forth in her arms as if he was still her little baby from 1968. She tried to ignore the tremors running down his spine, afraid that it would make her stay with him. Afraid that she would indeed quit her job and live on the money that Mika might need very much in the future. No matter how much she wanted to stay, it wouldn't be a wise decision for that exact reason.

"Bye sweetheart. I know you can do it! You will walk and talk like never before! I know you will, my champ!"

With those words she let go off him. She slowly walked backwards to the door of his room, to the exit. She couldn't stop her tears from falling. She had to make this quick in order not to change her mind.

She blew him one more kiss, then shut the door of his room behind her, leaving her son alone like a lost and clueless puppy.

In the hallway of the hospital – on the floor Mika's room was located – his mother halted a nurse. There was one more thing she needed to do before she left to Finland. "Miss, could you please keep an extra eye on Mika? He is very lonely... maybe he needs a roommate at some point?"

As soon as his mother had left, Mika collapsed onto his bed in a boneless heap, taking shuddering breaths. He stared at the ceiling apathically as silent tears trickled down the corners of his eyes. He mourned the finality of it all... the shut door... his mother out of the country soon. It caused a painful lurch in the beating of his already sore heart. His hands coiled in the sheets and tugged at the soft material to distract his restless mind.

He was alone. Only him and his traitorous mind, that constantly reminded him how weak he was and in how much physical and emotional pain he was. Every twist and turn in the bedlinnen hurt, but if he laid still... for hours... his limbs screamed for movement.

The door only opened for relief and agony. Relief when nurses came in to refill his IV-bag with morphine. Agony when the same nurses came in to drag him from his room and have doctors use him as their lab rat for their medical tests.

The silence and the lack of distraction made that he experienced every sensory change tenfold. He could sense with every minute passing by how the effect of morphine lessened. Hell, he could write a scientific book on "morphine" based on his own empirical observations.

What if he did? It would be a welcome distraction. But at this point... could he properly write with a pen? Could he type coherent sentences on a laptop? Probably not. Both his fine motorskills and the creative left hemisphere of his brain had suffered great damage. At this moment he couldn't even stop his left eye from blinking out of sync with his right eye.

Every day his mind was consumed by darkness while in his room it was very much light. The neon tubes on the ceiling pestering him as he tried to find peace. Peace with himself and the situation he was in.

He hated that in the hospital he had nobody to talk to. Most nurses were very business-like. A few nurses wanted to coddle him like a baby. None of them could make him laugh. They were all very serious about the matter... of course they were! He had escaped death! But he knew that very well himself!

Mika believed that the only uplifting things he could gather would be from little chats with people. He was dissapointed in most of the topics of conversation people in the hospital initiated with him. It was always about pain elevation and homesickness. He knew they were only providing a sympathetic ear, but it didn't work for him. Although pain elevation was very much an interesting topic of conversation when his morphine was running out, because the pain was unbearable most of the time.

His head was throbbing all the time. The inside of his throat was sore because of the removed tracheotomy. He was going insane in his bed and his major daytime activity was trying to keep his mind sane. He wanted to cry but he didn't want anyone to see him cry. His progress was slow, although Mika counted himself lucky that there was progress at all.

He could walk down the entire corridor of the fifth floor without collapsing to his knees. His hearing got a little better. He slowly started regaining his smell and taste. These positive developments were the only anchor to his somber mind.

The progress also caused a new development.

"Mika, we have administered another patient to your room. You've made so much progress in the last couple of weeks, and you seem to be coping quite well emotionally. So you will be getting a roommate today."

The nurse changing his IV-bag smiled at him. "I hope you like it."

Mika froze in place. A roommate?! Coping quite well emotionally?! If that woman only knew... He was crying his eyes out when no one was looking. He didn't want a roommate who could witness how weak and desperate he was!

"Why?!"

"Your mother told us on the phone you are a bit lonely in here."

Mika frowned. "Yes, I am, but I don't need anyone in my room! Can't I suffer in privacy?"

"Oh Mika," the nurse pouted and caressed a strand of hair from his face. She was one of the 'coddling nurses'. "I thought you would like it. Don't worry, he will only be here for a few days. Your new roommate has a complicated leg fracture. He will have surgery today."

"But why would you put someone with a leg fracture in the same room as someone with a fucking skull fracture?" Mika said a bit disconcerted. "Do you think it looks pretty to see someone whine for more morphine?!"

"I've seen a lot of patients looking less pretty," the nurse flirted with him.

Mika glared at her. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave her the silent treatment.

"Sorry Mika, but he will be here in a few hours."

Mika had fallen asleep in the course of those few hours, being very much unaware of who was being wheeled inside his hospital room.

Michael Schumacher stared at the sleeping patient with the rosy cheeks and the angelic features. His skin however was paler than before, and had lost its previous glow of life and happiness. How did he end up in same room as Mika Häkkinen?! The poor guy had almost died! How is he allowed in his room? To see a sleeping Mika Häkkinen in this intimate setting made him blush. It felt illegal to witness it. Michael knew journalists had been lurking around the hospital walls to see a glimpse of the unfortunate boy.

Mika stirred in his sleep as if he could sense something was different.

Michael watched him from the corners of his eyes and couldn't help but be endeared by the sleeping Finn. His precense filled Michael with a sudden calm. It put into perspective how lucky he was to have only suffered a leg fracture from his most recent crash. Mika was here well over a month now, and he himself could leave in a few days.

He noticed the damp crimson spot on Mika's pillow and gasped, not aware that it was one of the long lasting complications of internal bleeding and tracheotomy removal. He watched as Mika accidently smeared his face and hair with the blood as he turned in his bed again. It caused his sleepy face to frown and his eyes to flutter.

Mika felt the warm sticky moisture on his face and cursed silently. "Not again. Perkele." He slowly opened his eyes and startled when he noticed Michael Schumacher's vibrant emerald eyes staring directly at him. What?!

Michael stared into the saphire blue eyes of Mika and could only mumble a: "I am sorry."

Mika's eyes blinked again, this time in confusion. He didn't want this. He didn't want Michael to see all this. He quickly turned around, facing away from the succesful F1-star, and burrowed his face in the blood-stained pillow.

Michael didn't know why he had said "I am sorry" because he had done nothing wrong, but it still felt like the right thing to do, especially since the Finn clearly didn't like his privacy being invaded.

"Mika?" he tried. "Are you okay? I am sorry for being here. And I understand if you don't want to talk."

Mika listened to Michael with tears shimmering in his eyes. He couldn't turn around to him and he couldn't reply. Michael would see him cry like a toddler and he didn't want him to see.

Michael sighed and sagged down into the pillows. He felt bad about the situation. Mika was ignoring him and his leg was throbbing like crazy. It really hurt and the bandages around it itched like hell. He really didn't know what to do. He could only wait for the the sutured skin tissue to heal after his surgery.

After a few minutes of silence, both their heads went up when a nurse entered the room.

She rushed to Mika's bed and gently lifted his head, reaching for his pillow. "Oh it happened again. The washing machine runs overtime with you as a patient".

She noticed Mika's teary eyes and immediately felt bad about her stupid joke. "Mika, I am so sorry! That wasn't funny at all!" She quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe at the tears and the bloody smudges on his face.

Michael saw it all happen in front of him. He startled to see Mika's shoulders shaking, a sniff followed by a whimper escaping his trembling lips. Though his face was partially turned away, Michael could see the glimmer of tears as they left a trail down his cheeks, plopping onto the blanket at a rapidly speeding pace.

Mika knew he couldn't hide his raw emotions for long. But to be exposed as a crybaby in only a matter of minutes saddened him even more. What would Michael think of him?

Michael was thinking many things, but thinking of Mika as a crybaby wasn't one of them. He wanted to walk to his bed to console the Finn, to tell him there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but he couldn't. His broken leg stopped him.

"Mika?" He tried again after the nurse had left.

Mika now did look at him. What did it matter now anyway? He has seen me cry. "Yes, Michael?"

"I don't know where to start. I have apologized to you already, but a I am really sorry for invading your privacy! You deserve a room for yourself alone."

Mika shook his head. "Please don't apologize for that, Michael. I have had a private room for more than a month. It's not your fault and I am terribly sorry to see you have broken your leg!"

"It's nothing, Mika! I can hardly say it's bad when you are lying here in bed for weeks on pain killers!"

Mika shook his head as more tears trickled down his cheeks. "Please don't say that!"

Michael swallowed against his own tears. Again, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to be close to his rival. He wanted to hold him and tell him everything will be alright. He wanted to tell him that he could foresee a trophy standing in his living room instead of a wheelchair.

"Mika, can you walk?

"Yes, but not too far. Why?"

"Could you please come over?" Michael bit his lip in anticipation. His caring nature urged him to console Mika. Michael knew Mika needed it, but the Finn probably didn't want to admit that he needed affection.

With hesitation in his eyes, Mika pushed himself upright in his bed and very slowly and inelegantly swung his legs over the bedframe.

He slowly strode towards Michael's bed with his face twisted in concentration. He couldn't wobble on his trembling legs, or worse... fall over in front of Michael.

He halted in front of his rival and gave him an awkward little smile. The best one he could muster with half of his face paralyzed.

Michael stared at him for a long time, taking him in from head to toe. Except for his adorable crooked smile, Michael barely noticed the paralysis. His rival was alive. Alive and walking, albeit slowly.

"What are you looking at?"

"I just realized how good it feels to see you doing so well."

"But, I am not doin-"

"Yes! Yes you are doing well," Michael interrupted him. "Have you never thought about how bad it was when you were rushed into ER here? Do you not realise how far you've come? All of us were told you were fighting for your life!"

Mika blinked at him in confusion. Why did he never think of that? People outside the hospital knew about his accident, but they didn't know a single thing about his healing process. And of course they were speculating... his McLaren seat was not on the market for next season yet... so something must be going on.

"Yes... I was... fighting for my life." Mika looked down at the pristine tiles of the hospital floor.

"But you aren't anymore!" Michael stretched out a hand and let it rest on Mika's back, motioning him to sit down on the edge of his bed.

Mika sat down, but didn't say a word. He stared at the cast around Michael's leg, wondering how even the best in the sport could end up in a hospital. His hand shot out in the direction of said leg, his fingers hovering over the cast, as if he wanted to heal the fracture with secret, invisible powers.

"We don't belong here."

"No, we don't."

Michael watched him with great intent as he felt his heart fill with a sudden warmth. His own hand reached out and started to caress the soft blonde locks of his rival. He was very careful, because he knew that underneath that mop of velvety hair Mika was hurting very badly.

Mika turned around to look at him. A blush spread across his pale cheeks as Michael continued to caress his hair. He grabbed Michael's hand gently and kept it in place on the side of his head. "It distracts from the constant throbbing."

His own hand moved down to stroke the unharmed upper part of Michael's broken leg. "I hope it does the same for you."

Michael sighed and stared into Mika's eyes with great adoration. "It does!"

They sat like that for over half an hour, talking about life at the hospital until Mika's morphine started to run out again.

The Finn squinted his eyes against the pain. He removed Michael's hand from where it was still resting against his head. Tears forced their way outward, their damp tracks making his cheeks glisten in the neon lights on the ceiling above them. And worst of all... Mika couldn't surpress a heart wrenching sob.

Michael saw how Mika's calm demeanor had changed into that of a pain tormented soul in a matter of minutes. He could understand Mika's negativity if pain struck like that and progress was so slow. A month into his healing process and Mika was still relient of pain killers.

Michael scooted a bit to the side, making room on his bed, and guided Mika to lie down next to him. He curled an arm around the Finn and pressed a hand against his sweat-matted brow.

"It's okay, Mika! Take deep breaths!"

"Every fucking day it happens twice! Every early morning and every late afternoon!"

Mika shook in agony. His fingers started tugging at the stands of his hair, causing small tufts of the blonde fluff to drift through the air. Michael stopped the action by taking both his rival's hands in his own.

"Don't do that! That won't help!"

Mika burrowed his face in the hollow of Michael's neck and wept quietly. Any embaressment he had had about crying in front of others was gone.

Michael gasped in pain when Mika curled against his side and accidently hit his hurt leg. He supressed a whine in order not to upset his rival. The Finn was already dealing with his own pain, which seemed to be constant. He could bump into his leg as much as he wanted if it meant he would be more comfortable on the bed.

When Mika began to shiver and his teeth began to chatter, Michael covered the both of them with his heavy blanket. His arms tightened around the shaking Finn, holding him impossibly close. Nothing strange about sharing some body warmth.

"I miss my mom," Mika sobbed.

Michael realised that Mika must be delirious with pain, because all barriers he had put up around himself had crumbled to dust. Again, it felt illegal to witness this. Michael softly murmered in Mika's ear a promise that he would never tell anyone about this vulnerable moment.